by E. R. Mason
But peace was soon restored, and with at least some sobriety regained, the ceremony went off without a hitch.
We gathered at the reception, drinking with all caution set aside, toasting the occasion as many times as we could come up with something to say.
Finally Jeannie in her blazing white wedding dress made Wilson stand, held up her glass, and said, “I now have my very own warrior. You better be ready, Mister. I’m coming at you.”
Wilson swayed just a touch, looked down at her, and answered, “Now, I don’t want any trouble.”
“Too late again,” she replied, and she kissed him on the cheek.
There was an eruption of great applause and cheering, though it was all but drowned out by the stomping and chanting of the Norsican.