In preparation for my best goth friend’s wedding, I took a visit to Marshall Fields the Tuesday afore last.

“Say, have you any gifts requested for the Sorrows-McDarkness marriage?” I queried at the cashiers desk.

“Why yes! Right this way ma’am.” The friendly assistant led me towards the culinary aisle. “Many a butcher’s knife and cleaver have been requested by the happy couple! The Misses has also showed a strong interest for candles, spice racks and an iron maiden from the Martha Stewart collection!”

“Oh, but we must be speaking of a different Sorrows-McDarkness couple!” I quipped. “The Lou C. Pher McDarkness and Merry-End Sorrows that I know would ne’er describe themselves as a happy couple! Why, they’re the first to admit, insist even, that they are the very epitome of dreadful disharmony!”

“A—hahahaha,” the friendly assistant and I chuckled concurrently.

“Believe it or not, I was once your age,” a portly store manager chimed as he passed our womanish giggle-fest. “I know about you kids and your puppy love!”

“The only puppy involved in this matrimony is three-headed Cerberus from the Underworld of Hades!” I quickly retorted.

Our hoots and guffaws rang throughout the entire culinary section, washing over the Men’s Tommy Hilfiger clothing subdivision, and spilling into Active Lady Wear. The portly manager, the friendly assistant and I stood bellowing with irrepressible laughter.

“A shout out to Greek Mythology! Oh, dear costumer, you are on a roll today!” the friendly assistant gasped between chortles. “Simply on a roll!”

“Well,” I managed to regain my composure in time for another quick sprinkle of wit. “Let us hope that come wedding day, we don’t see too many heads roll!”

And thus, our bodies shook with glee. Unfortunately, I had mistaken glee for an epileptic seizure. The portly manager was promptly rushed to Regions Hospital.

“With this ring of thorns, I thee mournfully wed,” the somber groom repeated after the Priest O’Death. Minutes later, a ghoulishly white bride sprang forth from a coffin placed in back of the Mortuariy. “I, Merry-End Sorrows reluctantly take thee, Lou C. Pher McDarkness, to throw and to perish, in sickness only. Till burden-some life do us part.”

“She looks so beautiful, kind of,” Whispered the portly manager seated to my right. “Thank God, or should I say thank Lou C. Pher, for my full recovery! I would have simply lived if I couldn’t make the wedding, being as I am the guest of honor.”

“You sure are getting into the spirit of this anti-wedding!” I nudged the portly manager, and pointed to the friendly assistant seated beside him. “And you should be thanking Lou C. Pher for allowing you to bring a special guest! She’s looking lovely as a rose!”

“Yes, love does creep upon us when we least expect it!” he sighed.

“You mean, like, when you have a seizure?”

“Maybe.”