(The topic, in short – man gets invited to a mysterious and unconvential wedding, whereby many strange delights ensue and new friends are made.)

1. The Invitation
2. The Wedding Party
3. The Welcoming Speech
4. The Tug-Of-War
5. The Foot Race
6. The Peppermint Hunt
7. The Ceremony
8. The Parting Gift

The Invitation

I remember the morning clearly. There was a light chill in the air, the weather crisp and pleasant. I’d walked out to the mailbox to get the day’s mail–possibly several days’ mail, as I had fallen out of the habit of checking regularly, and casually riffling through the various envelopes, mostly from local businesses or philanthropic nonprofits that wanted donations, I was about to throw them all away, when I spied something in the pile that caught my eye.

It was a curious letter. Green, a deep, dark green, and perfectly square. A strange sheaf of gold and pink trim lined the edges, with a subtle, intricate pattern repeated across the paper. The letter was addressed to me, but had no return address. I looked it over, wondering what could possibly be inside. It said that it was from “Isaac and Isabella, the Turtle family.”

Full of curiosity, I opened it up right there in the kitchen, taking the utmost care not to shred the envelope. Inside, there was a single letter written on pinkish-white paper. It said:

“Dear Mr. Gabriese, 

We hope this letter finds you well. We are honored to invite you to the wedding between Mister Sir Isaac Turtle and Missus Madam Isabella Turtle on the evening of January 15th. The wedding will be held on the west side of Moonflower Lake. The festivities will begin soon after sundown. Please see the attached map for directions. We hope very much to see you there!

With Love,

Isaac and Isabella

PS. Please RSVP if possible. Address the letter to Isaac and Isabella Turtle at Muddy Pond by Moonflower Lake. Thank you!”

That was all that was in the letter. There were no pictures, but there was a simple drawing that seemed to show where the wedding would be held. I was quite confused by this mysterious letter, and I turned it over and reread it several times, looking for more clues – but I couldn’t find any. 

Who had written this? Had I received it by mistake? But then, it had my name. Who were the Turtles? And then I had the strangest feeling that they might be real turtles, not anyone named Turtle at all. But, I said to myself, that would be absurd, of course. 

For the time being I set the letter down, and went about my business. However, I couldn’t get it out of my mind, and I examined it several more times. I’ve only been to one wedding before in my life, and it was quite enjoyable. Who knows? I might never have the chance to go to another, thought I. I decided I would go. And, I was truly curious—I wanted to know who these Turtles were. The next day, I went out and bought a simple, plain letter and envelope, and I wrote to the Turtles. 

“Dear Mister Sir Isaac Turtle and Madame Missus Isabella Turtle,

I am so happy to hear that you are to be married. I would be honored to attend this auspicious event. I will see you on the evening of January 15th.

Until then,

Gabriel”

I addressed it to the Turtles at Muddy Pond by Moonflower Lake as instructed, and I put it in the mail. 

I will tell you, I thought this may have been some kind of prank or cute trick, but I didn’t know who would do such a thing. None of my friends, that was certain. And a random person? Well, it could have been so. I would just have to wait and see. 

After that, I all but forgot about this wedding invitation, but I had marked it on my calendar. When January finally came around, and we were solidly in the winter months, I saw the 15th circled on the calendar, with the note I had scrawled in the small box, “The Turtle Wedding”—and I remembered. It struck me then that the dead of winter was a rather solemn time to have a wedding. What sort of building would they have it in? A church? Would there be one, out there in those woods? I had never known there to be one by Moonflower Lake. 

I kept my eye on the calendar, the days passed, and the 15th had finally arrived. That morning, I finished writing a report that I had been working on, and at midday I put on my finest suit, my nicest dress shirt, my most wonderful tie, my dapperest shoes, and my most stupendous, spectacularest belt, and I got in the car. 

There was a thick blanket of snow on the ground. Moonflower Lake was about half an hour’s drive from my house. I was familiar with it, having been there many times as a child. It was a sizable lake, somewhat down in a valley, and surrounded by evergreen forest, oaks, maples, and birches as well. There was a single road that led to a campsite nearby—however to get to the actual lake, you had to walk. I brought my boots with me, prepared to make the trek. 

I made my way there, and wound up the old dirt road that was quite covered in snow, until I had reached the campsite. There were no other cars around, which I took to be a bad sign, because I was now starting to feel very ridiculous for what I was doing, and I was all but certain that there was no wedding happening, and that I was a fool for driving out all this way in the dead of winter. 

The air was cold and dry, the sky cloudless and bright. It was about four in the afternoon, so I still had a couple hours of daylight left. There would be no harm in me getting out and exploring the area, to find the wedding party and stretch my legs anyway, and I had thought to bring a flashlight just in case I ended up bumbling around in the dark. I put on my boots, and I grabbed my gift, a small, silver candleholder (I admit it was hard to think of what to get a couple of turtles) and I had taken just a few steps in the direction of the lake, when I noticed a sign, painted and had been affixed to a tree in front of me. The letters were written with pieces of sticks, and the sign was bordered with acorns and pinecones. It read: “This way to the Turtle’s wedding.” An arrow pointed the direction I was supposed to go, and looking that way, I saw a thin, winding red thread that had been laid across the snow, marking the trail. 

I have to tell you that while I was having doubts, this sight made me quite excited. So there was a wedding, after all? And, was this all meant for me? Or was I just early? I looked at the parking lot behind me. No one else had yet arrived. I had the sneaking feeling that this was for me alone. 

My mood now completely shifted into curiosity, and I began to follow the thread. It went on for a while through the trees, with each step of mine crunching through the snow, took me up over a hill, and then down towards the lake. 

The sun was starting to set now. I was still being guided by the red thread, and I was just thinking of getting out my flashlight. It was getting dark, and I knew the lake must be close—when I saw coming through the woods, a yellow glow. Well, that must be the wedding party, I thought. It was time to find out if the Turtles really were turtles or not, I said to myself, with a little laugh. Because of course, they weren’t. But I was eager to find out who they really were, and if I did know them at all or not. 

The glow became brighter as I walked on, and I soon reached the edge of the woods. I took a deep breath, now somewhat nervous, and I stepped out of the trees into the open air. 

The Wedding Party

I will try my best now to describe this scene for you—to this day it is one of the most striking and captivating scenes I have ever seen in my life. As soon as I had stepped out from the trees and had a clear view of things, I could see that I was at a real wedding, and that it was one of the most magnificent weddings there could ever possibly be. The yellow glow came from a series of golden orb lights that were strung from the branches of the trees, and flaming lanterns that were posted on stakes in the ground. They had strange, beautiful designs painted on them, and whatever material they were made out of, I couldn’t tell. There were long tables of food, fruits, cake, carrots, pumpkins, bread, pies, and cheese… Everything you could ever want to eat. On both sides I was flanked by gigantic ice sculptures-a serpent on my right, and a lion on my left. There were a number of these extraordinary sculptures, placed all around the wedding grounds, around the edge of the woods. I saw a shining ice turtle, a glittering crane, giraffe, a hippo, eagle, mouse, and perhaps the most impressive of all, a magnificent, frosted butterfly. 

There were chairs, carved of ice and laid out in rows, leading back to the lake, which was halfway frozen over, sparkling in the fading light. An altar was set across from the lake, a stage, covered with streamers, ribbons, tinsel and flowers, flowers everywhere, and a large banner above that said, “Celebrating the Turtle Wedding!” There were two long tables, one taller and one shorter, laden with drinks of all kinds, bottles, glasses, and several large punch jugs carved out of ice.

However, the most extraordinary thing of all, above all the glamor and splendor of the decorations and furniture, was the guests. 

My eyes landed first on the bear. There was a large brown bear, wearing a golden crown that seemed to be too small for his head. The bear was sitting on one of the chairs of ice, and how it could possibly support him I couldn’t imagine. Standing next to the bear and apparently in conversation with it was a flamingo in an emerald green dress. Somewhat separated from this strange pair were three Capuchian monkeys, who had plates of food, about five of them, down on the ground, and were picking from them furiously and gobbling down whatever they had grabbed. They were laughing and slapping each other’s hands away, seeming to be in hog heaven—and speaking of hogs, there were two of them, wearing tuxedos, pouring each other glasses of punch at the drink bar. They were standing upright and looking regal and proper, and adjacent to them was a stag, young and fresh. The stag was wearing a monocle, and had on a faded, green tweed jacket. And the horns–Were they made out of glass? Or ice?

All of this strangeness greeted me at once, and I stood there for a moment, transfixed. My jaw nearly dropped to the floor—when suddenly a husky voice called out to me from down at my feet. 

“Gabriel! You’ve made it! How splendid it is to see you!” 

I looked down to see who was talking. There on the ground, only a few feet away from me on the trodden snow, was a medium-sized turtle. The turtle turned its head and called out to another turtle behind it, who was in conversation with what appeared to me to be a snow leopard. 

“Isabella, darling, come here at once! Gabriel has arrived!” shouted the first turtle. 

“Is he here? Coming, darling!” she responded, and began to crawl over to join us. 

Well, it looks like the Turtles were turtles, after all.

“Hello,” I said. The turtle at my feet was splendidly dressed in a black suit, and wearing golden glasses. “You must be Sir Mister Turtle, then?”

The handsome turtle looked back up at me and was beaming. He had a very pleasant face, for a turtle.

“Yes indeed my boy! I’m so glad you’ve made it!” said Mr. Turtle excitedly. “How are you? Isabella, my dear, you must come quickly!” 

The turtle called again to who must have been his fiancee. She was wearing a frilly white dress and a tiara, and still had a long way to go before reaching Isaac and I. The leopard watched her struggle through the snow for a moment, before saying, in a smooth voice, “Care for a lift?”

“Yes please, if you don’t mind! I don’t want them to wait all day,” said Isabella. 

The leopard picked Isabella up gently in her mouth, and carried her over to Isaac and I. 

The leopard set Isabella down next to her fiancee. “Thought I would save you the trip,” said the leopard. 

“Thank you, Linda, I have already done so much walking today!” said Missus Turtle, before looking at me. Her eyes were bright and shining.

“So this is the man who saved your life! What a good-looking fellow! How are you, Gabriel, it is so nice to finally meet you!”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Missus Turtle–”

“Please, call me Isabella,” said the turtle. “And my fiancee is Isaac—but you must already know that!”

“That’s right,” said Isaac in his husky voice. “We met only in passing, but I’ll never forget it. The extraordinary kindness you showed me that day!” Isaac was smiling broadly at me, both turtles were. The snow leopard Linda looked at me with mild curiosity. I smiled back at them, however—although I felt as if it might be somewhat rude to ask this, I had to get around it one way or another.

I simply had no idea what these turtles were talking about. 

“I’m sorry, Isaac, Isabella… Perhaps there has been a mix-up? Did you say that I saved your life?”

“No, my boy, there’s no mix-up, none at all!” Isaac replied at once. “I wondered if you would remember! I’m sure it was nothing to you and your noble heart, but you saved my life that day, I’ll never forget it! Do you remember, it was fifteen years ago now—I was trying desperately to cross that busy road—I had no choice! Before I realized my trouble, I was stuck! Surely, I would have been killed! And just when I thought my end was coming and I was to meet my maker, crushed to death under the weight of the horrible rolling machines! The car stopped just before me—you got out, and you carried me to the other side of the road!”

Isaac was nearly choking up at this point, and paused to wipe a tear out of his eye. 

“My boy,” he continued, “surely if you had not done that, I would not be alive before you today! I… I would not be here to marry my dear Isabella!” 

The turtle’s eyes were filled with tears, and he smiled at his fiancee Isabella. I was moved by Isaac’s display of affection, but, to be perfectly honest, I could not quite remember the stupendous act of heroism that this turtle spoke of. I had saved quite a few turtles crossing the road in the course of my life. Of course, I was not going to say this to Isaac.

“Oh, that’s right—I remember now!” I said, pretending to recollect the memory. “You were in trouble! I almost didn’t see you, too! I could have ran you over myself, and, oh man, if I did… I can’t even imagine how I would have felt…”

Isaac laughed and waved his foot. “Nevermind that boy, nevermind! You saved me, that’s all that matters. And I’m so glad to have met you again. I must repay your kindness! Please, enjoy yourself here tonight! There are many friends I want you to meet—I’ve told the guests that a human and dear friend of mine would be coming tonight. It’s quite a big deal, but of course you know that!” 

“Oh, is it a big deal?” I said (because I didn’t know that). Isaac pressed on.

“I’m being rude—” he said, turning to the leopard. “This is Linda. Linda—Gabriel. Why don’t you take him to get some refreshment? I’m sure he’s thirsty.”

