Immaculate Reception - Part II

“Which one?” he asked.

Instead of answering, she smiled and turned to watch the bride pick up a piece of cake.

“She’ll smash it right in his face,” she gestured toward the newlyweds with her glass. “Serves him right. She spent a fortune on her makeup.”

Howard glanced briefly at the head table. One moment he had been chatting up a fairly attractive woman at a wedding reception, several drinks later he’d been lecturing her on religion. His was currently preoccupied with regaining control of his senses and the conversation, preferably in that order.

“Seriously, which one?”

“Which one what?” she asked innocently.

“A minute ago you claimed that of all existing religions, one was right. Are you going to explain that?”

She looked at him for what seemed like a long time, as if considering his worthiness.

“Not yet.”

She drained the remainder of her drink and stood up. The bride was dragging her husband to the dance floor as he tried to clean the frosting from his face.

“See,” she pointed, “I’m never wrong.”

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