Sometimes the only answer is to just bang it out.

Like today, for example. I’m in actual hell at my sister’s over-the-top reality TV wedding and up until now, I’ve been able to handle it all. The horrible bridesmaids. My relentless mother. Even the awful eighties fashion to fit the retro theme. But when my sister nonchalantly mentioned that she never even wanted me at the wedding—the producers insisted—ouch doesn’t fully express how much it hurts.

So for the first time I don’t think. I just do. And as a shy paleontologist who plans everything, I probably should have taken a moment.

But here we are.

I’ve just asked the best man, who my sister absolutely loathes and who can’t stand her right back, if he’s up for a little naked revenge with me. The cameras are filming every horrifying second, and the whispers have begun. (Did I mention that the music happened to stop just as I asked him?)

But then his mouth quirks up, and he does the last thing I expect.