Bridget the Bossy Bridezilla

Ben checked his blind spot before changing lanes. Conversing with Bridget's older sister was like a minefield. He knew not to say anything even remotely connected with children to Caroline; Craig and Caroline had probably spoken about six words to each other in all the time they had known each other so no danger there; but it was impossible to stop Charlene complaining about anything that pissed her off, and unfortunately the kids were second to Elvis on that long list. "Sure honey, everything will be okay," Ben assured his fiancée.

"It had better be," warned Bridget, as Ben found a space and parked the car. The picnic was being held at Southbank, a beautiful spot on the Brisbane River directly opposite the CBD. The area had been redeveloped for the Australian Bicentenary celebrations in 1988 and the Brisbane Expo 88 held the same year, and it was now popular for outdoor activities. There was even an artificial beach, much loved by families.

As Ben and Bridget approached their group, the unmistakable sound of a voice from a family that was making themselves anything but popular.

"Elvis, keep a watch on the fucking kids, I can't do it all the fucking time!" came Charlene's shrill voice from the beach area.

"I've been occupying the fucking kids all fucking morning, can't you do it for once, Charlene?" came Elvis's reply.

"I need to go to the toilet!" yelled Charlene in response as people looked over. "For fuck's sake Elvis, I can't watch the fucking kids while I'm on the fucking toilet with my knickers around my ankles, so just fucking watch them and stop pissing me off you loser."

Ben shook his head in despair while Bridget put on her frosty, disapproving look. Charlene strode across the lawn making for the ladies' room. Ben's sister was a reasonably attractive young woman with long red hair, slim except for her pregnant stomach but let down slightly by a hard facial expression. Her baby bump protruded from her black, sleeveless shirt and hung over her short denim skirt. On her feet she wore flip-flops, which showed off the tattoos around her ankles.

"Hi Charlene," said Ben, as his sister passed by, lighting up a cigarette.

"Oh hi, Ben and Bridget," said Charlene. She took a deep drag on her cigarette, then clutched her stomach. "I'll talk later, I really need the toilet. Never eat fucking curry when you're fucking pregnant," she advised Bridget. "Elvis giving me the fucking shits doesn't help either."

Charlene hurried away, as Elvis called out, "Hi Ben, hi Bridget!" and waved.

"Hi Elvis," called Ben, waving back, the frosty Bridget managing a polite wave at the massive man who appeared in their line of sight. Despite his enormous bulk of well over 300 pounds, Elvis had squeezed himself into a pair of speedo-style bathers and was supervising the kids in the water. Supervising was a term best used loosely, as Charlene's kids ran riot; screaming, splashing Elvis with water and hurling handfuls of sand and pinecones at his head.

"Fucking stop that!" bellowed Elvis to little effect, this changing to warnings of, "Wait until your mum gets back!" which had a similar lack of effect.

"See you later Elvis," said Ben, seeing Bridget's mood darkening by the second.

"Yeah, see you later," said Elvis as another handful of sand hit him on the back of his head. "Who threw that?" he demanded, turning around to the out-of-control kids.

As they walked towards the area that their group would be sitting, Mr. and Mrs. O'Connell arrived, Bridget pulling her hand away from Ben to rush over and greet them. With a neutral expression on his face, Ben watched Bridget interact with her parents.

With her mother, Bridget exchanged a brief embrace and a polite greeting. "Hi Daddy!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around her father, Mr. O'Connell likewise grabbing Bridget in a tight embrace.

"Hi Princess," said Mr. O'Connell with great delight as they kissed.

Ben continued to watch this as his mind made a sarcastic commentary. 'A grown woman of 24 calls her father Daddy and he calls his daughter Princess in public, that's not weird.' Ben watched the father and daughter kiss. 'A man kissing his daughter on the lips longer than two seconds, again nothing weird about that. Father and daughter have their arms around each other, father's hand very close to daughter's bottom and her panty line, no nothing strange there at all. Nothing to see here folks.'

Ben looked at Mrs. O'Connell and pondered if the woman had ever noticed the strange dynamic of her husband and their youngest daughter. It never happened with the older sister Caroline; in fact Ben had never seen Mr. O'Connell so much as lightly embrace his elder daughter. He treated Caroline more like he would a legal secretary from his firm rather than a daughter.

Ben's parents approached and struck up a conversation, and they were soon joined by Caroline's husband. Caroline herself sat at a picnic bench, looking utterly depressed, casting longing glances at families who passed by with babies and children.

