Fire

Imagine being so pure that you can qualify for a white wedding. Alright, now fast-forward to your special day. A giant fire comes raging forward and spreads until it engulfs the entire ceremony. Everything’s burning. You try to run away, but the conflagration expands at a rate faster than anyone can move. You drop and roll on the ground, in hopes of mitigating the damage; but the flames only surge higher. 

You then get up and dash to the table that holds the refreshments, grab the pitcher of ice-water and splash it over your perm, which has also caught fire. Little streams of glistening droplets pass over your body and descend from your trembling flesh: This ice-water trickles down and ends up wetting your bridesmaids too — you now realize that they have been collapsed on the floor beneath you — each of their hairstyles happened to be aflame as well. They all move their lips and say: “Thanks!” (It’s hard to hear over the roaring inferno.)