Malaclypse stood speechless, alone and rather drenched in the deserted wading pool. The intitial shock on the audience was beginning to wear off, and the mood looked like it could turn from festive to ugly at the drop of a hat..
"...but... I don't.. all the portents were right.. Friday.. a Discordian holiday.. the 23rd.. a sacred number.. the caterers even removed all the buns from the hotdogs.."
Mal looked again at the crowd, and shouted to get their attention.
"Please, guests! Remain calm! I'm sure this will be resolved. Don't leave yet. We'll take a small intermission while the happy couple works out their.. issues. Help yourselves to the buffet in the rear, and bear with me while I try to get an update on things!"
Mal waded out of the pool, kicking ducks asunder, and went to find some dry clothing. "Well, that little bugger does things original, at least. I believe he just discovered a 51st Way!"