Making It Legal
By Adrian Tullberg.
Doctor Henry McCoy, Professor Charles Xavier, Scott Summers and Emma Frost were discretely situated in one of the rear pews. Well, as discretely as possible when one of them was bright blue.
"We didn't have to be here."
Emma turned to Xavier. "Charles, when Logan announced he was taking a job as a wedding planner, there was no force on Earth that could stop me witnessing his first attempt. Scott, now would be a good time to turn on the camcorder."
"OKAY, PLACES PEOPLE!"
Logan strode through the hall, a glowing-red cigar leaving a trail of ash behind him, wireless headset in his ear and a clipboard tucked in the crook of his arm.
"Lady, I wanted those roses spread out, not huddled together like a bunch of schoolgirls! Pageboy, front and centre! Warm up those goddamn instruments! I want the groom sober and the first round of shots delivered to the bridesmaids ninety seconds ago!"
McCoy stroked his chin. "At least he's taking it seriously ..."
"The Stanley Cup starts in thirty minutes!"
"... for all the wrong reasons ..."
The guests turned to see the bride at the end of the church, the father holding her arm.
They started moving in time to the music; The Wedding March, played on a thrash metal guitar.
Scott tapped Emma on the shoulder. "What is Logan ...?"
"It appears he's putting on a priest's collar ..."
Xavier massaged his temples. "Logan says the celebrant got a flat tyre. He had himself legally ordained for this type of emergency."
Emma glanced at her boyfriend. "Scott, if that camera malfunctions or you screw up, I will hurt you in ways you cannot possibly imagine. And not in a good way."
The nervous bride, the near nauseous groom took their positions in front of the impatient Canadian.
"Okay ... let's get this settled. Dearly beloved ... or relatives you never, ever see but invite anyway... or that old boyfriend or girlfriend who didn't take the hint that you only got the invitation just because your ex was polite, and the traditional response is to say you've got something else on the cards. We're here to see Larry and Sarah get hitched. Mainly because her mamma wanted that kid born in wedlock, and after meeting her a few times I know how painful that woman is." Logan nodded to the mother of the bride. "How ya doin'?"
The reason that shot glasses and whiskey were placed where hymn books were usually located in the pews was becoming readily obvious.
McCoy looked around. "If anyone asks, we're old friends of the bride from high school. We don't know him."
"Marriage is a beautiful thing. And considering one family's Protestant and another's Unitarian, they got this hall instead. So let's make 'em legal and wrap this up. Larry?"
"Ah ... yeah?"
Logan closed the book on the vows which were the product of the bride's long agonising months of effort. "You promise to love, honour, and basically not stick it to any strange tail unless given the okay by Sarah here in some prior arrangement?"
The groom's eyes nearly popped out of his sockets. "... what ...?"
Logan rolled his eyes. "You know, special occasions, birthdays, say she wants to make up for having your anniversary at the same time as the game and invites her old college buddy, the blonde in the fourth row down with the ..."
"… fake but very well crafted …"
"I said okay!"
"Basically the same thing for you Sarah."
"Pucker up kids." Logan stepped off the dais and marched away from the tentatively kissing couple. "Big screen TV at the reception people!"
McCoy looked at the others. "I can't begin to imagine ..."
Scott was following Logan; the Cup was starting soon...