“I’ve got a bad feeling about this” I sighed to the choir master. “He’s the second black spot this week. We couldn’t even finish the ceremony on Thursday!”
“Perhaps we can distract the guests, and more importantly the bride?”
“They’re bound to notice it. And it’ll grow more prominent with every lie he tells.” I turned to the window and watched as the limousine pulled up outside the church. The goat-people had been honest souls for thousands of years. Most had complex psychic abilities so lying was pointless. Lies and betrayal brought the young men of the species out in a rash that was known as the black spot. It began in the fur between the horns and could be groomed in such a way that is was not as obvious, but in consistent liars it could spread like wild fire, across the face, out over the shoulders and down over the entire body. It was common knowledge that the rashes could only be eradicated by the sinner overcoming one of the significant rites of passage of life. Hence the rise in Black Spots desperate to marry. I nodded absent-mindedly at the choir master.
“It’s time.” We left the small room and parted ways. I approached the altar and stood next to Black Spot Bill.
“You better know what you’re doing” I whispered. He gave me a sly wink and produced a top hat from behind his back. He positioned it on his head, guiding his long yellowing horns through the tailored holes. It almost completely covered the black rash growing between them. He then dug his hooves into the pockets of his tuxedo and stood nonchalantly watching as the door to the church swung open.
The hat seemed effective for the majority of the service; his bride was far too occupied with her big day to notice the blackening fur on his forehead.
“Repeat after me,” I said to him, “I, Bill Grayson take you, Ann Peters, to be my lawfully wedded wife”. He choked on the last word and as he turned back to face me I saw the black spot growing with every lie. He’d struck lucky, found a girl without psychic abilities so he could live his sordid, cheating lifestyle without being caught out by the power of the mind. But he couldn’t hide the black spot. It wasn’t long before she’d notice; almost his entire head was an ominous dark hue now. A couple of guests were fidgeting; they’d seen.
“To have and to hold.”
“To have and to hold.” His voice was shaking, he could feel himself changing.
“For better or worse.”
“For better or worse.” She was watching his every move from beneath her veil. Her expression concealed whether or not she had noticed; she was focused, but not furious. And it was spreading to his shoulders. I was unsure if I should carry on the ceremony; I could see him willing me to hurry up and say the words that would set him free. His large front teeth bit his bottom lip between repeating my words.
“I now pronounce you goat and wife.” I said, hesitantly. There was a static that filled the air surrounding him, and before she had lifted the veil, the black rash had vanished.
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