“Come on everyone we have 30 minutes until the wedding starts,” a frail church attendant announced as her pale blue updo shook from old age above her red pantsuit. “If everyone could take their seats on the proper sides of the aisle so we can get started on time. Thank you. Christ.”

Passing through a sea of wedding guests I made my way to the right side of the church, under a sign that read “groom” and towards the pews. Quickly, I took a seat behind a bickering couple.

“Four years. Four fucking years I’ve put up with your bullshit, Henry,” the young woman hissed at her angry date, who was rapidly turning red in his navy-blue suit. “The lying, the cheating, the unemployment. I’m asking you to keep your shit together until I can tell my parents we split up. You can do this for me! I fucking blew you for this!”

She turns around and to check for anyone listening as I stare at my crotch pretending something interesting going on down there that was better than their fight when I feel a presence hovering over me.

“Um, what the fuck are you doing?” questioned a strange man whom I had never met. “The wedding starts in 30 minutes what are you doing out here you need to get ready!”

“Excused me?” I asked while being dragged by the wrist out of the church and into a private room just outside.

“Here, put this on,” he said throwing a black tuxedo at me, placing shoes, bowtie, and other dress wear into my already full arms. “It’s your big day, and you’re out in the pews waiting for what?”

“My big day? What?” Confused I asked, “What the fuck are you talking about? Where’s Marc?”

“Old grooms out, you’re in. We needed a replacement and congratulations you’re it,” he explained. “Congratulations on your new bride and child.”

Now, incredibly confused. “My what?”

“Oh shit, we have no time before the bride comes out, you know what, screw it,” he said. “What you’re wearing will have to do.”

With a hard grip on my wrist, I’m taken through the entrance and lead down the aisle to the altar. In front of a group of groomsmen I could not identify.

“Ah, nice of you to join us today,” the old white priest said, smiling and through his yellow stained dentures.

“Yeah, I, um, have a…” but before I could finish the sound of Here Comes the Bride rang through the church and 400 pounds of bride made its way to me with what I assume to be her father in one hand and half-black child in the other.

Now at the altar, who I presumed to be Snorlax’s more massive father lifts her vail and begins to kiss his daughter on the lips passionately. The two, heavy breathing as they force air through their noses, share a deep, passionate, tongue filled kiss. Before she takes her place in front of me.

Her shit breath hits me and she barks in my face, “Ain’t this just the pretty wedding you’ve ever seen, baby?”

Now staring at her missing four front teeth, I was now buried in a paralyzing panic about my current situation. Who was this woman? Who are these people watching us get married? Where was my family? And what the fuck happened to Marc?

All I wanted to do was come to my friend’s wedding. I almost skipped. I didn’t even want to make the six-hour drive to Jacksonville, but I guilted myself into going to support a childhood friend, and now this kid is tugging so hard at my pants he’s about to pull them off. Wait. This kid. Whose kid is this?

What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On?

“Good, and Schartzmugel, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” the priest asked.

“I do” Schartzmugel exclaimed.

“Then, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Wait, I didn’t say I do?

The crowd roared as Schartzmugel threw herself towards me, forcing her tongue through my tightly closed lips creating a sensation that I assume could only be equaled by an aggressive mouth-rapey snail.

Turning to the crowd, I mutter to myself, “Holy shit, what the fuck am I going to do?”

“There’s not a god damn thing you can do,” says the priest as he grabs my hand to shake it. “Enjoy your big day fuckface and good luck. You’re going to need it fucking her tonight.”

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