Somewhere around the fifth chapel of love, you were ready and willing to head in and perform the ceremony. You knew your lines by heart and thought it hysterical.

Sam was growing tired of the whole extravaganza. Your money fund was shrinking and you were 1,000 miles away from home. His temperament grew short and every annoyance that could be evaded in normal circumstances was multiplied ten-fold.

You had your first argument as a married couple. You were tired of his attitude, and you let him know.

Your natural reaction was to laugh, sometimes not always at the appropriate moment. You bellowed. But this hit some nerve in Sam and sent him flying in a rage. Some pitch that pinched and became the last straw of this long trip.

Sam yelled and yelled. It was only a matter of days that you had been married, so his argument was circular and unfounded. In his anger, he dug into his pocket for the keys to the car, got in, started it up, and drove off.

Was this real? You thought to yourself. He drove down the road, swerving haphazardly while you were left in the dusty pavement. What the hell happened? The Elvis impersonator minister came out of the chapel to comfort you since he witnessed the entire spectacle. You and Elvis sat at the curbside staring out into the empty landscape.

The End