Last year, stepbrother #1 got married and this year stepbrother #2 did the same. I wasn't particularly looking forward to the event and the only thing really keeping me there was the promise of stepbrother #3's company. Oh, and Bezley's firm grip on my arm.
The reception was barely underway when, to my dismay, it seemed that stepbrother #3 had decided he'd had enough and was going to head orff home. He'd come to the wedding with a mate of his and the two of them had enjoyed several drinks - brewskis, if you will - before and after the ceremony. They were getting a little boisterous, as is their wont, and thought better fun might be found elsewhere.
I grabbed him by the arm. "You can't go!" I whined. "No one here is as interesting as you."
"I know, mate, I know," he said with what almost sounded like genuine regret in his voice. "I'm the only real person in this place."
I would have told him he was wrong, that he was totally unreal, but he would have taken it as a compliment.