AUTHOR'S NOTE: I would have called this "Wedding Bell Blues," but I have another story here on that has that title. Parts of this one were inspired by a couple of computer games, "Dream Day Wedding" and "Dream Day Wedding: Married in Manhattan." As always, The Impossibles and Big D belong to Hanna-Barbera. Anyone else you encounter belongs to me. I also apologize in advance over my OC, Phyllis Dawson, coming off as a Mary Sue in this at points, but the focus *will* change through the course of this thing. It's just that sometimes, you need your OC's to be the "star" for awhile in order to get from Point A to Point B. And anyone who isn't familiar with the term "Mary Sue" describing original characters, Look It Up, Dear.

It was a Saturday evening in June. The Impossibles were playing a wedding. They had been roped into it by Fluey's half-sister, Phyllis. Her friend, Kathy, was the bride, and she was a bridesmaid. Phyllis had been a bridesmaid at all her friends' weddings, and this made her depressed. She was happy for her friends, sure, but it seemed like she was always a bridesmaid, and never a bride. She never even had a steady boyfriend, either. Mainly because every time she brought any boy she was dating home, Big D would somehow or another scare him off.

In any case, the boys took a break from their performance, and walked over to Phyllis.

"Everything okay, sis?" Fluey asked. "You seem kind of depressed."

"I'm okay, Fluey, really," Phyllis sighed. "It's just . . . . . well, the whole always a bridesmaid, never a bride, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, the wedding bell blues," Multi said, nodding.

"I think that's mainly Big D's fault," Fluey said. "You told me he tends to chase off every guy you've ever brought home. Now, in a way, I can see his point."

"You can?" Coiley asked.

"Sure," Fluey said. "He doesn't want Phyllis to get involved with any low lifes, so he intimidates every guy she brings home, no questions asked."

"Oh yeah, I know the type," Multi said, nodding. "My dad's the same way with my sister."

"I guess my sisters should count themselves lucky," Coiley said. "Even though my dad wasn't too crazy about some of the guys both my sisters brought home, he never tried to chase them off, or grill them like swordfish."

"I think he doesn't want to see you make the same mistake in relationships that Dad made, Phyllis," Fluey said.

"Yeah, I see your point, Fluey," Phyllis said, putting her arm around her younger brother's shoulders. "Jack . . . . . I mean, Dad was always getting mixed up with the wrong girl."

(Phyllis grew up thinking Big D was her father, instead of her grandfather. The truth didn't come out until not too long ago).

After the break, the boys went back to the bandstand and continued the music. Another thing Phyllis didn't like about going to her friends' weddings was the fact that the bride would often try to set her up with one of her single relatives, or a single relative of the groom. Actually, the only other one of Phyllis's friends that hadn't been married yet was her best friend, Daisy DuVall, but she never really had the problem Phyllis had, considering she had been dating the same guy for three years.

Finally, it was The Moment of Truth. The Bouquet Toss. Kathy stood on a chair, while all the single girls in the room flocked around. Then, Kathy tossed the bouquet, and all heck broke loose among the girls.

"Stand back, fellas," Coiley warned. "You might lose a limb in there!"

"Why do girls always go crazy over this part of the wedding?" Fluey asked.

"Superstition," Multi said. "They say whoever catches the bride's bouquet is the next one to get married."

"Does it necessarily have to be in one piece?" Fluey asked.

"That, I'm not sure of," Multi said. "Why?"

Fluey pointed over to the mess of girls across the room. They were practically tearing Kathy's bouquet apart, trying to get a piece of it. In the end of the scuffle, it was Phyllis who managed to get the darn thing, amazingly, still in one piece.

"Boy, I thought they'd tear that thing apart!" Fluey shouted. "How'd you swing it, sis?"

"Most everybody here knows never, ever mess with me," Phyllis said. That happened to be true. Phyllis was a black belt in martial arts, and usually wore high heels when she would "demonstrate" a kick or two (no one could figure out just how she could accomplish that, but it was quite painful on her "test subjects," who were almost always male. That could have been another reason she'd never had a steady boyfriend)

"Well, you know the old tradition," Coiley said. "Whoever catches the bouquet is the next one to get married."

"That's what they say," Phyllis said. "Personally, I don't think there's that much truth to it."

"What makes you say that?" Multi asked.

"I've caught the bouquet about five times in the past two years, and I am nowhere close to getting married," Phyllis said.

There was nothing more that could be said about that, and usually, once the bride tossed the bouquet, the wedding was over. The Impossibles finished up the gig, and they, along with Phyllis, went out to the Impossi-Mobile, and left. Phyllis didn't say much on the ride back home. Coiley dropped her, and Fluey off at their place, and then drove off to drop Multi off at his house.

"Don't sweat it, sis," Fluey said, unlocking the front door. "You're young. You've still got time. I don't think you'll be classified as an old maid for another ten years or so."

"Thank you, Mr. Sensitive," Phyllis said, giving her brother a swat in the shoulder. Fluey just shrugged, he and Phyllis went into the den. Big D was there, reading the newspaper and smoking his pipe.

"Hi, chief," Phyllis said. "We're back."

"How was the wedding?" Big D asked, not even looking up from the paper.

"Okay, I guess," Phyllis said, shrugging. Then she sat down on the couch and took off her high heels.

"You guess?" Big D said, putting down the paper. "What do you mean you guess?"

"I don't know," Phyllis shrugged, tossing her shoes onto the floor, and laying back on the couch. "I guess it reminded me that I'm the only one of my friends who isn't married yet. Okay, so Daisy isn't married, either, but she's got a steady boyfriend. I mean, the old biological clock is ticking here!"

"I'm sure they'll be plenty of time for all of that when you're older," Big D said.

"She's twenty-one now, chief," Fluey said. "How long do you expect her to wait to get married? When she's as old as you? Man, that's practically a lifetime wasted!"

"Watch it, young man," Big D said, shooting his grandson a Look.

"Well, she told me you're the one who's always scaring off her boyfriends," Fluey shrugged.

"Fluid . . . . ." Big D said, in a warning tone.

"Yeah, okay," Fluey said, and he started to leave the room. "I think I'll just, uhh, split now before I end up with my foot in my mouth."

And with that, Fluey retreated up the stairs to his bedroom as fast as he could. Big D sighed, and shook his head.

"I swear I don't know what I'm going to do with that boy!" he shouted.

"But he does have a point," Phyllis said. Then she sighed, stood up, and started for the staircase herself.

"I might as well face the facts, anyway," she said. "I'll probably be single for the rest of my life."