Writing Club: Special Event Gone Wrong

The prompt for this piece was to write about a special event gone wrong. It could be fiction, non-fiction, whatever makes the writer happy. Mine is fictional and I had a lot of fun writing it.

Do you have a story about an event gone wrong that you could later laugh about? Let me know in the comments. Happy reading.

The monster of a cake was flying through the air. It wasn’t my fault, really it wasn’t. I was a wedding planner, here to make a couple’s nuptials magical. Years of five star ratings, dozens of glowing reviews, and I was on many a vendor list. All of that hard work was going up in flames, literally. 

Fucking hell. The cake splatters, the confection spattering vanilla cake and raspberry filling all over the hardwood floors. I try not to slip in the red and white mess as I race for the fire extinguisher. Thank God those are standard in venues, even if I’ve never had to use one before. Grabbing it off the wall I sprint in my heels past the knocked over cake table, with the distressed beer burro kicking its way out of the tangled table cloth. Past the drunk men happily picking up the beer cans that have spilled from the scared animal’s pack coolers. Hitting the grass I kick off my shoes as they sink into the verdant lawn. My dress hinders my stride as I sprint past the bride screaming at her brother-in-law with her new husband holding her back. The woman looks ready to throw down. Not that her husband appears happy with the situation. This would be funny if the wedding arch wasn’t burning and about to catch the gazebo on fire. 

Sliding to a stop I pull the trigger and miss the flames the first time with the extinguisher. Figuring out how to aim I engulf the flames in white foam. The arch is gone, falling to pieces, the gazebo behind it is covered in scorch marks and there in the wire and roses turned to ash are the remains of a firework. From what I’ve learned from the bride’s shouting, the best man thought that setting off fireworks as part of his wedding toast was a good idea. I was inside, helping set up the dance floor when I heard the crackle-boom, then the flames dancing through the floor to ceiling windows. 

The idiot didn’t consider that the damn thing would get blown off course or that the sound of the explosion would terrify the poor beer donkey. The frightened animal had run inside, thus the flying cake. 

Turning I surveyed the damage. They definitely were not getting their deposit back and I’m pretty sure that the couple’s first dance song was not set to the wail of a fire engine. At least the building is still standing and the windows are unbroken, the donkey back outside. With a sigh I head back inside where the venue crew has already started cleaning up the cake and wonder if this reception is salvageable, maybe, just maybe I can wrangle a decent review out of this. Pulling out my phone I call my assistant. “How fast can you get a cake here?”

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