The Greatest Wedding of All Time

THE GREATEST WEDDING OF ALL TIME

“I’m Robin Leach with ‘Death Styles of the Rich and Famous;’ With me is Zsa Zsa Gábor—”

“Hello, Dah-ling,” 

“Zsa Zsa and I are here for the event we’ve been forever waiting for: the wedding of the original pair that inspired Shakespeare’s ill-fated couple in ‘Romeo and Juliet’—”

“Oh look, Dah-ling, over there! Oh! Isn’t she simply fabulous! Come here Farrah, Dah-ling! Do you know Robin?”

“No—”

“Robin Leach, charmed, I’m sure. And what a fascinating time it is! Farrah Fawcett, here among the ghosts and ghouls far too soon most would say, and Zsa Zsa Gábor, finally attending a wedding as a guest rather than a participant!”

“Oh, do stop, Dah-ling,”

“Nice to meet you, Robin. Yes, my coming over did seem too soon, didn’t it? Could have been a bit later, but I’m sure everyone thinks that, don’t they? Did you hear about the day I arrived?”

“Tell us, Dah-ling, I’m absolutely living to hear it!”

“Well, there I was, battling cancer one minute, then the next standing before that rusty steel door—you know the one with the sliding peep hole, the one everyone who hasn’t come yet thinks of as a bright, golden feathery gate thing with trumpets and clouds and fat flying baby angels? We’ll, the peep hole opens, and I don’t know where I’m at—”

“Just horrible, Dah-ling!”

“—and this voice goes, ‘Whadda you want?’ Just like that, and I’m thinking back to pageants and the talk show circuit and magazine interviews and all that, and I blurt out, ‘The world to be a safe place for children,” and wouldn’t you know it, there’s Michael Jackson standing behind me at that rusty old door!”

“Farrah Leni Fawcett, spooks and spookettes!”

“Isn’t she just fabulous, Dah-ling!”

“So, Robin, Zsa Zsa, explain this venue for me. Seems kind of weird, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, Dah-ling!”

“Fantastic question, Farrah Fawcett, limp ladies and grisly gentlemen! A change in fashion for the Nevermore Nuptials! The opera house craze is so officially yesterday, completely old rotten hat. The really stinking rich have tired of the Phantom and his oppressive organ playing—”

“So plebeian, Dah-ling—”

“—and the absolute rage for anyone who’s anyone is now the Ghost Town Wedding! So shine up the bar, tune up the player piano, dust off your ten-gallon hat—”

“I wish Lee was here to help me understand all this western stuff!”

“Careful what you wish for, Dah-ling! Look what happened to Michael Jackson!”

“—in the spectacular glow of these antique, crystal chandeliers, Death Styles of the Rich and Famous never encountered a more extravagant collection of Who’s Who among the decaying departed—there’s Julius at the bar matching drinks with Alaric and Hannibal—”

“The stories they must be telling, Dah-ling!”

“I would have thought Hannibal would be trying to eat everyone here—”

“—(wrong Hannibal, Farrah) and there’s the French nobility clique—”

“The ones trying to look nonchalant while carrying their heads like the Heisman Trophy pose? Fabulous, Dah-ling!”

“That’s right, Zsa Zsa, and I see they’ve let Anne Boleyn join their happy crew! I don’t know why!”

“Who are those outlandishly dressed people in that group over there?”

“Ooo! They’re fabulous, Dah-ling!”

“That’s right, Zsa Zsa! The Russians! They come to every party here, debonair and dressed to the nines and put on a show of extravagance, but they always seem to spend a bit too much time at the bar and wind up acting like barbarians. I don’t know why! Nothing like the maharajahs—”

“The who?”

“—Maharajahs, Farrah, the fabulously wealthy royal princes of India; there you see some securing their elephants to the hitching post outside the saloon.”

“The black and white ones?”

“Seriously, Dah-ling?”

“No, Farrah, just to the left of those; those are the panda bears, part of the menagerie that accompanies the Chinese royalty, the Xia, the Shang, the Zhou, the Qin, the Han, the Xin, the Wu, the Jin, the Liang, the Wei, the Chen, the Tang, the Ming—”

“Too much, Dah-ling.”

“That’s right, Zsa Zsa, it does seem to be all glitter and gold, jade and silk, and I’m not even sure I’ve got them all named—”

“They do have nice dresses—”

“They’re called Long Pao, Farrah—”

“Whatever—”

“But look here! What a glorious moment! The man of the hour himself! The groom, Farrah, Marc Antony! What took so long to decide to tie the knot, Marcus? Everyone has been waiting for this wedding for centuries.”

“Salvate Robinus, expectabamus in lapidum volubilium adventure, sed tamdiu morati sumus, ut plurimum XXXVIII speciali loco uti decrevimus—”

“What?”

“Come on, Dah-ling, Latin is too dead even for ghosts!”

“Sorry! Greetings, Robin! We were waiting on The Rolling Stones to arrive, but they have delayed so long we have decided to use most of 38 Special instead.”

“Fabulous! One of the favorite bands for tying the knot in the world of the dead! They’re almost all here, the place is over-flowing with guests, what are we waiting for?”

“We’ll, Robin, Cleopatra and I wanted a very special person to officiate the ceremony. Here in this old west ghost town, we’re shooting for something wildly different. We wanted someone no one else thought of, in lieu of all the common options of popes and famous reformers, outlandishly wealthy kings or emperors, pharaohs and shamans, witch doctors and ship captains—”

“We’ll, Dah-ling, I think I’ve been married by almost everyone on your list!”

“—so, we’ve opted for the next person to arrive here. The next person to reach the rusty steel door. The next human to see the peep hole move aside and be greeted by the eyes of the underworld.”

“There you have it, zombos and zombis, the officiant of the greatest ghost wedding of all history! Absolutely fabulous! And who is it? When will they arrive?”

“Really, Dah-ling, when will we get this party started? I’m absolutely living to show off this dress and these jewels, and find a dance partner for the reception and after party. Seriously, Dah-ling.”

“Good questions, Ms. Gábor, but I’ll leave who it is unsaid, and as to when they’ll arrive, just as soon as they finish reading this story—”