Fatal honeymoon

  The subject of this week’s column is a macho man of major proportions. He is admired by his closest associates and feared by the rest. How he loves his reputation. Today you’d say he was the kind of guy who believed his own press clippings.
  Is he a hero or a scoundrel? Pick your favorite macho character and you’re probably close to Our Man’s public persona. He is the image of John Wayne, Clint Eastwood and Jack The Ripper, all rolled into one character.
  This interesting part of his story isn’t so much about his exploits, but about his wedding night. This is a huge event. Our Man usually just snacks at public affairs, but not on this night. It’s his wedding celebration! Our Man gorges himself with as much food and drink as his body will allow — and then he eats some more.
  It’s not known for certain, but apparently the bride gets little attention from the groom on the couple’s wedding night. Hubby is too busy celebrating and feasting with his buddies and good old boys to take notice of his newly acquired “old lady.”
  Sometime during the night Our Man develops a nosebleed. But there’s so much revelry going on that nobody notices. Worse still, nobody comes to his rescue. There’s not even a 911 call. Our Man is too drunk to realize that he’s in very serious trouble.
  That’s where the story ends. The next morning Our Man is found dead at the scene of his wedding feast —drowned in his own blood.
  There’s no network coverage of his rather bizarre death. At this particular point in time there are no news reporters covering the activities of the Mongol hordes. I should have told you -- the year is 450 A. D. And this is the record of the rather unceremonious end of the life of Attila the Hun.