“Come on! Come on! Pass the bloody ball you tosser!”

The little man, or at least the shortest of the three at the fourth table from the door to the pub, screamed. You couldn’t tell right away how much smaller than the other two were since they were seated. However the way that he screamed his little heart out at the television as the players ran back and forth across the football field, just told you, Napoleon complex.

“I tell you, the man can’t play for shite since he moved to soddin…”

“Hey hey now, you watch how you talk about…”

“Would ya shut your gob, both of you? When’s the last time you played bloody football and scored a goal eh Jim?”

“They never let em play to begin with.”

“And why’s that Jack?”

“Because his legs are too bloody short.”

Jack and Jon both had a nice loud laugh at little Jim’s expense. He had one hell of a temper on him, like many short men, but these were the only two exceptions of acceptable ridicule. They had known him too long for him to come straight to blows with them over such a matter. Still, sometimes it did, and most often, it came awful close.

“Ah, eat me with a spoon you twits.”

Jim returned to fuming at the television screen until their round of drinks came. The waitress came and placed each of their drinks in the order they asked for them, not that it made much difference since it was always the same order, but they argued that the order determined various states of temperature, and rest, which affected the taste. She made the mistake of mixing up their orders only once, and never again since. Before she got too far away, Jack found an opening.

“Excuse me miss, you sure you don’t want to card this one?” The bearded man said pointing to Jim.

“Aye, he just came and sat next to us. We didn’t have the heart to turn the little bugger away.” Jon added.

“Listen here you son’s o…”

“Oh, hey now fella, you kiss your mum with that mouth?” Jack asked smiling.

Jim made a lunging motion across the table for Jack, who barely avoided by the hair on his chin, before Jon intervened with a strong black hand.

“You should talk about dirty mouths with that clap trap of yours.” Jim shouted.

Jack turned blood red, not from anger, but embarrassment. Jim turned his face back to the television figuring well enough that he won that round. Jon looked confused. The crowd looked shocked. The waitress looked through the classifieds for a new job. The football players on the television all looked exhausted. The score looked pathetic. A good long moment passed. The little silence was broken by Jon suddenly making a funny noise and spewing his drink all across the tabletop.

“Oy! What the hell Jon?” Jim said brushing beer from his sleeve.

“What’s the matter with you?” Jack asked.

Jon was having a laughing fit. They waited both patiently and impatiently, and in that order, for him to get a hold of himself. When finally he seemed able to at least get one word in at a time between breaths and chuckles, he spoke.

“Clap trap…christ…that’s a great one…hell.”

Jim joined him in laughter, while Jack turned a little red again, but this time from anger. He regretted, yet again, ever outing his attraction to men to his friends.

“What about you Jon? You’re more promiscuous than a bloody dog.”

“Not with my mouth.”

Jim and Jon both stared at each other a moment, not particularly sure of how to respond to a comment like that one. They both came to the simple conclusion, of ordering more drinks.

An hour or so later, depending on which clock in the pub you wanted to go by for an excuse to whoever might be asking, the men were somewhere around their double digits for drinks. The waitress, no matter what else she felt toward the trio, always was at least slightly happy that they could hold their liquor very well. If three men were as annoying as they sober, she would hate to ever see them drunk. She smiled a moment, before returning to circling little ads in the paper for jobs that didn’t pay as much and were half way across town in the opposite direction.

“This is the most boring match I’ve ever witnessed. No blood, no scores, no streakers, nothing.” Jack said somberly.

“Yeah real shame for that last bit I bet.” Jim added with a smirk.

Before the midget and the gay could get into it again, Jon stopped them both.

“Hold up a minute lads. What time is it?”

“By which clock?” Jack asked.

“Which one’s right today?”

“Probably…”

Jim scanned the clocks, each with their own hands set into pictures of different types of brew.

“Somewhere between Badger Golden Glory and Cotleigh Red Nose Reindeer. Why?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere Jim?”

“Like where?”

“I mean, don’t you have some place you need to be in about an hour or so?”

“What are you talking about?”

Jon tried to let the moment sink in. He waited just until he figured either the booze, or just the simple fact that Jim was an idiot, has caused a tremor through his memory. He searched for the one word he knew would jog his memory, and enunciated it slowly for his little friend.

“Eleanor.”

With a spurt of beer from his lips, drenching Jack’s face, Jim jumped from the table and out the door of the pub.

“Bloody fool.” Jon said, pushing his mug into the stream traveling toward his end of the table to funnel it away.

