Last-minute, rush wedding speech writing services.
Plan ahead so you don’t have a speech, or get a lousy one.
There are certainly many reasons why someone may need a wedding speech written at the very last moment, and we’ve performed that task. If you find yourself in that predicament, in need of super-rush, last-minute wedding speech writing service, we stand ready to assist.
Our rush rate will apply, and in the case of literal last-minute service (meaning the wedding is a day or two hence), the writer may add a surcharge. After all, your request probably requires the writer to cancel personal plans in order to serve you. Last-minute speech writing service depends upon the availability of a writer. Although we can usually accommodate rush clients, this is not guaranteed.
What sort of rush wedding speeches can we do?
Father or mother of the groom.
Father or mother of the bride.
Bridesmaid speeches.
Maid of honor speeches.
Best man speeches.
Groom or bride’s speeches.
And wedding toasts of all kinds.
What do you need?
The following is a tale of a guy who waited too long:
By- Susannah Lockett
Julian Roth sat back from his desk and pondered what a strange thing the English language really was. You could say doghouse but not cathouse. You could walk the streets, but you couldn’t be a streetwalker.
Julian made his living with words. A rousingly-successful author in the fantasy genre, he was working on his tenth novel in his Rise Pegasus series. His agent was bugging him to finish so he could get another cut of the profits, but Julian took his time. He was a perfectionist and never settled for less.
Michelle, ma belle, sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble. When they were together, he would croon the lovely, haunting Beatles ballad to her as he held her close and kissed her hair.
Julian gave up writing for the day. He’d put in a good session, though, about 1,000 words. His brain was spent. After a hot shower, he felt pleasantly relaxed and drowsy. As he drifted off to sleep, she appeared in his almost-dreams as she did every night.
Michelle. Michelle. Michelle.
Michelle, ma belle.
My beautiful Michelle.
Ma belle.
Hunter West was running late, as usual. He’d be docked at work again for sure. Not that he paid his bills on time. In fact, he didn’t pay them at all until he had to. Instead of having financial security, Hunter lived paycheck to paycheck, even though he made excellent money as a senior computer programmer. He made plenty of money to pay his bills on time. He just didn’t. Instead, he spent his earnings on foolish things before the money was even in his account.
In spite of that, Hunter had no trouble with the single ladies who didn’t know him. They seemed to find his disarming smile and charming banter very attractive. When Michelle Carter smiled at him at a party, he smiled back and openly flirted with her, even though he knew full well she was his friend Julian’s girl. Hunter had no scruples. When Julian confronted him, he made no excuses. Cocky as always, he suggested that Julian should’ve put a ring on that finger. He said maybe Michelle felt taken for granted.
Julian was devastated when Michelle left him for that schmucky Hunter. He sank into a depressed funk that lasted for months. His friends and family were worried. After about six months, Julian rose from his slump and launched himself full force at his career, churning out two books in the Rise Pegasus series in less than a year. His then-writing was heavy, poignant and deep. The two books received the most critical acclaim of the whole series. He’d poured his wounded soul into them, and it showed.
When Michelle and Hunter got engaged three months ago, Julian congratulated them both. Always the gentleman, he kissed Michelle on the cheek and shook Hunter’s hand. Then he went home and killed a pint of Hennessey.
The next morning, Julian returned Hunter’s call. He wanted to get it over with, so he could start his writing day without interruption. He really didn’t want to talk to the guy. Hunter rarely called unless he wanted something, usually money. The guy was always short on funds because he was careless with his money.
Hunter, never very discerning to begin with, had no idea that Julian still carried a torch for Michelle. He thought the two men had come to terms and that Julian was okay with his upcoming wedding to the exquisite Michelle Roxanne Carter, soon to be West.
Wrong.
Godzilla, Julian’s huge Bengal cat, jumped on his lap, purring loudly. Julian often confided in the magnificent spotted animal, and Godzilla always listened patiently. He could trust Godzilla. Hunter West, not so much.
Hunter answered on the first ring. “Dude, look, I gotta write a speech for the wedding. Michelle told me hers is done.” He said this in a tone suggesting that this was somehow Julian’s problem.
Julian started to tell him he’d have to write his own speech, but he stopped short. He thought about it, and then offered grandly to write the speech. “Sure, Hunt, I’ll do it. What are friends for?”
“Oh, man, you don’t know what this means to me! When can you have it done?”
“Well, I have another section of the book to write.” The wedding was two weeks away. “I’ll have it done a few days before the wedding. Best I can do.” Julian held his breath. Would Hunter be suspicious?
No. “That’s great, Julian. Thank you so much. Let me know when it’s done, willya?”
“Don’t you want to have some input? What do you want me to say?”
“Dude, you’re the writer. I trust you. I’m sure it’ll be great, whatever you write.”
Julian hung up. A sneaky smile spread across his face. “Godzilla, I have to write a wedding speech.” The hybrid feline chirped, purred, stretched and sat up. He gazed at his master with loyal green eyes, meowing in agreement. He hated Hunter, too. Even Godzilla had his reasons.
A snarky expression took over Julian’s face as he began to write the “wedding speech.” When coming up through the ranks as a writer, Julian had taken any assignment he could get. He could write wedding speeches and vows in his sleep. He’d even written some decent poetry before finding his niche as a fantasy and sometimes science-fiction writer.
