Lights go down. You'd swear you could hear a pin drop. You wonder, briefly, if there was maybe a pin in your purse. Would that work? But checking finds that all you have is a small crescent wrench and you could drop one of those in a rave or Bush cabinet meeting or a Lithuanian lesbian orgy and everyone present would hear it.
So, you drop it anyway. Anything for attention. But this is town-crier stuff. In long, slow arcs the hand at the end of that arm in the velvet coat swings a bell.
They are to be wed.
I suippose we ought to have seen it coming, hell, even back here....
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