So I’ve got this wedding invitation. I’ve never met the bride or the groom in person, but you could say we’ve been corresponding for some time. Because the groom is fucking Shank. Our Shank. The Shank that blogs right here on this wonderful, mostly bio-rhythmic site. Most people don’t realize that Shank and I go way back.

I’m torn, really. The guest list is very tight, so it’s certainly an honor. Let’s weigh the pros and cons.

Cons:

Not much face time with shank. Let’s face it, it’s his wedding day, and even an asshole like me realizes that it’s full of family obligations. I’d have to pay for plane tickets for myself and my wife, though I could just fuck them on a gift and call it even. I wouldn’t know anyone at the wedding, including the groom.

Pros:

I could fuck with people big time. Shank himself suggested I go around telling people I’m his astrologer. If he’s got no objection to that I’m sure I could push it a lot further, implying illegal activities, homosexuality, owed money and plenty of other good stuff.

I could go around saying that I’m, “Here to get what’s coming to me,” and simply walk away.

I’ve been known to have business cards printed up for all kinds of wacky shit before, including Private Investigator, Commode Salesman, etc. The possibilities are really endless. And I’ll be drunk and inciting others to get slammed as well. I could casually insult old people, stand up and make incredulous toasts and use excessively foul language.

I could slap people on the back obnoxiously and tell them about my third testicle. I could goose the old broads. I could rent and wear a ridiculous white tie and tails outfit. I could wet my crotch with water and walk around looking as if I’ve leaked pee on myself. I could “cut in” when old people are dancing.

Think of the material I could get at an affair like this.

I think I’m going to check my schedule.