A Wedding, by Bobby Warner

I received the invitation and responded appropriately. Arriving at three p.m., I knocked on the door, and was greeted by a large, burly dog with a pair of scissors in its mouth. The dog motioned me inside.

I was led into the old decaying house. All were present; and soon two mangy-looking mice were legally married and scampered away.

The dog then took me into an overly large kitchen where a pot of water was bubbling on the stove. Two attendants brought the newly-wed mice, and dropped them into the boiling water. I did not stay for the reception.

 

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