When a volcano attempts to derail the troopers’ wedding, their devoted friends Bryce and Nestor swing into action.
“They say the air, it is full of ass?” Nestor asked, his expression puzzled. Intrigued, but puzzled.
“Not ass, ash,” Bryce replied, stabbing at the news reports on his phone with increasing alarm. “An obstreperous volcano, of all things, is attempting to derail our dear troopers’ impending nuptials.”
Nestor stared blankly, then shrugged helplessly.
“This bitch of a mountain in Iceland,” Bryce said, turning his phone for Nestor to see, “has decided out of pure spite to blow up, and the ash in the air means we cannot y to the wedding tomorrow.” Bryce had invited himself and Nestor to come nearly two weeks early, just to see to details. Of this particular manifestation of his dedication to service, the troopers were, as of this moment, unaware.
Nestor again shrugged, holding his palms outstretched in a gesture of accepting what one cannot change.
Bryce gave a mighty—yet piercing—harrumph. “This is what holds your people back,” he snapped. “A dictator starves the entire island for decades, and….” He held his hands out just as Nestor had done and gave a surrendering shrug. “The entire world gives up on both communism and the Catholic church, but”—he shrugged again— “you manage somehow to hang on to them. And now in the face of the worst thing to happen to a wedding since heterosexuality?” He shrugged a third time, arms stretched to heaven. “It’s almost as though you would prefer to yield quietly to whatever the world throws at you, like Buddhists contemplating a river, or the French army hearing gunfire.”
“But, my love, it is a volcano. There is nothing we can do—”
“Nestor, I will not have that flaccid attitude in this house. In this—as in all adversity—I prefer to think there is never nothing we cannot keep from not doing.”
Nestor’s eyes crossed a bit.
“I will not stand idly by while some ‘natural disaster,’ as the alarmists on the news are calling it, keeps me from getting to that wedding. Our dear boys need us, darling. How else are they going to get down the aisle with the pleats of their kilts perfectly pressed? I will not have them mussed as they say their vows. Even if I have to reach under there and straighten things out myself.”
Nestor nodded gravely. “Is a skirt, with something… extra.”
“My point exactly! Now you know our boys will be testing the tensile strength of that plaid fabric even before they say their vows and all of that talk of commitment gives them a marriage boner. We must be vigilant. And we must get there, darling, we simply must.”
“What do you plan, my love?”
“I’m glad you asked. It’s simply too brilliant. In fact, I have no idea why no one else seems to have thought of it. The ash cloud is currently over the Atlantic Ocean. That means planes flying east cannot get through. So, what we’re going to do is fly west.” He stood back to give this idea—and Nestor’s impending accolades—the room they deserved.
Nestor stared for a moment. “But is not England east of here?”
“Yes, but by going west, we avoid the whole mess!”
“We fly around… the whole world?” Nestor whispered, eyes wide.
“Now you’ve got it,” Bryce cried, clapping his hands and bouncing excitedly. Nestor’s uncomprehending eyes followed him: up and down, up and down. “Genius, right?” Bryce prompted. Nestor’s delay in celebrating his brilliant solution was getting tiresome.
“Yes, henius. That is the word I was wanting,” Nestor cooed.
“There we are. Thank you. Now, I have many arrangements to see to. Reservations to change, tickets to buy—”
“But, my love, how will we pay for?”
“Leave that to me, honey, leave that to me.” Bryce paused for a moment’s thought. “Actually, not entirely to me. Open up your suitcase and toss out anything that says ‘I played a footman on Downton Abbey’ and replace it with some ‘I forgot to pack underwear’ and a little ‘I wouldn’t mind a spanking.’”
Nestor nodded. These were directions he understood. He hurried off to the bedroom to modify his wardrobe for the week.
“Never fear, my beloved troopers,” Bryce swore to the ceiling. “I am coming to you.”