Miles had to face it: he and Waylon might as well be good athletes, but they were frightened as hell. They found shelter from their rampant hunters in two lockers near the vocational block (as the map read), pondering on their opportunities of safely returning to their homes.
"What should we do now, Waylon? You know this place, give me something!", Miles whispered. Waylon sighed in the darkness of his locker. "To tell the truth, Miles, we have only one place to go and you won't be glad upon hearing it."
"Is it that wedding-thing the others were talking about? Why, that sounds great! There must be lots of people there, we could easily hide in the big commotion", said the videographer. "Just tell me there are no dogs there."
Pleased with their severely defected plan, they left the sanctuary of their lockers. In fact, just in time to stumble into Jeremy Blaire, who seemed to be extremely exasperated. Waylon could tell that it was probably their fault. It was always his fault, at least. "Mr. Park, if you ever fail to report to my desk again, I am going to tell your wife what you did with Steve's doughnut!". "Mr. Park, you are so useless it made my coffee cold and tasteless! Go and make another cup for me!". "Mr. Park, your wife called again. The next time she asks me about your laundry, I'm gonna piss into your goddamn laptop and make you write your goddamn last will with it!". Yet again, a sadistic smile cracked Blaire's face.
"Oh, if it isn't Mr. Upshur and Mr. Park! I just heard you have made a great impression back there in the Male Ward. Congratulations! I would like to express my gratitude by enlisting you to the Bride Pageant, starting just about now, so hurry up since you need the perfect attire for the big day!", Blaire made a hurrying gesture with his hands. As an answer, Miles did an unbecoming gesture with his hands.
"No way I am gonna take part in that kind of stuff! I'm a man, for Christ's sake!", Miles uttered. Blaire nonchalantly crossed his arms, supressing a yawn. "Inform our friend here, Mr. Park. But better make it quick". Miles turned to Waylon, who all of a sudden felt really anxious.
"Um, Miles, the whole pageant-event is organised by the Groom, aka Eddie Gluskin. He's rather fond of sewing and clothes, but he is all about weddings. Nevertheless, he is particularly picky when it comes to brides. Take notice of the fact that there are no women here; this is why we need to put up a pretend-game and have his own ways of selecting from his 'brides-to-bes'".
"And of course keep in mind, gentlemen, if you do not feel committed enough for such a great step towards happiness, I'm going to get you committed to a prison. End of story, you can go on your merry ways." Blaire added, exhausting every ounce of pessimistic, sadistic, sarcastic, torture-istic element of his words.
"You know what? I am going to do this at will, since I am a wedding videographer. That's what I do for a living, douche!", Miles retorted, grabbing Waylon by his arm and strutting away with great reassurance in his manhood. But since he was a fan of last words, he could not resist the temptation of saying "And by the way, I will be a beautiful bride!"