“With pleasure,” said the snow leopard, bowing her head slightly. 

“We’ll catch up later tonight, then,” Isaac said to me. “Enjoy yourself, Gabriel—Oh, Barbarot!!”

Isaac suddenly became excited, and I turned my head to see who our new guest was. I had to crane my neck up to see him (or I should say, it) clearly. The creature Isaac had just referred to as Barbarot was a giant, stocky, pink rabbit, standing upright on two long feet. It had come crunching out of the woods just as I had, and was grinning broadly, and somewhat eerily. I felt uncomfortable looking at it, as I was afraid it might look back at me, and I quickly turned away. 

“Hello friends! Eet has been awhile, no?” said the giant pink rabbit. 

“Barbarot, my old friend, how are you? It’s so good to see you!” said Isaac. 

“Eet is good to see you as well, Isaac and Isabella! You are looking wonderful! So you are finally geeting married?” The rabbit somehow smiled even wider. “Zat is good! Very good! I was starting to vunder.” 

“It took me all these years to convince her, she’s so stubborn, you know…” said Isaac, casting a loving glance at Isabella. “Barbarot, you must meet my friend Gabriel, the one who saved my life! Gabriel, this is Barbarot…”

The rabbit now took notice of me and bowed, still smiling creepily. “‘Ow do you doo,” he wheezed. 

“Pleased to meet you,” I said, returning his bow. 

“Shall we go get that drink then?” Linda said to me. I nodded and followed her lead, relieved to have an escape from the eerie rabbit. 

As the leopard and I walked over to the drink bar, we passed a table with presents piled up on it. I sat down my small silver candleholder in one of the few empty spaces remaining, amongst a variety of strange items. There was a set of fine robes, an enormous, golden teapot, a pair of tennis rackets (but how could they use them? I thought) and a cookbook. My present seemed to fit right into this hodgepodge. 

Linda had stayed silent as we walked. I was eager to try and make some conversation with her—I tried to think of what to lead with.

“So, is it rare for a human to be at one of these weddings, then?” I asked her. 

“Very rare,” Linda replied.

“Why is that?” I said to her, although I felt like I knew the answer already.

“They aren’t usually invited,” said the leopard. 

She made almost no noise as she stepped gently through the snow. I felt like I was walking next to a dog, in a weird way, except that the dog was talking back to me. There was something I had really wanted to ask her. I decided to go for it. 

“I am a little confused about something, Linda,” I continued.

“What’s that?” she said.

“Well,” I hesitated for a moment, wanting to choose my words carefully. “I guess, I didn’t know that turtles got married… And this is really extravagant for a wedding between turtles, or anybody, at all… I mean, I don’t know why turtles wouldn’t get married, but I guess I just didn’t know that they did…” I glanced at her to see if she was catching my drift, waiting to hear what she would say. She was listening, but she didn’t show much of an expression on her face. 

We reached the drink table (the taller one). Linda stood up on her hind legs and said to me, “The punch is pretty good. Do you want to try some?” 

“Sure, thank you,” I replied. She poured us both a drink, the deep red punch filling glasses made of carved ice, ornate and sparkling. She handed me the icy goblet, which immediately began to freeze my hand, and then led us away from the table. Linda set the glass down on the ground, lowering herself on all fours again, and started to lap it up. I took a moment to sip mine as well, finding the punch to be fruity and tasty. I waited for her to speak again.

“I understand what you mean,” Linda said at last, continuing to lap up her punch. “This would be an extraordinary wedding for turtles, yes. If they were ordinary turtles.”

Linda stopped drinking and looked up at me, with a little smile on her face. 

“Do you know what I mean?”

“No, Linda,” I said, meeting her eyes. “I just know that something strange is going on here.”

Linda gazed at me for a moment.

“We’re spirits,” she said finally. 

She said this quite matter-of-factly, and searched my face with her sharp eyes, gauging my reaction, before resuming lapping up her punch.  

“You’re spirits,” I said, repeating the word. For some reason, it was relieving for me to hear her say it.

“That’s right,” Linda replied. She had stopped lapping, and was now dipping her paw in the punch and licking it. “We are spirits. And this is a spirit wedding.”

The leopard then smiled at me, and examined her paw. “I hate that it stains my fur red, but it’s better than my face… Do I have any punch on my face?” She looked back up at me. 

“Yeah, your whiskers are a bit red…” I laughed. 

“Ugh,” she groaned. 

I was now trying to think of good conversation topics for a spirit leopard. 

“So, Linda… Are you from around here?”

“No,” Linda replied. “I’m from Uzbekistan.” 

“Wow,” I said. “That’s a long ways away.”

“On the other side of the world.”

“How do you like it there?” I asked her. 

My hand was quickly becoming completely numb, and I switched the glass to my other hand. It was now totally dark out. More guests seem to have arrived, including a tiger wearing a dark-green cloak, about thirty squirrels, gaily dressed, and a large, brawny unicorn. There also seemed to be some kind of sentient lantern or lamppost hopping around, and a large owl, wearing a tuxedo just like the hogs. 

“It’s nice,” she said, sitting upright now and fixing her full attention on me. “Beautiful country.”

“Is that where you met Isaac and Isabella?” I asked.

“Oh no,” Linda replied with a small laugh. “I met them for the first time tonight.”

“Really?” I said, raising an eyebrow and taking a sip of punch. “Well, how did you get invited then?” 

“I’m a spirit,” she said. “We’re all invited.”

And then, at that moment, I heard a growing chattering noise. I turned my head and saw a swarm of squirrels charging through the snow, making a beeline for Linda and I.

The squirrels were headed our way. 

“There he is – there he is!” They cried as they ran. “Let me talk to him–let me–ouch–let go!”

“Hello, Gabriel!” cried the first squirrel to arrive. And then, the rest of the squirrels were now at my feet, jumping up excitedly in a horde. They were wearing little hats, some straw, some cotton, brown and grey, wearing yellow, green, brown vests and for most of them, no pants. They all addressed me by name, and introduced themselves to me in a wild, chaotic fashion—all thirty of them. “I’m Rufus, wonderful to meet you!” “Tammy, it is a great honor!” “I’m Zinga, I heard you saved Isaac’s life, is it true??” I thanked all of them and answered their questions, stooping down to shake their tiny paws. 

After introducing themselves, they scurried over to get some drinks themselves, using a mini-bar that was much lower to the ground. I was catching my breath. 

“You’re going to be very popular tonight,” Linda said.

“I am, aren’t I?”

“Shall we join some of the other guests?”

“Sure.” 

I followed Linda’s lead, who brought us over to the bear with the tiny crown. He seemed to be in conversation with someone, and I looked over and saw sitting to his right, on top of another chair of ice, a small frog in a pink dress.

“May we join you?” said Linda to the pair. 

“Absolutely, please join us!” squeaked the frog. 

“Ah, so this is the human!” cried the bear in a deep, powerful voice. He held out a gigantic paw to me, which I shook. 

“That’s me, yes, officially a human,” I said, smiling and shaking the bear’s hand. 

“Gabriel, this is King Grissom and Priscilla.”

“How do you do, your majesty?” I said to the king. 

“Please, we can dispense of the formalities tonight,” King Grissom replied. “Just call me Honeypaws.” 

“Okay, Honeypaws.”

I turned to the small frog Priscilla, and said, “And you are Priscilla? Nice to meet you.” I wasn’t sure how to greet her exactly, having an urge to shake something of hers–a hand, I guess. I gave her a small bow. 

“A pleasure to meet you too! Wonderful! You are a splendid-looking fellow! We are so happy to have you joining us!” she croaked. 

“Is this your first time at a spirit wedding?” she asked, as Linda and I moved past them to the open seats. 

“Yes it is,” I replied, sitting down on the icy chair. My butt was freezing immediately, and between the rapidly dropping night temperature, my drink glass of ice, and now sitting on a literal block of ice, I was starting to become completely numb. 

“It’s a beautiful wedding–the sculptures are amazing. It’s a little cold out though, isn’t it? Aren’t you guys cold?”  

“It’s funny you say that, I was just feeling a bit hot myself,” said the King, also known as Honeypaws. 

“It doesn’t bother me,” said Linda. 

I looked down at Priscilla next to me. 

“I don’t think I’ve been cold a day in my life!” she cried. “Are you cold, dear?”

I was now starting to shiver violently. 

“A bit, yeah.”

My breath was coming out in misty vapors, but I noticed that none of the other creatures seemed to have this problem. 

“I was just saying to the King here that I was excited for the games tonight,” Priscilla squawked. 

“I’m looking forward to the Tug-of-War, myself,” said Honeypaws. “How about you, Linda?”

“I’m always fond of the Peppermint Hunt,” replied the leopard. 

“We’re playing games?” I asked. 

“Oh yes, of course,” said Priscilla. “There’s always games! Linda is a champion peppermint hunter, isn’t that true, Linda?”

Linda laughed. 

“I just get lucky, that’s all,” she said. 

“Nonsense!” croaked Priscilla. “You have a knack for it, it’s true.” 

Just then, I heard a fresh burst of excitement coming from over by the reception area. I looked over to see Isaac and Isabella talking to an enormous yellow lion, with what seemed to be a mane of large flower petals, instead of fur. 

“Who’s that?” I said to the group, nodding in the lion’s direction.

The King followed my gaze.

“You’re talking about the lion, I presume? He is called Pushkin. A striking figure, isn’t he?”

“Pushkin?” Priscilla squeaked. “Let me see him!”

The King reached over and gingerly picked Priscilla up so she could get a better view. 

“Ah, yes, that’s him alright! What a character! Do you remember the speech he gave at my wedding?” 

“I remember,” said Linda. “I could never forget it, even though I slept through almost all of it.” 

“It was seven and a half hours long,” the King whispered to me. 

“Well, the dinner should be any minute now,” said the King. 

The Welcoming Speech

And as if on cue, there was a clinging sound, of someone hitting metal on glass. It came from the stage. I looked over to see standing at the podium a majestic, dapper crocodile, in a long dress coat, a tie, and wearing a pair of angular, red spectacles. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, good evening!” boomed the well-dressed crocodile. “It’s a pleasure to see so many of you again, my friends! For those who I have not had the honor of meeting yet, I am Jameson! Isaac and Isabella have honored me by asking if I would be Toastmaster for the evening! So here I am!”

Many of the guests applauded now, and the crocodile took a moment to continue. 

“Isaac has just informed me that the last of the guests have arrived! Excellent! It is wonderful that we can all be gathered here again tonight, to celebrate this incredible union between lovers! Let’s have a toast!”

The crocodile held up a large, icy goblet, filled with drink. The other guests followed suit. I held up my glass in my frozen hand. 

“To Isaac and Isabella!” cried the crocodile.

“Isaac and Isabella!” returned the guests, and they toasted and drank. 

“Now, we all know it was just a matter of time. It was clear to us all that Isaac and Isabella were destined to be together. But my, how they kept us waiting! Well, it’s finally happened! And, you all know how these things go… Well, except, that’s right! We have a special guest tonight!”

Many of the guests now turned towards me. I suddenly became nervous. 

“He may want something of an explanation!” The crocodile smiled at me. “But first, let’s have another toast!”

The crocodile again raised his goblet. 

“To Gabriel, the hero! To new friends!” 

“To Gabriel!” cried the guests–all except me, that is. I lifted my glass up again in a gesture of acknowledgment, and then quickly gulped more punch. 

“Please, enjoy yourself tonight!” Jameson said to me, winking.

“Now, here at a spirit wedding, we have a traditional way of doing things. First, we will have the welcoming speech. Then, there will be dinner, followed by the traditional wedding games. There is then the dancing, and finally–the ceremony! And then, we end the night with fireworks, and more dancing!”

“Yippie!” Priscilla cried, shaking with excitement and clapping her webbed hands together. 

“But now, enough talking! We have a full schedule ahead. Before the welcoming speech–one more toast! To the bride and groom, their everlasting joy!”

“To the bride and groom!!” Shouted the guests in unison, and they drank again. 

 “Now, Barbarot, will you please join us on stage for the welcome speech?” 

The giant pink rabbit was still smiling the same creepy smile, as it walked slowly up the steps onto the stage, and over to the podium. He stared out at the audience for a quite a while before beginning. 

“‘Eet iz good to see you again, my friends,” he wheezed. “You have been well, I ‘ope? I have known Isaac and Isabella for a long time now. We have all always zought zey would end up together. Well, zey took zeir time, did they not! And finally, zey are geeting married! Congratulations! Let us celebrate, and have a vunderful time tonight.”

He paused, then raising a goblet, said, “To Isaac and Isabella!” and again we toasted. 

“Now, let’s ‘ave some dinner!” 