“Ugh.” Was all that Jack could manage, drying his face with a paper napkin.

“Takes a special kind to forget something so important. Man’s getting married, and he’s sittin here drinking, without a clue. Never see me forget anything like that.”

Jon, after safely sending the little stream of spittle and beer toward his left, raised his own glass to his lips to finish off his drink. Jack, having cleaned himself off, now noticed something peculiar on his friends black finger.

“What’s that for Jon?”

With the glass tipped nearly all the way back, Jon strained his eyes to his hand, where his friend was pointing, and nearly choked. Seeing the little white string wrapped around his ring finger sent his beer flying into the face of his seated friend before rocketing out of his chair, and nearly toppling the table on his way for the door.

“Ugh!” Jack said, applying a new napkin to his face. “Idiots. What’re they gonna do, walk there?”

He had just become dry once again, and was ready to finish his mug when he felt two sets of hands wrench him from his seat, spilling the alcohol everywhere, before directing him out the doors toward the car he drove the three of them to the pub in.

The three men stood dumbfounded. They stared at one another, then back at the car. Then Jim and Jon both glared hatefully at Jack, before returning their gaze to the parked Cooper. The silvery gleam of keys taunted them from their place firmly left in the ignition of the car. The Beckham bobble head laughed at them all silently.

“You left…your sodding…keys…in the car.” Jim managed.

“So I did.” Jack made the mistake of letting out a chuckle.

Jim was on him in a second, with Jon wrestling the two of them apart before attracting too many more spectators. Of course, to the others in the bar, the three of them were already like a cheap variety show.

“Bollocks! I’m utterly utterly fu…”

“No you’re not, just think you silly little prats!” Jon shouted.

“Think about what!”

“A coat hanger!” Jack screamed.

“What’s that mommy dearest?” Jim asked.

“You know…to pick the lock.”

“You don’t pick car locks you twit.”

“You know what I mean. You bloody…jimmy the thing.”

“Does that really work?”

Jack looked at Jon. Jon looked back, then Jon looked at Jim, who was also looking at him expectantly.

“Well what the hell are you looking at me for?” Jon asked.

“Because you’re here.”

“Because I’m here, or because I’m bla…”

“Oh for the love of Mary.” Jim turned, pulled a loose brick from the pub’s foundation, and flung it into the window of the Cooper.

“Jesus!” Jack yelled. “What the bloody hell are you doing to my Coop!?”

“I’ll pay for it later you little faerie, just get me to the church.”

“Don’t you call me a faerie you lawn gnome.”

“Lads…” Jon tried to intervene.

The two of them began arguing louder and louder.

“LADS!” Jon yelled.

“Bloody what!?” The two answered.

Jon pointed across the broken glass to the passenger side. The other two leaned over and squinted. Whereas the driver side door was locked, the passenger side door’s lock, was in the up and open position. Beyond that however, through the whole window of the left side of the Coop, there was another man looking right back at them. He looked very odd and out of place for a moment, all dressed in a loud neon yellow vest and lined hat.

“Oh dear.” Jack said.

It didn’t make much sense after they had a moment to think about it, such as, a day or more, to run from a policeman after breaking into their own car. It was a situation that could easily have been explained. Yet, they had their fair share of unpleasantries with the boys in neon, and were simply quicker of foot than they were of mind when it came to those reflective vests. Jack led the three through various alleys and backyards, with Jon coming up second, and short legged Jim rounding out the trio. None of them dared look back to see if the officer was on their trail. Alleys turned into yards that turned into driveways that turned into parks and parking lots. When the three felt like they had taken the hobbits to Isengard and even further, they stopped for a breather.

“I’m gettin to old for this shite.” Jon panted.

“We wouldn’t be having this problem if you two prats checked the passenger side.” Jack said.

“And who left his bloody keys in the ignition, with the door unlocked? What are you Canadian or something?”

“Well who’s going to steal a Cooper in bleeding England?”

“Shut up both of you!” Jim shouted, finally catching some air in his small lungs. “Arguing isn’t doing us jack.”

Jon suppressed a snicker. Jack suppressed the urge to slap him. Or, no, punch him, much more manly.

“Where are we?” Jim asked aloud.

The three friends began looking around the parking lot they found themselves. Jon looked left. Jim looked right. Jack looked down.

“Oh, a Crown.” Jack said, bending to pick up the shiny circle. “Must be my lucky day.”

