Holy Matrimony by Job Darcy
Seven days before my wedding I went on a weeklong bachelor party consisting of strip clubs, wild parties and lots of cocaine. Wedding day finally arrives and I’m awakened by a phone call from my soon-to-be wife. (I haven’t any idea how she got the number.)
“Job, Baby, are we still getting married?”
I said, “Yeah, of course, Baby. Uh, just give me a couple of hours to get a haircut and to up pick up the tuxedos, alright.”
She said, “Alright, I haven’t told my parents anything.”
I said, “Good Girl. Look I’ll be right there. Everything’s going to be fine.”
She said, “I love you.”
I said, “I love you too.”
I hung up the phone and rolled over to see my naked Becky sleeping on her stomach looking just as tempting as ever. I leaned over kissing her on the small of her back and said, “Baby, I have to go. I have to go get married.”
If I remember correctly, I think she said, “Have fun, Love.”
I showered and shaved, got my hair cut, picked up all the tuxedos and made it just in time. It was a small but beautiful wedding. Everything was perfect. Family and friends were all smiles. I slipped off into one of the bathrooms in my wife’s parents’ new quarter-million-dollar home and dropped two hits of acid. Yes, you heard me right. Acid. LSD. Lysergic acid diethylamide. I dropped two hits of white blotter on my wedding day. I wasn’t only going to be hearing wedding bells, I was going to be seeing them.
After the wedding was over my new wife and I drove off with tin cans trailing behind a big white JUST MARRIED sign. We had reservations at one of the most expensive restaurants in Baton Rouge (still to this day I couldn’t tell you which one) and a suite at the Hilton for well you know... Yeah, you know.
By the time we pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, I was tripping balls! There were at least forty, fifty, maybe even sixty people standing in the longest line ever waiting to get in this place. Kenzie and I were ushered in by some of the staff. Passing in front of the line I could hear people saying, “Look they just got married. Awe, they’re beautiful.”
My wife was a prim and proper for sure heartstopper and in that wedding dress she was a deity, a goddess if ever there was one. I myself was wearing a white tux looking like a measly million bucks in comparison, but with her on my side, it didn’t much matter. The crowd was in complete admiration.
When seated at our table I started fishing for a cigarette. (For some reason a motherfucker gots to smoke while he’s tripping.) And without delay I immediately lit up and from behind the smoke I was thinking, “God, she’s beautiful. Just look at her.”
Then someone lightly tapped me on the shoulder and said in the nicest, politest voice, “Excuse me, Sir, but there’s no smoking in here.”
I jerked around looking over my shoulder at the waiter and said, “What, no smoking? What, you mean I can’t smoke?!”
The waiter replied, “No Sir. I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask you to put that out.”
I said, “Shhhhhiiit, you can bring my food outside.”
I got up and left my wife just sitting there and went outside in front of the long line of people and took a seat on the edge of one of the pillars. It was blocked out at the bottom and made for a perfect seat to smoke.
The crowd was staring at me. I can’t imagine what they must have been thinking. I finished the cigarette and lit up another when my wife came out the front doors holding at least seven styrofoam boxes. I jumped to my feet to help her with the boxes, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
She said, “Baby, what’s wrong?”
I said, “Fuck this place and fuck these people’s food. Come on. We’re going to the Hilton and I’m going to eat at the Y.”
Amen.
“Job, Baby, are we still getting married?”
I said, “Yeah, of course, Baby. Uh, just give me a couple of hours to get a haircut and to up pick up the tuxedos, alright.”
She said, “Alright, I haven’t told my parents anything.”
I said, “Good Girl. Look I’ll be right there. Everything’s going to be fine.”
She said, “I love you.”
I said, “I love you too.”
I hung up the phone and rolled over to see my naked Becky sleeping on her stomach looking just as tempting as ever. I leaned over kissing her on the small of her back and said, “Baby, I have to go. I have to go get married.”
If I remember correctly, I think she said, “Have fun, Love.”
I showered and shaved, got my hair cut, picked up all the tuxedos and made it just in time. It was a small but beautiful wedding. Everything was perfect. Family and friends were all smiles. I slipped off into one of the bathrooms in my wife’s parents’ new quarter-million-dollar home and dropped two hits of acid. Yes, you heard me right. Acid. LSD. Lysergic acid diethylamide. I dropped two hits of white blotter on my wedding day. I wasn’t only going to be hearing wedding bells, I was going to be seeing them.
After the wedding was over my new wife and I drove off with tin cans trailing behind a big white JUST MARRIED sign. We had reservations at one of the most expensive restaurants in Baton Rouge (still to this day I couldn’t tell you which one) and a suite at the Hilton for well you know... Yeah, you know.
By the time we pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, I was tripping balls! There were at least forty, fifty, maybe even sixty people standing in the longest line ever waiting to get in this place. Kenzie and I were ushered in by some of the staff. Passing in front of the line I could hear people saying, “Look they just got married. Awe, they’re beautiful.”
My wife was a prim and proper for sure heartstopper and in that wedding dress she was a deity, a goddess if ever there was one. I myself was wearing a white tux looking like a measly million bucks in comparison, but with her on my side, it didn’t much matter. The crowd was in complete admiration.
When seated at our table I started fishing for a cigarette. (For some reason a motherfucker gots to smoke while he’s tripping.) And without delay I immediately lit up and from behind the smoke I was thinking, “God, she’s beautiful. Just look at her.”
Then someone lightly tapped me on the shoulder and said in the nicest, politest voice, “Excuse me, Sir, but there’s no smoking in here.”
I jerked around looking over my shoulder at the waiter and said, “What, no smoking? What, you mean I can’t smoke?!”
The waiter replied, “No Sir. I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask you to put that out.”
I said, “Shhhhhiiit, you can bring my food outside.”
I got up and left my wife just sitting there and went outside in front of the long line of people and took a seat on the edge of one of the pillars. It was blocked out at the bottom and made for a perfect seat to smoke.
The crowd was staring at me. I can’t imagine what they must have been thinking. I finished the cigarette and lit up another when my wife came out the front doors holding at least seven styrofoam boxes. I jumped to my feet to help her with the boxes, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
She said, “Baby, what’s wrong?”
I said, “Fuck this place and fuck these people’s food. Come on. We’re going to the Hilton and I’m going to eat at the Y.”
Amen.
