Now, I don’t know too much about gambling, but I always used to think I’d get married in Vegas. To my disappointment, my younger sister beat me to that particular goal post.

It was to be a themed wedding for Beth. No tacky white chapel and Elvis impersonator for her, oh no! This wedding was going to be a ‘Wizard of OZ’ extravaganza! The bride’s maids were munchkins, including me, but at least I fancied the Tin best man, and as head munchkin, sorry, bride’s maid that’s who I’d be dancing with later. Beth would of course be dressed as Dorothy, in her red glittery Laboutin shoes, and 1950’s puff sleeved polka dot dress. The marriage would be presided over by the Wizard himself, our reverend with an oversized green head. Even so, I felt the groom came off worst however in the costume stakes, personally I’d have chosen the Scarecrow over the cowardly Lion any day. But perhaps it suited him better after all; I always thought he was rather hirsute. Who was it that said “never trust a man whose eyebrows meet in the middle” anyway? He was one of those, and he probably had a hairy back to match. Not that I’d ever want to know. Beth’s sexual preferences were her own business and I’ve successfully steered her clear of the gory details any time she’s tried to offer any.
The wedding was to take place in the evening, out of doors. Beth had rented a gazebo and her very own yellow brick road, a yellow carpet for her to walk down the aisle. The date was set for the last weekend in August, and despite the fact that all the guests had far to travel, the couple saw fit to delay the ceremony a few nights, so as to capitalise on the light of the full moon.
I have to say I don’t remember that much about the wedding itself. Everyone had gotten so drunk just waiting for the ceremony, the congregation were practically swaying in the aisles. That’s the problem with an evening do, no posh meal to help soak up the alcohol. At Beth’s wedding the canapés, how ever tasteful, did nothing to stave off the effects of endless free wine, and that late summer heat. It’s no wonder the Liza Minnelli impersonator fainted, though I was impressed that she still managed to sing ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ at the end of the service. I guess a girl’s gotta make a living. No one really noticed Beth’s groom getting hairier as the night went on, and I’ve asked around since. I blame the Lion suit; who’d have given him a second look? Maybe it was the booze and the heat making me a little delirious, but I just remember that he seemed bigger somehow, more beastly.
I don’t see much of Beth anymore. She’s a lot quieter these days, less inclined to show off and dress up. I miss that about her. Oh, and there’s no danger of hearing dirty stories either, she’s got so prim and proper you’d mistake her for a school marm.

In the mean time, however, I hooked up with the Tin man. I don’t know why everyone was so surprised when he proposed last year, and I declined. I know I always said I wanted to, but in the end I decided it’s just too much of a gamble.

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