Jon nudged his arm hard, causing him to drop the commemorative coin. He retaliated by pushing back with enough force to send Jon to the pavement.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Jon yelled.

“You hit me!”

“I didn’t hit you.”

“You made me drop my Crown.”

“More like a bloody tiara!”

“For God’s sake! What are you hittin him for?” Jim interjected.

“I nudged him!”

“Well fine, why’re you nudgin him?”

“Look you dopes!”

Jon pointed, still on his back up the street. Their eyes followed the road up the block, until finally their eyes came to rest on the pub, but more importantly, Jack’s car. They had made a near perfect circle.

“Well I’ll be…” Jack said.

“Now help me up you poofter!”

“Help yourself wanker!”

“Enough you tossers! Do you see the fuzz anywhere?”

“Could be in the pub.” Jon said, after Jack finally helped him up.

“Could come out soon.” Jack added.

“And he could be on the bog. This might be our only chance.” Jim finished.

The three moved swiftly up then across the street, stopping at the corner of their favorite pub. Jim chanced a quick look inside, but didn’t see the officer.

“Looks clear. Jon, you’re driving.”

“Excuse me? It’s my bloody car and…”

“And you drive like a nanny. Besides, you’ve never been there before, Jon has.”

“Why would you have gone to…” Jack began.

“Bridesmaids.” Jon answered.

“Jon, get me to the church on time.” Jim interrupted.

Jim and Jack both made their way low, under the view of the windows to the pub, and around to the passenger side of the Cooper. Both doors being unlocked, they slid in. Jon made one last look into the pub, and took great interest in the waitress. He’d never seen her from this angle before. It was quite something. All the time they’d spent in the bar, and all the times she’d served them, it was like he was looking at her for the first time. The way her hair fell about her shoulders, and how she played with the end of one lock with her pinky. The way she licked her thumb and forefinger in order to turn the paper she was reading. The way she had apparently forgotten her bra, and it was apparently fairly cool inside at the time. Oh how very firm and…

“What the hell are you doing!” Jim yelled.

The shout was loud enough to wake Jon from his trance, and also gather the attention of a panting police officer that was down and across the street, in the middle of bending over to pick up a commemorative coin.

“Hey!” They heard the neon man yell.

Jon jumped inside the car, then howled in pain.

“What’s the matter?” Jim asked.

“Glass!”

The fuzz was nearly on them, so Jim turned the key and pressed on Jon’s foot. They sped away with the officer cursing in the rearview. About two blocks down, Jon had recovered, but was still in pain, seated on razor sharp shards of glass.

“Serves you right.” Jack said.

“Oh, just because you’re used to having glass objects shoved up your a…”

The sentence died before it was finished by the ringing sound created by Jack slapping Jon right on the ear. The car swerved, and they very nearly ran themselves off the road.

“Are you bleeding insane Jack!?” Jim yelled grabbing onto the wheel.

“I’m not gonna take any more from him, not today!”

“Oh, you stupid…”

This sentence was silenced this time by Jim, with a firm hand clasped over Jon’s mouth.

“Just drive Jon.” Jim said calmingly.

So he did, though not for quite that long. As it turned out, through an act of dumb luck, the brick that took out the driver side window, had turned just enough to also do damage to the fuel gauge. A full tank never ran down quite so quickly as it did today. The three men were breathing hard, making the last leg of the trip, up the hill to the church. They had started out sprinting, which quickly turned to jogging, then even quicker into walking. Now it was like watching a zombie movie, seeing these three grown men shuffle along, groaning and going on as they did.

“We’re almost there lads. Top of the hill, and we’re there.” Jon said.

“What’s the time?” Jim asked.

The three men didn’t need to look at one another to know that the way their day was going, none of them had a watch. Or at the very least, none of them had one that was actually working. The hill was starting to level out, but they saw that this turned back into the hill soon after. Several kids were playing football in the street, with two made up goals on either end of the sidewalks. They were running all about, and the three collided with the game that had gone out of its apparent parameters.

“Oy watch it you little twirps.” Jim said.

“Look who’s callin us little? You can’t be but fourteen yourself. Bugger off ya scroat.” The lead boy responded.

“Watch it boy-o.” Jim began, but then spotted a watch on him. “What time is it?”

“Bout time for Willy to come and take ya back I should reckon.”

Jim would not take that kind of talk from a boy, and showed so clearly by ripping off and whipping his belt into the tail end of him all in one deft motion, just like his father had done. The boy didn’t cry, but he did hit the ground screaming bloody murder, with one hand on his right cheek, giving Jim the opportunity to look at the face on the watch. Rather than the beating discouraging the other boys, they almost seemed to grow in numbers as they surrounded the three men now like a school of piranha.

