Humorous Wedding Speech: Starbuild

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One frigid September morning, while sipping a mug of Starbucks and searching for district news, a woman swept into my office. The acclaimed semiologist Professor Robert Langdon had been discovered dead, a gunshot wound to the head. It stated that the police ruled the death suicide. She held out an expensive hand as she soared towards me, giving a look at a wedding ring with a stone the extent of a peanut M&M. "I'm Vittoria Langdon." "I’m very sorry for your loss." "I'm not sure I am. He adored me, yet he cherished words more. I'll be brief. Robert was writing a rather controversial paper that will shake the foundations of symbology. It was to be worth a fortune in lecture tours and academic bursaries. I trust his suicide note is a hint …show more content…

"vittoria. i’m not going to whine, i’ve had a good life. i’ve found wealth and happiness as a professor, a seller of knowledge. but i find myself depressed beyond hope ... and so i’m choosing the hour and manner of my own demise. i have treated you badly. i demanded you dyed your brown curls blonde. i thought i could buy you when i should have won your love. i called you a witch. i'd complain: where's the woman i married? i said you ate too much. if i wanted change, i could have used a carrot rather than a stick. you probably wanted to wring my neck. forgive me. farewell." “The entire letter is written in lower case. Robert was a stickler for grammatical structure. I can’t believe that what he has written didn’t mean …show more content…

Robert would never stop bragging about it." "That is the thing I dreaded." I took out my trusty handgun. "You must have really hated Mr. Langdon and his symbols! I guess you figured you'd murder him and keep the cash from the paper yourself. You forced him to compose that suicide note, supposing you knew where it was. Be that as it may, he was suspicious and he'd hid it before you could do anything. Also, he had another bombshell for you: whatever is left of the note, it uncovers the killer, not where the paper was left. The last homophones were: dyed, buy, won, which, wears, ate, carrot, wring. That is: died by one which wears eight carat ring." As the police left with Mrs. Langdon I took a stroll around the network of passageways. It took no time to find where the paper had been hidden. Throughout the tunnels, all the wine was laid upon the racks, where in the darkest corner of the room sat two cases of unopened bottles. Stacked upon each other, there could only be one reason for their presence. Carefully opening the lower box, the reason for the mystery was revealed. Carefully stored were the papers Robert Langdon had died protecting. Placing them carefully into my briefcase, I slipped out of the cellar and drove

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