Hans drove you to the winery, and Sandra went there with her parents. You sat at a table under a sun shade chatting with Hans as others slowly arrived, and it was like the church all over, everybody outside killing time and mingling, only the difference here was they were all holding glasses of wine or beer. You were drinking water even though Hans had smuggled in two hip flasks full of gin and tonic for you, to which you told him thanks but no thanks, then thanks and had a drink anyway. The nerves were gone because there was nothing left to do except listen to the speeches, eat dinner, and maybe hit the dance floor.

You only had the one drink, and were back to water when the speeches began, and you hated that you didn’t get to say anything, that Sandra was muzzling you for the occasion, and you thought . . . this is what you thought: Hey, that’s my daughter too, everybody else gets to say something so why not me?

Why not you?

The answer became obvious once one speech ended and you interrupted the emcee while he was introducing the next speaker, because you had something you wanted to say. Some words of wisdom.

And the crowd went wild, didn’t they?

The video online has now had 3,981 hits. It’s going viral. And there you are, walking up to the stage. Jerry Grey in his wedding suit and his funeral suit, but it’s not Jerry Grey at the wheel, it’s his magician buddy, Captain A. It’s all there for the world to see, 4,112 hits now, and the human race, well now, they sure do love a good show, don’t they? Especially when it’s at the cost of somebody else.

Let me describe it for you. Jerry Grey. At the stage and to his right the wedding table, and at the table are the wedding party, Rick and Prick and the groomsmen, Eva and her bridesmaids, glasses of wine and plates and flowers, and to Jerry’s left the band, and next to Jerry the emcee with the smile on his face, the kind of guy who was just going with the flow, the kind of guy who looked like he’d still be emceeing while the ship went down—and that is what happened, isn’t it? So that’s the scene. Jerry on stage and the room goes quiet. What’s he going to say? What’s he going to do? Well step on up, Future Jerry, and catch yourself a tale.

Hi everybody. My name is Jerry Grey, and for those of you who don’t know me, I’m the father of the bride, Jerry says, and he turns towards the wedding table and smiles at his daughter, and she’s smiling, or trying to, and off to the side people are standing near Jerry trying to figure out a way to get him to sit down. To contain him. They’re hoping for the best.

But Jerry doesn’t want to be contained.

As the father of the bride, I want to start out by thanking you all for coming along on what has been, and I’m sure my lovely wife will back me up here, one of the best days of our lives. To see our littlebabygirl all grown up, to have become this beautiful, charming, and caring woman, well, I don’t need to tell you all what an honor and a pleasure it has been along the way as we’ve gotten to know her. And Rick, Jerry said, turning his attention to the groom, we are looking forward to getting to know you, and I want to welcome you to our family.

Pause for clapping.

But please, can you stop coming around to the house with that hip-hop music of yours cranked up? It frightens all the neighbors.

Pause for laughter . . . It’s there, it’s polite, it’s enough to make Jerry feel confident.

Now, some of you may know that I ’m a crime writer, and that’s a very different beast from being a stand-up comic, which means I may not be able to make everybody laugh, but, Eva, what I can do if you ever need it is give you the perfect alibi.

Another pause. More laughter this time. Jerry is feeling good, feeling good, he’s looking comfortable on stage.

Why couldn’t you have sat down then, F.J.? But you didn’t, because Captain A was the master manipulator and had something he wanted you to say.

As the father of the bride, having been where you’re sitting now twenty-five years ago, it reminds me of what my own dad said to me back then, a piece of advice I wish I had taken. He said, Jerry, run!

Laughter. Genuine laughter, especially from the older folks in the crowd who all can relate to what Jerry is saying.

But seriously, folks, as any parent will do when they’re seeing their child getting married, you think back to when it was your own time, you think back and you wonder how the years have gone by so quickly, there are always ups and downs in a relationship, and the older you are the more you’ve been through, and the more you’ve been through the more advice you can give. Of course everybody has advice, a lot of us say My advice is don’t take anybody’s advice, make your own way, and thankfully, folks, that’s not the chestnut of wisdom I’m here to impart. Rick, I’m hoping I can come to think of you like a son one day, and I want to tell you that you are a very, very lucky man marrying my daughter.

Ooh. Ahh. The crowd is lapping it up.

I envy you. You’re not making the mistake I made by marrying a whore.

There is a pause in the crowd as people try to interpret what Jerry just said. They heard the words—at least they think they did, because surely he didn’t just call his wife a whore, did he? And if he did, then surely it was a joke, wasn’t it?

Jerry carries on.

Had I mentioned that my lovely wife is a whore?

Lots of gasping as people realize he’s not joking. Everybody inhales at the same time and the air in the room goes thin, but Jerry hardly seems to notice. He’s still looking at Rick and he’s smiling.

I didn’t know it when I married her, but I do now, and isn’t that always the way, people?

Pause for laugher. None. Jerry looks confused.

Isn’t it?

Hans has come up to the stage and is reaching for Jerry, but Jerry shrugs away from him. Sandra has been fucking people. Lots and lots of people, including my good friend Hans who’s right here, everybody, Jerry says, and points at his friend. She wants to put me into a home so she can go table shopping with the baker. She’s a—

And that’s as far Jerry gets, because then Hans is dragging him off stage, actually dragging him from the collar of his funeral suit, the back of Jerry’s feet sliding over the floor, and people are standing up, and somebody says in a high-pitched voice, holy shit, holy shit, holleee shit, and there’s Sandra, storming off, and Rick hugging his new wife, and Jerry still ranting away, bitch, slut, whore, all of it coming from his mouth.

Over six thousand hits now. It’s speeding up.

Good news—at least the ceremony went okay.

Bad news—it’s all bad news, partner.

Hearing it coming over the radio is a confirmation Jerry doesn’t want. He looks towards the police station. The top few floors are looming over the surrounding buildings. He can picture cops staring out the windows at him, binoculars finding him, a sniper rifle narrowing in on his head. He can picture a tactical team already in the elevators making their way to the ground floor.

“They’re going to make the connection between the knife and the crime scene quickly,” Hans says. “My guess is that evidence is already on its way back to the station and in about fifteen minutes they’re going to be fingerprinting everything and about fifteen minutes after that they’re going to have your name. You agree so far?”

He nods. The crime writer inside of him agrees.