Here Comes The Bride…Hunter
“On a scale of one to ten…how angry is Cherry Pie?”
Dixon pauses from looping his tie, looking at my reflection in the full-length mirror. “Eleven.” Groaning, I tip my head toward the ceiling, wishing I had some scotch.
Today is the big day—the day my best friend gets married to the love of his life. Readers at home, I know what you’re thinking—about f*****g time. But this story is about me, and my uncanny ability to create a shitstorm wherever I go.
Thanks to Dix being the chivalrous brute that he is, his nose resembles a potato. The swelling has gone down, but the bruising is every color of the rainbow. If you look over the rainbow, you just may see Dixon’s nose. The doctors said it should straighten, but I think from now on he’ll be known as Mr. Potato He
