Immortal Divorce Court Volume 3: Who Doesn't Love a Wedding? by Kirk Zurosky

Author:Kirk Zurosky [Zurosky, Kirk]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Daddy Issues Publishing
Published: 2021-05-06T22:00:00+00:00

I would never have thought to find myself back in St. Mary’s church, least of all with the Howler at my side. I guess at my side was a bit of a liberal interpretation, as she sat on one side of the aisle in her pew, and I sat in mine on the other. I frowned, looking up at the altar where the great debacle that was our wedding occurred so long ago. I wondered if she was thinking the same thing, or merely trying to block out the memory of her bloated self, lumbering down the aisle to seal the deal on her and Angus’s grand plan to keep the family honor intact.

“Okay, Sirius,” the Howler said. “I haven’t got all day. What do you want?”

She was ever her usual charming self. No wonder this cantankerous canine had not settled down with another mate. I watched the aged, balding priest who called St. Mary’s his parish limp down the aisle to light the altar candles. I could not tell if he nodded at us to recognize our presence in his church, or if he was simply senile.

“Did you come alone?” I asked, looking behind us and seeing that, aside from the doddering man of the cloth, the church was empty.

“Yes,” she replied. “What, you don’t trust me?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Father is not my keeper, I lead my own Pack,” she snorted. “So, why are we meeting here? Reminiscing about old times, are you?”

“This church is the last place your dear old dad would expect to see you and me together!” I retorted. “This conversation is just between the two of us. We have a daughter getting married in but a blink of time’s eye,” I said, using Cornelia’s apt language. “I came all the way here to talk to you about the ceremony.”

“Good heavens, what a wagon of horseshit that is,” she said loudly, showing no respect to the pastoral presence who finally succeeded in lighting the altar candles. “You put the ass in asshole, Sirius.”

She was indeed still as uncouth as ever. I sighed—people really don’t change. “Good thing we are on separate sides of the aisle,” I said, noting that statement worked in a few different ways. “The padre up there is going to hear you and condemn your soul if you are not careful.”

The Howler laughed. “Who is? That old blind bat Father Stumblebum? He is as deaf as a doorknob, and equally as smart.” Father Stumblebum, though I was fairly certain that was not his name, turned and half stepped, half fell off the altar. He looked like he was seeing us for the first time, waved benevolently, and muttered something unintelligible. The Howler smiled warmly, and inclined her head as if in prayer until the father turned and walked smack into the confessional booth door, bringing forth a great chuckle from her.

“Oh, come on, that was not nice,” I admonished her. The Howler took the opportunity to extend her middle digit at me in response.

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