Here Comes The Bride (Part 2)

By BobbyRica | July 11, 2012


The midget, sorry, little person, just stared at me as she lowered a cool glass of water where my parched lips can reach. I was still on the hard metal deck floor. The boat was easing down to cruising speed as it approached an island. Cora told me it’s Tahiti.

A few hours from now, I will be married. Albeit against my wishes.


Most people are thrilled with weddings. Especially groomsmen, what with all the lovely ladies attending the reception. A little drink, a little small talk, and one could easily invite a bridesmaid – or two – home with you for a little private celebration of your own. Aside from the booze, the groom isn’t really getting much fun out of a wedding. Not that I was planning to get married this soon.

Philippa, my lovely and talented ex-chauffeur, and that other girl dragged me into the cabin to wait until the priest arrived. Unlike the blonde and slim Philippa, the other girl was a few inches shorter, with a curvier build under her cut-off shorts and loose, white shirt. Her dark hair was short, almost in a boy’s cut, some stands brushing against slightly freckled cheeks. She hardly spoke a word while I was awake.

The cabin itself was rather small, slightly musty, but quite clean. My mouth was still dry and the girls merely laughed when I asked for something to drink; but at least I was finally away from the midday sun. On the other hand, my hands and feet were still bound.

“But if I need a leak?” I pleaded my diminutive bride-to-be Cora, half-hoping she would at least have me not smelling of pee in front of the priest.

“Bobby, honey,” she giggled while playing with my hair, “I’ll have you washed and dressed myself later. But right now, I want you to stay where you are.”

And I still couldn’t remember where I met Cora. Not that at this time, I was making a huge effort to; I was mostly thinking how inconsiderate my captors were to put me in a room where there wasn’t not-so-hidden knives or even a not so out-of-the-way sharp edge. Having that cute brunette guard me would have been nice, too. If I couldn’t talk her into releasing me – not that she’s even done any talking – I would at least watch her legs.


It started a low thumping which grew louder by the minute: a chopper was approaching our boat. The way I was laying on the cabin floor made it hard to crane my neck and look out of the window. I had no idea where we were.

And to think I was looking forward to being in my friend’s wedding while I was in Costa Rica.

(to be concluded)

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