Tag Archives: marriage

1497. Honeymooners

Ursula and Lockwood are newlyweds. They are honeymooning in an exotic island location. (We shall not name the exact place as we wouldn’t want paparazzi to ruin their blissful time).

How they did things hand in hand! watched the fountain play with fantasy lights; visited the zoo and laughed at the spitting llama; fed the ducklings at the park. Next they went to the village market. Lockwood tossed balls at a bunch of coconuts and won for Ursula a fluffy stuffed panda with a bright red ribbon. And then there was the fortune-teller…

“Throw these cards into the air,” said the soothsayer. “One card will land face-up. That will be your future.”

Ursula tossed the cards. One fell face-up.

An argument will end your marriage. You will both die in a plane crash.

Ursula and Lockwood are scared stupid. They are currently staying in separate hotel rooms afraid to speak lest they argue. They await separate flights out.

1494. Punting on the river

Fintan knew the time had come for him to propose marriage to Angela. What was holding him up? He wanted to propose creatively. He wanted it to be memorable. He wanted it to be both romantic and different.

He suggested to Angela that they hire a punt on the river. The river was deep and slow and picturesque. They would take a picnic lunch and pull over to the side, perhaps under a weeping willow. And then either before or after lunch, when all seemed most idyllic, he would propose. Of course, Fintan made a few trial runs in a hired punt secretly. He wanted to know how best to guide the boat, and best where to go.

It was a beautiful summer’s day. Birds sang. A fish jumped up out of the water just as their punt passed by. It was as if it was dancing for the joy of the occasion. A mother duck protected her batch of newly hatched ducklings. How wonderful! At one stage, quite by accident, some sad, winsome, romantic oboe music wafted from a manor beyond the expansive lawn on the river bank. This would be the moment, the perfect moment to propose.

Fintan went down on one knee. “Angela,” he said, “will you marry me?” Fintan’s change in posture unbalanced the punt. Angela didn’t even have time to say “Yes!” before the boat toppled over and they drowned.

1493. Mrs Rasmussen

Mrs Andrew Rasmussen was known as Mrs Andrew Rasmussen or simply Mrs Rasmussen. Few used her first name. What a lovely person!

She had six children. She organised the annual school picnic, when all the parents came along with a picnic lunch on the sprawling country school grounds. She instituted the country women’s club for mutual support among the local mothers. She had a garden (both vegetables and flowers) to die for. She supported her husband in all he did at work, and even joyfully went along to the monthly factory bowls tournament, which she secretly disliked.

Of course her six children flourished. They all got reasonable jobs, got married, and had children of their own. And what a grandmother she was to all of them! They were her life!

Eventually she died; at the reasonable age of eighty-five. Eighty-five wonderful and full years! She stipulated that she was to be cremated and her ashes scattered amongst the… “Oh! Do what you like with the ashes, I won’t be minding!”

Years later, a great granddaughter was researching her ancestry. There was no headstone to go on. She searched through every local newspaper to glean snippets of insight. The only mention anywhere of her great grandmother was a reference in a newspaper on a local wedding:

Mrs Andrew Rasmussen wore an ensemble of green chiffon velvet trimmed with beige fur, and hat of the same shade.

Euphemia Broadhurst had vanished from the earth.

1475. Bon appetit!

It was Thanksgiving, and Fred and Jaime Burtwhistle had much to be thankful for, although they couldn’t agree on what their next step in life together was to be. Fred’s Great Aunt Donnabelle, whom they loved very much for obvious reasons, had died and left them a gigantic fortune. It was such a pleasure to be able to spend money and not have their nosy great aunt overseeing. Waiting for her to die had taken years.

Then there was Jaime’s Aunt Mabel to be thankful for. She would never shut up. Talk talk talk. She had a motor accident at some stage during the year and lost the ability to talk. What a relief! What a blessing!

Jaime’s father was a chronic alcoholic and they had put him in a care center of some sort for drunks. It was going to be good not having him around on Thanksgiving to ruin everything.

Fred’s mother, a widow, was a nut case. She had been “institutionalized”. Hopefully in a padded cell. You’ve no idea how embarrassing that woman could be.

So indeed there was much for Fred and Jaime Burtwhistle to be grateful for this Thanksgiving. They had no children, so it was to be just the two of them. Of course, they couldn’t agree on how best to spend Great Aunt Donnabelle’s inheritance. To solve this disagreeable problem Fred had poisoned the cranberry sauce, and Jaime had poisoned the pumpkin pie.

Bon appetit!

1447. The engagement photo

Yes, this is a photo of me and my fiancé. We never married of course. We were engaged for just a short time. Our marriage was arranged, as indeed they were for many back then. Arranged marriages seemed to work well enough. You’d fall in love over time without usually having to spend energy on the lovey-dovey stage.

Hector and I had met just the twice, and he was to visit me again. In those days it took two days to travel from where he lived to my village. He had to catch a number of trains and a ferry. And arrive he did! I had spent all day perfecting my looks and hair. It wasn’t so much vanity, as nerves. One strives to look as elegant as possible for these pre-arranged liaisons.

Hector and I walked to the village hall where the dance was to be held. He was very handsome, and so very courteous and polite. As soon as we walked in the hall he said, “Whose that?” and I said “That’s Mabel Hussleworth. She’s engaged to Anton Gorinski.”

The announcement of her engagement didn’t seem to register. He danced with Mabel all night, and I, a wall flower for but a short time, danced the rest of the night away with Mabel’s fiancé, Anton. In fact, we have danced the rest of our lives away, and coming next Friday we will have been married for thirty-nine years.

Mabel and Hector tied the knot as well. I’ve kept the engagement photograph of me and Hector as a reminder of how lucky I was to have escaped getting married to a serial wife basher. Mabel I believe is in a wheelchair, and he murdered his second wife.

1424. Dialogue

Wife: You haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying, have you? You never listen to what I say. It’s plain rude. I spent the last twenty minutes trying to explain to you why Katie isn’t doing so well at school and you haven’t heard a word. Not a word.

Husband: What a funny way to start a conversation.

1422. Quite frankly, I’m sick of it

Quite frankly, I’m sick of it, Heidi. I come home from work and the place is a mess. The kids’ rooms are a mess. The kids haven’t even done their homework. The only food to look forward to is precooked stuff out of a package. You just heat it up in the microwave like you don’t care. The dishes don’t get done. The kids eat too much junk.

Then all you do is complain about every little thing. You want a better car. The lawn needs mowing – well, mow it yourself if that’s what you want. You haven’t taken the trash out. You’re not separating trash into recyclables. You don’t take any pride in your appearance any more. You look like an old cow.

Oh yes, Heidi, you have a cold. When don’t you have a cold? Moan moan moan. I cut down your work hours at the factory to only 30 hours a week so you could do some home-making stuff you so desperately wanted and all you do is moan moan moan. Quite frankly, I’m sick of it.

Heidi pulled out a gun and shot him dead. It was premeditated.