The guests broke out into thundering applause – there were shouts of excitement and appreciation. Then, all started to move about, and began to head for the woods. 

“Finally!” said the King. “I’m so hungry I can hardly bear it! Haha! Would you like a lift, Priscilla?” he said, holding out a paw to the frog. 

“Thank you!” she squeaked, hopping into Honeypaw’s enormous paw, and they got up and headed towards the forest with the other guests. 

“You guys like to make toasts, don’t you?” I commented to Linda, as we stood up and started to follow the others. 

“Oh, just wait,” she said. “This is nothing.”

“You mean there will be more?” I said. “Where is the dinner?” My eyes following the forming procession of spirits, who were walking into the woods over by the lake. They were passing under an arch in the boughs, marked with glowing lanterns. 

“In there,” she gestured. “The Banquet Hall.”

“Come on.”

I followed Linda, joining the line and walking through the glowing arch. The squirrels were ahead of us, chattering excitedly. In front of them hopped the strange metal lamppost. There were lanterns on posts, spaced periodically along the path. They were all different colors, purple, gold, blue, red, and covered in strange writing and symbols. Overhead, interlaced in the branches of the trees were more twinkling lights, hanging candles. After walking for several minutes, my frosty breath forming clouds in front of me, and taking care not to step on any straggling squirrels in front of me, we reached a large clearing. 

Spread out before us were many round tables, with eight chairs apiece, each covered in an amazing display of food and drink, and with a large candelabra in the center. I noted with some dismay that these seats and tables were also made of ice. Lights and lanterns ringed the clearing, and I saw that many of the guests were already seated. 

There were no nametags on the tables, and I was just wondering where I might be, when a voice called out, “There he is–Gabriel! Over here!” I looked over to where the deep, powerful voice had come from, at a table to my right. The cloaked tiger was looking at me, and waved with his paw. 

“Over here, Gabriel! You’re with us!” beckoned the tiger. 

“Lucky you,” Linda said to me. “You get the tiger. And I get the lion,” she said in parting, and headed over to a table where the flower-maned lion was seated, holding court with a table of squirrels. 

I waved back to the tiger and walking over to my table. As I made to pull out the chair, the tiger leapt up and beat me to it.

“No, no, let me get that for you old boy! Please, have a seat!” and he pulled the seat out for me, bowing with a grand flourish.

“Wow, thank you sir, I’m honored,” I said, smiling at him.

“The honor is ours!” said the tiger charmingly, as he thumped me on the back and stuffed me down into the seat. 

“We’re the lucky table! We got the special guest!” he exclaimed excitedly, as he got into his seat next to me. 

“Oh, is that a good thing?” I said to him, flashing him a smile and settling into my seat. I glanced around the table. I was currently sitting with the two hogs, across me, the tiger to my right, two squirrels next to him, whose heads I could just barely see over the table, and then there were two empty seats–one across from me, and one to my left. 

“Of course it is,” answered one of the hogs, the male. “We are honored to be here with you.”

“You are a special guest, don’t you know? Mortals are very rare at these weddings,” said the other hog, the wife. 

“Wonderful, wonderful!” said the tiger. “Nice to have a fresh face around, shake things up a bit! Ah, but we should have some introductions! I am called Baizan,” he said, turning in his seat and holding out a massive paw to me. 

“Gabriel,” I replied, taking his heavy paw in my hand and shaking it. 

“And we’re Mr. and Mrs. Hog, at your service,” said the dapper hog, with a small bow.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hog, very nice to meet you,” I said. 

“And this is Niña–” Baizan started to say, pointing to the squirrel on the left, but the squirrel immediately cut him off with a shriek. 

“Pinta!” screamed the squirrel. 

“Oh, sorry–this is Pinta, then–”

He was cut off again by a shriek from the squirrel on the right, crying, “And I’m Niña!”

I looked over at these two crazy squirrels. Pinta had on a pink suit and a hat with yellow and white daises woven into the brim. Niña wore the same, except her suit was yellow instead of pink. 

“Niña and Pinta, got it,” I repeated, trying to put the names to faces. It didn’t help that they had nearly the same name and were almost identical. I was now starting to be overwhelmed by the sheer amount of names I was learning, and was trying hard to keep them all in my head. Baizan, Priscilla, Honeypaws, Niña, Pinta… At least the hogs were just called Mr. and Mrs. Hog, that was easy enough.

“What do you think of the decorations, Gabriel? Aren’t they lovely?” Mrs. Hog said to me in a pleasing voice. 

“They’re wonderful,” I answered her. “I want to know, who carved all this ice? It must have been so much work.”

“I did! I did!!” Niña shouted at once, bouncing up and down in her seat. 

“You didn’t! No, you didn’t! She’s lying!!” Pinta returned immediately. Mrs. Hog looked slightly annoyed by their yelling, but Baizan roared with laughter. 

“I would like to see you carve something, squirrel! How would you do it? Would you use your teeth?” he laughed. 

“I could do it!” Niña chattered, her tail jerking wildly. “You don’t think I could, do you? I come from a long line of carvers!! A long line!”

“She’s carved nothing but nuts!!” giggled Pinta.

“These chairs and tables have been here forever,” said Mr. Hog to me. “They must have been carved a long, long time ago now.”

“That’s right,” said Mrs. Hog. “Before any of our time.”

“Even before Winchester’s,” added Baizan. “And speaking of the deer!”

The chair next to me was pulled out, and the polished stag with the glass horns sat itself down at the table. I ducked as the antlers swung around, nearly taking my head off. 

“And why didn’t you pull the chair out for me, tiger? Am I not worthy of the royal treatment?” said the deer with the glass horns. It had a refined air about it, and it squinted at me through its monocle, examining me. I had drawn my legs in and was now trying to fit myself between these two large creatures, tiger and stag. I suddenly wished that I was sitting between the squirrels. 

“Are you still upset about my beating you in chess?”

“You, beat me?” laughed Baizan. “It hasn’t happened once!”

“He’s never won,” the deer said to me. He held out a hoof.

“I’m Winchester, by the way. How do you do?”

“Hello, I’m Gabriel.” I wasn’t sure how to shake the hoof exactly, wondering whether to wrap my hand around the edge, or grab it from the bottom–I opted for the former, more straightforward and less “dainty”, and I worked his leg like a lever. 

“I know that is your custom,” the deer said to me, after we shook appendages. 

“Hello, Winnie!” said Pinta.

“Winnie! Winnie!” Niña chanted maniacally.

“Hello friends!” Winchester said to the table, and nodded to the Hogs. He looked at the squirrels fondly. “You two haven’t changed at all, have you?”

“Not at all,” cried Niña, before Pinta shouted, “We’ve changed, we’ve changed!!”

“It’s nice to see you again as well, Mr. and Mrs. Hog,” said Winchester.

“Always a pleasure,” replied Mr. Hog. “You are looking healthy and spry as always!”

“It is the bachelor life! It does me good.”

Our table was now almost complete, but we still had one empty seat. “Now, I wonder where Arianna is?” said Mrs. Hog, and as if on cue, I spied a butterfly flapping across the Banquet Hall. 

“I’m here! I’m here!” huffed the butterfly in a warm voice. It landed gently on the edge of the table between Winchester and the squirrels. This magnificent butterfly was a deep shade of purple, almost black, with beautiful blue and red trim along the edges of its wings. It had several round white spots peppered throughout. 

“What kept you darling?” said Mrs. Hog, to the panting butterfly. 

“I was about to take my seat when I was hit by the greatest gust of wind!”

“Well, we’re all here!” growled Baizan, jumping up in his seat. “A toast, we must have a toast!”

“Not yet, man, where are your manners?” Winchester interjected. “Not before the official pre-dinner toast!” 

“Oh, yes, yes that’s right. The pre-dinner toast…” grumbled the tiger, as he lowered his glass and sat back down. 

All of this toasting was certainly an amusing custom. There was food and drink on the table, but no one had touched any of it yet. We seemed to be waiting for this “pre-dinner toast”, and before long there was another clinging of a glass.

This time, it was the owl in the tuxedo who was leading the toast. 

The owl cleared its throat. “Ahem… Everyone,” she said in a low, warm voice. “Would you please join me in a toast?” She held up a glass, clutching it tightly in her talons. 

“To the bride and groom! To Isaac and Isabella!”

“To Isaac and Isabella!” the guests cried in unison, and drank from their glasses. 

“Now,” said the owl. “Let’s dig in!”

Immediately, the guests set to work. The sound of glasses clinking and plates moving filled the air. My tablemates set upon our spread at once, with Baizan reaching for the mashed potatoes, holding up the bowl to his plate and wildly scooping them out with his paw. Pinta and Niña climbed up onto the table and scurried about frenetically, with Pinta collecting grapes and Niña snatching up the cheese and crackers. They filled their arms and stuffed their cheeks as if they had never seen food before. The Hogs helped themselves to some of the salad, and I was glad to see that at least someone was using the tongs. 

“Darling, would you mind pouring me some of the brandy?” Arianna the butterfly said to Mrs. Hog. 

“Of course,” replied Mrs. Hog, reaching for the bottle and filling Arianna’s glass up to the brim.

I wasn’t quite sure where to start, and hadn’t taken anything yet.

“What do you fancy?” Winchester asked me, as he reached for the baked beans and roasted cauliflower casserole. 

“Man, it all looks great,” I said to him.

Baizan had finished scooping out his heaping portion of mashed potatoes, and held out the bowl of potatoes to me. “Potatoes, my good sir?” he said, poised to scoop some out onto my plate as well. I hesitated to say yes after seeing him use his paw, but I didn’t want to turn him down. 

“I would love some,” I said, and he pawed out a heaping portion onto my plate. 

I heard a loud crunch, and saw that Winchester had eaten nearly an entire head of cauliflower in a single bite.

“The mac and cheese looks good,” I said to him. “Would you mind getting me some?”

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” he replied. “However, I don’t have to get it for you, you can get it yourself! You don’t have these kinds of tables in the human world? Just spin it!”

With that, Winchester put his hooves on the edge of the table and gave it a whirl. It spun like a roulette wheel, and he stopped it when the mac and cheese was right in front of me. Pinta, who had been scavenging out of the salad bowl, held on desperately as the table whirled. 

“Wow!” I said, impressed, as I loaded up my plate. “How about that!”

There was a great amount of chowing down happening, now. “These rolls are amazing, aren’t they?” said Mr. Hog to his side of the table, who were all feasting on fluffy rolls. The squirrels agreed. The mac and cheese was delicious too, I thought. 

“So, what do you do in the human world?” Winchester asked me.

“As in, for work?” I replied.

“Yes. I understand that most of your societies now run on money, and that you have ways of making this money, for your use in the society. Is that correct?”

“Yes, you’re right. That’s how it works.”

“It’s an interesting scheme you’ve got, isn’t it? How do you go about getting your money?”

“I work for a paper company,” I told him. “Selling paper.”

“Selling paper?” said Winchester, raising his eyebrow with interest. “How thrilling!”

“Oh yes, very thrilling. Absolutely,” I said, nodding in agreement. 

“Do you like selling paper, then?” he continued. 

“Well, it pays the bills.”

“You need money for the bills, isn’t that right? I’ve heard about it,” Winchester commented. 

“That’s exactly right. I need money for the bills.”

“Do you use much paper, yourself?” Mr. Hog asked politely. 

“Me? Hmm… I would say that I am an average user of paper. I mean, I use toilet paper, memos, I do some journaling. And I read, if that counts.”

“Well, yes, it must count!” Mr. Hog replied. “Books are made of paper, of course!”

“But there are some books that you can now read electronically,” Winchester added. “Or is that not so?” he said, shooting me a questioning glance. I nodded.

“It’s true. You can read books, you can read an entire newspaper off of your computer now, if you wanted to,” I said.

“That’s quite amazing,” said Mrs. Hog.

“My favorite book is the Bible!” cried Niña, who was in the midst of stealing grapes off of Pinta’s plate and stuffing them into her mouth. 

“You can’t even read! You’re illiterate! Get your own grapes!!” Pinta squealed.

“I prefer the Koran, myself,” Arianna now spoke up. 

“The Koran?” I said to the butterfly, unable to hide my surprise.

“Of course,” she said. “As a historical work it is simply fascinating!”

“Do you practice any religion, Gabriel?” Arianna asked me. 

“Not exactly-” I started to reply, before Baizan burst out, “Catholic! He’s Catholic!”

“You’re Catholic aren’t you, Gabe?” The tiger smiled at me, and gave me a knowing look.

“Uh, not Catholic-“

“Buddhist!” shouted Pinta. 

“Mormon!” cried Niña. “He’s Mormon for sure!”

Do I look Mormon? I thought. 

