Honoring me more than I can say, my sister and her fiance asked me to perform their wedding ceremony next month. Luckily, I think they're really good together, so I was happy to say yes. Like a million other people, I'm a "Reverend" with that church that will ordain anybody, and in Florida that's enough to marry people. But I wanted to make sure this shit's legit, so a few weeks ago I sent off a money order and the downloaded forms needed to become a registered notary.
Now, their wedding is going to be tasteful (from what I understand). But it strikes me that I could do so much more in the four years my appointment as notary lasts.
I keep picturing a tv advertisement, like one for a local car dealership. The camera pans in on me in a black guayabera shirt and dickies, standing among the flowers at Maclay Gardens. I smile brightly and say, in my broadest southern accent,
Getting hitched? Need a no questions asked ceremony? Want to be able to move the party to the maternity ward at a moments' notice? Been turned down by preachers unwilling to make the hike out to your his n' hers deer stands? On a budget but looking for a little class?
Look no further! I am your one stop ball'n'chain shop. No suits? No shoes? No problem! Spent all your dough on camo brides' maids dresses? Worried that the keg will tap out before your friends do? For just a case of beer and a rack of ribs, I will bind you unto eternity.
(Fast voiceover: No actual guarantees made on length of marriage.)
Always dreamed of walking down that aisle to the sweet sounds of Carrie Underwood? Guns n' Roses? Insane Clown Posse? The theme from Rocky? You provide the music, and I promise not to laugh.
The camera pulls back and I'm lit by the setting sun, my shaved red hair a glow around my head, septum ring shining.
(Deep bass voiceover: For when you really, truly have to get married before the baby comes.)