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The characters:

• The couple: male and female
• The supporting characters: friends and/or relatives (minimum 5)

Interactivity:

• Adaptation of the roles according to both main characters’ personalities (jealousy, vulnerability, impatience, etc.)
• Possibility of including an anniversary card written by the co-author(s)
• Customizable subheading

Warning!

• This book is not suitable for a wedding gift

Customized book covers (included in the price) with fold-back flaps:

• Picture of the heroes
• Picture of the co-author(s)
• Brief biography of the co-author(s)
• Dedication or brief biography of the heroes
• Subheading

The size:

• 5" x 8"
• 165 pages

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ISBN: 2-913-595-00-6
Copyright registration: February 2008

"Happy Anniversary to Yooouuh! Happy Anniversary to Yooooooouuh!" A gathering of friends and family singing, clapping, shouting at the top of their lungs. Ten years of marriage must be celebrated. It has to be a loud and lavish affair. Frank and Bridget Azerty hadn’t seen it coming. The goodies - along with their bearers - had sneaked into their flat, sight unseen. Friends and relatives, on the whole respectful when it came to matters of privacy, had taken over the place without an invite, arms loaded with melons, lobsters, prosciutto and champagne. On ’special’ days, brace yourself for surprises! Mid-morning, Frank had found an anniversary card in the letterbox:

Happy Anniversary to both of you!

Next thing you know, it was as if they were part of a sped-up film. The guests had pushed the furniture back against the walls (they would have moved the walls, too, given half a chance!), and the lights had gone all disco. Their cosy world had been overrun, turned on its head, possessed, besieged. All they could do was stand there, arms at their sides, like a couple of stunned mullets, under the spell. The boundless love of friends and family!

All this fuss over him and Bridget makes Frank feel ill at ease. He would have preferred to celebrate the event in private, just the two of them, without all the singsongs, the streamers and this music which makes the walls vibrate. People stuffing their faces, ranting and raving with drinks in hand, it all seems a bit unreal. The music felt like a rush of speed until a gong goes off in Frank’s ear, along with a voice, bringing him back to reality.

"A Speech, Franky! Franky, a Speeecch!"

"This can’t be happening," he tells himself as a hand pushes him forward.

"Yes! You must! Up you go!"

"You’ve got to be kidding..." he protests, visibly shaken.

"Speech! Speech!"

Frank climbs up onto the table as he would to the gallows.

Soon the general hubbub gives way to silence. Frank pans over the gathering, all familiar faces. They’re all there. Around thirty people. With, in the first row: John and Mary, Brian and Helen, George and Kate. Not forgetting his blue-eyed, blond-haired wife, Bridget, offering him an encouraging smile. Frank is the husband she handpicked ten years ago. A fine example of tall, muscular manhood, complete with short brown hair and green eyes. Meanwhile, up on the table the bear-trap has him by the ankle.

Frank swallows hard. He is petrified. The audience is getting impatient.

"A speech, Franky! Give us a speech!"

As far as he can remember, Frank’s never felt so totally out of it. Complete with cerebral short-circuiting.

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