The sun shone brilliantly on the guests and flower-twined pergola in Tilden Park where we waited for the groom to take his place at the front. But where was he? All our necks craned toward the clubhouse. The best man wasn’t up front, either.
Then they both emerged from the clubhouse, staggering drunk and giggling. The groom’s father stood up. He marched toward them and took the groom by the ear and hauled him up the aisle. Nobody laughed, but the organist hit a few clunkers.
(sorry about the formatting. It went weird and I can't fix it)
