We arrived at the church and were met outside by Cheri’s dad, the pastor. There is no way to describe what our faces must have looked like as we stared at this man. I’m certain our gaping mouths were no match for our unblinking befuddlement.
Cheri’s Dad (Sticking out his hand): Hi! Nice to meet you!
It took us a minute to take his hand because we were absolutely stricken in our tracks. The man had three perfectly spaced moles on his forehead. Actually, they looked like three big pencil erasers stuck to his head just above his eyebrows. This day just couldn’t get any weirder! We walked up to the church, staring at the back of his head. I guess we were waiting to see if a big hand would jump out of his hair and wave at us.
Allen (Whispering): Don’t those things on his forehead look exactly like nipples?
OhmyGOD! Yes! The mother had three breasts, the father had three nipples on his forehead!
Ang: Do you think there is a chemical waste dump or a nuclear power plant very near here?
The ceremony was about to begin. Cheri and Dave faced one another. It was very romantic the way they gazed into each other’s eyes. I stood behind Cheri and Gayle stood behind me. On the groom’s side, our local weatherman, Joe, stood behind Dave and behind Joe stood Dave’s older brother. Dave’s three small sons from a previous marriage were gathered around Dave and Cheri. The boys were three, five, and seven. They were very cute in their little suits.
The church was fairly empty. Hairy Eyeball Hans, who turned out to be Cheri’s brother, sat in the back pew and promptly fell asleep, filling the sanctuary with a loud, reverberating snoring sound. Cheri’s mother, who looked every bit as unpleasant and uncomfortable as she did when we found her searching for her pantyhose, waddled to the front row and plunked down. Immediately she started howling to the snoring son to pipe down.
Cheri’s Mom: SHUUUUT UUUUUUPPPPP!!!!!!
Joe and I were making eye contact and trying to keep a straight face. And just when we didn’t think things could get any worse, Dave’s three-year-old son sat down at the pastor’s feet and started rocking back and forth, forward and back, until his little butt was pointed straight in the air on the backward rock. After the second or third time, a large BRRRRAAAAAAPPPPP! Exited from this wee child’s bottom! The likes of which I haven’t heard since a college frat party! This, of course, sent the other two boys into absolute paroxysms of giggles. Joe and I could take no more, and we both fell to the floor in our own fits of laughter.
Imagine, if you will, a church sanctuary filled with this insanity. The matrons of honor wearing the same dress, except one of them is laid out on the floor, howling with laughter. The pastor with the three perfectly spaced, nipple-like moles on his forehead. The snoring, freaky-eyed Hans Klopek brother in the back row. The raspy, shrieking mother (“SHUUUUTTT UPPPPPP!!!!”) with the three breasts and a finger growing out of her butt. The farting child. The best man collapsed on the floor with tears of laughter streaming down his face. And all the while Dave and Cheri are unfettered by the hysteria around them. Now, THAT is love for ya.
I wish I could remember what we bought them for a wedding present.