“He doesn’t strike me as being particularly religious at all,” Winchester added. 

“I don’t really practice any religion,” I said. 

“He’s not religious!” said Niña to Pinta. “I told you!”

“But then, what do you believe in?” said Mr. Hog, taking a sip of his pumpkin soup.

Suddenly, I felt as if the spirits were all looking at me expectantly.

“What do I believe in?” I said, thinking it over. “Wow, what a question… Umm… Love…? I guess?”

I immediately felt that my answer was trite and bland, but it was the best answer I had – it was however well received at the table. Mrs. Hog immediately started to clap approvingly, and Arianna nodding enthusiastically and said, “Love, yes! It’s all about love!” Baizan laughed heartily, clapped me on the back, and held up his glass.

“Let’s toast!” he roared. “To love!”

We toasted to love. I emptied my glass and then spun the table around to grab the bottle of wine. I had started to reach for the wine bottle, when Baizan said, “No, no, let me get that for you!” and took the bottle from my hands, pouring the wine for me. 

“My goodness! Such a gentleman!” I exclaimed with a smile.

“It’s only manners,” replied Baizan. “I see that Winchester could use a little more as well,” he said, topping off the deer’s glass. 

“I want brandy! Pour me the brandy!” Pinta shouted to Niña.

“Pour it yourself!” Niña retorted, and then grabbed the bottle, which was significantly larger than her, and attempted to pour some into Pinta’s tiny glass. The glass quickly filled up and began to overflow. “Too much, too much!!” Pinta laughed, and after spilling a profuse amount of brandy, together the two pushed the bottle back upright. Baizan reached for the salad, which I thought was interesting to see, and I took this opportunity to grab a slice of what looked like cherry pie. I was curious to see who the bride and groom were keeping company with, and I looked over to their table. Isaac and Isabella were engaged in lively conversation with their guests, with the lamppost sitting by Isaac, the unicorn next to Isabella, and the owl. Barbarot was also at the table, taking up a lot of real estate, and then I seemed to spy the heads of the Capuchin monkeys poking out over the edge of table. 

The hogs were now telling Arianna about their wedding, and Baizan had entered into an argument with the squirrels. I was content, and listened for a while, enjoying my slice of pie, and then thought I would try and make some more conversation with the intellectual deer.

“So, what do you do with your time?” I asked Winchester. “You don’t have to make money, do you?”

“No, I have no need for money. It is a completely human concept,” replied Winchester. “I have various ways of entertaining myself and engaging my mental faculties – I fancy myself something of a naturalist, I enjoy reading and scribbling, I dabble in poetry – these kinds of things. I happened to write a poem just yesterday, in fact. Would you like to hear it?”

“I would love to,” I said. 

Winchester cleared his throat, wiped his mouth with his napkin. “It’s rather short,” he said, and then began to recite his poem. 

“Nepotism is to despotism!

As hedonism is to veganism. 

Catholicism is to Marxism!

As Marxism is to aneurysm.

Schisms and prisms are nothing alike!

And rhythms and grythms are two of the same.

And Buddhism is to Brutalism!

As nepotism is to despotism.”

He finished his short poem and looked at me expectantly. 

“Wow,” I said, applauding him. “I like the part about the schisms and prisms!”

“Thank you, I thought they sounded nice together as well,” replied Winchester, smiling and making a small bow. He was clearly pleased with my reaction.

“But, what is a grythm?” I asked him.

“Well, it’s the same thing as a rhythm,” replied Winchester. “That’s explained in the poem,” he added, shooting me a curious look, as if this were self-explanatory.

“Ah, of course.”

“Now, I’ve been thinking about changing the word ‘Brutalism’ to ‘minimalism’, in the poem. But what do you think?” he asked me eagerly. 

“Well… You know, I like ‘Brutalism’ there. It has good alliteration with ‘Buddhism’.”

“Yes, I think you’re right, friend,” nodded the deer. “You have a good ear. Do you write poetry?”

“Very occasionally.” 

“Share one of your poems, then, old chap! It’s only fair!”

“One of my poems, huh? Well, I have to remember one,” I said, and I tried to think of something I had written. Before long, one of my little poems popped up in my mind.

“There was a man of the lower castes, 

Who his son under his ass,

So that he could be above someone else,

For once.”

“It’s even shorter than yours–” I said, but Winchester clacked his hooves together in delight. 

“A marvelous poem! It has a real punch! Yes, societal commentary is always ripe for material! Where did you get the inspiration?”

“You know, I don’t know really –”

But I was cut off by the deep voice of Baizan, who had given up his debate with the squirrels and turned to us, saying, “I’ve got a poem for you.”

“Do you now?” said Winchester, squinting at Baizan through his monocle. “I didn’t know you did any scribbling.”

“You think you’re the only one with poetic inspirations, do you? Yes, I scribble!” returned Baizan indignantly. “I will begin now!”

The cloaked tiger cleared his throat and closed his eyes. He began to speak:

“Take a tiger and a lion,

And now you’ve got a liger. 

Take a tiger and a liger, 

And now what do you have?

Take a monkey and a skunk,

And now you’ve got a skunky.

Take a monkey and a skunky,

And now what do you have?

Take a squirrel and a chipmunk,

And now you’ve got a chipuirrel. 

Take a squirrel and a chipuirrel, 

And now what do you have?

Take an eagle and a weasel, 

And now you’ve got a weagle. 

Take an eagle and a weagle,

And now what do you have?”

Baizan opened his eyes and looked at us expectantly. He seemed to be waiting for an answer of some kind.

“Oh, is this a riddle?” I said, looking at Winchester for help.

“A duck!” Baizan suddenly shouted.

“A duck?” I said. “I guess I would have thought it would still be a weagle.”

“And I agree!” Winchester replied at once. “Why should it be a duck?”

“Because that’s what you get when you have an eagle and weagle!” Baizan growled, somewhat angrily. “Look, you don’t have to get it! It’s poetry!”

“Alright, yes, calm down old boy,” Winchester replied, cracking a smile. “Anyways, it’s awfully clever for you! But is it of your own invention?” He asked with some suspicion in his voice. 

“Yes, yes, it’s mine!” Baizan asserted. “It came to me in a dream.” 

“Did it now? Well, you have some special dreams, then,” said the deer.

“I liked it,” I said. “It was very imaginative.”

“Thank you. At least someone here has good taste,” said the tiger, shooting a disdainful look at Winchester.

I reflected on how an eagle and a weagle could possibly become a duck, as the dinner wound to a close. Almost all of the guests had finished eating, I myself was stuffed, and I was just starting to wonder what would be our next event tonight, when I heard the sound of our toastmaster Jameson the crocodile clinging his glass. 

The Tug-Of-War

“Attention, everyone!” called Jameson. “What a wonderful dinner that was, thank you to the hosts, the Turtles!”

There were several cries of “Here, here!”

“Now that we are all gorged and uncomfortable, we will move on to everyone’s favorite part of the night, of course the other favorite part being the moment that Isaac and Isabella are married – but, I’m talking too much! Let’s begin the games!”

“Woohoo!!” There were cheers and cries, hoots and squeals of excitement. The spirits all began to get up and headed out of the hall. 

“The games! The games!!” Niña and Pinta cried, as they shot up out of their seats. 

“Now we get to have some fun!” said Baizan. 

I got up with the rest of my table, with Winchester by my side. The squirrels distributed themselves freely amongst our ranks, the bride and groom were ahead of us, and Baizan went to join his fellow cats, Linda and Pushkin.

“Winchester, what games are we playing? We don’t have to catch anything, do we? I can barely move my hands,” I said as we started to walk back through the forest.  

“Ah yes, you’re cold are you? I forget about that,” Winchester replied. “Well, hopefully you’ll be warmed up soon. A little exercise should help you.”

“I will explain the games, a bit,” he continued. “At every wedding between spirits, it is customary to play three games. There are many games to choose from – hide and seek, musical chairs, red rover – but there will always be exactly three games played, and one of them will always be the foot race. That’s done every time.”

“We have to run?” I groaned. 

“Well, you don’t have to run. You could walk, crawl, fly, skip – whatever you like. Anyways, it’s good for working off all the food we just ate, don’t you think?” said Winchester enthusiastically.

“Right…” I mumbled. “Do you know the other games we’ll play tonight, then?”

“Not yet. It is up to the Toastmaster to decide. He will be telling us shortly, I’m sure,” replied Winchester.

Our footsteps crunched in the snow as we exited the illuminated path. We were now back in the main clearing. After a few minutes, the guests had finished filing back out of the forest and were spread out, facing the stage. Jameson the crocodile was at the podium, looking out over the crowd expectantly with his red, angular glasses. 

“Ladies and gentlespirits!” He called out, once everyone was present. “It is now time for me to announce the games for the night! I’ve decided we will play three games, in this order: First, the Tug-Of-War!”

Jameson paused here for dramatic effect, waiting for some reaction from the guests. There were cheers and claps. He was satisfied, and then said, “Second, the Foot Race!”

Another pause – more cheering and clapping.

“And our final game, the Peppermint Hunt!” 

The guests were glad to hear about that one – there were more cheers, some high-fiving occurred. 

“Are there any objections –” Jameson asked, and he was immediately interrupted by a squirrel, who cried out,

“I object! I want to play charades!!” 

Several squirrels joined in the uproar, calling out, “Charades! Charades!!”

“We always play charades!” replied Jameson, with a smile. “We’ll play it at your wedding, Minga – don’t worry! No charades this time!”

He looked around at the crowd again. 

“Another other objections? No? Alright then, let’s begin! The Tug-Of-War!” 

“You all know the rules! There are two teams, so divide yourselves!”

And with that, the first game had begun. The spirits immediately started to separate, moving into two groups. 

“Well old boy, I think we should face off against each other, don’t you? A little friendly competition will strengthen our bond. Choose your side and I’ll go to the other,” Winchester said to me. 

“We pick our own teams?” I asked him with some surprise.

“That’s how it’s done, yes,” he replied. 

I looked at the two groups forming. Pushkin and Baizan seemed to be the nucleus of one team, with many of the squirrels having rallied around them, the flamingo in the green dress, and the owl in the tuxedo. Everyone else (which was most of the guests: the Turtles, Priscilla, the Hogs, the unicorn…) were moving to the other side of the clearing. I wasn’t sure which team to join, and was caught in indecision, when I felt a heavy paw on my shoulder, and heard the King’s deep voice in my ear. 

“I want you on my team, Gabriel. Come on!”

“Lead on, Honeypaws!” I said to him, glad to have the choice made for me. He led us over to the team with the Turtles, Linda, with everybody else, as I eyed the tiger and lion on the other side and thought that they would be tough to beat. Well, at least we had the bear. 

“I’ve got Gabe!” said King Grissom as we joined the group. 

“Alright!” called out the unicorn excitedly. “Surely we’ll win now!” 

Jameson seemed satisfied that the teams were decided. “You have chosen your teams! Good!” he said. 

“Now, as usual, each team will elect a representative! Teams, choose your representatives!”

My team turned to each other at once, huddling together.

“Representatives?” I said to the group. “Like a team captain?”

“Of course, we must have a representative,” Isaac said, nodding. “That’s how it’s done. Each team chooses someone to pull for the team.”

“What did you think, that we would all pull?” croaked Priscilla, and she let out a laugh. “That would really be something!”

“Actually, I did think that–” I was starting to say, but was cut off by the powerful shout of the unicorn, saying, 

“So, who will pull? I would elect myself, but it would be too easy! My vote is for Linda! They’ll choose Baizan or Pushkin – cat versus cat.” 

“No thank you. I don’t want to pull against either of those furballs,” said Linda. 

“How about Horace, then?” said the unicorn, turning to the lamppost next to him. “We haven’t seen you pull before.”

“I would love to,” said the lamppost. “But, no hands…”

“That’s right, isn’t it…?” said the unicorn, who now seemed to be at a loss for who to elect. 

“I was thinking we should have our guest of honor pull,” Isabella said, and looked at me. “Let him have a go at it!”

The group now all turned to me.

“Yes! Gabriel! Gabriel will pull!” shouted one of the few squirrels on our side, Minga. The suggestion was pounded on immediately by the others. 

“That will be fun! Let the mortal test his strength – My vote is for Gabriel as well!” Isaac said. 

The tides were rapidly turning against me here. I did not relish the idea of playing tug-of-war with either of the cats, and I quickly tried to get out of being elected. 

“Oh no, no. You guys don’t want me to pull. I thought it should be you, King. You’re clearly the strongest!” I said to the bear, trying to deflect the attention to him. 

“No, no,” he said. “They’re right. It would be too easy for me, as well. You are the guest of honor! My vote is for Gabriel!”

