"Yeah, I'm fine—except I got a big head—ouch!" Mike tried to sit up but had to lie back down.
Fred injected Mike with a painkiller. "You'll feel better in a few minutes."
"Did you see what happened?" Jeff asked Fred, but Fred just shook his head.
Fred and Jeff were brothers, as well as Mike's two best friends. Fred was a doctor, while his brother was a dentist. Mike and Fred had been ushers, while Jeff was the best man, at his cousin George's wedding. Mike did not know George, but his sister-in-law, Veronica, was the bride. Such was the case with small-town weddings.
A few minutes later, Mike was awake. He told this story:
I got to the church about half an hour early, just before you guys, so I would be ready. The bridesmaids showed up about ten minutes later; in fact, you-all were already here, right? The last one out of their car was Diedre—Dierdre—whatever. She was wearing that green dress with a slit up the back. She and my wife were best friends for a while in grade school, did you know that? But they haven't spoken in years; Alice won't say anything about it, so I don't know why they don't talk.Anyway, Dierdre walked up the steps to the church in her bare feet; I don't even think she was wearing pantyhose. I noticed she had a new tattoo (at least, I'd never seen it before) on her ankle. It looked like an eye—a real eye, not the perfectly shaped CBS eye that you see on TV. It had color and everything.
Well, the wedding went on, like you remember; everything was normal. Then, just as the Veronica lifted her veil to kiss George when the preacher said, "You may kiss your bride," I looked over at the bridesmaids. Dierdre crossed her legs so that I could see the tattoo; I thought she must be trying to give Veronica the "evil eye"—you know those old superstitions; that's why the bride wears a veil to begin with. The slit in Dierdre's dress let her maneuver her legs so that I could see that stupid eye. . . and it blinked. I swear to God, it closed and opened again.
Mike went back to sleep.
"He's delirious," said Fred. "Dierdre has no tattoo on her ankle."
"She used to have one," said Jeff. "In high school. Alice almost got one, then changed her mind. That's why they had a falling out."
"Over a tattoo?"
"Dierdre belonged to some secret society—some said a witches' cult."
"A witches' c—Rubbish!"
The phone rang. Fred picked it up and answered. "Yes? You're kidding? Impossible!" He bent over, lifted up his pant leg, and turned white as a sheet.
Jeff asked, "What's wrong?"
"Look at your ankle. See if it has a new tattoo."
Jeff looked first at his ankles, then at Mike's. On one ankle on each man was an eye tattoo. Fred had one, too.
"Everyone at the wedding has an eye tattoo on one ankle—even the kids."
"Everyone?"
"Well, not everyone. Not Dierdre."
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