Author of the Week

The title of this week’s story is

The Sucking Pig

By Brenda Short

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Challenge: Incorporate these words into the story

Honey, Storm, Nosey, Church, Sidecar, Taboo

Blake and Honey had decided to get married.  The news that Blake had been reassigned to another province had prompted this decision.  There was no warning.  An executive position had suddenly become available because of an unexpected death, and Blake was offered the promotion.  This was wonderful news, but the only downside was that it meant moving to Quebec.  However, the assignment was a permanent one and he had to decide quickly. 

Of course, he could turn down the promotion and keep everything the way it was, although he had worked so hard to get this chance.  Or…he could try a long-distance relationship with Honey, but he knew that the chances of that working out were slim to none.  What if she didn’t want that, only seeing him every once in a while for a long weekend.  She may decide eventually to call it quits.  She may meet someone else.  No!..if he wanted to keep the job and the relationship, he would have to persuade her to move with him.  But she had already turned down his offer to live together.  She was an old-fashioned kind of gal, and that’s what he loved about her. 

Blake didn’t want to have to choose between Honey and the job.  He couldn’t face the prospect of life without her, so he made the only sensible decision – that is, for him.  He asked her to marry him and move to Quebec.  He was surprised and delighted when she said yes, but she had one condition.  She would marry him she said, but only if they eloped.  Honey didn’t want all the fanfare of a conventional wedding.  They only needed two witnesses she said, and they could tell everyone else after the fact. 

Today was the day. It was now or never, because he was to begin his new job the following week.  He made sure he had all of the necessary documents secured safely inside his jacket and set off on his motorbike to pick her up.  Blake made a stop at the local florist’s to purchase a small bridal bouquet, a surprise for Honey.  Although she insisted that she didn’t want a fuss, he knew that she would be pleased with the flowers.

The weather forecast didn’t sound promising, and dark, angry clouds were rolling in.  Lightning was darting through the clouds, followed closely by the ominous sound of thunder, but it was still all in the distance.  Blake didn’t want to take any chances, so he attached the sidecar to his bike.  The thunderstorm was coming closer, but hopefully, it would pass by without incident.  Even if it did rain, at least Honey wouldn’t get wet.

When he reached her apartment complex she was waiting for him.  Honey was wearing her grandmother’s wedding dress.  It was vintage World War 2 and had been created entirely from parachute silk.  This was an antique and was brought all the way from England at the end of the war.  It was the palest blush pink and was fashioned in a most flattering, figure-hugging way.  She had swept her long, brunette hair into an updo to accommodate the helmet and was wearing biker boots and a leather jacket, ready for her journey.  This eclectic ensemble was so unusual, so sensuous, and erotic.  It excited him and he had to know how the silk would feel beneath his hands.

“You take my breath away,” he whispered, handing her the bouquet and moving in for a long, luxurious kiss.

“Stop messing with my makeup,” she laughed, pushing him away eventually and wiping the lipstick off his mouth.

They reached the church in a downpour, but just then the clouds parted.  The rain stopped suddenly and the sun shone down, lighting up the pathway to the main door.    It was a good omen for the young couple, and an unexpected opportunity to hurry inside.  Suddenly a car drove up beside them in the parking lot.  John and Malcolm, the witnesses for today’s event, had just arrived. 

“Hey, you!  I thought it was taboo to see the bride before the wedding,” John challenged Blake, slapping him on the back.

“That’s so that he won’t change his mind and run out the door,” Malcolm quipped.  “By the way.  Where did you decide to go for your honeymoon?”

“Don’t be so nosey!  As if I’d tell you,” said Blake.  “If you weren’t in the wedding party, you’d be up to some mischief or other, like tying kippers to my tailpipe.”

Everyone ran inside laughing, just as the heavens opened and the rain came down in torrents. 

It was all over in minutes.  The minister had kept it short and sweet as requested.  The vows were repeated to him by Blake and then by Honey, punctuated by ear-splitting, whip-cracking lightening, and loud bangs of thunder that boomed inside the empty church with a hollow echo. 

Blake and Honey were now man and wife, but they couldn’t leave just yet.  The worst of the storm was passing overhead, and although the skies were clearing in the distance, it was still raining heavily.  They sat in the pews at the back of the church, talking about everything and nothing until the rain finally slowed down. 

Eventually, they arrived at the restaurant where Malcolm had reserved a table for lunch.  John and he were gifting this to the happy couple as a wedding present and had requested a table by the window.

“We had our own wedding luncheon here,” said John, reaching for Malcom’s hand as they sat down.

John was a Shakespearean actor with a deep, rich, baritone voice, and loved to grandstand whenever possible, usually in a public place.  This was the perfect opportunity to embarrass his life partner and amuse the happy couple and the surrounding diners.

  “We will have a veritable feast,” he announced, “A haunch of venison – a suckling pig – a partridge or two – trenchers of bread and fruit, and jugs of ale.  A meal fit for a King and Queen.”

The young waiter, who had approached them to take their orders just stared at John for a moment, seemingly absorbing his rhetoric.  Then he looked into the distance, tutted, and just shook his head.

“We don’t do no sucking pigs!” insisted the waiter in a heavy, New York accent, licking the end of his pencil and poising it over his order pad, “and no jugs of beer.  This ain’t no pool hall.  It’s a classy joint.  We do bottles here.” 

Suddenly, he looked directly at John with a quizzical expression, “So, what’s this venison?”

“Philistine!” said John dramatically, causing everyone to erupt into hysterical laughter.

“This is a day I will remember in so many ways,” said Blake. 

“My perfect wedding,” Honey murmured contentedly.         

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