Wedding Has Gone South

(I share a last name with a popular brand of vacuum. I’m listening to music, and a love song starts with the line ‘I wanna be your vacuum cleaner.’ It should be noted that my fiancé is from Virginia, while all of my family is from rural Pennsylvania and dislike Southerners. My fiancé is at work and I’m texting him.)

Me: “Hey, babe, listen to this song. I just had the sudden thought that we should change it to the first dance song. The first line makes me giggle, considering my last name.”

Fiancé: “I snorted. My coworkers think I am deranged now. Also, we are not changing the song to that. I do not need your family trying to kill me.”

Me: “Realistically, how many people will show up from my side? It’s a max of eight, but I think it’ll be more like three.”

Fiancé: “Still, your family seems to stockpile weapons in case the South rises again.”

Me: “Thanks, babe. We live in the South by their definition.”