There were numerous injuries at the Smythe-Smithington wedding when various members of the wedding party attempted to, as Lady Smithington put it: "Dance like Negroes." The members of the rhythym and blues combo who were hired to entertain at the reception managed to settle the crowd by saying "Why don't y'all just, sit there and snap your fingers or some shit, 'fore anybody else get hurt?"
As soon as the bullet entered his right temple, Stephen instinctively brought the napkin up to the wound. He was well enough versed in Emily Post to know that one never spurts blood on fine china after Labor Day.
Bloke in the middle: "Don't move dear. I've got my bottom lip caught up in one of your lengthier hairs... No...don't break it! You'll ping my lip back...erk!"
