“You take me first!” Aunt Wilhelmina demanded.
But Aaron demurred to Mrs. Prophylaxis. Those were the rules. Mother of the bride was escorted down the before mother of the groom, or in this case, aunt of the groom.
Marrying into the Prophylaxis contraception fortune was the smartest thing Cousin Yackety could possibly have done. He neutralized Aunt Wilhelmina’s power over him at the same time he gained a new wife and new fortune. Not to mention the guarantee that his wife wouldn’t get pregnant unless she really, really wanted to.
Aaron returned up the aisle for Aunt Wilhelmina. The Pringelhoeffer fortune was nothing compared to Prophylaxis one, but of course condoms and IUDs made a lot more money than plastic dog poop. Still, Aaron couldn’t complain, but every time he passed a dog park, he blushed.
Aunt Wilhelmina wore her deceased corpse expression. God, he hated it when she pouted in that aristocratic way. She hadn’t done anything in her life except write checks and order servants around, but the plastic dog poop heiress acted like Queen Victoria after being named Empress of India.
Aaron couldn’t wait for his next adventure, taking the time machine to visit Edmund Hillary at the peak of Mount Everest. He’d promised Cousin Yackety that he’d usher for him at the wedding, and usher he did. Now he had to bundle up for his journey back to ’53.
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