The groom, nervous and pasty, watches the ring-bearer carry the actual rings down the aisle. The best man, all smiles, takes the pillow from the little boy, and a look of panic clouds his face. Someone, not wanting the rings to fall off the little pillow, tied them down with nano-space-aged-nylon-indestructible ribbon. The music pipes up for the bride's arrival and panic slowly starts. The pillow goes from long finger-nailed aunts, to tough guy cousins with teeth. No one can break the ribbon. Finally, the pillow get close enough to me, close enough to the tiny toothpick in my pocket. Three seconds later, the ribbon is cut, the rings are free and the little pillow safely makes its way back to the best man, just as the beautiful bride makes her entrance, not aware of the situation.
After this, everything went smoothly. Thank goodness I had the foresight (and the lifelong habit) of always carrying a pocketknife.
After this, everything went smoothly. Thank goodness I had the foresight (and the lifelong habit) of always carrying a pocketknife.