And with that, it seemed that the votes had been cast. I was elected to lead the group in the Tug-Of-War. My stomach was now feeling unsettled, and butterflies were welling up in me. The group took an official vote, and I was unanimously elected. 

“We have elected our representative!” King Grissom called out to Jameson. 

“As have we!” I heard Baizan shout from the other side. 

“Very good!” said the Toastmaster. “Then, representatives, take your positions!”

Many hooves, paws and wings now thumped me on the back, cheering me on. “Good luck, Gabriel! Show them what you’re made of! Knock ‘em dead! Go on!” I cast a glance over at Linda for some reason, who was looking extremely entertained. She gave me a wink and waved.

Then, I was pushed forward, towards a rope that lay between the two teams. There was a bell in the center, and two lines had been drawn in the snow with sand. I looked across to see who the other team had chosen. It was Pushkin, the flower-maned lion. 

“Well, well, well!” the lion called out to me. “So they picked you!”

“I didn’t ask for this,” I said. “I voted for Honeypaws.”

“I’ll go easy on you,” Pushkin said, smiling at me.

“Representatives, I will remind you of the rules!” Jameson said, his black eyes turning from Pushkin to me. “You will pull the rope until the bell crosses either of your lines. The winner is the one who pulls the bell across their own line. Any questions?”

“Not from me,” said Pushkin. 

“I got it,” I said. 

“Wonderful,” said the crocodile. “Now, it seems to me that the sides are not completely evenly matched. Of course, if they were completely evenly matched, the game would go on forever – but you know what I mean. It seems that a lion is obviously much stronger than a man.” He paused for a moment, looking at each of us. “Or would you not agree?” 

“Disagree!” yelled the unicorn. “Pushkin is no match for Gabriel!”

“There’s simply no way that’s true,” I said.

Jameson laughed. “So that we may have a good match,” he continued, “I will attempt to even things up.” He turned to Pushkin. “Pushkin, would you say that you are likely to be stronger than Gabriel?”

“I would say so, yes,” replied the lion.

“And how many times stronger would you say you are than him?”

Pushkin sized me up briefly, before replying, “About 300 times stronger.” 

“At least!” I heard Baizan call out from behind, laughing. 

Jameson turned to me. “Would you agree, Gabriel?”

“Come on,” I said. “300 times? I’ll say he’s 50 times stronger than me.” 

“Okay, then,” replied Jameson. “We’ll split the difference and say that Pushkin is 175 times stronger than Gabriel. In that case, Gabriel, you will be allowed to pull 175 times for every one time that Pushkin pulls. Is that fair?”

“Now, how does that work?” I said, with some confusion. 

“Fair to me,” Pushkin said. 

“Fair!” shouted the unicorn from behind me. “Let them pull!”

“That settles it then!” Jameson cried, clapping his thick crocodile claws together. “Gabriel will pull first! You will have 175 seconds. Then, Pushkin will pull. Now, representatives, are you ready? Grab your rope!”

Pushkin nodded, and picked up the thick rope in his mouth. I bent down to pick up the rope and tried to grasp it as firmly as I could in my numb hands. I dug my heels into the snow, and stared across at my opponent, the enormous lion. Pushkin stared back at me, looking calm and relaxed. I was having a hard time imagining that I had any possible chance. 

“Then prepare yourself, Gabriel – on my count… three, two, one, pull!!!”

The guests burst out into shouting and cheering, and I leaned back and pulled on the rope as hard as I could. It felt like I was tugging on a boulder – Pushkin didn’t budge an inch. He held the rope in his mouth and resisted easily.

“Come on Gabriel, give it to him!!”

“Pull!! What are you doing? Keep pulling!!”

“You can do it, Gabe!!”

My team called out to me, giving me encouragement. Baizan, the squirrels, Winchester and the flamingo were all cheering on Pushkin, and laughing hysterically behind him. After about ten seconds of pulling, I knew I had no chance in the world, and I stopped pulling. 

“Pull Gabriel! Don’t give up!!” I heard Isaac call out. 

“I’m just taking a break!” I said back to him.

It was obvious that I could not beat this lion in a tug-of-war, obvious to me at least, but none of my team seemed to think so. I felt ridiculous, but I figured I had to at least look like I was trying. I dug in again and continued to pull.

“60 seconds have passed!” Jameson announced, looking down at his wristwatch. 

I took another break. “Guys, this is not going well for me,” I called to my team, turning back to look at them. “I mean, he’s a lion!”

“Come on, Gabe!” returned the unicorn passionately. “Look at him! He’s all meow, no scratch! He’s a pushover!!”

“It’s all mental!” shouted the King. “Don’t let him get in your head!”

“Is it?” I shouted back to him, picking up the rope again. “Is it all mental??” 

Pushkin had now laid down in the snow, with his paws out in front of him and the rope in his mouth, looking completely comfortable. 

“This stupid game…” I muttered, and began to pull again. I just wanted it to be over now. I was trying not to think about what would happen to me when it was Pushkin’s turn. 

The time passed incredibly slowly. “30 seconds left!” Jameson boomed. I kept tugging at the rope half-heartedly, my team still cheering behind me. “Get ready Pushkin, old boy!” I heard Winchester call out.

“3… 2… 1… Now, Pushkin, pull!”

And in the blink of an eye, the lion leapt up and launched himself backwards. My grip had been so tight on the rope that my arms were nearly ripped off, and I went flying forwards and landed face first in the snow. The rope flew out of my hands, I heard the bell clanging violently – and then Jameson yelled, “Pushkin wins!”

I pulled myself up off the ground onto my knees, wiping the snow off of my face. I heard the cheers and shouts of laughter and mirth from the audience. Pushkin walked over to me, and said in a low voice, “Sorry to do that to you, friend. No hard feelings.”

“You said you would take it easy on me!” I protested.

“And what do you think that was?” laughed the lion. 

Strong paws lifted me up onto my feet, brushing the snow off of me and clapping me on the back. “What a show! How far did you fly, just then? It must have been twenty feet!” said Baizan gleefully. The rest of the guests had crowded around us. “Good show,” said the King. “You put up a great fight.” 

“Really?” I said.

“Oh yes, it was a legendary match,” Winchester added. “Very entertaining.” 

“Well, that’s great,” I said. “I’m glad that was entertaining for you.” 

“You’ll get him next time, son, don’t worry!” I heard the unicorn say, and then Jameson was speaking again.

“Pushkin has won the Tug-Of-War – congratulations! Pushkin, would you come up to the podium now to claim your prize!”

The lion moved up to the stage. Jameson held up a small, yellow object, and said, “I present to you, as a token of your victory, the Wedding Lemon!” He handed it to Pushkin, who took it in his mouth and bowed, as the rest of the guests applauded. 

“The Wedding Lemon?” I asked Winchester, who was standing next to me. 

“The Wedding Lemon, yes,” he answered. “If you win the Foot Race, you get the Wedding Lime.” 

“Ooh. That would be nice,” I replied. 

The Foot Race

“Now then, everyone!” called out Jameson, turning to the audience once again. “That concludes the first game, and now we will begin the second – everyone’s favorite! The Foot Race!”

“Allow me a moment to prepare the track. I will explain the rules, although you are all already familiar — there will be a countdown, the starting gun will fire, and then whoever reaches the finish line first wins the race! As simple as that! It is called the Foot Race, traditionally – but all forms of movement are allowed! Hopping, jumping, skipping, fly if you like, swim if possible! Any questions?”

“I’ve got one!” one of the Capucian monkeys hollered. 

“Go on then,” said Jameson. 

“Is running backwards allowed?” asked the monkey. 

“Running backwards? Hmm… let me see… I can’t quite remember.” This question seemed to stump the Toastmaster, who reached below and pulled out a massive, leather-bound tome, thudding it down on the podium. 

“Rules… Ring-around-the-rosy, no… Juggling Contest, Darts Tournament, not that — here it is! Foot Race… Let me see…”

“Aha! Yes!” he said at last. “Running backwards is permitted, and sideways as well! I also read that running on hands instead of feet is permitted as well, if anyone wants to give that a go — although for some of you, it’s the same thing! Well, if that’s all, I will prepare the course! We will run down by the lake, as usual.”

With that, Jameson slammed the book closed, stepped down from the stage, and started to head down to the lake. The rest of the guests followed after him in an orderly fashion, chattering excitedly. 

“I’ll bet you your Wedding Lemon I beat you this year, Pushkin!” I heard Baizan say to the lion. 

“You can’t bet me my lemon,” replied the lion. “Because it’s mine.”

“I’ll bet you the Lime I’m going to win, then!” Baizan persisted. 

“Deal!” said Pushkin. 

The strange metal lamppost was now walking next to me. 

“I love the race,” I heard it say. “Racing is just so exciting, so thrilling! I can just never seem to win…” 

“You have to get married,” Linda said to him. “Then you will.”

“I could throw you,” suggested the unicorn. “Like a spear! What do you think about that?”

“Hey, that’s a good idea!” the lamppost replied enthusiastically. “Would you do that for me?”

“Of course, friend,” replied the unicorn. “Let’s give it a try!”

Soon I spied two parallel lines of torches set widely apart, that seemed to be marking the raceway. They ran alongside the lake, and went on for about 100 meters. It looked like we were doing a hundred-meter dash. At the end, most of the way down, I could see a red sash strung across the track – however, beyond that, there seemed to be another one. 

“Why are there two ribbons?” I asked Winchester. “Are there two finish lines?”

“Well, there’s only one finish line,” he replied. “The first ribbon marks the pre-finish finish line.” 

He could see I was puzzled by that, and he added, to clear things up, “It’s the finish line before the finish line.”

“The finish line before the finish line,” I repeated.

“That’s right,” said the deer.

Jameson had been down at the end lighting the final torches, and he now headed over to the start to join the rest of the group. The guests began to fan themselves out along the starting line. The Turtles were in the center, and the lamppost and unicorn had moved over to the end and were discussing their plan. The King and Priscilla, all of the squirrels, the monkeys all lined themselves up randomly – the cats, Baizan, Puskin and Linda grouped together, as if they were going to square off. Barbarot was towering over everyone at the other end with some of the birds, his creepy face glowing in the torchlight. I decided to stay right in the middle, with the Turtles and Winchester. 

“Everyone, take your places! When you hear the firing of the starting gun, and not a second before – go! As usual, I will be counting down to 1 in a series of prime numbers, from 457, as that is nearest the age of the groom! Prepare yourselves!”

Jameson began his count. 

“457, 449, 443…”

“Should I throw you lamp-first, or post-first, do you think?” I heard the unicorn say to the lamppost. 

“Post-first makes the most sense, as I can land better that way – but lamp-first sounds more exciting, doesn’t it? Throw me that way, would you?” replied the lamppost. 

Winchester leaned over to me, and in a low voice, so as not to be heard by Isaac and Isabella, said, “I just realized – in case no one has told you, you should know it is customary to let the bride win, and have the groom to come in a close second.” 

“Is that right?” I whispered back to him.

“That’s right,” he said. “That’s why there is the pre-finish finish line, you see. We can have a ‘real’ race, as we do want to compete, many of us. But it is customary to have some sort of ‘accident’” (here he marked the air with his hooves) “after the pre-finish finish line, if one is doing too well, so that the bride will take first place.”

“I see,” I said, as Jameson hit 89. “What will your accident be?”

“I plan to chip a hoof,” replied Winchester. 

“That’s a good idea,” I told him. I thought about what my accident would be. I could lose a shoe – but I didn’t want to step barefoot onto the snow. I decided to have one of my shoes become “untied”. 

“Mistake!” I heard someone shout out. “27 is divisible by 9 and 3!!” Jameson was almost finished with his countdown, and the guests now poised themselves for the race. Winchester got down on all fours, the unicorn picked up the lamppost and held it high. 

Jameson was on 17… “5, 3, 2, ONE!!!!!”

The starting gun went off with a bang, and the guests were off. The unicorn hurled the lamppost over his shoulder, and he threw with so much ferocity that the lamppost flew twice the length of the course, far past the true finish line, where it became a faint glow in the distance. The squirrels and monkeys formed a small, trampling horde, charging forward in a mass. It was shocking how quickly the King was able to move, bursting into a sprint, and Winchester was bouncing like he was made out of rubber. But the fastest guest, blowing all of the others out of the water, was Linda. There was an explosion of white — snow flew up in the air behind her, and then in mere seconds, she had reached the pre-finish finish line. The competition was completely dusted. 

It seemed that Baizan and Pushkin were neck and neck, and the squirrels were beating the monkeys. I had figured it would be more interesting just to hang back and watch, as I had no chance of winning anyway, and so I walked slowly with the bride and groom, as Arianna fluttered ahead of us, neck and neck with Priscilla. Barbarot also seemed to be a walker – he was in no hurry at all.

