Mary sitting alone in her house on a Thursday afternoon is thinking about non other but her husband coming home. She was a very loving wife “There was a slow smiling air about her, and about everything she did” (379). She was a very calm person and was “…curiously tranquil” (379) six months pregnant.STORYTELLER: Once upon a time there was a young woman, pretty as a day in June and a young man stood by her side, smart as a whip and handsome as a polo horse. They met in high school and fell in love on a merry day in May. Before long, the young man dropped to his knee, pulled a diamond from his pocket, and won the young woman’s hand in marriage. BRIDE: Uh, excuse us, Mr. Storyteller?
STORYTELLER: Moving right along. With the blessings of their compatible— BRIDE: Mr. Storyteller!
STORYTELLER: Excuse me a moment. (to BRIDE) Yes, what is it? BRIDE: We didn’t exactly meet in high school.
STORYTELLER: Yes you did, it says so right here.
BRIDE: We met in a bar.
GROOM: And we dated on and off for five years while she experimented with a few other relationships. STORYTELLER: How nice. Well. For our purposes, let’s say you met in high school, shall we? (back to the kids) So. With the blessings of their compatible families, the young man and woman were to be married. BRIDE: (to GROOM) Wait a minute. As I recall, you kept breaking it off. GROOM: What?
BRIDE: Yeah. Then you’d want me back the minute I had a new boyfriend. GROOM: You certainly didn’t waste any time running into the arms of the first guy who had an accent. STORYTELLER: Now Now, Let’s not argue in front of the impressionable youngsters. (to children) The bride soon set in on the wedding preparations. BRIDE: (to GROOM) I never realized you were a racist.
GROOM: I’m not, I was fine with the fact you’d dated black guys. BRIDE: You’re assuming that “racism” automatically refers to African-Americans. Isn’t that a form of racism itself? STORYTELLER: Excuse me, ma’am, sir, can we please return to the story. GROOM: By all means. Don’t let anything silly like our issues get in your way. STORYTELLER: Look, will you play along? The children will have ample opportunity to be disillusioned later, let’s just have a nice bedtime story, okay? Okay. (to the children) AS I WAS SAYING, the preparations. They were to be married in a beautiful church— GROOM: (under his breath) Drive-thru chapel in Vegas.
STORYTELLER: --followed by an elegant reception at an old inn in Vermont . BRIDE: (under her breath) Back room at the Star Dust Lounge. STORYTELLER: The bride put Martha Stewart to shame as she had the evening designed to the last detail— GROOM: (to BRIDE) Ha! That really sounds like you.
STORYTELLER: --from the linen napkins to the centerpieces of purple freesia and Italian ruscus. BRIDE: (to GROOM) I think he was invited to someone else’s wedding. GROOM: And why is he assuming the bride always has the taste? Does it never occur to anyone that the groom might want to participate? I worked my way through law school as a floral designer, that’s how I know freesia is all wrong for a centerpiece, except maybe as an accent flower. BRIDE: You were a floral designer?
GROOM: You need to base your arrangement on a more substantial bloom, like a lily or an orchid. BRIDE: Brad, is there something you want to tell me?
STORYTELLER: Actually, there is something ‘I’ want to tell these youngsters so they can get to bed at a decent hour. THE STORY. SO, they had their flawless...