Last Saturday was my brother’s wedding, and obviously everybody had a blast.
However.
One of my brother-in-laws, Vincent, got really drunk, and after the reception, I walked outside and and found him sitting on the curb, with his head down, waiting for chunks to come out. My sister (his wife, Asia) and my other brother-in-law were there trying to comfort him, they were talking to him, patting and rubbing his back and then out comes the Wedding Singer holding a roll of paper towel.
“I got him, I got him,” The Wedding Singer sat next next to Vincent, patted his mouth with the paper towel roll, and started to rub his back. My other brother-in-law starts to back off. “I take care of him. He need to sit here for a while before he can get into the car.”
More back rubbing and massaging ensues, the Wedding Singer looks up at me as I stare in utter confusion and then frantically asks me, “Water. He need water. Can you get it for me?”
“Yeah,” I answered. I ran back to the restaurant looking for water. The waiters seemed very occupied cleaning up the area so I grabbed the nearest and cleanest looking glass of water from one of the tables. I walked out of the place and found the Wedding Singer in the middle of a conversation with Asia.
“Everyone go! Go! I take care of him!” He takes the cup out of my hands while talking to my sister, “He my friend. I will help.”
“I’m his wife,” Asia giggled, trying to make the situation less awkward, “And I’m not going anywhere without my husband.”
So we all stayed, waiting for Vincent to puke, while the Wedding Singer caresses his back some more and uses the water to help clean his mouth.
During this time, NOBODY thought of anything. We just thought the Wedding Singer was being really, really helpful and really, really weird, until…
*BLERHHHH!!!*
Barf galore, barf on the ground, barf on the curb, and barf on the Wedding Singer’s arm.
“It’s OK. I take care of him. Everybody go,” he motions his hand suggesting us to go away.
He was ok with it. He was much more concerned with us going away so that he could be alone with my brother-in-law then his arms, covered in the thickest, smelliest smellin’ shit puke ever. And that’s where it hit me and my sister. We looked at each other, mouth wide open, and we knew exactly what we were thinking…
This guy is dead horny and he wants my sister’s husband, badly.
After the puke fest and realizing the Wedding Singer’s disturbing motives, my sister and I both helped Vincent up.
“Thanks for helping my husband, we’re going home now.”
“Wait, he should sit here longer. It’s not good to bring him into the car rye now,” The Wedding Singer grabs a hold of Vincent’s shoulder, “You guys go. I do it myself.”
“Dude, you’re not getting ass tonight. Sorry.” I told him. Without saying a word, he released his grip, and that was the last of the Wedding Singer.
Geez, what a creepfuck. If I had taken a photo of him, I would have most certainly posted it here to warn people, like what people do when they find sexual offenders, because I have no doubt in my mind that he does this in every–if not most–weddings. I mean, the guy was already equipped with a roll of paper towel, how strategic can you get?
So I have to warn any Vietnamese people from Orange County who are planning to hire Vietnamese wedding singers/bands. I know that there’s a shitload of them out there in this county, but if you HAPPEN to hire a band and one of them has buzzed hair, wears glasses, and speaks terrible English…keep an eye on him after the reception.
*shudders*
