The Bad Boys' Soft Boys' Lonely Hearts Club - The Full Package

The Solomonic Solution

You know, it's usually the MC that has the objection in the wedding, or at least the romantic interest in a love triangle. I'm neither, and honestly, I already have my hands full with Hayden. I shouldn't be here trying to stop a wedding and expose myself to turning into swiss cheese. I don't even like swiss cheese. It's too melty and lacks that pizzazz other cheeses have, like camembert, or provolone. Delicious, delicious cheese. I've been monologuing about cheese this whole time, haven't I? Everyone is staring at me, waiting for my next move.

And I'm still not saying anything. What can I say? What should I say? I feel this is a can of worms I shouldn't open. Do worms come in cans? Dammit, focus, Gomez! Just smile and wave. Smile and wave.

I feel a hand push me back as I smile and wave, followed by a huge red varsity jacket.

"What my panic-attack-ridden friend here is trying to say," says Hayden, protecting me with his big, musky body that would probably stop a few bullets if push comes to shove. "Is that... uh... hm. Brayden? Wanna take over?"

Brayden takes a step forward, sniffing his nose and she fixes his junk with a pull of his underwear. "yeah, your honor, i have an objection."

The priest looks stunned for a minute, dropping his Ak-47s from the shock. "Young man, I'm not a judge."

"of course, your majesty," corrects Brayden with a bow. "i'm the real brayden. that guy there with the gucci suit ain't me!"

All eyes move towards Braiden at the other end of the aisle, just like the audience of a very fast tennis game.

"Bitch, this is Versace," he says, to the surprise of everyone who took a collective gasp. "I mean- i mean, bitch, this is a versace."

The crowd takes a sigh of relief before looking at Brayden.

"who you calling bitch, you bold, italic bitch!"

The crowd says a "whoa," as they focus on Braiden. He unknots his tie in a sexy, daddy-kinda way while taking off his gold watch and ring.

"i'm sorry, can you speak louder? i don't speak bottom!"

The crowd goes "oooh" to fan the flames of war as the puck goes passes to Brayden.

"i'm top, you fake-ass yee-yee ass christian grey fanfic self insert!" Brayden screams.

"Baby?" asks Y/N, but nobody cares about her and her longish-short redhead blonde hair.

"Not now, kitten. Daddy is bus-i mean, daddy is busy."

Brayden walks two feet to the left towards the open bar, grabs a bottle of champagne, and smashes it against his head, turning it into a makeshift knife. "daddy's gonna be busy in the icu once i'm done with him!"

I swear I can hear the crowd beginning to chant "fight, fight, fight" for a second before a new bang pierces the air somewhere behind me. Everyone immediately faces us and pulls their triggers at the same time.

My entire life flashes before my eyes in a second. My childhood in Florida, where the cult of Sobek, god of the Nile, took me in after my parents, a group of Greek ice cream makers put every drachma they had into creating a sour cream and ice cream creamsicle, only to sell me for cash. Me gaining weight by eating nothing but Wendy's chicken nuggets. Me passing the bar exam and becoming a lawyer in New York Ci-wait a minute. This isn't my life! Whose life is passing before my eyes?

Lucky for us, all of the guns go *click click* instead of *bangity bang*, because my brain is going *mush mush*. I think they wasted all their bullets before.