Anatomy of a Wedding

After a few seconds of loud cursing, a soaked Jerry Brisco, a bulging Pat Patterson, and a slightly inebriated Shane McMahon packed themselves into an elevator.
"You didn't tell me you only have two suits!" Shane complained, leaning back against the elevator's rear wall.
"I don't need that many! I assumed that I had a fresh one for tonight and go to the dry cleaner's tomorrow. How drunk did tanko over here get last night?!"
"Hey!" Pat protested. "I'm big-boned!" He tugged on his fly in vain hope of zipping it up. "Besides, who thought it would be cute to test Voltaire's Theory of Gliding Hotel Furniture?"
Shane blanched, "How MANY pieces of furniture?" He asked, shuddering.
"Well, we almost got the table out the window, but it was too heavy. You were too busy entertaining the bellhop with your rendition of 'I Will Survive.'" Jerry noted. "I'm not too wet, am I?"
"Is penicillin too moldy?" He retorted.
Pat shook his head, launching into a lecture, "Actually, penicillin is made out of a type of mold, but isn't it's sole component. You see..."
"SHUT UP, PAT!" Shane and Jerry barked. Pat returned to fumbling with the button on his jacket. Shane punched the room card into it's lock and stepped into Andrew's room.
Shane slapped his forehead when he noticed the place's topsy-turvy condition. Empty beer bottles littered the room, along with greasy pizza boxes and materials of unknown origins.
"Bill it to Titan," Jerry suggested.
Shane nodded, frantically looked about the room. Where was Andrew?!
Suddenly, the tremendous pile of pink, green, and orange colored silly string in the corner of the room let forth a scream.
"Andrew?" Pat asked, shaking him.
Andrew shrunk away from them, "The Smog Monster's eating me!" He shrieked, flailing his green arms. Jerry peeled away the stuff while Pat mouthed to Shane, "Did you hand him some..." and made a puffing motion.
Andrew immediately stopped screaming, "Oops!" He laughed, then stumbled as he climbed to his feet.
"What did you DO to yourself?" Shane asked.
"Humph?" He asked, his eyes drowsy.
"Get him in the shower, I'll go check on Steph." Shane said, dashing from the room.
"Yes sir!" Pat mock-saluted.
"Where're my pants?" Andrew asked as Shane closed the door.

An elegantly-dressed Linda McMahon greeted Shane at the door, "Your father went downstairs for some ice," Linda said, letting her son into the room, "How's Andrew?"
"In the pink...I mean, he's wearing the green...I mean he's peachy!" Shane blurted.
Linda gave him a sympathetic glance, "McMahon genetics." She muttered.
"How's the bride?" Shane asked, pushing a hand through his hair.
"She's in the shower." Linda said,
Shane grinned, grabbing the video camera sitting idle on the dresser set, "Is this thing on?"
"Shane, you shouldn't touch..."
"Oh yeah! I see the red light!" He swung forward, filming his own reflection in the mirror, "Booh-ya! Look at that handsome dude!" He laughed, posing.
Linda quietly rolled her eyes, "The camera is NOT a toy, Shane!"
"Spiderman! Spiderman! Does whatever a spider can!" He sang to himself, zooming the lens in an out.
Stephanie happened out of the shower at that moment; and Shane swung the camera around, capturing an intense close-up of Stephanie's goop-covered face.
"Ick!" Shane commented, zooming out.
"It's a mud mask," Stephanie informed him importantly, covering her face and turning away from him, sitting down at the dresser to brush out her hair.
"Heh! I have to get this!" He zoomed in on her face again. "Hey, does Andrew know he's marrying Swamp Thing today?"
Stephanie covered the lense of the camera with her hand, "STOP!" She demanded.
"Oh yeah? Mom said I could!"
"Shane!"
"Mommy! Make him stop!" Stephanie whined. And when he didn't, she tackled him, delivering a stunning blow to Shane's middle.
"Ow! Get off, you heifer!" Shane shrieked.
"Stop it! Right now!" An authoritative voice bellowed from behind the door.
"Daddy!" They chorused, righting themselves.
"Sorry Steph," Shane said, "You OK?"
"Sure, stranger." She said, picking herself up, "Could you help me, ma'am?" She asked her mother. Both McMahons gasped in horror. Stephanie held her pose for a moment longer, then burst into giggles.
"Don't do that!" Shane cried.
"Come in, Vince." Linda called.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes." His family groaned, taking their stations.
At Stephanie's command, a dry ice machine belched smoke, and at Shane's touch, a boom box screamed forth "NO CHANCE! THAT'S WHAT YOU'VE GOT!!", and Linda put a megaphone to her lips.
"Ladies and gentlemen! The CEO OF The WWF and Father of the Bride, Vince McMahon!!!"
Vince flung the door open, put his hands on his hips, nodded his head three times, and paced forward a bit. His family shut down their contraptions.
"Do we have to do this EVERY time you come into a room, daddy?" Stephanie asked.
Linda put her megaphone down, mumbling that she could have married a plumber.
Vince sighed, "You guys live with a legend. The least you can do is pay proper homage to him."
"We live with Larry Zbyzisco?" Stephanie asked.
"Let's get ready for the church, Steph," Linda said, ushering her daughter into the bathroom.
Vince vigorously slapped Shane on the shoulder, "So, how is Ms. Striesand doing?"
"Ah, she's..." Shane's cell phone rang, cutting them off. "Hello?" He squeaked into the phone.
"Shane, we have a problem." Pat told him.
"PINK!" Cried Andrew, "It's PINK!"
"Yes?" Shane said, trying to sound inconspicuous.
"Um...it seems that Andrew's a natural blonde...and the silly string has a dye in it...you know how you're not supposed to let it near open flames or cloth?"
"Yes?"
"MY HAIR IS PINK!!!" Andrew screeched.
"What?" Shane tried to stay as calm as possible.
"Pink. His hair is pink." Said Pat.
"Is the...situation noticeable?" Shane asked, aware of his Father's scrutiny.
"Only from Mier." Said Pat.
"My eyes!" Cried Jerry.
"Ummm...Make sure that doesn't happen again! Put a TARP on the ROOF..."
"Tarp? What in blazes are you...Oh, VINCE must be listening to you! You want us to put a hat on him?"
"That's correct."
"Well, we'll just put a hat on him and pretend nothing's wrong."
"Brilliant thinking." Shane retorted.
"Did you tell him about Streisand?"
"Um...negative."
"Criminy, Shane, that's like hiding an elephant in a desert!"
"I'll see you at the chapel. Bye-bye." Shane tersely hung up.
"Problems with the wedding?" Vince shrewdly asked.
"Ah...no! None at all!"
Vince grinned broadly, "Good! I knew I could trust you with a momentous event such as this, son."
"Sure, Pops." He half-squeaked. Stephanie and Linda exited the bathroom then, but Stephanie wasn't in her wedding dress.
"It's at the chapel," Steph explained. "It was custom-made in London!"
"OK!" Shane said, a might bit too enthusiastically, "Let's get married."
"Eew!" Stephanie said, "That sounds so...icky."
"Then let's YOU get married!" He said, rushing everyone out of the door.
"Where's Andrew?" Linda asked.
"Going out the back way," Stephanie said. "It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding."
Or bad luck for the brother of the bride to throw a shower the day before a wedding, Shane guiltily thought. Oh well, he amended mentally, nothing worse can happen now.
Could it?

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