Seeing the state her sister was in, Bridget again warned Ben in a soft voice, "Keep your sister away from Caroline."

"Relax Bridget, I think Charlene's more interested in Elvis today," said Ben.

It was true. Charlene had returned from the ladies' room. Elvis, his rolls of fat covered in sand courtesy of the kids had made the mistake of calling out, "What took you so long?"

"There was a fucking queue, I had to wait!" yelled Charlene in response. "What the fuck was I supposed to do, kick open one of the doors and drag the girl in there off the toilet? Jesus fucking Christ Elvis, can't you mind your own fucking business for once in your fucking life?!"

Charlene went to a cooler and removed a bottle of beer, grimacing when she discovered it was warm. "Fucking hell Elvis, keep the fucking beer cold. And watch the fucking kids!" she bellowed, noticing her older son and daughter were running off, Elvis waddling after them to retrieve them.

Despite her pregnancy and her distaste for warm beer, Charlene had no problem drinking it and then taking another, with only a cigarette in between. Elvis seemingly could do nothing right today, but this was hardly different from any other day. Getting angry at Elvis seemed to be more like a hobby for Charlene, and one she seemed to pursue with vigor. "You fucking dickhead, you fucking idiot, you fucking faggot, you fucking retard, you fucking butter-ball and you fucking loser," were some of the charming insults Charlene hurled at her partner today, her voice carrying through the parkland and probably audible to people on the other side of the Brisbane River, in Brisbane's outer suburbs or even on the Gold Coast.

Mr. and Mrs. Marshall fumed at their daughter and the obscene, insulting and abusive language she was using, but this happened so often and there was little chance of changing her. While Charlene's presence was a problem, the absence of Craig created another embarrassing problem for the families.

Craig was completely unreliable, and a fuming Mr. Marshall went to a phone box to call him to remind him to get his arse to Southbank for his grandmother's birthday. Mr. Marshall returned fuming even more. "What's wrong?" asked Mrs. Marshall.

"He wasn't there, I spoke to one of his slacker mates who was so drunk he didn't even seem to know what day it was," grumbled Mr. Marshall. "If Craig's out drinking with those yobbos instead of at his grandmother's birthday like he was told, I'll kick his backside from here to Melbourne."

Irritated that the day wasn't going perfectly, Bridget could not resist a snide comment to Ben. "Nice of your brother to show up," she said.

Ben ignored the comment. Personally Bridget did not want Craig there, but she was cross that he hadn't shown up and his absence was causing a problem. Ben could tell from Bridget's tone that she was somehow blaming him, but what was Ben supposed to do? Find and catch Craig, tie him up and physically drag him here?

"I'm sure he won't be long," Ben assured Bridget, before the familiar figure of his younger brother appeared on the path near the riverbank, staggering towards the barbeque area. "Speak of the devil. See, there he is."

Bridget turned around as Craig came closer. He was clearly drunk, dressed in a filthy black tee-shirt and jeans and bizarrely wore on his head a cardboard pirate hat, this a promotional item given away with children's meals at the fast food outlet where Craig worked. Craig's appearance drew the attention of others too, not less his parents.

"Hi everyone!" called Craig, staggering across the lawn.

Mr. and Mrs. Marshall strode over. "What is going on Craig?" demanded Mr. Marshall.

"I'm here for Grandma's birthday," Craig slurred.

"Are you hung over?" Mrs. Marshall wanted to know.

"Nuh," responded Craig.

"You are hung over," snapped Mr. Marshall.

"Nuh Dad, because I haven't stopped drinking yet," said Craig.

"Don't be smart with me," said Mr. Marshall. "And get that stupid hat off your head, it makes you look like even more of a loser than you already are."

"Make me," Craig challenged his father.

"Craig, you stop acting like a bloody moron and grow up," stormed Mr. Marshall, his face as red as a tomato. "Why can't you be more like your brother?"

"A yuppie you mean," yelled Craig.

"Craig, you show some respect," said Mrs. Marshall.

Ben had cringed at his father's comment. It always irked him when his parents asked Charlene or Craig why they could not be more like him, and only seemed to make his sister and brother worse. Ben also knew that as the responsible, older brother, it was time to try and get control of Craig and put things back on track.

"Come on Craig, let's go for a walk," Ben suggested.

"I don't want to go for a fucking walk," said Craig.

"Craig, what's going on with you today?" Ben queried his brother.

