We had met a few weeks ago at the office I’m temping in.
We were both kind of shy and some of our co-workers thought it would be cute to set us up together.
We awkwardly stared dating and slowly grew close. Then she asked me to come to her brothers wedding with her. A huge step I would be meeting her entire family for the first time, I knew she felt anxious asking me but I wasn’t sure if she wanted me to go or just didn’t want to go alone.
The wedding went well her family all seemed lovely. Being the only Scotsman in a kilt helped start conversations with everyone and helped put her at ease.
Then at the reception my phone went a text. A short message a simple phrase.
It woke me up. The next message was a picture. The father of the bride.
Waking up was always a strange sensation even if I was only under for a month this time. Not my greatest character but it was the best I could pull in the time frame.
I remember the office workers believing they had set us up. The poor girl inviting me so happy she had found someone in time. The well dressed bodyguards blending in with the guests and as we mingled. The idiots paying no attention to the man in the kilt.
It had to be a man in a kilt. One of the greatest tricks the Scots ever pulled was to convince to world to let us carry a blade as part of our national dress.
The guests are slow to react as the Sgian-dubh is plunged into his neck. The guards rush to save him but the damage too great.
I escape through the chaos and the terrible party DJ’s smoke machine.
Next time I’ll be under for longer.