Flash Story

After being prompted by a friend of mine, I wrote a 500 word story about a topic that came up in my creative writing class. Enjoy.

After roughly 500 invitations were stuffed, sealed, and sent, the to-do list for the Berry-Winters wedding seemed as daunting as ever. Florists, cake tastings, dress fittings, booking the band, ordering the booze, dress fittings again, and the occasional debate of “it’s in August, what if the cake starts to melt?” were all a part of Vanessa’s fairy tale wedding preparation. Jack was thankful for the booze.

In this centrifuge of planning “her special day” in the words of her sorority sisters, the bachelor party is where Jack’s attention was held. The boys he grew up with in Corinth, Mississippi would spend one last night together, free from the chains of marital bliss. James, the best man, was responsible for the night’s shenanigans. He only had to follow one rule.

“No strippers,” Vanessa said firmly the weekend before the wedding. “Absolutely no strippers. I don’t care if you get so wasted you can’t remember your name, you’re not going to a strip club.”

“No strippers. I promise. I’ll tell James,” Jack replied.

“You boys have fun. I’ve got a long night at the office, so if you call and I don’t answer, that’s why.”

After assuring her several more times, Jack kissed Vanessa goodbye and jumped in James’ dark green Land Rover. An hour and a half later, the crew ordered a first round of beers at Silky O’Sullivan’s in downtown Memphis.

“Little Jack Winters, all grown up and getting married…” his friend Tyler said in a mimicking tone. “Bartender, how ‘bout a round of shots for a bachelor? He signs his life away next week!”

Jack rolled his eyes at Tyler and happily took a shot of whiskey. After several more rounds of Ghost River Golden Ale, the six Mississippi men stumbled out of the bar and on to Beale Street. The night was full of pranks, dares, laughter, reminiscing, and even tears from an emotionally-drunk Tyler. After bar hopping for an hour or two, they found themselves heading back to their hotel room with more liquid courage.

“Hey James, let’s get some women in this party,” Mike slurred as he stumbled into the bathroom.

“No strippers, bro,” James yelled. “Vanessa’s orders.”

“Trust me, it’s not worth it. Save me from the misery of going against her will,” drunken Jack said.

Tyler exchanged a concerned look at James, and then glanced at Jack giggling to himself as he tried to peel the label off his beer bottle. Mike emerged from the bathroom, cell phone in hand, grinning.

“Son of a—Mike, did you call a stripper?” James screamed.

Mike started laughing uncontrollably. The groomsmen started to roar.

“We’ll just get Mike to pay her and send the young lady home,” James laughed.

About thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang. The boys encouraged Jack to answer the door—he was the bachelor, after all.

Jack reached for the handle and pulled open the door. He sobered up so quickly it made him vomit at the feet of Vanessa, dressed in a sparkly purple robe.


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