Mr. and Mrs. Warren Ketcher

This past Saturday, my family and I were honored to attend the wedding of one of our friends (and former student) Christy Ellis-Say Zombie Comby to some dude I don't know named Warren Ketcher. He's military of some sort, and apparently he likes to hit the links, as the wedding was held at the Dancing Rabbit Golf Course. We arrived there about five minutes before the ceremony was to begin, and we were worried we were going to be late, but our worries were abated when we happened to see Christy,

who told us that the ceremony had been delayed because somebody was still playing golf and thought that the grassy knoll behind the clubhouse was part of the course itself. We asked her if she knew the guy, and she told us that he said his name was Bob Hope.Bob Hope? Really? "Yeah," she said. We asked her what he said, and she told us that he just asked, "Mind if I play through?" She told us that she told him sure because she still needed time to wipe the sepia tone from off her dress and body. We walked through the clubhouse and out the back door quickly so that I could catch a glimpse of Mr. Hope, but alas, he was nowhere in sight. We sat down on the elegant wooden white chairs in the knoll, and we asked another guest about Mr. Hope, and she told us that he didn't tarry long. Apparently, he moves pretty sprightly for a guy who's been dead for five years.

We sat and waited, but after twenty minutes our children grew antsy, especially Georgia. Penny decided that she'd walk Georgia around to keep her occupied and to tire her out, but that didn't work; after Penny took her around the front nine, I took her walking around the back nine, and she was still wild as a tiger in the woods. Penny and I were both now exhausted, so we pawned Georgia and her big smile (see picture below) off on Nicholas.

Nicholas complied, but I don't believe he was too happy about it, as Georgia began to roar and yell, "Bob-oh! Bob-oh!" (her nickname for her brother). This embarassed him, and so he led her away from the slowly-gathering congregation. About a half hour later (not long before the ceremony began), he and Georgia returned, and Nicholas was a bit discombobulated. I asked him what was wrong, and he told me that when he and Georgia were standing on the green of the third hole about to putt, a strange-looking, decrepit old man walked up to them and said, "You called?" Nicholas told the man that he didn't call him, but the man said, "Well, the little girl did. She's been shouting my name for about thirty minutes now." Nicholas asked him if his name was Bob-oh, too, and the old man told him, "Close enough."

Nicholas told me that he then asked the man how old he was. The man told him, "I don't feel old. I don't feel anything till noon. That's when it's time for my nap." He said the man's jaw then fell from his face as he started to laugh. Nicholas tried to grab Georgia to run, but Georgia grabbed the man's jaw and stuffed it down the hole. She stood over it, clapped, and said, "Bogey!" The old man stooped down, picked up his jaw, re-attached it, and said, "He's about to tee off over on the fifth--of gin!" He laughed--though Nicholas said he didn't know why--and his jaw fell off again. This time, though, Nicholas said he didn't hesistate, that he grabbed Georgia's hand and started running. He said that the old man tried to follow, moaning something about brains, but the old man finally fell into a sand pit and couldn't get up.

About this time, the wedding ceremony was set to begin, and my wife said, "I want a picture--of me!"
So she did. After fifteen snapshots, she sat down, and the wedding music began (click on the play button below to hear the bridal march).


The three little flower girls--one of which was the bride's and groom's daughter--pranced up the walkway, distributing flower pedals for the bride to try not to slip on.
The first half of the ceremony was short, about four feet, ten inches tall. The preacher read from the Bible, and the couple responded, but I don't know what was said, because Georgia was tugging at my hand, telling me again and again she was ready to go home, that she didn't like the Bogey man. I wasn't quite sure exactly which Bogey man she meant, but I decided to run with the idea of the threatening person lurking in the shadows to scare Georgia into staying. I told her to look all the way up at the top of the clubhouse, where loomed a solitary dormer window. I told her that inside that room was the jail, and inside that jail lurked a monster that loved to eat little children, and that those people behind the windows inside the clubhouse--did she see them now? she did--were the clubhouse police who overlooked the knoll, keeping an eye out for any child that might misbehave, so that they could lock the child in the jail and feed it to the monster.

This idea of mine worked, but it worked too well, as Georgia started crying again, this time scared of the monster inside the jail, forget about the Bogey man. I'd about had enough, so I told her that if she didn't quit crying, that I was going to feed her to the monster myself, and he would rip her apart with his teeth. She stopped her crying and started to whimper, but I think I must have spoken too loud, for when I turned to look back at the ceremony, others were looking at me, and they seemed frightened, too. Even the bride started to whimper.

In fact, Christy was so scared that her fiancee had to hold her hand to go down the stairs to light a candle, for apparently the natural sunlight wasn't enough to ward off the dormer monster.

The couple then proceeded back up the stairs, and they finished their vows, but they seemed to whisper them because they were afraid the clubhouse police would take them away to...you know who. Once the preacher pronounced them man and woman, the two sucked face

and the audience erupted in cheers and in other bars in and around the Boston area. It was like a fairy tale--kinda like Shrek, in that the wedding kiss dispelled whatever charm evil held over whomever, because no one seemed to be scared anymore of the dormer monster, and that's why they all applauded. Well--almost all of them applauded. The groomsmen didn't; they cried like litte gir...uh...little babies (see, honey, I didn't say girls).

Why the tears from the dapper dons? I'm not sure, but I expect it's because Mr. Ketcher would soon be leaving for basic training somewhere in the Carolinas, and they won't be there to see their buddy off. Christy will, though, as she's traveling to the Carolinas with him. Yee-haw!

A few minutes later, my wife broke a nail trying to take another picture of herself. "Out, out damned nail!" she exclaimed, as her shutter-finger nail broke off and torpedoed into her mouth and lodged in-between her two silver-lined molars (ladies just love the bling). I caught the camera she reflexively dropped, and she told me to go take pictures of the bride and groom since she was occupied with both fingers in her mouth, looking as if she was trying to pop a zit on the back of her tongue. The bride and groom were being swarmed with talking donkeys, little wooden boys, fencing cats, and gingerbread men; so, I decided to take some pictures of my friends (and former students) that were in attendance.

First we have Angelina Mattera and Brittany Ferguson:

Next is the cutest little nuclear family (other than mine) in attendance--Drew Tubby, Denisa Isom and Child:

Then, we have the East Central Community College soccer star, Shandahl Hickman:

Finally, we have my pal and yours, the 2008 Choctaw Indian Princess, Miss Tia Faye ANDERSON:

Another friend (and former student) Bradley Isaac was also there, but my wife told me not to take any of him, since he's her most fierce rival, her arch-enemy; so, I didn't. I did manage to part the sea of woodland creatures flocking the newlyweds by shouting, "Dormer monster! Dormer monster!" long enough for to take this shot: ain't they cute!

We were all invited to the reception, but by then Georgia was fit to be tied, so we put her in the Jeep, and Nicholas tied her to her car seat. She was happy. On the way home, we asked her if she liked the wedding, and she said that she did. Once at the house, she told me she wanted to get married, that she wanted a family. I asked her if she really wanted to be a mommy, and she said she did. I asked her what mommies did, and so she went to her room, took off her dress, put on a ratty shirt, and told me to go. Oooo-kay. A few minutes later, she called me to come there. I walked in the living room, and I found her like this:

She said, "Daddy look! I'm a mommy!" I told her that was so sweet, and she said, "Daddy! Fix me juice! And when you get back--here! Rub this lotion on my feet! And turn the TV to House Hunters!"