Page 34 of Cookout Carnage
JONATHAN: I’m freaking out.
TABI: Don’t freak. Be Zen. It’s your wedding day.
RORY: Christ, I’m on edge. Where the hell is she?
SABRINA: For a man of action, I could imagine this is frustrating. I have to go hike a dune or some shit right now. I hate nature.
BEN: That sounds splendid. Send pictures.
TRISTAN: I just walked in on an Asian couple’s nuptials expecting you! Where the hell is this bloody church?
JONATHAN: St. Mary’s.
TRISTAN: I was just at St. Mary’s. Christ. Here it is.
JONATHAN: Good. Come find me around back. I’m next to the parking lot.
JONATHAN: I don’t see you, man. I gotta move. Trying to be stealthy. Not easy when you’re as big as I am. I have to keep ducking under windows.
I sneak back into the front of the church and take off down a side hallway. The viper crew bridesmaids are taking pictures on the lawn out front, and I sneak into a room, hoping to catch Tanya so she can tell me where Juliet is.
TRISTAN: Not it. And the baptism was not pleased with my intrusion.
TRISTAN: How many fucking churches are named St. Mary’s in this tiny fucking town?
JONATHAN: Four—St. Mary’s Episcopal Church, Old St. Mary’s Catholic, St. Mary’s Perpetual, and the Blessed Mother St. Mary’s Church, where I am.
TRISTAN: Not helpful.
JONATHAN: Morton Street. Red door.
TABI: Somebody find Juliet. The wedding is supposed to start in like twenty minutes.
BEN: Oh God. He doesn’t have twenty minutes.
SABRINA: I’M FREAKING OUT.
RORY: Same. But without the screaming in capital letters.
I head back inside and slink along the side entrance until I find an empty open room.
14
JULIET
What the fuck is happening? I heard two trucks leave. I figured Jon would at least feed the pigs before he went anywhere. And he’s not curious where the fuck I am? I came in here after I fed his chickens to feed the pigs. He was conked OUT, so I did a couple of chores and made him some coffee and deviled eggs.
Once I was inside this tricked-out barn, the door slammed shut and somehow locked. I can’t get out. I was waiting for Jon to find me, but then he took off. I’m covered in hay, and the girls have been going at it all morning. I’m trying not to watch, to give them their privacy, but good lord, they’re loud. I’m sitting between them. I can’t take any more swine scissoring.
“Squeakers. We need to find Jonathan. Can you do that? Can you get us out of here?” I’m sure I bruised my shoulder earlier trying to bust out of here. I only have my sundress on. No bra, no panties, just this damn dress, and the hay is starting to really poke me in some uncomfortable places. “Squeakers. Go. Break us out of here. How do you pick the lock? Show me your escape route. Go!” She just looks at me.
“Waffles.” I take her ears in my hand. “Get me the fuck out of here, and I’ll build you a palace of waffles.” She snorts, then runs around the barn in a sporadic circle banging into almost every surface. Then Gandalf noses her way to the side of the barn where there are fresh bales of hay piled up. I’m sure it was to muck it out and put down a fresh layer. She snorts, and Squeakers comes over, and the two of them start headbutting the hay. They move the pile a couple feet to the right, and I see a sliver of daylight.
Gandalf pushes on the boards as Squeakers pushes the bales further from the hole.
“You fucking wizard. You gorgeous, ridiculous super-sexually-woke pig.” She pushes her body through the loose boards. Squeakers follows suit, and without thinking, I’m on my hands and knees, moving the boards aside and squeezing my body through the hole.
I’m halfway out, and my hips, my birthing hips, as my grandmother used to call them, get stuck. And the worst part is my boobs are now totally exposed. My dress has caught on something and pulled down. They’re just out and sitting on the ground in mud as I think about what to do next. Gee, I hope his workers come by soon so they can get me out and, I’m sure, snap a few pictures. I’m like a weird Lifetime movie about a runaway from some cult. I bolted with the only clothes on my back, only to get caught. Fuck. Whoever locked this pen, I’m going to kill them. The pigs are back. Great, now lesbian pigs are admiring my boobs. They’re good boobs, but really, ladies, we don’t have time.
