With his usual nonchalant strut, Kyle made his way up the slight steps and onto the threshold of the cathedral hall. He was clad in a brown vintage suit, complete with his favorite splurge of jewelry. His right hand carried his ruby-coated swagger staff with real gold at its head. He had no eye accessories on this day. He wanted everyone to see just how little of a damn he gave about the whole affair. He was here for three reasons only: to prove the bride wrong, to feed his macho ego and lastly because he had promised Romera- the bride’s sister- that he would. Subconsciously, he had filled his favorite flask with his favorite ‘feelings-inhibitor’; decades-old scotch and stashed it in his inner breast pocket.
After exchanging pleasantries with the usher, Kyle took several short strides and paused to take in the scene. The wedding was themed pink and white so it was a good thing she was marrying a Caucasian bloke. The skins of his people did much to contribute to the general decor and the entire hall looked like it was littered with freaking flamingos, especially with the ladies in their short dresses and long heels and the men’s awkwardly high-pitched voices. The occasional expressions of joy sounded like the squawking of birds. The bride’s family was also in plenty supply and this meant pompousness and assholenary were in the air. They carried themselves with a false sense of royalty because their precious princess had achieved the greatest feat an African could ever achieve: winning the heart of a White man. With an arrogant smile, he walked down the aisle of his would-have-been wedding and picked a seat right behind where her royal highness and her goons of pettiness would be sitting and stole a long sip from his miniature fountain of wellness before plunging deep into the world of thought and wonder, dotted with a million what-if’s and why’s. All the while, the groom was eyeing him suspiciously, almost fearfully, as he maintained his position on the alter.
Kyle was almost drifting into blissful sleep when he was rudely awakened by the commotion marking the entrance of the bride. He rose, just like everyone else did. Something stirred within him when he caught a glimpse of Bonita. It could have been the very potent scotch he had just taken that caused him to lose feeling in his entire body and literally gaze at his ex-fiancée as she walked to be united with her groom. His eyes never left her. She was so damn beautiful, this woman. She had been his muse for a very long time and he was hurt that this was happening. No, he was angry. The fact that he had shed his almost compulsive perfectionism for this female human only for her to wave him away from her life was nothing short of infuriating. He had gone completely out of his way to love her like she deserved but she chose pinker pastures instead. Everyone knew it would be them holding hands at the altar as she was currently doing with her spineless groom. He had literally prayed that they would. The real icing on the cake was the fact that he had broken the heart of a wonderful girl who he knew truly loved him and in so doing ruined a wonderful friendship for her sake. These thoughts brought a murderous expression of disgust to his face, one that Bonita caught a glimpse of as she turned to take her seat. Ted saw it too. Kyle locked eyes, first with Ted then with Bonita. It was an intense moment and he could feel uncontrollable anger building up within him. She hesitated a bit, but she recovered soon and the situation drifted into normalcy almost immediately. Another gulp from the flask.
“If anyone has reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, let him speak now or forever hold his tongue.” Graveyard silence. This got to him and the words echoed in his head. He rose, quite majestically, to storm out. He paused on the aisle and looked back to see her one last time. She was crying; calmly at first, then very hysterically. He could see from the big screen that it came from a very deep place. Ted was frantically trying to contain the reaction. This appealed to his sadistic side and he felt he had finally gotten his gratification. His initial arrogant smile applied itself once more. He straightened his very expensive coat and with a swing of his staff, Kyle turned and walked out, leaving the church hall in utter pandemonium.
Ted left the church from a side door and intercepted Kyle just before he got to his car with a jab to his side. Kyle moved back, extremely delighted that this had happened. He had dreamt of such an encounter ever since Bonita called him from her American apartment to break off their engagement and shamelessly announce her new one. He placed his staff on the trunk of a parked car and applied the very best of his self-defense classes on his assailant. A huge crowd gathered. A few tried to stop the fight. There was a lot of screaming and yelling too, but nothing could keep Kyle from wreaking hot havoc on poor Ted. “Stop it, Kyle”. Her voice stood out amongst the million sounds that were in the air. “How could you do this?” Romera added. He looked at the scene he had caused and was proud of it. It felt strangely satisfying. As a few scrawny bridegrooms picked Ted from the miserable heap that was himself, Kyle remembered he had once bought Bonita a pink teddy bear with a purple lace. He had done it again. He had given the succubus princess a pink and purple Teddy. A befitting parting gift. “Thanks for the invite,” he said sarcastically to the bride’s sister as he grabbed his precious staff and got into his German Machine, in which he sped off, music blaring louder than a concert.