AN: The things I write for you people. I really do adore you all. Enjoy and share with your friends.

Chapter 64

Whoever was the evil mastermind that created the torture devices called high heel shoes was surely rotting in the deepest corners of Hades right now. I think my toes are breaking and blisters are rising to the surface of my poor, poor feet. This was my worst nightmare.

Why couldn't that holy roller talk faster? This is supposed to be a wedding, not a funeral. I take that back, because that wannabe ruler of the world forced us all into these instruments of pain, and I was now planning her demise. If, and I pray it would never happen, Teeny Tiny Dictator became president we'd all be wearing President Alice Cullen approved uniforms. I would then have to become anarchist and that takes effort and I hate putting forth any of that.

Maybe, just maybe, I should have listened to Dictator and practiced walking in the ugly shoes. Actually, no. Why should I have to suffer anymore then I have to? I'm not truly classless. I wouldn't wear sneakers. I would be tempted, but not actually wear them. I'm sure I still have a pair of black flats my mom forced me to get for middle school graduation. They were scuffed, but black magic marker can cover anything.

I was pondering this when I was shoved in the side. Teeny Tiny Dictator hissed quietly, "Take Rose's bouquet, Bella! Where is your head at?"

Trying not to plan your death.

Trailer handed me her bouquet of plastic flowers and I sneezed at the dust. I had offered to steal flowers from Mrs. Cope's garden, but they had to buy plastic flowers from the Dollar Depot. Trippy orange and fuchsia plastic flowers that have been in the store since the seventies. They could have at least vacuumed them first.

Why can't Reverend Slow Poke get this show on the road?

I looked at the pews. Granny was already chugging her flask. Oh lovely. Maybe, it was communion wine. Nope. Uncle Skeeter had already broke that bad boy open. The minister was giving him the evil eye. Well that wasn't very saintly of him.

I looked over to where Baseball Boy stood next to the giant. He was staring at me and a think he was salivating. At least, there was a little saliva at the corner of his mouth. One squeeze of his genitalia and the kid devolved into a sex crazed maniac.

I stuck my tongue out at him. Damn it. He looked like he was going to faint. I bet he was thinking about my mouth on that sausage in his pants. Disgusting. It wasn't a hot dog. I shivered. He grinned. I bet he thought I was turned on by something. Umm...no.

It looked like he was going to jump me in front of the wedding guests. That would be awkward, but probably nothing new to this crowd.

Oh no. If he liked sticking that trouser snake in a mouth then what if he wants to try out different holes. I started to hyperventilate. It's an exit, not an entrance. Oh no. No. No. No. How would he like it if I crammed something in his hole? This is bad.

"Bella, are you okay?" Dictator asked.

"Things shouldn't go in certain holes, Dictator. Unless it's agreed on by both parties. I don't know if I can handle this!"

"Isabella, I have no clue what you are blabbing about, but this wedding is almost finished. Half the guests are already drunk and the other half are almost there. Hold it together, woman." Dictator held me up by the arm.

My kid blew me a kiss.

Damn it, he was good looking and my feet hurt. I really hate weddings.