Regarding That Time We Crashed A Wedding

Please note that the following account has been embellished somewhat in an effort to make it even more appealing to the general public.

 It started with an innocent effort to explore some family history.  As it happens, our grandfather went to his first Christmas service at a church not too far from our house (which is very interesting as our families have moved to many places since then).  We travelled to the church and, after taking some photographs of its beautiful surrounding gardens, went inside.

It was very interesting to look at all of the bits of the church's history that were on display.  Eventually we came (inevitably) to the Big Main Church Room and thought - hey, let's go in there!

As soon as we came near the door, it swung open with a thunderous clanking of gears akin to the sound of a hundred stampeding horses.  The dozens of people in the room turned slowly to look at us - a crowd of six people standing motionless, beginning to grasp the gravity of the situation on which they had just intruded.

Two of the people (standing at the front of the room) were dressed very nicely - one in a white dress and the other in a tuxedo - and they looked to be the most surprised of all.  Their shock lasted only a moment, though - and then the bride-to-be pulled a revolver from one of the pockets in her dress.

I ducked as the first shot buried itself in a wall inches from my head.  For a moment, there was absolute silence - perhaps our assailant was considering the best strategy for attack - and it was quiet enough for us to hear the click in the moments that followed.  By this time we were all stumbling gracefully backward, trying to figure out how we might escape without turning our backs or running into anything.

Before we could vacate the premises, the merciless woman pulled the trigger a second time.  Luckily, I had noticed each of the nearly imperceptible movements she had made while adjusting her aim, and I just had time to pull a nearby crucifix from the wall and hold it in front of me.  In true symbolic fashion, the sturdy metal of the cross deflected the bullet, and we were off and running before she could reset the hammer of her gun.  We burst out the doors in a spectacular display of athleticism, startling the innocent people lounging in the gardens.  Our lightning speed brought us to our vehicle ere the crazed gunwoman could catch up with us, and we left her shouting creative insults as we sped away in our bulletproofed mini-van.

We laughed all the way home.