[Pt. 13 of an ongoing text...]
Now an evil critic who has attended our wedding ceremony and is now at our reception but is not even dancing might remark: “The fact that all these ladies have wed their author Bryan does not move me, because I don’t believe that the institution of marriage is sacred. Polygamy is a good idea, that’s a no-brainer — but I can’t see the necessity in all this official documentation and solemn vow-making. Why engage in such a churchy ritual?”
Then you, O gentle reader, enter the story holding two guns bigger than Christ’s; and you answer this evil critic, after jabbing him with one of your firearms:
“What’s wrong — don’t you like pomp? And do you think that it is only a minor accomplishment to win the hearts of several succubi? I suspect the reason for your griping is that you are jealous. For if you yourself possessed, even for one moment, the author Bryan Ray’s animal magnetism, you’d marry anything that moves. But instead you stand in the corner here, pretending you’re some sorta philosopher. Why perform a traditional ceremony? Because it’s a blast — everyone’s half nude, and you get to watch a giant love-fest take place in real time. A better question is: What’s NOT to like! And why did we also invite the government to attend, as well as the filthy confession-box priest? Well, if you don’t pay off the government, then you’re gonna have to deal with the cops — sometime down the line, it’ll happen; so it’s better simply to keep the gears of bureaucracy well-oiled from the get-go: that way you won’t have any of your future honeymoons interrupted by state-thugs. And, as for the priest, it’s much smarter to keep your enemy right where you can see him. If he’s stuffing his face with appetizers at your reception, then your savior Jesus Christ can get a better shot at him. In fact, I bought these guns that I used to intimidate you just now at the same place that Christ’s own website recommends; and I made sure to upgrade the size and power of each firearm so that they’re significantly more lethal than the ones that Jesus uses. My reasoning is that I want to be THE ALPHA READER. That way, my interpretation trumps everyone else’s — especially yours, you stupid Lit Crit.”
Then you jab the critic again with your gun, just to punctuate what you said, before continuing to school the egghead:
“And let not yourself any longer think of marriage as something that has no purpose in the modern world. For when people fornicate casually, nothing comes of it: neither heirs to the throne, nor venereal disease. But when one weds one’s concubines, then important works get accomplished. For matrimony is about building. Once one weds, one begins to build. Lo, consider the myth at hand:
“Cinnamon, the first person of the author Bryan’s new triune bride (I’ll talk about his other new brides — Dove and Eyeshadow and Christina and Shirley — later, unless I forget), straightway upon entering into wedlock begins to build a small, roofed workshop for an art studio. And she just finished, right now, while I was berating you. Look: it stands freshly painted at the side of the family’s house. You can open the door and wheel the costume chest into it, and use it to store your sewing machine and umbrella; it also holds paints, brushes, and easels, and has a soundproof recording booth.
“The Virgin Mary also built something when she became Bryan’s bride. Are you and I even watching the same book!? It’s obvious that after initiating their courtship and then dating for a while, they escaped her former husband (I imagine him as a resentful, New Testament Deity) and consummated their love in the car, before, during, and after the drive-thru ceremony, along with her adult daughter Teresa, who entered wedlock as well — it was a uniquely memorable brunch-time. And after this successful three-way merger they attended the consubstantiation service with the aforesaid Cinnamon, plus her sisters Dove and Eyeshadow; and you saw how even the elevator attendant got swept up into the business. Christina, too — the eternal ‘woman in distress’; my God, what a number! Anyway, so, all this bliss gets consummated as well, and the sacrament is filmed in old-fashioned 3-D; so the Virgin Mary built an additional window in their ranch home’s basement, to help light the scene.
“And after they killed all those Devlin robo-butlers with Bryan’s ruthless prophetic attack-sermon, did you notice how Dove, the second damsel of the Trinity, set to rebuilding better butlers, which she then appointed to serve at the author’s manor (see that grey castle, way up there on top of the hill? — it has the prettiest indoor garden) — she never would have done this if Bryan hadn’t married her.
“Then Eyeshadow built a new gate door for the privacy fence that they keep around their Torah. She also built the best parts of the Torah itself. (Don’t tell the orthodox maidservants! — they might ditch their current vocation, as we keep urging them to, and accept our proposal.)
“And Teresa built the first army-tank without a continuous tread or caterpillar track — instead, it has huge spiked wheels — so that she and all the wives and her mother and the author can have a safe place to make love in, during the next World War.
“Even Bloody Mary Magdalene and my new mystery-wife Christina, along with the lift-girl, after the latest grand consummation, joined their skills together and built a pulley system with thick hemp ropes, which can lift crates of spirits from the downstairs to the upstairs.
“Moreover, Prunikos built a rifle rack for the ark… Lilith the Abbess built an additional bedroom onto the house… And many other precious things got handmade that would otherwise never have existed.
“Therefore, instead of carping and murmuring against our author and his brides, we should praise the gods of spacetime for inventing death and lust, and for bestowing upon humankind this gift of matrimony. They manufactured every spouse with prongs and outlets, and they gave them something nice to do with themselves as well — for such matters are not unlike electrical cords: they can repeatedly be plugged in and unplugged, without much damaging the unit.”
Now the beautiful thing about this harangue that you, dear reader, just delivered to the face of that critic, in front of the entire crowd of guests at my group-wedding reception, is that it caused this person’s soul to stir back aflame:
Thus, as soon as you conclude your prepared speech above, the critic rises up romantically slowly from the place where he has tripped backward over the railing, into the garden; and, in place of the frump who’d been acting the part till now, there is a new soul who’s the woman of your dreams — she’s playing this role now, after the reformation. Without explanation, the old stodgy academic is now a brilliant genius starlet, who boasts a physique that you find naturally attractive (to achieve this special effect, we simply swapped out the actors during the match cut: it’s just a bit of movie magic) — and she asks you to dance.
This is the first time that our story’s “critic” has ever gleaned how fun a party can be. Until meeting you, the character would only attend this type of affair so as to write a column berating it for the local news rag.
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