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Wedding are by far one of the most stressful events to attend, let alone plan. You hope everything will go exactly the way you want it to but there's bound to be a few hiccups.

Redditors were asked: "Did you ever attend a wedding that was a complete disaster? What happened?" One user, Anne_Hedonia_11, had this incredible story to share.



Wedding was at a Napa Valley winery, during the tech boom of the 90s. Groom: frat-boyish VC funder on the climb. Bride: Blonde, brittle, glossy. Both prone to using marketing/techspeak in conversation ("Let's right-click on that and drill down," "It's not an IRL shop, more of a clicks-and-mortar thing", etc.).

The wedding invitation was in the form of a merger announcement in a mocked-up Wall Street Journal page. As in: "Smith Global announces merger with Jones Limited. Combination delivers significant potential to drive long-term affection growth and market share of love." That kind of thing. Still, the guy was a friend, and my date and I went to show our support.

The first really weird thing that happened: The bride's twin brother came out before the wedding, got the bride to perch on a stool in front of everyone, and serenaded her, on his knees, with a guitar. He wrote the song. It was a love ballad with such barely-concealed incestuous longing that everyone was frozen with discomfort. He sang of how beautiful his sister was, how any man would be luck to have her. I can't remember the whole thing, but this lyric seared itself into my brain: "Lips touching... tongues dancing... They give each other the looook that can mean just one thiiiiiing...". It was not done for laughs; he was crying as he sang, and everyone watching looked like they wanted to drop through the floor.

Then the wedding. Two sets of chairs set up in a lovely courtyard garden, aisle down the middle leading to a bower. We all seated ourselves, on the chairs, which had white upholstery.

The ceremony itself wasn't that bad - my date and I thought things might be picking up. It didn't last too long, and there were no more lurid songs from Bride's bro. But then it ended, and the minister said:

"And now, I ask each of you to reach under your chairs for the small, white envelope you will find there. Each one contains a live Monarch butterfly. We will release them into the air and let them soar free, as a symbol of the love these two have for each other."

Everyone. Froze. Whoever had set up the area had put the envelopes ON, not under, the chairs. White envelopes. Little white envelopes, on snow-white chair seats. Open-mouthed with horror, all the guests reached down and found the envelopes. We opened them. Most were dead - squashed into bloody smears. But a good amount were just horribly maimed, these poor butterflies that had been sat on for the better part of 45 minutes. We watched in shock as these broken-assed, mangled butterflies, missing a wing or some legs or a tail, flopped onto the ground and twitched out their death agonies.

Moral: No incest. No live butterflies. That is all.

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