HOW I HAPPENED TO GET MARRIED
by F.R. Duplantier
ST. LOUIS/ Behind The Headlines --
It all began innocently enough. In an unexpected
gesture of solidarity, some buddies of mine offered to
treat me to a night of epic intoxication. It was quite an
evening, I'm told, and one I ought to remember; still,
at daybreak, I was ready to call it a night. It was at this
point, however, that things took a strange turn.
As it happened, my girlfriend of many years had
not been invited to the festivities just then concluding.
To compensate for that oversight, my buddies had
arranged to throw a surprise party for her -- that very
morning, oddly enough. Odder still, it was to be a
formal affair.
Some men have to be persuaded to get married;
others have to be tricked.
I hadn't realized that houses of worship could be
hired out for parties, but the place was packed. The
conspirators had done a marvelous job of passing the
word around: everyone we knew was there, including
several out-of-town relatives and even the priest from
her old parish. But not one of them remembered to
shout "Surprise!"
They probably were taken aback by her extraordi-
nary attire. It must have been a recent purchase, for I
had never seen her in this long white dress before.
Unfortunately, in her eagerness to show it off, she
evidently had neglected to hem it properly, leaving the
excess fabric trailing far behind.
I was certain that we'd caught her off guard. I
could tell from the look in her eyes as she came
towards me down the aisle that she hadn't expected to
find me there. The rest is pretty much a jumble,
though I do vaguely remember the priest offering me
something. Would I take this, that, or the other thing?
"Yeah, sure." Anything offered free of charge I gen-
erally accept.
I woke up the next morning in some hotel room
with a splitting headache. My girlfriend was there,
too, in a strange, triumphant kind of mood. We were
on some sort of vacation.
We had a great time, but I was anxious to get
home and back into my old routine. We hailed a taxi
at the airport and, when we reached my place, I
invited her in for a nightcap. She must have twisted
her ankle getting out of the cab, for she insisted that I
carry her in. I certainly didn't object to her staying
over that night, what with the bad ankle and all, but
weeks went by and she was still there. She seemed to
have no intention of leaving. Worse still, she devel-
oped an annoying habit of rearranging the furniture. In
response to my protest, she replied, "But that's what
married women do."
Imagine my shock. I'd had no idea she'd gotten
married. She'd been hanging around my place for two
weeks or more, and any minute now her enraged
husband was liable to come bursting through my front
door, shotgun blazing! That was fifteen years and six
children ago, and she still hasn't gone home. I just
hope her husband doesn't mind.
The Duplantiers celebrate their 15th wedding anni-
versary on October 18th.
Duplantier is the author of Politickles: Limericks Lampooning
the Lunatic Left (Merril Press, 2000), available at The Conservative Bookstore and other online locations.
Published by permission.