Past is Past (A Sexist Story about a Non-sexist Reality)

The bride walks along the red carpet covered with the most fragrant flowers you can think of. Her head is bowed because she wants to hide the enormous amount of tears flowing down her face. But she’s smiling. Yes, she’s smiling. Pretty white pearls shining between her soft pink lips. If you take a peek at her face from under her bowed head, you’d see she’s almost mad with joy.

The groom waiting for her at the end of that aisle that takes forever to walk looks like a prince out of a Disney film. Licking his lips, he shook his head a little bit at the dazzling woman gliding toward him now.

He thinks, “Not bad. Not bad at all. It took 3 years of enduring her stone-cold fanatically religious parents, but I finally bagged this one home. Great cook. Pretty expert with her mouth and tongue. I could live with that. After spending 10 hours facing a computer and reading porn spam, yeah, I can come home to that. Not bad. We can do it in the kitchen. Just pull down my pants and she’d know what to do. Yeah, not bad at all.”

And bridesmaid one thinks, “This bitch must really be better than me. I still can’t believe it. I mean, come on. I sucked the hell out of Art ’til I freakin’ choked. And for hours I choked! That asshole didn’t care that I was already as blue as his father’s cancerous mole!”

And Art’s father thinks, “What would Art think if he’d known I jacked off to this lady’s Facebook profile? Those bikini pictures were too much for me. What would mom think?”

And Art’s mother thinks, “My son is a lucky boy ever since he was young. Good choice of crowd here, too. Very lovely people. Especially that Lindsay. My buttocks were as plump as those when I was 16.”

And Lindsay thinks, “God, that bridesmaid over there is makin’ my nipples itchy and hard. But Art’s sister doesn’t look bad, either. I like her jawline.”

And bridesmaid one thinks, “What’s up with this Lindsay bitch? She thinks she’s hotter than me, eh?”

And Art’s sister thinks, “Good luck, bridey. If you only knew what Art hides under the floor of his bedroom.”

And the best man thinks, “Arty my man, we have a new subject. Those cuffs will fit her wrists juuust fine. I would’ve tapped that a** myself if you weren’t so fast with that f*cked up speed dating game. I know she used to dig me.”

And the priest thinks, “Good heavens. The plunging neckline is too revealing! Bathroom immediately after this.”

And Art’s boss thinks, “Poor f*ck. I gave him the whole Amazon tribe last night. I was hopin’ he’d back out. Now he’s stuck with this Jesus fan girl for the rest of his life and I gotta suffer this paternity leave bull crap somewhere down the road. If only Martha chomped on his balls more.”

And Martha thinks, “When’s the reception? My tummy’s going ape-shit crazy. Why the f*ck did that dumbass groom invite me here?”

And Martha’s friend thinks, “Smilin’ like a Prince Charming, the dildo slave.”

And the best man thinks, “Art told me she’d let it slip she liked studded dildos. Well, so does Art!”

And bridesmaid two thinks, “I don’t know why I allowed this. All of us bridesmaids have exposed our puss*es to Art!”

And Art thinks, “Faye is here? I thought she refused the invitation. Oh man, look at them bridesmaid girls. They had a piece of me, all of ’em.”

And Faye (bridesmaid three) thinks, “I just have to see those broad shoulders like a 747 jet one last time. Shit, he’s yummy!”

And bridesmaid four thinks, “Why do I feel guilty? We only did it once, and in just 3 minutes in his parents’ bathroom. That old man with a cancerous mole came knockin’ and Art had to finish humpin’ fast.”

And bridesmaid five thinks, “Why do I feel guilty? We only did it once. And it was oral.”

And bridesmaid six thinks, “Why do I feel guilty? He just felt my rack. All of us were drunk, even the bride!”

And bridesmaid seven thinks, “Why do I feel guilty? Art just watched me and Barry do it. We’re close friends. I take a pee with him checkin’ my cellulite out. But why do I still feel guilty?”

And Barry (the best man) thinks, “I wonder if she’d be willing to wear the Nun costume? No one had ever agreed to wear that except Charles. But probably not because her parents are insane Jesus freaks.”

And Charles thinks, “I wore that silly Nun costume and gave Art the most violent jizz of his life and this hag still got Art!”

And the bride’s mother thinks, “Bless her oh, Lord, for she hath not kissed anybody’s mouth before. Give her the knowledge to know when to use her tongue and when to use her teeth.”

And the bride’s father thinks accompanying her, “Bless me oh, Lord, for I hath kissed her in the wrong way when she was 13.”

And bridesmaid eight thinks, “Why do I feel guilty? I only masturbated on Art’s graduation pic.”

And the flower girl thinks, “The priest is funny. He’s bald.”

And the ring bearer thinks, “How come priests are allowed to drink?”

And the priest thinks, “Bathroom immediately after this.”

And groomsman one thinks, “I f*ckin hate weddings to my very bones.”

And groomsman two thinks, “Rock star Arty seems to have changed for the better, indeed. He used to bring home a new girl every two weeks.”

And groomsman three thinks, “Wow, Barry has really changed. That gruffy carpenter look suits him perfectly. That beer belly, too. I hate to say this, but I now dig Barry over Art.”

And groomsman four thinks, “Check out those buxom bumpers. Out of all the shops she raided with Art, she picked the one with a neckline as deep as the Marianas Trench. You can tell she likes to do something with her titt*es.”

And groomsman five thinks, “I wonder how many guys are after that Lindsay chick?”

And Lindsay thinks, “There goes that fugly banker again. Checkin’ me out. Sorry, but I also have a dick, albeit plastic…”

And groomsman five thinks, “I wonder if she likes dildos?”

And Lindsay thinks, “…and strap-on. 14 inches.”

And groomsman six thinks, “The wedding is indeed the most pivotal event in anyone’s life. The grand church, the classical organ pieces, dainty bridesmaids resembling forest fairies, and groomsmen with their neatest, most expensive suits — all of these make the ritual more special. The bride passes into another realm of emotional and psychological maturity from a mere romantic partner into a full-time wife and caretaker of the home. The groom attains that little piece of wisdom that completes the complicated jigsaw of his life. Both individuals become higher than single individuals who still haven’t found true love in all its transcendent power of transformation. Whatever happens, I have to find my bride this year.”

And groomsman seven thinks, “I just missed the play-offs. F*CK!”

And groomsman eight thinks, “Damn, Art’s really hardcore. He invited Martha here. Wedged in the cavities of that whore’s teeth are all our pubes here knotted together.”

And Martha thinks, “Men are filthy pigs. As soon as I get my bonus, I’m gettin’ out of this crappy wedding.”

And Martha’s friend thinks, “Why do ordinary people look so friggin’ pretentious?”

And Faye thinks, “No, those shoulders are more like an Airbus now. Art’s grown. We can’t ever do the piledriver anymore.”

And Art thinks, “Not bad at all.”

The bride reaches for the hand of the groom. Her teeth is so white the altar’s ivory looks moldy in comparison. And she’s smiling. Oh, yes, she’s smiling. Makeup kinda smudged by tears, she looks up at the groom and the big cross in front of the stained glass windows showing the ascension of Christ. The curls of her hair hide her pretty face from the proud groom. The organ fills up every corner with the 18th Variation of Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini as flowers, the most fragrant you can think of, are crushed underneath the bride’s glass slippers.

4 Comments

Filed under Random Thoughts

4 responses to “Past is Past (A Sexist Story about a Non-sexist Reality)

  1. hmmm… this is soooo funny…. 🙂

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