The talk becomes formal. She hands me her bouquet. My paradise comes with leather, I say. She signs the forms. We’re married now, she sighs.

It was five hours after I’d consumed the five-hour energy drink and I said, I’m like Cinderella at midnight, just as I tumbled to the ground.

I keep hitting the hint button playing Bejeweled. Now she no longer respects me. I tell her it’s nothing. But she says I’m a cheater at life.

He says, I stopped thinking a while ago. There are murmurs of approval among the assembled. They hail him a hero. He says, I don’t think so.

We compare stories of loss and then the inevitable booze, and then we search for love and we don’t find it, because man we got really drunk.

The box makes no sense but it has a barcode so I buy it. I take it home and try to figure it out. I scan the barcode. My phone laughs at me.