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Chapter One: Cold Feet

It was a Tuesday. The Tuesday before the next Tuesday, which, strangely enough was the day right after Tuesday. All other days had long since been forgotton and all that remained was Tuesday. This particular Tuesday was Happy Tuesday, which meant of course, everyone pretended they were quite happy.

Mord usually loved Happy Tuesday, but the unfortunate circumstances of rain didn't particularly make him jovial. Or maybe it was the fact that he was supposed to be married today and that he had recently become very aware that his betrothed was going to be a robot this go around.

Last time it had been a tree. The time before that, a pot full of snails. At this point Mord was beginning to suspect that his mother wasn't terribly fond of him.

Lightening flashed in the distance as he leaned, almost hanging out the window. The sandstone Wedding Temple was ever so slowly disolving away around him. If he was lucky, the other party to this insanity was rusting out in the nasty weather. His laughter was stifled rather quickly by the large door dramatically slamming opening on the other side of the room.

"Mord! What are you? Trying to escape again?" His brother stood with a grin on his face, wearing a far nicer set of clothes than the one getting married, as he commonly did.

"As if I would break the law on Happy Tuesday," Mord smirked as he turned around. "I accidentally fall out the window once and suddenly I'm a Wedding Runner. Oh, har har, Grek, you're hilarious." He rolled his eyes and took a quick few steps over to the younger sibbling. "C'mere."

Grek struggled a bit as his older brother wrapped an arm around his neck and gave him a noogie. "Ack! Hey! I just got that done!"

Mord let go, "Eh... you won't miss it." He straighted out his wrinkled clothes before stepping out into the hall with his brother.

"So... how are my prospects?," Mord asked. The both of them were now heading down the hallway.

"No such luck on it rusting." Grek was still trying to fix his hair after having knuckles ground into it. Without a mirror, it was proving difficult. "It's stationary, so somebody had to haul it in."

"Oh, I see." Mord looked forward, trying to picture this thing he was going to marry. "Leave it alone. Nobody cares what your hair looks like."

"My hair, I'll have you know, is a very important part of this ceremony."

"Heh. Liar."

Silence. Another wedding and another short marriage was about to take place. Another time when it was near impossible to say no to the mother. To some extent it was guilt, but only for the loopholes. The rest was law.

"Why does she do this to us?"

"She does it to you, brother. I just tag along, because untill you stick with one, I'm not going be sitting in that room, contemplating escape."

"You have a point there, Grek. A good point." Mord sighed, fighting his urge to slump and drag his feet.