JUNGLE LOVE. I THINK I WANNA KNOW YA ( know ya)

So, congrats to my friends Dave and Mary on their recent engagement, just one short week ago. Dave is a shaved head daddy, who gets my humor...so you know he is a genius. Mary is a sinewy gazelle....often seen leaping through the African savanna ....( best imagined against the backdrop of a setting...cherry red sun.) I could really use an opportunity for an open bar and disco, and REALLY pushed for a wedding in the next month or so......but they INSIST on being douche-y....and waiting a year. Whatever. When is it RYAN"S turn? huh? WHEN DOES HE HAVE A SAY!!!!???!!!!

I joked....( sort of)..that Russ and I choreograph a dance routine, for their reception. It would be abstract....modern. INTERPRETIVE!!!! Our angular, lithe movements...telling the story of their first date, their courtship, the ups..the downs.....we may even work in the death of Michael Jackson...BECAUSE WE ARE THAT FUCKING IN TOUCH WITH THE ARTS!!!! There would definitely be chiffon, in our costumes.

In lieu of a reception performance...I have decided to give them the gift of interpretative dance, at the actual ceremony. ( fade in....)

A church, bathed in white. Delicate flowers, early afternoon sunlight. I know that both of their families are cool..but this scenario plays best...if the church is filled with hardcore conservatives, prim and proper blue bloods, and up tight republicans. Mary just finished her march down the aisle. The 80 year old church organist is playing the last piece of music. Dave looks at Mary. Mary looks at Dave.....

BOOM!!!

Lights out. The church is dark. Tiki torches line the aisle. The 80 year old church organist disappears through the floor, in a fog from the smoke machine I rented for 50.00 an hour. She is replaced with a bone through the nose, African Shaman. Head dress made of dead birds and jungle ferns. His onyx black skin, shines in the orange glow from the torches. He plays his bongo drums with a primitive know how. Thats when Russ and I, bust in. We are nearly nude, save for the teensie tiny leopard print loin cloth. We are animal......primal. We are all pelvic thrusts, and throaty war cries. We are dancing down the aisle, only stopping to really get a good thrust into some poor, wedding goers face. We disappear through a side door. Shaman is replaced with organ player. Torches are gone. Lights are up. A state of panic....and....what the shit just happened. Screaming. Crying. Everyone is confused. The best part?

Mary has a straight face, as if nothing happened.

I need mental help. I know.