Amazombia

  Chapter 20.

  Riley's wedding day was ruined by zombies. Which means my wedding day was also ruined by zombies. So now that we got the bottom line out of the way, let me recount how it all came into play.

  On second thought, let me just dive right into the zombies. The pastor is an Elvis impersonator, or at least was. He's dead. A zombie. Grey skin bulges out of a white jumpsuit with gold sequins. I should have been a sequin salesman in Vegas. The Elvis pastor, I don't know if I should address him as 'Pastor', 'Pastor Elvis', or 'Fake Elvis'. So I go with the socially acceptable, but slightly derogatory acknowledgement of ‘weary eye kept on zombie.'

  I'm getting married by a zombie, dressed as Elvis. Of course I'm going to keep an eye on him. His dog collar anti-biting thingie is disguised behind two big lapels. His slicked Elvis pompadour is legit, as are the mutton chops. He even got the sneer down, but I attribute that to rigor mortis. The real Elvis is back from the dead. But tickets to see him down at the Riviera are through the roof! Plus who goes to the southern end of the strip these days? Its zombie fortified with nine essential varieties of zombie.

  I haven't seen Riley all day. We're trying to make this as traditional a wedding as possible, but I know she'll be perfect. Me? I make do with a rented tux. My best man is my boss Mo, the Iranian guy who will later sell me into slavery. Yeah, that guy.

  Renee is her maid of honor, and this Tommy bozo is one of the guests who I had to shell out $17.50 for at the Olive Garden where we're having our reception later. He didn't even RSVP, just shows up. He better not try ordering any extra garlic sticks. He sits with all of Riley's friends, and it looks like an Amazon pow-wow on her side. Her side of the gazebo is packed. On my side I got Zombie Spike Grindstone, and a few guys from ESPN doing an expose on him. New reality show. Did I mention my best man later sells me into slavery?

  Ma and Sissy are here, too. Only they ain't talking to me, and they actually sit over on Riley's side because Sissy went to school with Riley's little sister...who flew in from New York.

  The bridal marching music starts. Riley's father walks her down the aisle. She's radiant. He's sullen. He caught the red eye flight out of New York. He gave me a quick look over the night before and said to Riley, "Meh, you could do worse." I didn't know if he was addressing me or Riley, so I flew into a rage. But my boss assures me her dad was talking about me, and not to me, so all is good now. Riley could do way worse than me.

  The ceremony starts. I'm proud as a peacock. Under a large white gazebo, the sun is shining, perfect day.

  Pastor Zombie Fake Elvis has all eyes on him. He looks solemnly at everyone. And then, the mumbling starts...

  "Dearly (groan) bevuded (groan)"

  Then all I hear behind me are variations of:

  "Huh?"

  "What'd he say?"

  "Speak up!"

  "Zombies can talk?"

  "We. Can't. Hear. You!"

  This little mouse of a man, the Director of Ceremonies, comes over and squats behind the podium that Pastor Elvis is chained to. He starts fiddling with a lap top and some wires behind the podium. Elvis is raging against his shackles and groans loud. Behind me I hear the chorus start up again:

  "Huh?"

  "What'd he say?”

  "Speak up!"

  "Zombies can't talk!"

  and "We. Still. Can't. Hear. You."

  The Director of Ceremonies restarts the recording. He speaks into the mike on the podium, and says, "Sorry about that!" real loud. There's a lot of feedback and hiss, just about everyone goes to grab their ears, including zombie Elvis. But he has the big lapels, so he just goes into a rage again until the little mouse sneaks off the dais.

  The bridal marching music starts again, and Riley is yanked away from my side as her dad pulls her down the aisle. She's tripping over her gown (on loan from MGM. A beautiful gown, totally makes her stomach look like she's hiding a basketball). Then he marches her up the aisle again. She beams me that million watt smile. Her dad is still red eyed.

  The recording begins once the music ends. "Dearrry bevufffffeeeeeddddddd....Eeeeeeekkkk. Turn tape over. Boop…The Grand Canyon. Majestic. Mystical. Deadly. Our first stop is the boulder we like to call 'The boulder that killed all of Boy Scout Troop 51. Boop."

  Zombie Elvis is gracefully swinging his arms from left to right as this recording plays. The mouse comes rushing back on stage.

  I excuse myself from Riley's side. "Just give me a minute."

  I duck behind the podium. The mouse is sweating. I'd be sweating too for the money I paid for this shindig.

  He's shaking nervously as zombie Elvis rails against his chains, clearly upset by the mouse's proximity. And mine too. He's trying to grab me too.

  "Hey chief," I say, "You got this under control?"

  "Oh yes, yes, thank you for your patience. Elvis ate my brother, you know."

  "Today?"

  "No, the other day. I came up from the canyon because we use Elvis up there too. For our Ghostly Tour of the Grand Canyon? It's quite entertaining, good group discounts."

  "I'm sure," I say.

  "I must have mixed the files up. No internet, you know? Now it’s back to sharing everything on floppy disks...which one...which one...here! This is the one. We're on."

  "Now you're sure it's the Elvis voice? I paid extra for that, you know."

  "I'm sure it is. Thank you again."

  I get out from behind the podium, and then duck back in, "You think maybe we can get a deal on the tour, with all this mix up?"

  "Oh, absolutely, the touring business has been down since...you know."

  "Oh, sure it has," I say.

  He gives my hand a tight squeeze, "Just see me after the ceremony."

  The recording starts again. Riley's dad grabs her and they fly back down the aisle and march back up again. I'm really hoping the baby doesn't inherit grandpa's OCD. This time, it's the Elvis recording, and Pastor Fake Elvis comes to life (or whatever happens in the zombie mind when they start doing stuff they used to do when they were alive).

  "Dearly beloved. Hound dogs. We're gathered here today to take part in the most time honored tradition (zombie Elvis reaches for the heavens) of the human family to join this man (zombie Elvis strikes a karate pose) and this woman (he strikes a different karate pose) in the state of holy matrimony. We remind them that they are performing an act of complete faith (zombie Elvis starts dancing to the left) each in the other (he dances to the right); that the heart of their marriage will be the relationship they create. In a world where faith often falls short of expectation (he does a split and we here a sickening crack of his limbs. The mouse rushes up and helps him up. Zombie Elvis fights him off), it is a tribute to these two who now join hands and hearts in perfect faith."

  "Do you STATE BRIDES NAME (zombie Elvis thrashes at the air) take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

  "I do," Riley says, she smiles at me.

  "And do you STATE GROOMS NAME (zombie Elvis again thrashes at the air) take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

  "I do," I say.

  "Then, by the powers invested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

  We kiss.

  And then chaos ensues.