“Come on Isabel!” shouted Isaac encouragingly as he trudged through the snow. “We’re gaining on them!”

“Are we, darling? Some of them seem to have finished already! My, they’re so fast, aren’t they? I feel like the race just started!” Isabella responded.

Isaac and Isabella were unsurprisingly the slowest of the group. After a few minutes, we had made it halfway down the track, and I noticed that no one yet crossed the official finish line. I started to hear cries from the other racers, who seemed to be in dire straits — many of them had fallen to the ground. 

“My leg! Oh, my leg!” cried Mr. Hog. 

“I’ve chipped a claw! I can’t go on!” moaned the King. 

“Have you chipped a claw, friend? It’s a hoof for me,” lamented Winchester, who was sitting and pretending to nurse his hoof. 

“I seem to have overdone it…” I heard the unicorn say to himself as he walked off towards the glow in the distance. 

Baizan and Pushkin were arguing over who between them had won. Both were adamant that they had crossed the pre-finish finish line first. They appealed to Jameson, who had moved to the end of the track. 

“You saw us, Toastmaster! You had a good view! Who was faster?” 

“Linda was,” said Jameson, breaking out into a toothy grin. “By a mile.”

“I mean between Pushkin and I!” Baizan growled. 

“Oh! It was a tie,” said the crocodile.

“Gah!!!”

Isaac and Isabella were still struggling along, and approaching the rest of the racers. 

“Come on, Isaac! You can do it, Isabella!” Many were cheering for them now. 

I picked up the pace now and joined the rest of the crowd, crossing the pre-finish finish line. I stooped down, saying “Agh! My shoe’s come untied!” and pretended to fiddle with my laces. The squirrels were crying that they had eaten too much and were having stomach cramps, and Barbarot had simply laid down on the ground, completely unmoving. Linda was pretending to limp, and Baizan was now playing dead. 

“Goodness, what’s happened to all of the runners?” Jameson commentated. “Great tragedy seems to have befallen everyone but the bride and groom! They just might pull out the victory!”

The Turtles had crossed the pre-finish line and were on the home stretch. Isabella had started to take the lead. The rest of the guests clapped and hollered, cheering them on. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Isaac shouted, seeming to be quite out of breath. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going to the finish line, old man!” Isabella retorted gleefully. And with that, she pushed through the red ribbon (that was notably set at turtle-height), and won the race. 

“It’s the bride! She’s won it all!” Jameson cried, clapping his hands together excitedly. 

Issac was panting, and finished a very close second. “She’s always been quick on her feet,” he said, when he had crossed the finish line. 

“Who knew you were so spry, Isabella!” said Linda. 

“That concludes the second game!” announced Jameson. “What a wonderful display of athletic prowess! Isabella has taken the first place, with Isaac coming in a close second! It seems that everyone else is too injured to finish! Now, let us return to the stage – Isabella, will you please join me?”

The Peppermint Hunt

The guests all seemed to recover miraculously from their crippling injuries, and started to walk back towards the stage and the main wedding area. I saw the unicorn walking slowly with the lamppost in the back, supporting it with his arm. 

Isabella had gone up to the stage and was given her prize, the Wedding Lime. She was pleased, and held it up in the air triumphantly. 

“Well then, it is time for the third and final game of the night!” said Jameson to the gathered guests. “Everyone’s favorite! The Peppermint Hunt! You all know the rules – well, except for you Gabriel, unless this is a human tradition—” (here I was shaking my head no) “The rules are simple! Hidden somewhere here at this wedding is a small peppermint, red and white! Whoever finds the peppermint first, that is, gets a grasp of it, by touch, will be the winner! Any questions?”

“Question!” the flamingo in the green dress shouted at Jameson. 

“Yes?”

“May we eat the peppermint?”

Jameson seemed to have been stumped again. “Hmm… Can you eat the peppermint? Well, I’m not sure…” He opened the Rule Book once more and sifted through the pages. 

“Just a minute… And… Here it is! Rule 19B: The finder of the peppermint is free to do what they wish with the peppermint after completion of the game!”

Jameson closed the book, and looked back up at the guests. 

“Wonderful, any more—”

“Question!!” cried out the owl in a tuxedo. 

“What is it?” replied Jameson. 

“Are we free to use the peppermint in an art installation?”

“Yes, Rule 19B! After you’ve won, you can do whatever you like with it! Now —”

“Question!” Minga screamed, but Jameson had had enough, and was getting a bit angry.

“Enough questions! We know the rules! Just show the peppermint to me first, and then it is yours to do with whatever you wish! Now, I have already hidden the peppermint, so without further ado — let the Peppermint Hunt begin!”

The guests split up at once, shooting off in all directions. They flew, jumped, lunged — Baizan ran off to the Banquet Hall, and the unicorn strode right up to the Toastmaster and said, “You’ve got it in your pocket!”

“I assure you it isn’t,” he chuckled. “But good idea!”

“It’s in your shoe, then!” the unicorn continued, accusingly. 

“No, no. I don’t have it!” Jameson said. 

“Hmph,” grunted the unicorn, giving Jameson a look and then trotting off. 

Some of the guests had gone up to the stage and were scouring the ground, looking around the decorations. The owl, the King, and Pushkin had all gone off towards the woods. Isaac, Isabella and Priscilla were hunting around the lanterns and lights on the ground. 

I wasn’t sure where to start, and I hadn’t gone anywhere yet. Barbarot had also hung back, and so had Winchester, who seemed to be deep in concentration. 

“What’s your strategy?” I said to him. 

“I know Jameson well. I think I can work out where he hid the peppermint without even looking. Just by putting myself in the mind of the crocodile,” said Winchester. “He’s a clever one… He would never put it somewhere obvious… Like on the reception table… Or would he…!?” Winchester seemed to think he had landed on something, and he sprang off. 

I had just started to follow him over, thinking I would investigate the presents, when Barbarot spoke. 

“I am thinking of getting a leetle drink,” he wheezed to me. “Would you like to join me?”

I looked up at his ceaseless grin and his shining eyes. Truthfully, I did not really care to join him for a drink, but how could I say no? I could use another drink anyway. 

“Alright,” I replied. 

I followed him over to the drink bar, the taller one. 

“What do you go for?” I asked the rabbit. 

“I like a leetle strong whiskey,” he said. “Neat. But I am not picky. Right now, I think I have a taste for some of zis punch. Don’t you?” 

“Punch sounds good, sure,” I said. 

Barbarot grabbed two glasses for us and started to fill them. The icy cups were like toys in his hand. I would rather have joined him in the whiskey. 

“This is your first wedding of the spirits, no?” Barbarot asked me, handing me a glass of punch. 

“Yes, first spirit wedding for me.”

He was pouring the second glass. “I remember, several hundred years ago it was now, Jameson was the Toastmaster for another wedding. I think it was for the Griffon, who is not here tonight – a shame.”

“Cheers!” said the rabbit, holding up the second glass. We clinked the cups, and drank. Barbarot drained his cup in a single gulp, and burped. 

“That’s good,” he said, smiling broadly. “Anyways, at that wedding, with the Griffon, we also played ze Peppermint game.” 

Barbarbot started to fill himself another glass of punch. 

“Where did Jameson hide the peppermint then? Do you remember?” I asked him. 

“Oh yes, I remember. I don’t think he remembers — or at least, he doesn’t remember that I was there. He may have forgotten. But I remember… Yes, he is crafty. He put ze peppermint in ze punch bowl.” 

Barbarot had filled up his second glass, and clinked it with mine again. 

“Ah! Did he now?” I said, grinning back at him. 

“He did. And I wonder if he has done ze same thing again,” said Barbarot. 

The punch bowl was still over halfway full. There was quite a lot left. I say “bowl”, but it was really more of a jug, with a lid and a nozzle.

“It took us hours to find it, that night,” Barbarot said, knocking back more punch. “It had ended up in the gorilla’s drink.” 

“There’s a lot of it left… Should we just pour it out?” I suggested. 

“We could do zat, yes. But what a waste of good punch! Why don’t we get drunk instead?” 

He roared with laughter, and started to fill up his third glass. “Come on, you are drinking too slowly! You have to step it up if you are going to outdrink me!”

He clinked with me again, and we both chugged our glasses. I felt the ice cold punch shoot down into my stomach. “You’re going down, buddy,” I said, letting out a small gasp. “Whoo! That’s cold.”

“Keep drinking,” said the giant rabbit. “It will warm you up.”

Barbarot and I continued to take shots of the punch, and I was rapidly getting drunk. After the fourth glass, I knew I had to stop. Things were going to go very badly for me for the rest of the night if I had any more. Barbarot had probably had eight or nine glasses himself, and the punch bowl was slowly emptying — there wasn’t much left now. 

“You win, Barbarot. You win,” I groaned, my head spinning. “I can’t go on.”

“That’s it? You’re done? Only four drinks! I didn’t know you were such a lightweight, brother!” Barbarot said, cackling. “I will have to finish it myself.”

With that, Barbarot set his glass down. “This may be indecent of me,” he said, and then he took the lid off the jug, and turned it upside down, dumping it into his mouth. Barbarot chugged the rest of the punch like it was water, then he set the jug down and belched loudly. He stood there as if he were thinking.

“Well?” I said. 

Barbarot had a puzzled look on his face. 

“Hmm…” he said. “Eet iz empty.”

“Dang!” 

“No peppermint… I’m surprised…” 

We both seemed to be at a loss for a moment. I started to zone out somewhat, and stared down at the ground. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the short bar, for the low-to-the-ground guests. This bar had its own miniature punch jug.

“Well, how about that one?” I said to Barbarot, pointing to the small jug. 

Barbarot followed my gaze, looking down at the short bar. “Oooh, yes… It could be in zere, couldn’t it?” He reached down and picked up the jug. 

“Can you really drink more?” I said to him. The giant rabbit laughed. 

“Unlike you, I am not a lightweight,” he replied, taking the lid off the jug. “Eet is like water to me.” And he held this jug up to his mouth and gulped it down just like the other one. He burped again, and then, “Aha!” he cried out, grinning even wider than usual. “I knew it!”

Barbarot spit something out of his mouth onto his huge paw. He held it out for me to see. It was a small, red and white peppermint candy, tinted faintly purple from the punch. 

“Look,” he said triumphantly. “I read the crocodile like a book!” 

“That’s a peppermint alright!” I said, and clapped him on the back. “Congratulations, Barb! You win!” 

“Ah, but why don’t you take eet? You helped me. And it will help you reclaim your honor after your humiliating defeat in ze Tug-of-War,” said the rabbit. 

“Are you sure?” I said, looking up at him. “It was your idea, after all.” 

“Yes man, take it. You will win ze Wedding Orange.” 

“Well, thanks,” I said, and I took the peppermint from his paw. It was extremely sticky. 

“Show it to ze crocodile! He will be amazed!” Barbarot exclaimed. 

Jameson was still over at the podium, watching the guests hunt for his craftily hidden mint. I walked over to him, and he eyed me curiously. When I was right in front of him, I stopped. 

“Yes? Do you have a question about the rules?” he said to me. 

“Found it,” I said, and held up the sticky peppermint.

His eyes widened in surprise. 

“Ohoho! So you have! But you found it so soon! And I thought it was my best hiding place yet!” 

“Attention, guests!” Jameson called out. “The Hunt is over! The Peppermint has been found!”

There were several shouts of surprise, heads turning up to the podium. “What? Already?” “We just started!” “By who??”

The guests came back together in the clearing, in front of the stage. They returned from the woods, and someone was sent to fetch the guests who had gone to the Banquet Hall to look. I was still standing next to Jameson at the podium. “Who had it?” called Arianna the butterfly, giving me a suspicious look. “Was it Gabriel?”

“Gabriel has found the peppermint, yes! In record time! I must say, I’m astonished,” he said, turning to me. “How did you find it, Gabe? We all want to know!”

“Where was it?” shouted the tiger, returning from the Banquet Hall with King Grissom. “I was sure you had put it in the leftover mashed potatoes!”

“Zat was not a bad guess, tiger,” said Barbarot. “Tell zem, Gabriel!”

“It was in the punch bowl,” I said. “The smaller one.”

“Ah!!” Roared Baizan, throwing his hands up in the air. Several guests clapped with glee. 

“But what were you doing down there? I thought that would certainly foil all of the bigger guests,” Jameson asked me. 

“Oh, I was just thirsty. And Barbarot had already drunk all the punch in the other bowl.” I cast him a conspiratory look, and grinned. 

