It Won't Last

Kym and Andre are Monkey and Wife.

Sadly, it was suppose to be our dear friends Perry and David to be married.

     We arrived at City Hall promptly at 10:00.  Kym was dressed in her standard issue pants suit, sensible shoes, purse as big as an ocean going vessel; her new hair perched over the ensemble in protest, sitting like an angry flock of sparrows on her oddly shaped head.  She had aggressively applied a coating of makeup: lipstick, eyeshadow, and most improbable of all: blush.

It is as if she is in the middle of some weird transformation.

      Andre wore a tux, a nice powder blue tux with velvet trim, white ruffle shirt with just a shadow of grey paisley, silk pink handkerchief in his pocket. He had a big diamond horseshoe ring on his little monkey ring finger. Nice touch. His hair was slicked back with an aromatic oil. That monkey is too sexy for his shirt every time. 

     Eric came from work wearing the new clothes I had purchased for him from the Big Woman’s store at the mall.  Elastic waist chino pants and a stripped shirt with a front pocket.

     “These are WOMEN’S clothes,” He hissed at me, instead of ‘Hello’ or ‘You look nice’. He hadn’t known when he left the house that morning that his new clothes were Delta Burke designer originals. He did know something wasn’t quite right, but at least he could get into them without holding his breath.

Someone must have tipped him off to the breast darts in the bosom or the little daisy shaped buttons on the collar. The pocket had hearts embroidered in blue thread.

     “They fit, don’t they?” I shrugged.  “When you lose weight you can have your man clothes back. Cheer up! Only you and Kirsty Ally can pull that look off!”

     Perry and David always take my breath away.  Perry was wearing his mother’s wedding dress, an elegant little gown of white lace with just a hint of taffeta rustle, pink rosebuds on the princess waist. He hadn’t shaved; the contrast was stunning. David wore a black suit from Banana Republic. (tags discreetly tucked away. Only people who are trying too hard BUY from B.R.) He had a red rose tucked in the lapel. They were a giddy, happy couple. The plan was to grab the license and then we’d all head over to the park and I’d marry them in front of the public restroom where they’d first consummated their love. I got my Official Universal Life Church credentials of Ministry just this morning!

     The old woman behind the counter had to be 106. Sadly, she was dressed identically to Eric, right down to the blouse.  Her shirt was in maroon tones, however, which they didn’t have in Eric’s size. 

At first she wouldn’t stop staring at Eric.

     “What the hell do you have on your teeth?” she asked him.

I answered,

     “My husband is a dental miracle: the first successful recipient of an animal tooth transplant in a human.”

I rather like the way his large canine canine juts jauntily from his lip. Like a permanent Elvis sneer. It was a look that Pugsy (RIP) made famous with mailmen. 

     “Excuse me,” Perry stepped up.  “We’d just like to get our marriage license. We have people showing up for a ceremony in one hour!”

He tapped his diamond rainbow watch. 

     The woman, Joyce her nametag read, stared at Perry.  Then she looked at Kym.

     “You two are getting married?”

     “NO!” Perry giggled. “EEEEw!”

Kym rolled her eyes.  The Aged  Joyce in Charge looked now from Perry to each of the rest of us in turn. 

    “Who then?” she asked suspiciously.

David stepped forward and took Perry’s arm. They smiled at each other, and then at the License Maid.

     “No way,” She growled. “Not a chance. We don’t do that here.UH-UH.”

     “Oh, come on!” Eric said, glaring at the aged crone, pulling the elastic waist of his pants up a little too high, having to pull his new thong underwear out of his butt crack. Two inches of his white socks appeared. He completely lacked authority.

     “No! Even if I could, I wouldn’t. It’s an abomination to our Lord!” she screeched.

     “Which Lord?” I asked, uncertain.  She had evenly matched pictures of Jesus and a dusty Charleton Heston sitting on her credenza.  It was eerie how Charleton’s eyes followed you. The frame of his pictures was covered in American flags and guns. Jesus had puppies.

     She ignored me.

     Perry looked crestfallen. He is always such an optimist. He’d brought a disposable camera. I borrowed it now and took a picture of Charleton and Jesus, cutting most of Charleton off. Jesus is so hot.

     It wasn’t really a surprise that we couldn’t get a license for Perry and David.  What was, however, is when Kym stepped up and said,

     “I’d like to marry my guy, then.” She was holding Andre’s hairy little hand in hers.  He showed his teeth to the woman. 

     The disapproving hag looked from Kym and her wild hair to Andre and his perfect coif. Andre’s fake diamonds glinted as he tried to wrestle his hand from Kym.  He hooted softly.

     “Isn’t he a little OLD for you?” she asked, the crusty hatchet.

     “We are in love!” Kym said. Andre’s hand now free was frolicking beneath the folds of his finely tailored slacks. He wore a look of intense concentration.

     “I can see he is, anyway,” The old woman muttered, getting the license forms together.

     We all know, of course, that monkey is as queer as a green ink.  I give it 6 months. Still, I bought them a crock pot.

What would Jesus do?