"Nothing," said Craig, beginning to sulk.

"If you don't tell me, I can't understand."

"My girlfriend Casey dumped me," said Craig. "She chucked me for some guy - this fucking arsehole at her university who wrote her a love poem. Satisfied?"

Ben recoiled from the strong smell of alcohol on Craig's breath. "So, you went and got absolutely pissed all weekend?"

"Yeah, well there's fuck all else I could do." Craig looked over to where the main group sat, all looking over at him. Bridget's parents looked as though they had been eating lemons, such were the strong looks of disapproval.

"Mate, I'm sorry about your girlfriend," said Ben. "But for the moment, you really need to get your shit together. It's Grandma's birthday, okay?" Ben got a bottle of water and handed it to his younger brother, guiding him to a park bench. "Drink this, take some deep breaths, and then we'll go and have a walk."

"Only yuppies drink bottled water," said Craig. "Why do you and Bridget drink that crap? It's a fucking rip off. In years' time, nobody will be drinking bottled water."

"Just drink it," said Ben tersely, looking over to see Bridget discretely beckoning him to come over. "I just need to go and talk to Bridget for a minute, and I'll be right back."

Craig did not acknowledge his older brother as Ben walked over to the most-unimpressed Bridget, his fiancée regarding him with cold blue eyes.

"Your brother is making an exhibition of himself," hissed Bridget, looking Ben directly in the eye.

"It's okay Bridget, I'm dealing with it," Ben assured her. "He broke up with his girlfriend, he's a bit upset about it."

"Make sure you do," said Bridget, the venom clear in her controlled speech. "I've got enough to worry about without your clown of a brother making a fool of himself in front of my family. Oh, and make him take that stupid pirate hat off, it looks fucking ridiculous."

"I'll do it," said Ben, he and Bridget turning back to the bench where Craig was sitting to find it empty. Like Mr. and Mrs. Marshall had learned from experience years earlier, turning one's back on Craig for even a short time could result in him running off and creating havoc.

"Where is he now?" grumbled Ben, casting his eyes around the Brisbane parkland.

"Oh no," said Bridget, pointing to the bench where Caroline sat in her depressed state. Except now she was not alone, she had been joined by a certain young man wearing a filthy tee-shirt, jeans and a cardboard pirate hat.

"He had better not do anything to upset my sister, or you will pay for it Ben Marshall," promised Bridget as they hurried over.

The shrill voice and foul mouth of Charlene carried through the parkland, as Ben's sister chastised her fucking kids for fucking misbehaving, and Elvis for doing fuck all about it.

At the table, Craig laughed at his older sister yelling. "Charlene sure can yell loud, and Elvis and the kids know how to piss her off. I can't believe she's having another one. Hey, you've been married a while. How come you don't have any kids yet?"

The already depressed Caroline chose a neutral response, hoping this tactless young man would go away and leave her to her solitude. "We haven't been blessed with children."

"Oh, so you want kids but you can't have them?" Craig's voice carried, broadcasting his complete lack of tact and subtlety. "Oh well, cheer up, kids are a pain in the arse anyway, and you and your husband must be having lots of fun trying, hey?" He laughed suggestively, and continued. "It's not like you have cancer or something. It's not the end of the world, being barren or sterile."

Caroline looked like she might burst into tears, Craig noticing and deciding that he was the best person to reassure her and make her feel better about herself. "Lots of people don't have kids. I don't want them, fuck no. Look on the bright side, you can work on your career, go on holidays and maybe you could get a cat or a dog instead. You can't do that with kids. Plus you'd have to give birth to them, and that would be really fucked and painful."

Caroline trembled, and Craig continued his misguided attempts to cheer her up. "Your family are religious, right? Have you tried praying to God to give you a baby? That might work. Or maybe God has decided that you just aren't meant to have kids?"

Ben and Bridget reached the table, Ben going to his brother, Bridget to her sister. "What's going on here, Craig?" Ben asked.

"I'm talking to Caroline," said Craig. "She's feeling down, so I'm cheering her up."

"No, you're not," said Ben. "Come with me."

"Sorry about my brother," said Craig to Caroline. "He has no manners, but he's good at things. I bet he gets Bridget pregnant in less than a month after they get married, and then you'll have a niece or nephew you can babysit. That's kind of like having your own kids, except that you have to give them back when their real parents come home. Your brother, he's not going to have any kids because he's a poof, but I bet Bridget is super fertile and will have lots of kids to make up for you."

