- Old Butch and Johnny Lips can stop living in sin (presuming that the Aryan nation can come up with enough cigarette cartons for Johnny’s dowry, that is.)
“I haven’t felt this beautiful since I tore off that girl’s skin and danced around in it.”
You don’t even have to use your real name. For example, I’ve just had The Cookie Monster ordained. Do you want to get married? Looking for a cheap, accessible minister to officiate the ceremony? Buy a Cookie Monster puppet, put on your best Monster voice (the marriage will not
be recognized if you don’t do the voice) and he will gladly preside over your wedding. Send a scan of the filled-out marriage certificate to
, and it will be returned to you, signed and ready to file.
“No need be formal. You call me just Reverend Monster.”
No further steps required (although there is a small, onetime fee of two cookies, to be fed to the puppet post-ceremony). If you’re worried that the records office will dispute it, dress a small child in a Sesame Street T-shirt when you file the certificate; only the most heartless bastard would be able to utter the words “but the cookie monster doesn’t exist” to the kid’s face.
“Well I just can’t bear to break that kid’s heart. To hell with the law: Marriage approved!”
Need to get married in a hurry and don’t want to bother with that whole Judge/Minister/Unemployed Ship’s Captain Gauntlet? Just find the nearest homeless man, and offer to buy him a pint of Red Grape Mad Dog 20/20 (the flavor will be important; Red Grape has the highest alcohol content and looks the least girly when you’re downing it as fast you can, trying to out-race the muscle response of your own gag reflex) if he’ll just fill out this short form you’ve got open on your cell phone, and then sign a piece of paper. Drop it in a mailbox and BAM! You’re officially man and wife with whatever kind of woman agrees to be married by a guy who lives behind the Chipotle and whose first name is barking.