My younger brother, Scott, is getting married today. Apparently his fiancÃ©e, Vikki, in an attempt to work off some sort of karmic debt, has agreed to spend the rest of her days with him, barring that “’til death do you part” clause being deliberately invoked, anyway. That isn’t much of a concern, though: she’s far too sweet for that, and Scott would manage to mess it up if he tried, so I think they’re both safe.
There are many, many stories to be told about Scott, who is a figure of nearly legendary proportions â€” assuming your prefer your legends to be rowdy, bawdy, and hysterically funny, that is. As a gift to the happy couple I was going to tell a couple of those tales today, but the selection proved too difficult. Which do I choose? The time I “pierced” a girl’s nose at his New Year’s Eve party and he almost fainted? Maybe the time he shattered his leg playing a friendly game of soccer after years of injury-free rugby? Maybe the unfortunate incident with the doctored jar of salsa? Or the time he… wait, I’d better check the statute of limitations first before I mention that one.
In the end I decided the only decent thing to do was to keep all the stories to myself and let him rest easy. Until the book hits the shelves, anyway.
Scott and Vikki: my love and congratulations to you both. May your life together be filled with wonderful new stories.