"Ben, just make him stop and shut up!" yelled Bridget, stomping her foot in temper.

"Come on Craig, we're going to go for that walk now," said Ben, dragging the reluctant Craig away from the table.

The rest of the group had arrived on the scene now, including Caroline's husband whose visit to the men's room had meant he was not there to rescue his wife from the most tactless young man she had ever encountered. He put his arms around his now crying wife.

Mr. and Mrs. Marshall were furious. Mr. Marshall pointed at his youngest son. "You apologize to Caroline, and then you get out of here. I've had enough of your antics for one day. This was a birthday celebration for your grandmother and Caroline and Bridget's grandmother, and you turn up and ruin everything like you always do. Your mother and I are totally ashamed of you."

"She was fine talking with me until you all got here and started carrying on," said Craig. "I can't fucking win. I'll just go."

"Good, just get out of here Craig," stormed Mr. Marshall.

"Don't worry, I'm going." Craig turned and walked away from the group, people passing by staring in dismay at the embarrassing scene. However, instead of staying on the path that led towards the bridge across the river, Craig walked directly towards the water itself.

"Oh, what is he doing now?" stormed Mr. Marshall.

"Craig, what are you doing?" asked Ben. "Come away from the water."

Stopping at the riverbank, Craig turned in defiance to his parents. "Hey Dad, you and Mum made me go to stupid swimming lessons all the time when I was a kid even though I bloody hated them. Now I'm finally going to make you proud and swim across to the other side of the river." Craig pointed at Brisbane's tall buildings on the northern bank of the bank.

"Don't be so stupid, Craig it's way too far and you are drunk," said Mrs. Marshall.

"Yeah, come on mate," said Ben. "You'll never swim that far."

"Yes I can, because I'm a pirate!" shouted Craig, pointing at the cardboard pirate hat he still wore, once again passers-by looking at the scene in embarrassment. Without further discussion Craig turned and plunged into the cold, muddy waters of the Brisbane River and began to inexpertly swim towards the northern side.

"He'll get out when he finds out how cold it is in there," Mr. Marshall declared confidently.

"Howard, I don't like this," said Mrs. Marshall nervously to her husband as Craig continued his misguided swim, splashing around like a dog as he tried to propel himself forward.

"Since when does that boy stick to anything for longer than five minutes?" asked Mr. Marshall. "He just wants attention, and he'll stop this nonsense any second now."

However, Craig continued to swim, getting deeper and deeper. "Craig, turn around and come back!" yelled Ben, getting worried now.

Craig barely heard his brother's words, continuing to swim and prove to everyone he could reach the northern bank. However, cold water, a strong current and lack of fitness and expertise began to show as he reached the deeper part of the river. Cramps overtook his body and soon he was in trouble, flailing about, unable to continue or to swim back, lifting his arm and calling for help.

"Oh shit!" exclaimed Ben, reacting quickly by running forward and jumping into the river. While Brisbane generally enjoyed warm weather year round, a swim in the Brisbane River in winter was not a pleasant experience, and Ben gasped as he became immersed in the cold, muddy water and began to swim towards his floundering brother, hampered by the fact that he was fully clothed.

Ben was soon joined by a second rescuer. Elvis had also jumped in and was swimming alongside him. While Ben was the better swimmer of the two, his brother-in-law had the advantage of wearing bathers and the rolls of fat that covered Elvis's body gave him the added buoyancy plus protection against the cold.

"Help, help, help ..." Craig was calling as Ben and Elvis approached, taking a firm hold of the foolish young man, keeping his head out of the water and pulling him back towards the south shore.

A loud toot caused Ben and Elvis to jump in shock and they turned to see a ferry heading in their direction, passengers staring in amazement at what looked like three of Australia's greatest fools swimming in the Brisbane River boat lane in the middle of winter. Ben and Elvis quickly increased their pace, narrowly avoiding the ferry but getting swamped by the wash created by its engines, all three men momentarily submerged, Craig swallowing a mouthful of water and coughing violently when they resurfaced.

Finally, Ben and Elvis reached the bank and dragged the choking Craig ashore, Elvis knocking the water out of his lungs with a hard slap to the back.

"Thanks Ben, thanks Elvis you're my heroes!" yelled Craig between fits of coughing.

"Don't mention it Craig," mumbled Ben, soaked to the skin, freezing and completely pissed off.