Cue the organ music. The heavy wooden doors open to a blinding white vision and a flurry of red petals and black satin strips.

His hands are sweating, grasping at the air as he watches the bride, swathed in white tulle and lace, marching down the aisle like a windup doll spun out of control. The elaborate altar behind him engulfs the tiny chapel. Rays of multicolored lights pour from the stained glass windows above, flickering on his face and that of the priest's, the solemn, balding demon that will condemn him to a life of commitment and routine "in the name of God and all that is holy."

She approaches him, her scent of Chanel Chance and baby powder lingering in the thin air, suffocating him. Coughing and Kodak camera flashes steal his attention. The rows are crammed with great aunts sniffing into cotton handkerchiefs, college buddies taking swigs of liquor from flasks tucked into their blazer pockets, an ex girlfriend fiddling with her sequined purse, a fictitious smile plastered on her face... another camera flash capturing the still moment. He sweats, the memory of the night before gripping him... the stripper, oh so sleek; the alcohol... And in the incandescent flash of purple polka dots and bronze crucifixions they're gone, vanished into the blinding flash of the camera.

He grins, all teeth, pointed like spears against the enemy. Shaking hands rise to her face, proceeding to lift her cream colored embroidered veil. He can make out the luscious ruby lips underneath, her skin soft like petals, powdered pale as a Chinese magnolia. She opens her mouth to speak against the stony silence but she is voiceless. With bejeweled fingers she caresses his cheek, sending freezing shivers down his spine. She grips her bouquet of blood red roses and black satin ribbon and turns towards the altar, towards the priest.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join these two souls in holy matrimony..." The priest drones on, his glance never darting from his leather bound Bible. The tuxedo clad dwarf with the shaved head maintains his lonely stance by the side, holding the pillow with the gold rings up above his head. His eyes are fixed on the miniscule flower girl flaunting her assets in a low cut lace mini dress. Hey, hey Tiny, he whispers.

But to the heavily breathing brides groom there is only a voice in the distance. He peers into the dark abyss of his bride's eyes, his gaze locked forever on her hypnotic stare. His emotions crash with his thoughts, dying on impact.

The bride's lips move with mechanized speed, softly chanting, Holy Mother of God guide me in this quest, allow my vows to retain their sacred meaning... and if his gaze wonders, give me strength, give me insight, for I will kill him, I will kill him. Her fingernails dig into the bouquet. Bestow your divinity upon me, help me cope, strengthen my reign on him, she pauses, turning to her stiff companion.

The priest narrows his eyes and carefully enunciates the standard vows, "and do you take this woman, to love and to hold, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, ‘til death do you part?"

He can only faintly fathom running, but in a quick breath he purges the binding words at his bride, the ones that were growing stagnant in his mouth, "I do."

"And do you take this man, to love and to hold, for richer or for poorer... 'TIL DEATH DO YOU PART?"

Holy Mother guide me, blessed is your guidance over me... "I do."

"Then by the power vested in me..."

And it is done. They kiss to the silent cheers of the dwarves, the crucified Jesus and the Holy Mother icon.