I grew up in a small Midwestern town with a close knit group of friends. Among those friends were my current pastor, Joe, and current fiancé, Stacey. It was the type of town where everybody knew everybody. It was the one school, one restaurant, one church type of town. Due to the small population, people usually dated within their group of friends. Now I always had a crush on Stacey, but she had been dating Joe throughout high school and after. Joe was my best friend, so I kept my true feelings to myself. Ultimately, Joe decided that he wished to enter the seminary and broke up with Stacey as a result. Seeing this as my opportunity, I comforted Stacey post break-up and eventually asked her out myself. Years passed and Joe was now a priest while Stacey and I were considering marrying. The pastor we had all grown up with in our hometown church died, and Joe was offered the position. Thrilled, he took it. It was his chance to give back to the town that raised him. Stacey and I went to church every Sunday. Joe was like family. I asked Stacey to marry me, and we began the process of planning the wedding. We were excited to hold the wedding at the church, as we had been going there for decades. We were even more excited to have Joe as the celebrant. It was all very fitting. The perfect wedding. I visited Joe to ask him to celebrate our wedding, assuming the answer will be of course. To my surprise, Joe flat out refused. Told me to go somewhere else. It was a "conflict of interests," according to him. I went to see him several times more, but the response was always the same. Bewildered, I demanded to know why. Our conversation erupted into shouting and Joe confessed that he, not me, was the right husband for Stacey. I felt betrayed not only by my best friend but by God, considering that I had always seen God through Joe. Without thinking I punched Joe. His eye puffed up like a cotton ball. Within hours the whole town knew. Even after explaining the story, Stacey was furious and walked out on me to console Joe. I received a call from her that night stating she was staying with her sister and wanted to call the wedding off. I fell into a deep depression and locked myself inside. A few days later I received a knock on my door. It was the police. Apparently Joe hadn't been seen since the incident. Being the last person to see him, I was a person of interest. They asked why I had hit Joe. I told them if it hadn't been for cotton-eye Joe, I'd been married a long time ago, where did you come from where did you go, where did you come from cotton-eye Joe?