“Stupendous,” replied the crocodile. “Well, you’ve found it my boy, congratulations! It looks like everyone is back—everyone, Gabriel has won the Peppermint Hunt! Through sheer luck, or natural intuition perhaps! Your prize sir,” he said, holding out a small orange… orange. “The Wedding Orange!”

I took it out of his claws and gave a small bow. “Thank you!” I said. 

“Speech, speech!” Someone called out. It was immediately taken up by the others. 

“Come on, yes! Let’s have a speech!” cried Priscilla. 

“No one else had to give a speech!” I protested, but to no avail. The guests clearly wanted a speech. 

“Gabriel, don’t be shy, my good man! Let’s hear it!” Winchester now called out. 

The guests were now all looking at me expectantly. I would have to say something, but I really had no idea what to say. I was at this point intoxicated from all the punch Barbarot and I had consumed, and my mind was just saying to myself, “Just don’t make a fool of yourself. Just don’t say anything stupid.”

“Alright, well…” I began. “Thank you very much for the Orange,” (I held up my trophy) “this is a great gift and honor… and… uh…” (I was blanking and looking out to the crowd for help, before I had a sudden inspiration) “A toast! Let’s have a toast!” 

The guests pounced on that immediately. “A toast! Yes!” 

I knew that was the thing to do, but I realized I didn’t have a glass, and it would have been an awkward moment if Linda hadn’t rescued me. She deftly stepped up to the stage and handed me an icy goblet of wine. 

“Thanks,” I said to her, and she smiled, stepping back down. I raised the goblet high, looking out at this extraordinary cast of characters, and said, “Let’s toast! To Isabella and Isaac! One thousand years of happiness! One million years!!” 

“Here, here!!” “To Isabella and Isaac!” “One million years!” “One billion years!”

And we all drank. The guests applauded my speech. 

“Wonderfully well said!” Jameson said, clapping and I took that as my cue. I was ready to get down off the stage, now, holding my goblet and my Wedding Orange. 

“Now, everyone—that concludes the games! And that means it’s time for everyone’s favorite, the dancing! Without further ado, bring out the band!”

The flamingo in the emerald dress, the lamppost, and the owl in the tuxedo all stepped forward out of the crowd, as the rest of the guests started to spread out around the clearing. Instruments seemed to appear on stage, as if by magic, and the lamppost took a position at the percussion, where there were many drums and percussive instruments of all kinds, and the owl grabbed the upright bass. The flamingo stood at the front, with a guitar—she was the singer, and from this angle her long legs looked even longer. 

“And what will you and the band be playing for us, this evening, Henrietta?” Jameson said to the flamingo. 

“Flamenco,” replied Henrietta. 

“Very good! The stage is yours!” Jameson said to the band, before bowing and making his leave. 

“Of course the flamingo is fond of flamenco,” I heard Winchester say to Linda. 

I was very interested to hear what was about to happen. For one, because I didn’t know how the lamppost was going to play percussion exactly, with his no hands problem, and two, because I had always wondered what flamenco really was. The rest of the guests seemed just as excited for the performance. Henrietta took a moment to tune the guitar, the owl did some plucking of the bass to warm up, and then Henrietta looked back at the other members of the band to see if they were ready. They nodded—and then, Henrietta began to strum the guitar. 

A beautiful melody rang out over the space, and the guests immediately began to move to the music. Jameson was down on the dance floor, doing a kind of shimmy, and flailing his tail, which seemed rather dangerous—I saw several guests step back from him. Mr. Hog grabbed Mrs. Hog and they broke out into an advanced latin step routine, him spinning her around in circles and leaning down with her in his arms. Isaac and Isabella began to wriggle excitedly. Baizan had grabbed Linda, and was twirling her around. Many of the squirrels had paired up and were doing the same. 

After a few measures, the lamppost joined in on the bongos (he seemed to be slapping them with some metal protrusions on his body), and the owl finally came in with the low tones of the bass. I saw Barbarot in the back, nodding his head and moving his huge feet up and down. Henrietta began to sing. 

“Ese amor llega así…!”

Her voice was full and deep, her pitch was perfect. I watched her wings flap over the guitar, her technical ability was amazing. The owl was also clearly a master of the bass—he spun it several times for fun as he played, and didn’t look at the strings once. The lamppost had very tasteful percussive accents, and I couldn’t believe he was able to play so well just slapping the drums with his body. 

I was carried away by the music, thoroughly impressed by the skill of the performers, when I heard a woman’s voice at my side. “Hello, handsome,” she said. “Will you dance with me?”  

I pulled my eyes away from the stage, and saw that I was being asked to dance by an incredibly beautiful woman. 

“Of course,” I said. “I would love to.”

She held out her hand to me—I took it, and we started to dance. I noticed that she was wearing a 着物. “But where did you come from?” I said to her, giving her a spin. “I thought I was the only human here tonight.”

“Oh, did you darling? No, I arrived fashionably late… But I couldn’t miss the dancing.”

The woman moved lithely, and when I looked into her eyes, I felt like something was just ever so off. She looked human, but… There was something strange about her. She also smelled somewhat minty, I got a whiff of her hair when I pulled her close for another spin. We danced together for the rest of the song, and as I was drunk, I stepped on her foot several times, but she didn’t seem to care. When the song was over, she said, “Let’s dance again,” and smiled at me, before going off to find a new partner. 

Linda was at my side, having just danced with Baizan. “Who is that?” I said to her, nodding in the mysterious woman’s direction. “I thought I was the only human here, tonight.”

“Are you in love?” Linda teased. “Be careful Gabriel. That is no normal woman.”

“Don’t tell me. She’s a spirit?”

Linda nodded and smiled. “Kitsune,” she said. 

“Ugh. Why are all the good ones Kitsune!” I said, shaking my head.

The next song began, and more dancing ensued. It seemed natural to ask Linda to dance, being right by me. She was much better than me, and I wished then that I actually knew anything about dancing at all. I only stepped on her feet several times, and claimed that she had an advantage, being better able to balance herself with her tail. After Linda, I danced with Priscilla, Minga, Baizan, the Kitsune, Linda, Isabella, and the unicorn, in that exact order. This was quite a lot of dancing, and I finally had to sit down, my head was spinning so much, and I went over to the chairs. Barbarot and Pushkin were also taking a break, and were standing in the back, talking. 

“I drank too much,” I groaned to them, sitting down. 

“You are a lightweight,” said Barbarot, laughing. “You are tired? Taking a break?” he said to me. 

“Yep. You’re not dancing?” I asked him.

“I am not much of a dancer, to tell you ze truth. When I was a younger rabbit, I was better.”

“How about you, Pushkin?” I said to the lion. 

“I’m exhausted from the Tug-Of-War,” he said, winking at me. I laughed. 

I sat there and watched all of the guests dance, watching the band play. I thought about how this had turned out to be such a strange night. 

“What do you think?” Pushkin said to me. “Is it as fun as a mortal wedding?”

“Even better,” I replied. 

“It was a noble thing you did,” he went on. “For Isaac.”

“It was really nothing,” I said, waving my hand dismissively. “Many people would have done the same thing.”

“Maybe so,” he said. 

The Ceremony

I put my head in my hands for a moment, and closed my eyes. I heard the laughter of the guests, their chatter, the flamingo’s voice ringing out, and the sounds of music. I thought again about the race, the tug-of-war, and the Wedding Orange in my pocket. It was there all right, making a bulge in the side of my pants. My breath was still forming clouds in the air, I was still freezing my butt off. It certainly all seemed so real. 

But was it? 

Barbarot’s deep voice roused me out of my reflection. “Gabriel, wake up. Someone is looking for you!” 

The Kitsune woman was crossing the dance floor and headed our way. 

“There you are–are you tired, darling? Taking a break? You are too young for that–come on!” She said, walking up to me. “You promised me another dance!”

“I did?” I said. “I don’t remember that…!”

“You did! Yes you did, come on!”

“You better go with her,” Pushkin said. “I wouldn’t want to upset a Kitsune, if I were you…”

“Alright, let’s dance,” I said with reluctance. I got up and took her by the arm.  

“Kitsune? Who’s a Kitsune?” The woman said, laughing as we walked away. “I’m a human, just like you, Gabriel!”

We danced again. It was the final dance before the wedding ceremony. Jameson announced, when the band had finished playing the last song, “And now, if you will all please take your seats! It is time for everyone’s favorite part of the night, and the reason why we are all gathered here today! Sir Mister Isaac Turtle and Madam Missus Isabella Turtle please take your places!”

The guests began to file into the chairs of ice, laid out in rows facing the stage. There was a part down the middle. It seemed that we could sit anywhere, and I ended up between King Grissom and Linda. The band moved to the side of the stage, and Baizan was now walking up to the podium. 

“I already know I’m going to cry,” said the King, half to me and half to himself. 

After all had seated themselves, there was silence–and then, the strum of a guitar. The flamingo in the green dress, Henrietta, began to play, and the guests rose from their seats and began to clap. Isaac and Isabella were now making their way to the stage, side by side, walking through the aisle between the rows of seats. It was hard for me to see them, being small, and having the bear next to me, and I had to crane my neck and lean over to get a glimpse. After they had made it halfway, which took quite a while, the owl and Priscilla began to walk down the aisle behind them. They must have been the best “man” and “woman”, and they were careful not to move too quickly, and keep an even distance between them and the bride and groom. 

The guests applauded the entire time, until all four of them were on stage, as the band played. Once they were up, smiling and waving, Baizan signaled for silence, and the guests stopped immediately, and sat down. He motioned for the owl to come up to the podium, and the owl took his place. He cleared his throat with a gruff hoot, and began to speak. 

“Spirits and gentlefolk, I challenge you to find two spirits that are more suited to one another than these two spirits up here with us today. Not to toot my own tailfeathers, but it was 157 years ago when I met Isabella for the first time, at a gala in Paris. I had been friends with Isaac for a long time then, and I said to her, “Isabella my dear, there’s someone you absolutely must meet.” I knew right from the moment I met her that they were meant for each other.”

“For one, well, because they’re both turtles—but in many other respects, they are the perfect compliments for one another. Later that year, at the annual celebration of the Autumn equinox, they met for the first time. And the rest, they say, is history…”

The owl shared several amusing anecdotes and finished, and then Baizan helped Priscilla to the podium, lifting her up and setting her down on top. 

“I’ve known Isabella since I was a young tadpole,” she said. “We’re from the same pond, after all…”

Priscilla’s speech was equally wonderful, and when she was finished, the guests applauded. Baizan helped her down, and then stepped back up to the podium. 

“It is a wonderful thing, a wedding. Two spirits have decided to join their forces, solidify the bonds of their love, forever! This is no small thing–maybe it is the greatest thing in the world. Isaac and Isabella, will you please come forward?”

The turtles now moved to the center of the stage. 

“Do you, Sir Mister Issac Turtle, promise to cherish and protect Isabella, both in times of peace and joy, and in times of great distress and challenge, for the remainder of your days, forever and eternally?”

“I do,” said Isaac.

“And do you, Missus Madam Isabella Turtle, promise to cherish and protect Isaac, for the rest of your days, forever and eternally?”

“I do!” said Isabella.

“Then, without further ado, I now pronounce you spirits joined in union! You may now kiss the bride!” said Baizan. 

Isaac gave Isabella a smooch, as the guests clapped, whistled and cheered. Many of them had tears in their eyes. The King next to me was blubbering like a baby. 

“So beautiful,” he whispered, wiping tears out of his eyes. 

Fireworks suddenly shot off from behind the stage, exploding in the night sky above, showering us with sparks of red and gold. 

“This concludes the wedding ceremony,” said Baizan, with an official air. “Now, let’s dance!”

The band immediately started up again. Isaac and Isabella made their way down to the dance floor, and the guests formed a circle around them to watch their dance. They were surprisingly nimble–it seemed that both of them were expert flamenco dancers. Soon the owl joined Priscilla (Winchester was covering the owl on the bass), and they twirled about together majestically. At the next song the rest of the guests joined in. We danced for a while longer, and then I heard Isaac’s voice call out from the podium. 

“Everyone, thank you all so much for coming. Isabella and I feel so blessed to count you all among our friends! We will have some more dancing, and there is plenty of food and food left. Feel free to stay as long as you like! We love you all so much! Before the next song, my dear friend Pushkin has asked to give some words…”

“Oh no,” groaned Linda. 

“I thought we all agreed, no more speeches from Pushkin!” Winchester grumbled behind me. 

Pushkin was stepping up to the podium when the King turned to Linda and I and said in a low voice, “Margaret has offered to give me a ride around the lake tonight. I think now is the perfect time. Would you two care to join me?”

“I would like nothing more,” said Linda quickly, getting up at once. 