Thoughts of Michelle stopped him. He’d take her back in a second. He’d hoped against hope for most of the past year that she’d see the light and call off the wedding, but that wasn’t happening.
Michelle. If she would just return to him….
Michelle, Michelle.
Ma belle.
Julian sat back. He was full of anger and resentment towards Hunter, both for stealing his girl and for being such a rotten, scheming, dishonest jerk. “Borrowing” money he had no intention of repaying was the same as stealing. Once when Hunter was watering Julian’s plants and taking in his mail while he was away for two weeks, the asshat had driven Julian’s new Jeep without permission and wrecked it. It had no insurance yet because it was parked safely in Julian’s garage until his return. Hunter never even offered to pay for the damage. Julian’s driver’s license was temporarily suspended while the DMV sorted the facts out when the other party filed a claim for their legally insured vehicle. It was eventually restored, but that’s not the point, Julian thought hotly. He sat back once again to take a full inventory of just what kind of a person this “buddy” really was.
During that time when Julian was away. Hunter was also supposed to feed and water Godzilla, clean his litter pan and play a game or two with him. Godzilla hated a dirty toilet and wasn’t used to it. Julian kept it sparkling clean. Thank heavens Julian’s sister Amy didn’t trust Hunter and had dropped in to find the poor animal hungry and without water. The litter pan was filthy. Amy took the spotted cat back with her and tenderly cared for him until her brother returned. Amy didn’t live nearby. It took four and half hours for Amy to make that trip, and she had two toddlers besides. Hunter never did apologize, saying only that he’d seen cats trained to use a human toilet on the Internet. Huh?
Not long after Julian’s return from his vacation, he had a few friends over for a quiet gathering sans Hunter. But Hunter barged in, uninvited, bringing nothing, monopolizing conversations with his grandiose BS and just generally ruining the otherwise congenial get-together. He drank expensive booze that wasn’t his or even Julian’s. The more he drank, the louder and more obnoxious he got. He made unwelcome overtures to the married women there and told dirty and racist jokes that made everyone uncomfortable.
One by one, the guests made their excuses and left. Hunter was the last one to leave. As he went to claim his jacket, he found that Godzilla had exacted his feline revenge. The jacket was in clawed-up tatters and reeked of cat pee. Godzilla left the other guests’ stuff alone, as he always did. Hunter demanded compensation for his ruined jacket.
A guy could only take so much. He would never forget or forgive him for taking his lady. Julian leaned forward, pulled his laptop closer and began to write. Two days before the wedding, the speech was ready. He met up with Hunter at a local coffee shop because he didn’t want the guy going off on him in his apartment, just in case he read the thing right there. He smiled, handed over the paper and waited. The dumbass didn’t even scan it. He stuffed it in his pocket and thanked Julian, thinking he was off the hook. Julian watched him walk away, wondering what he would do when he began to read his speech, to be delivered in front of his parents, Michelle’s parents and family and some 50 other guests.
A few hours later, Hunter thought it wise to at skim the speech and practice it a little, so it would go smoother when the time came to deliver it. He began reading:
“On behalf of my new lovely bride Michelle, I would like to welcome you to our wedding reception. This will be just a short speech that I didn’t actually write myself. I am far too lazy for that. My good friend Julian Roth did the actual writing. He has never let me down and has always been a true friend. First of all, I would like everyone here to know that I am a lying sack of shit. I am utterly worthless. I cannot be trusted. I stole money from Julian Roth and wrecked his car without remorse. It didn’t bother me at all. I left a poor defenseless animal without food or water. I have talked behind Julian Roth’s back even though he has always been nothing but good to me. I have no respect for others or their property. I am unreliable and sleazy. I will take advantage of anyone who lets me. I am always a day late and a dollar short. You cannot count on me. I am a truly terrible friend. I have no loyalties, and I stand for nothing. I have no substance as a human being. I will lie and do anything to get what I want. The feelings of others don’t concern me. I don’t respect the property of others. If I can take it from you, it’s mine. If I can talk you into something not in your best interests, I will. I am lazy, cowardly and cocky. I am selfish, callous and predatory. I am fickle, self-indulgent, inconsiderate and sneaky. I am a hedonist without a scrap of altruism in my whole being. If you are smart, you will stay away from me. I don’t deserve a woman like Michelle. One day she will realize what I really am and leave me.”
Hunter stared in disbelief at the horrible document. Julian had tricked him. He had underestimated him, his mistake. Two days until the wedding! Not even two days! It was late Thursday, and the wedding was Saturday afternoon.
There would be a huge reception, all on Harold Carter’s generous dime. High society and important business people would be there. The magnificent reception was going to be held at a seaside resort with a glorious view of the sunset and delicious, prime gourmet food: rumaki, cracked crab, chutney, truffles, the finest in Beluga caviar, French and German wines from the last century. Harold had spared no expense for the wedding of his cherished, only daughter. There would probably be at least a couple reporters. And then Hunter remembered that Michelle’s brother Micah was a journalist. He’d forgotten about that. Micah didn’t like him.
Oh, hell’s bells. What was he going to do? He couldn’t write a lick. They’d all laugh at him. He thought about the utter pariah he was about to become. His Michelle would be mortified. Numb with fear and foreboding, Hunter sat down to think. There had to be something he could do; someone he could pay to get him out of this jam….
Ouch! If you’re in a tough spot and time has about run out, give us a call. We’ve pulled many out of their last-minute wedding speech conundrum. Just click on Contact. And do it quickly.