::The Groom’s Bride::

My God, haven’t people ever heard of shutting the door? Maybe if they had it’d still be a secret that the goddamn bride’s a whore. Did she think no one would ever find out? I guess it’s gotten to be that time to spill the secret.

I came down to my friend’s apartment; he never locks the door when he’s around. I think he should start doing that if he’s going to be fucking another bride-to-be in his bedroom.

I saw them. The door was open wide. Hell, the entire world could have seen it. But Jesus, they could have just shut and locked the goddamn doors and no one would ever have found out.

I couldn’t, and still can’t, believe them. Just what the hell were they thinking? Doesn’t really matter, the wedding day’s here. I think it’s time to tell that lovely whore’s groom what she really is. You little bitch; it’s time to face up to your sin. What can I say? I always wanted to crash a wedding.

Look at us standing at the alter, the ring in my pocket for the groom. The ring is called for, I hand it to the groom, in its box. He looks confused for a second before just shrugging it off and opens the little black box.

He freezes for a moment. We all watch him as his eyes grow wide. He read the little not I slipped above the ring.

The groom spins on his heel and demands to know what I mean by “She’s a whore.” Really man, listen to me, that girl that’s your bride doesn’t really care. I’ve seen her smile, trying to disguise that disgust of marriage to you. I tell him that, along with everything I saw.

All eyes are now on you, bitch. What’ve you got to say?

It was just one guy, right? How could I call her a whore?

Au contraire, I believe I am correct in saying that you need some training on closing the door, because I know you’ve done it with at least three other guys. The ball’s in your court now. Tell us what you’ve got to say, you goddamn whore.

She’s got nothing to say, unable to counter my accusations. We all watch as she hikes up her dress and runs out the door.

I suggest we give her a little dose of the poison of her sin that she’s dealt. What? I think it’s appropriate.

My proposal goes unnoticed by that deceived groom. Instead, he tells me he’s got something else up his sleeve, but wishes he could do both.

It’s about that time of the night when we should all be at the reception. We’re not having one. Everyone has gone home now, but the groom and I are having a party of our own, and the whore’s invited.

Here we go. The party’s getting started. The bitch is back in her apartment. Who else should be there? Yet another nameless man. You’re not on the invite; get the hell out of here. No? Well, we’ll just have to party with you, too, then.

Listen up you two, now. This is a lesson you both really need to learn. Watch the groom, now, as he shuts and locks that goddamn door. See? Now no one will have to know what’s going on during our little party.

I pull out the tape and rope, here we go now. The groom restrains his former bride while I bind her newest lover with the stupid fucking rope. Slap a piece of tape on his mouth, we don’t need you screaming. The same thing happens to the whore, ropes on her wrists and ankles, accompanied by a piece of tape on her mouth.

Now the party’s really getting on its feet, time to pull out the knife. Okay, watch and learn, you fucking whore. He seats her down on her bed and I hand him the knife. He takes it and crosses the floor to the latest lover. Flip him over on his back, the groom then steps over him to show that bitch just what’s going to go down at out little party.

Now the party’s really heating up, time to drive that knife in the latest lover’s chest. Listen to them scream together as the groom and I grin in delight. Don’t worry, whore, you’re next. The groom works the knife in the lover’s chest, tearing a huge-ass hole. His grin widens as he pulls out a now frozen heart, never to beat again. Just drop it on the floor now, he doesn’t really matter. Man, you only wanted to bet the keeper of the whore’s heart. Forget his.

Now the party’s in full swing, time to throw the whore on her bed, chest up. The groom drives the bloody knife into her chest. Cutting another goddamn hole. Tear the flesh, enjoy her screeches of pain, I see he’s taking pleasure in our little party. His grin gets even bigger as he pulls out that bride’s heart, blood splattering on our crisp clean tuxes. I guess they’re not that clean anymore.

Now the party’s slowing down, time for the guests to leave. Good-bye, we’ll see you both in hell, now. Hope you both enjoyed the party. I guess you all have heard of shutting that door, now, huh? Yeah, I think so. You know you shouldn’t look at your hosts that way, you stupid whore. Later, we’ll see you in hell.

Now the party’s over, time for the clean-up. I grab the heart on the floor and give it a good squeeze, squirting blood in all directions before I toss it back on his chest. It makes impact and rolls back on the floor. The groom puts his former bride’s heart in a little jar; we’re taking it with us.

I hope this teaches you to shut the goddamn door. Remember what happened here isn’t another fucking tragedy; it’s just pure, tainted sin.

Based off of Panic! At The Disco’s “I Write Sins, Not Tragedies.” Thanks to those that reviewed, I couldn’t name what was going on in my head. All I could hear on my head’s little 24/7 radio was that bride was a whore and that people should close the goddamn door. I’m off to search for the video or mp3 to finally hear the entire song.