Disrespectfully Yours

The story with the wedding, the shrimp, and the chicken nuggets

I don't know who invited the shrimp but considering my cousin had ordered seafood for her wedding menu I would have expected more enthusiasm from her for the chaos that unfolded in front of our eyes. I mean...who orders seafood for a wedding? Imagine the fish smell all the way to the altar. 

Anyway, unfortunately, my cousin seemed everything but pleased with the ordeal. Maybe her humor was rusty due to all the wedding preparations and stress...or she remembered the 10k she had spent on organizing this whole circus. That might be it. I had warned her. She should have just uninvited me from the beginning.

My name is Will. William Talbot Finnley. Yes, WTF. Funny coincidence, that is what most people call me after they have talked to me for 5 minutes. Or they call me Will. That's less common but also happens. I am seventeen years old. I like reading books, listening to music, drawing, and pretending the world is a place full of tiny boats and I don't ever need to interact with anyone. Or that I can at least make the others sink. One of the two always makes it into my dreams. The good ones, of course. 

If you have not realized it yet, I am a jerk. 

Now, I am not exaggerating. I am also not saying this because I think it's a funny joke. This is me fully serious. Some people are only jerks in specific situations, some because they went through trauma. I'm different. My grandmother Lola told me that I'm the devil's spawn and came into this world by cursing why they were taking me from such a warm place into the cold, cold world. I believe her 100%. Although she might also have said that because I had just switched out all the chocolate Easter eggs for the kids with raw eggs from our fridge. Might be.

Oh, back to the story about the wedding. Now, my cousin's name is Stephanie. She is a very self-made and self-responsible woman. At least she was. Growing up pretty much as my sister, since her mother was as unresponsible as a 4-year-old, she moved in with my mom and I when I was 6. And 12 years later she moved out for college. Perfect grades, planning on going off to  some highly intellectual institution or something like that. That all ended when she met her future husband-to-be, Steve. Yes, Stephanie and Steve. Should have been enough of a sign that this was a match made in hell. 

A few weeks went by, this and that happened aka Stephanie and Steve moved into our house and Stephanie became a full on housewife. A few weeks, or exactly eight weeks, went by and Stephanie revealed she was engaged...to Steve. Yes, his name does not improve the more you say it. 

My mom, always the polite person, congratulated her. Then she snitched the whole story to her mother, my grandmother, and ended the great phone call with a "not my kid, not my problem". Best mom in the world.

While Stephanie was then interrogated by our grandparents, my contribution to the whole thing was making "what will your future baby look like"-collages and sending it to her and Steve. And people say I'm not supportive. Pfff.

It was week three after the reveal when my mom came to me after dinner. I was just drying the dishes when she leaned against the kitchen counter and looked at me with an analyzing look in her eyes. 

"What are you up to?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" I answered and continued drying.

"You are never supportive of weddings. You hate them. Also you think Steve is an asshole. So why are you supporting this?" she explained and I cleaned the last plate and moved it into the cupboard. 

Then I turned to her and shrugged. "You were the one who told me to be nicer to people." 

"And you told me 'complaints should go to the manufacturer'. It's apparently an 'other people problem' that I made you a little devil."