“Hey now. Why don’t you all just get back to your little match, and we’ll be on our merry way.” Jack pleaded.

At first it seemed like this wasn’t going to happen, especially with the leader getting back to his feet. But all at once it seemed like they had become frightened, and began shooting off in all directions, some running right through the three of them as they stood watching. They began walking up the hill again, only somewhat worried about the boys who were still down there, watching as they took the way up.

“Somebody ought to teach them some manners.” Jim muttered, fastening his belt. “But at least we’ve made it just on time.”

They were nearly at the gates to the church now. The end of their long day’s journey.

“I couldn’t ave done it without you lads.” Jim said, gripping each man on the shoulder.

“You still can’t, at least not without…”

Jon stuck one hand into a pocket. Then another. Then all the others.

“Bloody…hell.”

“What’s the matter?” Jim asked.

“The kids! They nicked the ring!”

The three men simultaneously turned, and rocketed back down the hill toward the group of children that had resumed their game of football, laughing as if nothing, or everything had happened just moments ago. Without warning, the three men began seizing up the little group of children and began searching through their pockets for the ring. A neighbor to one of the boys took immediate interest at the sight of three grown men wrestling and rummaging through small boys’ clothing, and promptly made some phone calls.

After what seemed like an eternity, a beeping sound entered the men’s ears. The lead boy’s watch was chiming the hour. They were late, but not a moment before Jack raised a triumphant hand, clasping a small shiny object into the air. The other two gathered around him clapping him on the back, and the three turned to head back up the hill, a little late, but otherwise ready. They didn’t make it a meter before they were each lying face first on the pavement, with a very tired, angry, and freakishly strong police officer holding all three of them down, who had gotten word of three strange men in the area, and hurried on over.

An hour or so passed as the three were sitting in the holding cell. Jon and Jack were both at opposite ends, looking at the walls closest to them. Jim however, was pacing and miserable. The officer, despite having gone on the longest chase of his life, was incredibly understanding of the men’s situation. For the most part, he had told them, he was holding them more as a formality, and for the fact that they were all technically inebriated while driving, so they’d have to stay unless someone came to get them. The one phone call, Jon and Jack argued over while Jim made.

Jim looked up hopefully as the guard stepped up to the bars.

“Somebody here for you gents.”

It was Eleanor. She never looked so sweet and warm as she did that very moment. The guard opened the door, and the two to be wed, held each other tightly. Jon and Jack both perked up a little at the sight.

“Oh El.”

“Jesus Jim, what the hell happened with you?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“For everything. It’s all my fault. The boys here didn’t do anything wrong, it was all me. I should have remembered of my own, and everything else that might have happened because of them, really happened because I forgot. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Of course Jim, but what are you talking about?”

“Of all the days to be forgettin...I’m so sorry, I swear to God I’ll make it up to you. You, your mum and dad. Everybody. You just won’t believe all the hell we’ve been through tryin to get to that bloody church in time. I mean, first the car, then the kids taking the ring. Even then, I almost made it, but…”

“Shhh…it’s ok Jim. Slow down, it’s alright now. Whatever happened is over, and we can talk about it when we get home.”

“God. What did I ever do to deserve a gal like you El? We’ll just reschedule everything, and I’ll make it all even bigger for you.”

“Make what bigger?”

“The wedding. Oh it’ll be a sight. There’ll be your favorite band, and the best champagne, and…”

“What are you talking about? Jim, the wedding is in two days. Remember? Thursday.”

Jim looked back at Jon, who smiled nervously, and then looked down after seeing the look Jack had given him. Jim returned his gaze to his lovely Eleanor, whose warmth had seemingly vanished in an instant.

“Wait…Jim…you’re telling me, that I’m here bailing you, because you forgot…”

She never finished her sentence. She never needed to. She slipped out of Jim’s arms and turned to the guard.

“Keep em. Keep all three of them for all I care.” She said before storming out.

The guard, not wanting to disobey, closed and locked the cell door again. Jim watched without the words to get his love back to him. She would be back the next day most likely, she just had to blow off some steam. But in the mean time, he had some steam to get rid of as well. Jon was holding up his hands and yelling for the guard long before the punch ever actually came. Hopefully the swelling would go down in two days. The best man wanted to look good for all the bridesmaids after all.