How Snausages Ruined The Wedding

Dogs love ‘em. If you believe the television ads, those adorable pups just can’t get enough of ‘em! I’ve even sampled them once (or twice) to find out what all the excitement was about. They weren’t bad, those little salty, meat-flavored dog snacks.
Snausages.
Sometimes it’s just fun to say the word (Snausages!) during serious business meetings to see the reaction of those in attendance. If you can work it into a conversation, you’ll find that you’ve become the life of the party! However, let me warn you that those innocuous little doggie treats can ruin lives. Yes, it’s true, and I’m going to tell you how.
A couple years ago, my young (very young) cousin got married to her high school sweetheart. It just so happened that Virginia (her name) and I also worked together in a local restaurant. Therefore, since I’d known Virginia her entire life, it was appropriate that I be one of the first people to find out that she planned on marrying Shawn, a big, goofy kid who was as nice as anyone you’d ever meet.
My roommate at the time, Marcia, also worked with us…one big happy! When the marriage arrangements were finalized, Marcia and I were asked to stand up for the happy couple in the wedding. Of course, we were ecstatic and said, “Yes!” Actually, I said, “Fuck yeah!”, but that’s just my potty mouth at work.
So, to make a long story longer, the wedding day came around, all of us abuzz at the pageantry of such an event. I was dressed in my tux, Marcia in a (really hideous) bridesmaid’s dress that made her look like, well, a doggie treat.
Marcia stood only five-foot-four, and was equally wide. I have nothing against big gurls, I’m just pointing this out for posterity’s sake. She reminded me of Glenn Close as Cruella De Vil with the same evil cackle and everything. But because Marcia and I were friends, I loved her for her bitchy nature.
So where was I…?
Oh yeah, wedding day. I was assigned to escort Marcia up the aisle ahead of the bride and groom. With the families in their pews (he he), the procession began.
Marcia and I set a stately pace as we led the wedding party toward the altar. For a reason unknown to me, though, I felt the giggles start bubbling up from deep inside. I have always been the class clown. In a family of 14 children, I was the one to make people laugh, defuse a situation, or draw attention to myself with my monkey antics. The downside of this might be that I sometimes get laughing and cannot quit. Though I didn’t perceive the arrival of the giggles as anything serious, I made the mistake of looking at Marcia who held my right arm. Her serious expression, her dog-snack-colored dress, and that was it for me.
She looked up at me with innocence, unaware that I was about to burst into laughter. And for a reason I to this day cannot fathom, I leaned in closer to her and whispered that fateful word:”Snausages.”
Well, that was it for Marcia. Her loud cackle drowned out even the processional organ music that accompanied us. And when she went, those evil giggles that burbled in my belly came splashing out. I struggled to keep them inside. I fought tooth and nail. My face went from bright red to deep burgundy in my efforts. The veins in my neck threatened to burst open. Sweat beaded my forehead.
We made it to the altar where we took our places. I tried and tried not to look across the way at Marcia, to no avail. Her entire body shook with silent laughter. That was it for me. I toppled over backward, right off the altar and into the aisle, effectively interrupting the entire wedding. Virginia and Shawn were furious at me, but that didn’t suppress my giggles. I thought I might pass out. The wedding proceeded once someone came and dragged me away. Too bad they weren’t wearing white coats and carrying butterfly nets.
I was cuckoo for cocoa puffs.
Afterward, no one would speak to me, including Marcia. She told me later that she was afraid to because I very well might have been possessed by the devil.
Everyone eventually forgave me my temporary insanity, but…
Two months later, I received a call from Shawn at work.
“Have you seen Virginia?” he asked in his big, goofy way.
I found this to be a very odd question since he was married to her.
“Umm, no,” I answered, wondering if table 12 had gotten their bottle of mustard.
“She’s gone,” Shawn said.
The people at table 12 were craning their necks as if trying to get their heads to spin around. They hadn’t gotten their mustard.
“Shawn, I have to go. I have customers.”
“She’s run off,” he said. That got my attention.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“She packed a bag.”
Well, that would certainly indicate problems on the home front. Virginia, since her wedding, had quit the restaurant and taken a job in an office. I hadn’t really spoken to her or seen her since, though had spoken on the phone to her a couple times. She hadn’t indicated that anything was amiss. It turned out that Virginia had “eloped” with her forty-six-year old boss from her new job. She hadn’t told her parents, nor her husband, nor anyone for that matter. Deep in the back of my mind, something was waving it’s insidious little sausage-shaped hand at me. Two months passed before Virginia contacted anyone, and that was only to file for divorce from Shawn. I couldn’t help the twinge of guilt I felt for causing such a thing to happen. I knew it was my fault. If I could have only kept my big mouth shut and not whispered Snausages to Marcia at a crucial moment, perhaps Shawn and Virginia would still be together.
I never heard from Shawn nor Virginia again…nor their respective parents. I can’t help but feel that they have blamed me, if even subconsciously, for the disintegration of their holy matrimony.
Do I care? Pass me the snausages, and I’ll tell you…
Reprinted with permission of myself, from God’s Undies.
















