Wow! Let me just say what a wedding! Thank you so much for not only being there, not only being my best man, but giving me the best darn week of my life.
As you may have guessed from Joanne running away from the ceremony crying, she has a different perspective of the past week. She didn’t come back to the hotel that night, but I found the following note on my bed the next morning:
At first, I was as happy as you were that you and your brother were burying the hatchet and regaining your former closeness. However, as time went on I learned that your family is strange, manipulative, and ultimately irritating.
Your “bachelor party” ManQuest was horrendous. Your parents are extremely odd and make me uncomfortable. Your nephew has weird misshapen shoulders. But, worst of all, your brother is an asshole.
I’ve decided that there are only two things that make me happy: acting out the brilliant works of William Shakespeare, and cocaine. I’ve decided that I don’t need you, or your bizarre and annoying family. I’m going to spend the week of our honeymoon on an acting bender: drifting from town to town, performing, and doing lots of blow. Don’t try to contact me until you have the divorce papers drawn up.
P.S. Your brother’s tile-work “gift” is asinine.
Honestly, I don’t even know if we’re married. Are you still married if the bride runs away from the ceremony crying and shouting “Shakespeare has never before been so badly wounded”?
By the way, that reminds me: I loved your comments and additions to our ceremony. It was a far better idea to have you screech into the ceremony on a motorcycle. Plus, you’re right: Shakespeare’s language is boring. “Here’s your mutha-effin rang, dickbombs” is a far better introduction.
Perhaps if we weren’t blasted out of our minds since you arrived thanks to your seemingly endless supply of tequila, it would have been better for me and my now estranged sort-of wife and marriage to pass these changes by Joanne. But, you know what? After I read that note, I realized what you were shouting at our rehearsal dinner was right: she IS kind of a bitch-face!
I mean, how DARE she call Mom and Dad odd?!? So, Dad surprised her in the shower by slapping her on the ass with a fresh baked apple tart. I mean, come on. That’s DAD! Remember the Bear Claws when we were younger? Mom would get SO PISSED when he would put icing on them, then throw them at everyone in church. But, what can I say? The man can bake, and knows how to pull a good prank. And Mom’s pretty much a saint! I thought Joanne and her were having a nice heart-to-heart, but apparently Joanne was uncomfortable at the way Mom discussed their imminent death. I always thought it was very comforting the way Mom reminded us that we’re all mortal, and we’ll all perish and be eaten by maggots — our flesh decaying and rotting for the rest of eternity. I guess Joanne has a problem accepting a simple fact.
Which brings me to another point: I’m sorry that during our ManQuest, Steve Junior refused to fight. It may not have been right of dad to distract S.J. with a fresh-baked pie only to hatchet his own grandson in the leg. But, hey, like you said, it was every man for himself! I hope Dr. Frank is treating him well.
When I read that Post Script, I was livid. “Two Businessmen High-Five While Bruce Lee Flying Kicks Out of the Explosion” is brilliant. And, in fact, I sent it back with this letter because I’m moving back! I’ve decided that I don’t need Ms. I’m-Better-Than-You-Because-I-Love-Shakespeare to tell me what to do. Let’s team up and make the tile business better than ever!
Plus, I gotta be there anyway at all of our arraignments for killing that random other guy from a different ManQuest crew. I’m confident though that Dr. Frank will make a great lawyer, as you suggested.
So, here’s to a new life: my old life, back once again! Except this time I accept my position as below you on life’s importance-chain. And, there’s a slight chance we all may be in jail for manslaughter.
Shotty top bunk if we share a cell!
See you soon brother. I love you, man.