I turned around slowly in front of the mirror. It...was...perfect. I stepped down and thanked the dressmaker guy and went to find Laura, who was my best...woman? Maid of honor? Oh well, my right-hand chick-on-the-job. We'd known each other since high school, and she was just as nervous as I was. Then I made the mistake of looking at a clock and realized we were late.
"Oh crap, Laura, I'm late! Again! And this time it's my own wedding! GAH!" Laura, being the casual soul she is, kept her calm and got me there in time.
Oh wait, no she didn't. Laura panicked too and we spent a few minutes just standing there screaming at each other until Jacques (The dressmaker guy) told us to get out. At least I assume that's what all that shouting in Gallic was. Something like Les filles folles! Sortez de ma boutique et y aller, il ya un homme impatient vous attend!, but I don't know Gallic. He could have been screaming curses at us for all I know.
We got to the hangar okay, but those stupidheads said that nobody was allowed to take off because of a bit of rain. I think. We did a bit more screaming until some guy named Bob asked what was wrong. I told him that we were late, we couldn't take off, and the wedding was ruined and everything, but then Frankly-thing-bob (You know him, right? Me and Brakky adopted him once upon a time) came and said that the rain had stopped, but Brakky was going to the chapel!
I told Frankly to go tell Brakky that Bert was okay to fly, then went to find Tookie.
Zealot Wrote:Just go play the game and have fun dammit.
Treewyrm Wrote:all in all the conclusion is that disco doesn't need antagonist factions, it doesn't need phantoms, it doesn't need nomads, it doesn't need coalition and it doesn't need many other things, no AIs, the game is hijacked by morons to confuse the game with their dickwaving generic competition games mixed up with troll-of-the-day.
Frankly-Frank-Mabob found Brakelatabasaasta in the dressing room of the chapel, getting all done-up for the ceremony.
"What's that, Franky-Frank? Timmy got stuck in a well? AGAIN? Fish, Timmy, how many times have I told you not to fly that kite-- oh. You say the storm's gone? And we can go to the space-place now? Well that's great! I'm already half-fancy-dressed, so I'll finish up here and get to Bert! You go tell Jenny I'll be up in a few minutes."
Brakelatabasaasta finished putting on his pink rain boots, and carefully placed the giant foam cowboy-hat on his head.
"And the finishing touch..." Brakelatabasaasta said, as he put on a pair of "disguise glasses", complete with fake nose and mustache.
"Oooh," he said, admiring his style in the mirror. "Fancy, fancy, look at me! The queen of Ehb they'll think I be! Welp, off we go, then!"
And with all the speed he could muster, Brakelatabasaasta ran off to the hangar where Bert was.
Malaclypse trotted from the Manhattan landing pad up the avenue to the "Wedding-place". He wanted to set a bit of a musical mood before the guest and happy couple arrived for the actual Ceremony.
"Bah!" he muttered under his breath, as he entered the Chapel. The pre-reception above Manhattan had been interrupted by several true Cabbages, and he needed something to celebrate the couple's entrance, as well as reflect how he felt about "party-crashers'.
"Ah, perfect! Not only reminds me of the Groom, but of what we should have used on those impolite maroons. We should have brought a bigger Sledgehammer!"
After safely parking Bert in his hangar again and returning to the chapel, Brakelatabasaasta stood in the doorway of the dressing room, waiting for his guests to arrive.
"Well, the space-place meeting didn't go as planned..." he said to himself. "I knew Jenny was wrong about that! But I shouldn't think like that. We're gonna be married, and married people never disagree or argue."
Brakelatabasaasta pulled an old candy wrapper with googly-eyes glued to it from his pocket and looked closely at it. "Well, according to my watch, it's time... people should be arriving any minute now!"
I parked Tookie and tried to find the chapel place. It was pretty easy, with the giant sign and people going "They have a duck pond?" Laura brushed off my dress (don't fly while in a nice dress) and we found my spot near the doors. This really cool song was playing, and I wanted to dance, but realized that, y'know, probably not the best idea right now.
I saw Brakky and waved, he waved back, and I just kinda stood there smiling. The mingle-time didn't work so good, but that's okay. We have the ducky-pond here, which you can't have in space. Fair trade, I think. That and cake. Oh fish, where's the cake...
Zealot Wrote:Just go play the game and have fun dammit.
Treewyrm Wrote:all in all the conclusion is that disco doesn't need antagonist factions, it doesn't need phantoms, it doesn't need nomads, it doesn't need coalition and it doesn't need many other things, no AIs, the game is hijacked by morons to confuse the game with their dickwaving generic competition games mixed up with troll-of-the-day.
Mad John Rackam burst through the doors of the chapel
"Am I too late?" He yelled. "I brought some cake!" offering up a grubbby, shapeless bag with something lumpy inside, he added "And I ain't had a drink yet, either!", casting a beady eye around the room to see if anyone could guess the truth...
Finally, he spotted the bride and immediately exhausted his wedding repertoire...."Ya look great darlin'!" This having been all carried out to his great satisfaction, Mad John grinned widely and staggered to the nearest pew, wondering what time the bar would open..
*Bret and the crew walk into the chapel..wearing the best that represented their former houses* Bret: We should be on the list...Names...Bret, Jenson Vorlengos, Ilo Shinawa, and Miki Frenton..... Crew of the Maverick.IV.
-"If we do not learn at least one thing a day....Our minds turn to stupor"- Kyle Sparrgrove -2005
"Tsk tsk tsk... I've counted TWO leaking plasma conduits, animals in the first aid box and a half eaten sandwich lying on the reception booth," Felix came in with his palmtop, disappointed by the horrific sight he saw, "and it smells like something's dead in the air vents."
Felix nearly vomited as he approached the man who sent the invitation.
"Hey pal, I'm Felix Cabulb, Chief Health and Safety Inspector of Cryer Pharmaceuticals," Felix said his long title with confidence and smugness, "the conditions of this chapel of yours is disgraceful, if it wasn't your wedding I'd have the rest of my team at Cryer to crash and seal this place for public safety already. Just this once though, I'll stick around and prevent further health and safety hazards. It's your lucky day."
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