By Ford O'Brien

Ford awoke in a cold sweat, sitting up and gasping for breath, his pillow wet with tears. “Egad, Lord above, how much loneliness can a soul bear?” He thought. “How much longer can I endure?”

Taking no heed from the original sin of Adam in the Garden of Eden, Ford likewise decided to take his fate into his own hands. It was time to hit the apps. With his admirably sharp wit, winning charm, and handsome figure, Ford found no trouble in procuring companionship for the evening. Her name was Melanie.

Meanwhile...

Melanie rushed to fix her hair and finish her make up. A week in Beaumont and two dates already? She was late, but no matter! Surely this Ford would show politeness and be fashionably late as well. What sane person would care about showing up on time?

In fact, Melanie had been late to a date the night before—at this very same bar! “Are these suitors all the same?” Melanie wondered despondently. “I hope tonight fares better than the last.”

Making her way to their rendezvous, butterflies began to dance and flit about in her stomach with anxious delight. What does he look like? Will he be pleased by her countenance? “No, Melanie. Away with such flippant thoughts. He will surely be delighted by your beauty.”

At last, she had arrived. Melanie espied Ford from afar, as she strode into destiny. Sucking down a deep breath, she made her way inside.

Shortly afterward…

Ford sat at the table twiddling his thumbs, wondering what a guy had to do to get a beer around here. Little Woodrow’s, this place was called. It was a popular purveyor of potions to dispossess the local peoples of their parched dispositions. As our hero was gazing around, his eyes landed on his partner for the night and—as he would come to find out—the rest of his life.

All others in the establishment ceased their conversations immediately. The lights dimmed. Birds began to chirp outside. Bees began to buzz through the air with anticipation. Far-off trumpets brayed with joy at the meeting of this fateful tryst. Our heroine’s gold brown eyes shone in the moonlight, chocolate tresses of hair overlaying her flawless skin.

He rose from his chair, gliding over to embrace his newfound love. Whether it was the gin and tonics, or a trick of the moonlight, Ford O’Brien proclaimed that very night that one day Melanie Zschappel would be his wife.

Presently…

God, in His infinite wisdom and loving kindness, did not let our protagonists squander this wonderous opportunity. Instead, Providence extended its hand, as so many times before in the history of humanity. Love has won! Of which this marriage is just a reflection, the true portrait being the life and works of Jesus Christ.

Amen!

Registry