“And miss Pushkin’s speech?” I said, half-jokingly. 

“Trust me, you’ll be able to hear plenty of it when we get back,” said the King. 

Many of the guests seeme to have the same ideas, as they started to leave the dance floor. I followed the King and Linda down to the water, where we had held the race. The water was dark, almost black in the night, and much of it frozen. I didn’t see anyone that we would be meeting here, but then I saw a large, mysterious blob moving in the water off in the distance. I was about to ask where Margaret was, when suddenly the ice in front of us split open in an explosion. A whale burst forth, sending slow and ice flying, as it beached on the ground in front of us. I was so startled that I fell backwards. 

“Tada!!” said the whale gleefully. 

“What an entrance!” clapped the King. “Bravo!”

“Thank you, thank you,” said the whale. “Is Pushkin giving his speech then? Nobody’s stopped him?”

“No the rascal, he’s done it again,” replied Honeypaws as he climbed up on the whale’s back. “Any opportunity to hear himself speak…”

Linda followed King Grissom, climbing nimbly up and sitting behind him. The whale had an enormous pair of feathery wings, and they both sat right behind where the wings met. I wasn’t sure about climbing up onto this creature, and was having some trepidation, when Linda called out to me, “Afraid of heights or afraid of water?”

“Come on, love, don’t be shy,” said the whale. “I won’t drop you!”

“No, no, I’m sure you won’t…” I said.

Truthfully I was incredibly worried about falling off, but Linda and Honeypaws seemed perfectly at ease. I climbed up too, using Margaret’s wing to help pull myself up, and grabbing Linda’s outstretched paw. She lifted me with incredible strength, and plopped me down behind her on the whale’s rubbery, wet back. 

“It’s a fine night for flying,” said Margaret, as she slid back into the water. The ice fractured loudly as she broke through it, smashing it easily, until reaching the open water. We were gliding along in an inky pool of darkness, now, the stars glittering above. 

Margaret gave a flap of her giant wings, which made a heavy whooshing noise. I started to feel a queasiness deep in the pit of my stomach. “Are you all ready?” she called up to us. 

“Ready!” Shouted the King excitedly.

I was extremely nervous as to what was about to happen. It felt like I was at the top of a rollercoast, right before the drop. And then, before I had any more time to think about it, with a powerful thrust of her tail, the whale launched us forward, so forcefully that it threw my head back, and with a huge flap of her wings, we shot up into the air. 

We were flying. 

We ascended rapidly, at a steep angle, and I don’t remember what happened – I think I kind of blacked out. I simply held on for dear life and prayer to whoever was listening. I remember Linda whooping excitedly, and the King roaring with delight. After a few minutes of flying up high in the air, we had stabilized. Linda was hitting me on the shoulder. 

“Gabriel, look! You’re missing it!”

I forced myself to open my eyes, and I couldn’t believe it. We were high up in the sky, flying with the clouds. It felt like I could reach out and touch the moon, that I could grab a handful of stars. I could see the shining, sparkling roundness of Moonflower lake below, and the glow of lights from the wedding next to it. I saw the lights of my town, a large glow farther off in the distance, and the dark expanse of forest all around. It was breathtaking. 

“Take us through a cloud, Marge!” shouted the King, as we approached a patch of fluffy, grey clouds. Margaret chose a big one and guided us right through, the moisture of the cloud thick and frigid. Linda let out another whoop of delight, and the whale dropped down, rotating her body to take us through another cloud. 

“Hey, hey!!” I cried out nervously as she turned on her side. 

“Relax, scaredy cat!” Linda laughed. We dipped into the cloud, sailing through it and out into the open sky. 

“Linda,” I shouted to her. 

“What?” she shouted back.

“Is this real?”

“What do you think?” she said, turning her head back to me. 

“I think I might be crazy,” I said. 

She smiled at me before turning forward again.

“Well then, maybe you are!”

Margaret took us through a few more clouds, then circled back around and headed for the lake. I was just as nervous for the descent, but she took us down smoothly, skimming the surface of the water before landing gracefully with a splash. We coasted back to the shore by the wedding party, through where she had broken up all the ice, and finally flopped herself up on the ground. Linda motioned to get off. 

“You first,” she said. 

My legs were jello, and I could barely stand as my feet touched the earth once more. 

“Thank you,” I said to Margaret. “Thank you so much for the ride. And thank you for getting us back alive.”

The whale laughed. “It wouldn’t have been as fun if you fell off, would it?” she said. 

King Grissom dismounted and slapped me on the back with a heavy paw, knocking the wind out of me. 

“How about that for a view, eh?” he chuckled, as Linda gave Margaret a pat and thanked her.

“Until next time, friend,” said the King, waving goodbye. The winged whale gave a wave of her flipper, and returned to the water.

The Parting Gift

When Honeypaws, Linda and I rejoined the wedding party, Pushkin was still speaking – it seemed more like preaching, and I listened for a bit. He was in the midst of expounding upon the moral obligations between bride and groom, and this discourse did not seem to be making much impression on the guests. The band was falling asleep, and Jameson looked increasingly agitated. Only minutes later he jumped up, interjecting, “Yes, well said Pushkin, very well said! Now, how about some music!” The band immediately pounced on this cue, and started back up. Pushkin looked angry for a moment, but shrugged it off and came back down off the stage, and the guests took up dancing again. 

As soon as the band began to play again, Isaac came over to me, smiling, and said, “Gabriel, I must thank you again for what you’ve done for me. I can’t say it enough. I want to give you something as a token my gratitude. It is the least I can do!”

He then held up a gleaming blue tortoise-shell case. It looked elegant and fancy. 

“Isaac, really, you don’t have to do that – “ I started to say, but he cut me off. 

“Of course I do, my boy! Take it, it’s yours!”

I knelt down and examined the case, before taking it from Isaac’s hand. It was smooth and felt like polished stone. I opened the golden tabs, and inside was the most beautiful, ornate pen I’d ever seen in my life. The pen was accented with gold trim, and was made with the same beautiful blue tortoise-shell material as the case. 

“Oh my God,” I said. “It’s beautiful!”

“You like it, then? I thought you might!” said Isaac happily. 

“It’s incredible. Thank you, Isaac.”

“You saved my life, Gabriel. I will never be able to repay you – unless I save yours someday. But I owe you this much at least,” he said. 

“Thank you for having me here tonight, Isaac. I will never forget it.”

“I am so glad that you could be here. And, well friend, I think Isabella and I will soon retire for the night. We’re both quite exhausted from all of the hubbub. You’ll find out for yourself someday, if you ever get married! Take care of yourself Gabriel, we wish the best for you! Feel free to stay as long as you like, have some more punch!” Isaac smiled at me, and then stuck out a small, leathery foot. 

I was still kneeling there in the snow, holding the golden pencase. I reached out and grabbed his foot, shaking it firmly. 

“Thank you Isaac, it was a wonderful wedding. I wish all the best for you and Isabella!”

Isaac gave me one final smile, and then trundled off in the snow. I stood back up, watching him go, and then gazed again at the amazing gift I had been given. 

“That was nice of him,” Linda said, slinking up to me and examining the pen with interest. “How beautiful.”

“It really was,” I said. 

Baizan was walking over to us. 

“I didn’t know you were the ceremony official!” I said to him as he approached. 

“Of course I am. Why do you think I’m wearing this cloak?”

“I just thought you liked cloaks,” I said.

“I do,” he said, grinning. “Why do you think I am a wedding officiant?”

He left me to think about that, and held out a paw to Linda.

“Shall we dance?” Baizan said. Linda took his paw.

“Sure,” she said. 

“The Kitsune is looking for you,” Baizan said to me with a wink, and I spied out of the corner of my eye the fox spirit masquerading as a beautiful woman, walking towards me. 

“Oh Gabriel, darling!” she called out enthusiastically, waving to me. 

After a final dance with the Kitsune woman, Barbarot took me over to the bar to take shots of gin with him (I couldn’t do it), “to wash away the taste of ze punch”. Pushkin and Winchester came with us, and I showed off the pen Isaac had given me. Winchester took the opportunity to ask me several more questions about human politics and scientific developments – and as we talked, the guests slowly started to leave. 

Priscilla came hopping over and wished me good luck. “It was a pleasure to meet such a kind mortal as yourself,” she said, in her shrill voice. “Goodbye, Gabe!” The squirrels called out to me, bounding off into the woods. Eventually the band stopped playing, and that was the sign that the party was really over. I was sleepy, having sobered up, and was ready to get home and take a warm bath. 

I let out a huge yawn. 

“Tired old sport?” Winchester said. 

“Yeah,” I said. “I should probably get going.”

The remaining guests were forming groups, saying their final goodbyes. Baizan came over, the unicorn, the flamingo… Winchester asked how I was getting home, I told him where I had parked. Several of the guests were headed that way, including the lamppost, who offered to light the way. Linda, the King, Winchester, Arianna, the Hogs, Pushkin, Barbarot and the lamppost formed a group, and decided to walk me to my car. 

It was quite an entourage. I took one last look at everything—the chairs of ice, the bouquets of roses and chrysanthemums, the many torches and lanterns, still lit, and all that made up this spectacular scene. The others had started off, and I turned to follow them.

“Who’s going to clean this all up?” I asked the group, catching up.

“Oh, it’ll take care of itself,” said Mrs. Hog, smiling at me. 

“What a wonderful wedding, wasn’t it?” said Mr. Hog. 

“Marvellous,” said the lamppost, leading the way with a wide, orange glow. “I can’t wait to get married, myself,” it said. 

“You’ll find your spirit,” said Linda. “They’re out there, just waiting for you.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” he said brightly. 

“Are you married, Gabriel?” Arianna asked me, flapping along in the air beside me. 

“Nope, not yet,” I said. 

“It’s only a matter of time for a refined gentleman such as yourself,” said Winchester encouragingly. “With a respectable job at a paper company!”

“Oh yes, just what every woman wants,” I said, laughing.

Before long we had reached the parking lot where I had left my car. My footsteps were still there from earlier, covered in a light dusting of snow; the red ribbon was still lining the way. We stepped out of the woods, and there was my familiar old car, coated in snow. 

“Well, everyone,” I said, turning to the motley crew of spirits. “This has been an amazing night. I want to thank you all for taking me in, even though I am a mortal man, and showing me such hospitality and kindness. I will never forget this night, and maybe I’ll see you guys again someday, somewhere!”

“You never know,” said Pushkin. “When our paths may cross again.”

“Take care, Gabriel,” said Linda with a smile. 

“Keep writing your poetry,” said Winchester, waving a hoof. “It shows a lot of promise!”

The spirits were all standing and waving to me now, watching me go. I walked over the car, brushed off the snow, unlocked it, hopped in and turned it on. The engine took a second to get going, and then I rolled down the window, shouting “Bye!” one last time, and drove off. I could see them in the rearview mirror as I pulled out of the lot. 

If I could have taken a photo of that scene, all of those strange characters lined up against the dark trees, I wonder, would they have shown up? 

Something tells me, no way. 

On the way home, driving through the woods, I reflected on my strange and wondrous night. The games, the music, the dinner… I felt my pockets, and the presents were still there: the pencase in one pocket, and the Wedding Orange in the other. I thought about playing tug-of-war with Pushkin, dancing with the kitsune woman, chugging the punch with Barbarot—my flight on that spirit whale, the sky, the view… and Linda’s words. 

“You know,” I thought to myself. “You could be crazy… And it could have been real. Why not both?” 

——–

A few weeks had passed since that unusual night. I still had the glittering tortoiseshell pen and the Wedding Orange. The pen wrote wonderfully, although it had a strange habit of changing the color of the ink every day. It was first blue, and the next day it was green, then pink, yellow, red. And the orange showed no signs of ripening. I thought that was strange, that it was still so firm. Eventually my curiosity got the best of me, and I decided to open it up. I was absolutely shocked to find, inside of my ordinary looking Wedding Orange, a solid, spherical green emerald. It was perfectly smooth and clear, and I thought, this must be worth thousands of dollars. Well, I didn’t plan on letting go of it anytime soon. I put it away for a rainy day. 

I had gotten home from work, and I was surprised to find yet another strange letter in my mailbox. It was green and pink, with the gold trim and the strange symbols, and was addressed to me from The Turtles. I took it inside and opened it eagerly, devouring the words. 

“Dear friend Gabriel Gabriese, 

It was an honor to have you at our wedding. Thank you again for all you’ve done for us. Isabella and I hope that you enjoyed yourself. We certainly did. It was one of the best nights of our lives, thanks to you all. Take care of yourself, and we look forward to seeing you at our bimillenial wedding ceremony! Of course, you might be long gone by then…”