Jilted Jill

Jill stood waiting for the wedding march to begin—her pure white dress, shaped to her body. Nervously, she messed with her veil. She mumbled to her father, wondering what was taking so long; they were already thirty minutes behind schedule with her missing maid of honor.

Her father sent her younger brother to see what the hold-up was. He was gone for another thirty minutes before returning with the news that the bridegroom was missing, that he hadn’t shown up for the wedding.

This news set Jill’s father entirely off. Cussing up a storm, he wanted to know precisely who the groom thought he was and where the hell the groom and maid of honor both were. How the hell were they supposed to have a wedding with the groom missing, of all people? Didn’t the groom have the balls to face the bride and tell her to her face he didn’t want to get married? Did he run off with the maid of honor? This wedding had cost him over fifty grand; he was going to be damned if it didn’t happen today.

Jill just sat quietly, with her veil covering her face–her sister at her side holding her hand. Both are listening to his tirade. Both knew he would never see the truth. With each cuss word, Jill’s sister squeezed her hand, and Jill smiled a knowing smile behind her veil. With each rant and stomp, the sisters relaxed increasingly, acting as if they were as worried for the missing bridal party members as everyone else.

For you see, late last night, early this morning, after the bridal shower and the bachelor party, Jill had her sister drive her over to the hotel room her fiancee was staying in for the night. So she could surprise him with a premarital roll in the hay. Only Jill was surprised. She was shocked to find her maid of honor in bed with her fiancee.

Jill wasn’t one to crumple and break; no, she wasn’t. She’d come from a long line of strong women who all supported each other without asking questions. So Jill hit her fiancee over the head with a vase and tied him up. Then she called her little sister to help her clean up the mess and to help her find the ex-maid of honor, that tramp who had disappeared as soon as the argument started between tomorrow's bridal pair.

So, little sister helped get rid of the body of the cheating groom in the one place, not even the cops would look. The septic plant the groom’s family-owned would handle all that evidence.

Then, they set out to find the maid of honor before the first rays of the sun could touch the ground.

They found her with an empty prescription bottle in her hand. So they left her where they found her and went on their way. Little caring if anyone ever found her or not.

Returning to Jill’s apartment, they undressed and threw their clothes into the washing machine. Crawling into Jill’s bed, they went to sleep as if they were ten years old again, curled in each other’s arms. Neither had to say that they were the other’s alibi and that they both would say they were at Jill’s apartment all night long if they were ever questioned.

So, now, they both sat for a wedding they knew would never happen. But they both had to pretend otherwise to throw suspicion away from them.

Finally, Jill’s father finished his ranting. He went to the priest and guests out front and informed them that the wedding was off since the groom did not have the decency to show up. But if the guests and the priest were interested in having a party, Jill’s father informed them that he was still throwing the most expensive one around if they wanted to attend.

Jill said she didn’t want to go to the party, that she had a headache and just wanted to go home. So her little sister, of course, offered to take her home. Of course, all of her side of the family went to the feasting and celebration. Half of his family stayed to celebrate in the confusion, and the other half went home.

Me? I saw the whole thing. Then I went to the celebration, knocked the topper off the cake, and ate the top piece first. I’ve always wanted to do that, and now I can do it without making anyone mad. What side of the family am I on? Neither. I’m just a party crasher who has seen too much.

Oh, yummy, was that a po’ boy sandwich? What do you mean, there is beef Wellington, too? Oh, my god, I’ve died and gone to heaven. This menu is suburb. I can see why he didn’t want it to go to waste. Oh, my god, I have to go. Bye for now. Yummy.