She stood up, gesturing wildly. “I can’t believe you’d be so, so mercenary!
This is our wedding day!”
In her agitation, she took a step backward. And that’s when it happened.
The wedding cake, a towering monstrosity of fondant and flowers, had just been wheeled out behind her.
Sarah’s heel caught in her dress, she windmilled her arms, and then… splat.
It was like slow motion. Sarah disappeared into a cloud of white frosting and cake layers.
When the dust settled, she was sitting in a pile of crushed cake, her perfectly styled hair now topped with a fondant flower.
For a moment, nobody moved. Nobody breathed.
Then Sarah let out an enraged shriek that probably scared birds from their nests three counties over.
I’d love to say we were all mature about it and that we offered help or showed concern. But the truth is, we laughed.
We laughed until we cried, our sides, and Sarah’s screams of rage nearly drowned us out.
As she flailed in the ruins of her cake, Tom trying unsuccessfully to help her up, we made our exit. Twenty-five guests-turned-servants, walking out with our dignity and our money intact.
In the parking lot, someone suggested going for drinks. We wanted real drinks made by actual bartenders.
We could still hear Sarah’s voice carrying on the night air as we drove away.
I think it’s safe to say we won’t be invited to their anniversary party. But honestly? That’s just fine by me.
Sometimes the best wedding gift you can give is a lesson in respect.
And if it comes with a side of cake-covered karma? Well, that’s just the icing on top.
Source: amomama
