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Opposite the men, you would have undoubtedly noticed the aforementioned maids—Sophie and Ms. Waboombas included—as they stood quietly and beautifully, their faces framed beneath the broad brims of dainty, veiled, hats. In their attractive, delicately gloved hands, each woman cradled bouquets of red and white roses accented with baby’s breath. Their lovely feet were adorned with high-heels, the straps of which wound provocatively up their calves almost to the knee, while the rest of their bodies remained ornamented only with the gifts God and/or genetics and Doctor Pflemmel had provided them.

Had you been studying the maids, you would also have seen that even Mimsi, who Wisper had graciously included as one of her coterie, had gone native, and didn’t seem bothered by all the male attention in the least—possibly because she was getting so much more notice from a rather stunning woman in the third row.

For the men, this must have seemed to them what it would be like living in the Playboy mansion—or even better—since they didn’t have to compete with an aging Hugh Hefner in his robe and slippers, carrying a seemingly endless supply of lotion bottles. The looks on their faces said bliss, coupled with rapture, wrapped in a blanket of joy, and I imagine they intended to make the most of it at the wedding banquet afterwards.

Fortunately, none of the ladies seemed to mind.

“I could tell they were made for each other the minute Wisper started talking about him,” Petal, the maid of honor, said, barely pausing to catch her breath. She might have been speaking to my brother Daniel, my best man, across from her. But it could have been anyone she was talking to—or no one. “There was just something in her voice, and I would know, because every man in town has always thought she was sooooo pretty, and been after her like ants on cookies at a picnic, and since we used to share a room together when we were little, she would tell me all the time everything she felt about every one of them, and it wasn’t until she met Corky that I realized, ‘wow, this one doesn’t sound like a total jerk’, and we would lie there at night, and she would be talking about him, and I would be talking about this guy I knew from school who was kind of cute, and I’d be disappointed as we masturbated that her guy was getting her so much more excited than mine was getting me…”

Daniel nearly fainted before the ceremony and had to be supported throughout by Morgan.

Had you been at the chapel, that day, no matter how hard you looked, you wouldn’t have seen Grandfather on either side of the aisle, since he had declined to attend. But of greater importance to me, Helena and Pjuter were there, seated happily on the bride’s side so as to be, as Homer Nikkid would have wanted it, comfortable. Even Mervin Wosserman had come, sitting on the groom’s side with Mrs. Abrososa and one of her many male children; one that, at nearly forty, had not yet married, nor had children, nor ever considered same, if you get my drift.

Had you come, as so many did, that day, and perhaps arrived a little late, you would have walked up the aisle, between the clothed, and the unclothed, toward the altar and seen Wisper’s fabulous, naked behind standing nervously beside mine as we faced both pastors, Winterly and Summersby—he clothed, she unclothed—each reading out their individual sections of the marriage ceremony.

“Do you,” Summersby said, finally nearing the end of the ritual, “Corcharan Wopple-see-down…”

“Whoop-uls-duhn,” Wisper and I quietly corrected simultaneously, then smiled at one another. “Jinx, you owe me a coke,” Wisper said.

“Oops,” Summersby said, looking genuinely embarrassed. “We went over it a hundred times and I still screwed it up.”

“You’re going to have to get used to that,” I told my future wife.

“I look forward to it,” she replied and smiled, reaching out to squeeze my hand with hers, which I dutifully squeezed back.

“Don’t let go of it this time,” she