(This is for the Three Word Wednesday exercise. This week's words were: punch, t-shirt, unravel)
I had stripped down to my tuxedo pants and t-shirt and was sipping on my second glass of punch when the door to the reception hall opened. The wedding party had all gone, but as best man I figured I should hang around. Now it was just us two.
He walked like he had two bad hips and poor equilibrium, his feet barely leaving the floor, leaning forward slightly as if each step might be his last. Stopping at the first chair he came to, he sat down. I tried to break the ice.
"Yeah," he sounded almost hopeful, as if something had finally gone right with the day. A few seconds of awkward silence followed, until I spoke again.
"It's, uhh, good they got there when they did. I've never seen so much hair pulling. And all that cursing... inside a church building!""
"Yeah," he repeated his earlier response, this time with no inflection at all.
"Boy, in all the weddings I've been to and been in, I've never heard someone actually object when the preacher asked for objections," I chuckled, but it wasn't sincere. "You should write a book."
He looked up at me as if I were speaking jibberish, but didn't respond. I continued.
"The whole thing was like a movie, but in slow motion," I spoke as if I were giving a first-hand account of the Mount Saint Helen's eruption. "Like I'm standing there hitting frame advance watching the entire thing unravel."
This was now officially a one person conversation. Each sentence I spoke was followed by a few seconds of silence until I spoke again. I was alternating between utter disbelief at what I had just witnessed and trying to look on the bright side of a situation that had none.
"Really sucks about your car. I'm sure most of those dents will buff right out. Where did she find a baseball bat anyway?" I shook my head in disbelief. "Must have been the something borrowed."
He seemed almost in a trance, as if the Earth's moon could come crashing thru the roof at that very moment and it wouldn't even phase him.
"Hey, how many people can say their wedding made the local news?" I leaned over and gave him a friendly punch on the arm. Again I got the jibberish look.
This was becoming more and more uncomfortable. I took a sip of punch then paused as if savoring it to buy myself a couple more seconds.
"This is really good punch. You want some?" I held up my glass, then pointed towards the bowl. "There's... plenty."