Repotia (re-po’-ti-a): 1. The repetition of a phrase with slight differences in style, diction, tone, etc. 2. A discourse celebrating a wedding feast.
I had taken a handful of Valium. I had never given a wedding speech before, or any kind of a speech for that matter. I couldn’t back down now. I’d agreed to do it during my bachelor party. I was showing off to the stripper sitting on my lap, winding one of her stockings around my neck, and smiling at me. When I looked in her eyes, I thought about cancelling the wedding. But, Nolean had been waiting for five years. We had met at Pep Boys. I was looking for an extension for my ratchet wrench and Nolean was looking for a keyring. She wanted to “dress up” her car, and also, let people know she drove a vintage Corvair—“unsafe at any speed” as Ralph Nader had said. She wanted people to know she was a risk taker—a wild child. Her idea of “wild” was driving around with the windows down, or pumping gas with her left hand (she was right-handed). She wore a Boy Scout neckerchief as an accessory every day except Friday when she wore a piece of baccala around her neck “Out of respect for Jesus.” Bottom line: she was weird. But my God she was beautiful and she could sing. Her rendition of “Tip-toe Through the Tulips” made me want to take off my Birkenstocks and tip-toe around the yard. And her version of “Duke of Earl” made me feel like I was standing on my castle’s ramparts, looking over the moat with Nolean standing on the drawbridge singing “Duke of Earl.” And then there’s Devo’s “Satisfaction.” I want to unzip my pants and spin around in circles grunting, but I don’t. I am not a party animal—I’m more of a party pooper, and Nolean likes me that way.
Now we were married for one hour and I had to give my speech at the wedding reception. I stood and nearly pooped my pants, then I started to speak:
“Nolean, you are the spark that kindles my flame of love for you. Marriage is the best thing we can do. We get a break on our taxes, and if we have a child, we get an even bigger break. We will be together until we both have dementia, lose our way home and forget to get dressed. With luck, like the dementia, we’ll both get cancer or brain tumors and fade away side by side at the same hospital. In the meantime, we’ll wear our masks for COVID and get vaccinated for Shingles.
I promise to stay out of jail. The stolen car thing was a mistake that I’ll never repeat. If I go to jail for anything, it will be for petty theft, mainly from hardware stores, or Dick’s—spinner baits and rubber worms and glow in the dark golf balls. These things tempt me, but you tempt me more.
I know you love only me and have known it ever since you told me five years ago when we were laying on a blanket under the stars—you showed me a constellation I had never seen before—Myanus, my anus: it gave me hope and confidence in our future. “My anus” has been constantly on my mind—sometimes it makes me itch to get out there and walk like a man.
So, this is the greatest day of my life—better than my first hit of weed. Better than when I passed my driver’s license road test. Better than when I got my first BB gun.
Now, my beautiful talented wife will sing “Workin’ on the Chain Gang” to recognize the life sentence to marriage that we both rightfully deserve.
POSTSCRIPT
Nolean was singing “Workin’ on the Chain Gang” when the police raided the reception and arrested the groom for stealing rubber worms from Dick’s. He had incriminated himself in his groom’s speech. He received a 6-month sentence. Nolean had the marriage annulled.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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