Hitched & Hitched Again: A Comedy of Marital Mayhem

"Where's that godawful stench of booze coming from? Have you been drinking?"

Richard stormed in, his voice echoing off the hallway walls.

Winona shrank closer to Keaton, barely daring to breathe.

Mrs. Windham and Mrs. Murphy both wrinkled their noses, fanning the air.

"Oh, mercy, that's not just a little whiskey," Mrs. Windham muttered. "Someone's been on a real bender."

Mr. Windham's eyes narrowed as he spotted something glinting near the fireplace a bottle, rolling on its side.

He picked it up, squinting at the faded label, and gasped, "Good Lord above! Is this... a 1935 Glenfiddich? That was Harold's pride and joy! He wouldn't even open it before he died. Keaton, you let him drink it?!"

Mr. Murphy, poking around, found a few more empty bottles. Reading the labels by candlelight, he blurted out, "A limited edition Russo-Boro vodka, an Imperial Collection Cognac-my God, Keaton, did you just plunder your grandfather's entire stash?"

Richard's eyes went wide as he glanced at the empty bottles, then rushed to the family altar where Harold's picture stood.

He barely needed to look. The collection of rare spirits Harold had hidden behind his photo-gone. Every last drop.

at Keaton, "You little punk!

those his whole life just for your wedding

Glenfiddich from 1935? He wanted you to open it with your wife, when you shared

vodka? For you and your bride to offer

that Imperial Cognac? That was meant to honor

you married. Now, before you've even found a wife, you've gone and guzzled everything he saved for

How could you

his

All that

Oh, dear God.

Glenfiddich? She'd split it with Keaton

under

prayed, 'Ancestors

Huber family, if you're watching, I swear-Keaton told me to take it. He made me

had no idea those

please, please haunt Keaton, not me—I'm innocent in

Keaton just shrugged, a little tipsy