Wedding Crashers: Season 1
“You are in the hospital.” I stared up at Brian through the clearing fog. He swayed back-and-forth, avoiding my eyes. “They said you will pull through, but your teeth are pretty messed up, buddy.”
I tried to lift my head slightly. “The show… argh!” The words made my spine pierce into my brain. “did… we… win?”
His pained expression was answer enough.
He scratched the back of his head. “Lara really tried, man. She put her weight into the bat and everything, just like you told her. But she only smashed out three of your molars. She also cracked your right cheekbone for two points, but the groom of the winning couple lost eight teeth on the first swing. His wife basically took his head off with that thing. He’s next door. Not sure if he’s going to make it.”
I let my head sink back on the pillow, blinding pain washing over me. This was it, the worst scenario.
Staring at the ceiling, I carefully cleared my throat. “Lara… where?”
“She’s still with that shrink from the show.” Brian squirmed uncomfortably. “She’s pretty messed up by all of this.”
Lara had been ambivalent from the start—why can’t we just have a normal wedding?—but I had bullied her into participating. As usual. People always told her I wasn’t good enough. Now she would finally agree.
I could hear Brian tapping his fingernails against the metal frame of the bed. “The doctors kind of keep pestering Lara about the payment for your emergency surgery. You guys being married now and all.”
I stayed silent. What could I say to that?
Brian patted the blanket. “Don’t worry buddy. I’ll make something up.” His eyes wandered through the room. “Do you want some TV? Guess you could use some distraction.”
The clock on the wall showed eight on the dot. He switched on the tiny screen in the corner. The Wedding Crashers theme came blaring through the speakers. “Oh, sorry bud. Probably the last thing you want to see right now, right? Where’s that damn remote?”
I spotted my folded tuxedo on a chair. A few blood stains were visible on the white shirt. The rental place had offered a great price when I had mentioned the show.
Brian sat down at the end of the bed. “Apparently, the grooms are racing to gnaw off the girls’ ring finger.” His eyes were fixed on the screen. “One million less in the pot than yesterday though. They can barely afford a proper honeymoon if they win.”