The Wedding

Okay so this one is a short story. I'm not sure what I was thinking when I wrote it, but its part of my "treating the ridiculous seriously" series. I don't have much pre-amble for this one. Enjoy.

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I'm not going to say I'm surprised. I'm not. I'm not going to say I told you so either, it's class-less. I have class. Don't I? Am I always this insecure?
It isn't really his fault. I can't blame him. He's a product of his environment, of his education, his friends, his family. I can rationalize it that way can't I? But displacing responsibility doesn't fix the problem. The problem is still there, glaring us all in the face. The awkward silence hasn't abated, I doubt it will. The eyes of every person are focused towards the center of the room. The women on the floor weeping, the drunk on the floor throwing up. Tomorrow some poor migrate worker will come in and have to clean up the mess he created on the floor, but no detergent, no bleach, no cleaning solvent will wash away his words. They'll stay in our heads, all of our heads for the rest of our lives.
She's crying. Poor girl. She should have known. It's her own fault. Isn't it? Can I say that after what he's said? God, those words. They weren't his. It was the alcohol. Wasn't it?
Okay, fuck it. I need to tell this right. I can't just start from the end, it raises too many questions. I'll start at the beginning.
The event which preceded the events I just questioned my way through are best described as a wedding. Best described because they were in fact a wedding. I've always particularly liked weddings, maybe because of the happiness that it seems to create in me. Maybe is that I get to wear a fancy new dress. New shoes too. My little cousin was getting married. We grew up together. I babysat her when she was young. We talked about boys. I knew going in that the wedding would be like losing a sister, losing a sister to a man I never trusted. Ever.
I liked him though. Everyone did. How could you not? He was funny, witty, charming, the man oozed adjectives, good ones. Tall, handsome, chiseled, I can go on for a while. He came from a good family, well maybe not good, but one filled with money and that helps. What I'm saying is that I know why she fell in love with him. How could you not? He had everything going for him. But even with all that being said I can still say I never once trusted him. Not fully, not ever. He had a great personality and a good temperament, but I saw something in him, something no one else ever saw, something which made me completely unsurprised when he said those words. It always became clear to me when we would go out with friends. No one ever saw it, but he drank too much. Seemingly unnoticed he would drink copious amounts, yet somehow keep his composure. It was an amazing feat, one which only I noticed. And I kept my mouth shut, can't say why, I just figured no one would ever believe me. And the worst part was that every time he did drink too much he would always end the night on some incredibly offensive statement or comment. Like I said I'm not at all surprised by what's just happened.
The entire night he'd been putting them back. At his own wedding. At his own fucking wedding. And worst of all it was at a rate I'd never seen before. I'm not surprised at all.
And I guess now we come to the important point of this story, the long awaited conclusion, the answer to the "what did he say" question. It was supposed to be a nice beautiful moment. Everyone cleared the dance floor, just the two of them. A nice slow dance. She kissed him, held him tight. She opened her mouth and said, "I love you". And then he opened his mouth to respond, pulled away slightly looked her in the eyes, and spoke those horrible, hurtful, destructive words,
"I killed your fucking dog."