Bride of Ka-Ka Pants.

Sweet Jesus, don't I hate weddings.
Especially Catholic ones.
Awful, just fucking awful.
Worst thing you can ever subject yourself to.
Long stretches of boring, followed by some sappy shmaltz, and then it's time for the electric slide.


Lenny's wedding was no different.

Well, except that he decided to liven things up in his own interminable style.

You guessed it, at the very end of the ceremony, Lenny shamelessly, deliberately, and noisily shit his pants.

Needless to say, his lovely bride, Maggie, was not pleased.

Oh well, tough nuts for her, she picked him.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves here, that's how the story ends.

This is how it all began....


It was 2 years ago, and Lenny and I were driving towards the graveyard with a trunk full of fireworks to throw at the new crop of zombies.

The blue Knight Rider swooshing light on the front of the car was going full speed, Lenny was sitting on newspaper, the windows were cracked wide open to let out the smell, and some Wang-Chung was blaring on the stereo

Sure, life had fallen into a routine, but it was pleasant enough.

It's cliche, but we didn't know how good we had it, or how free we were.

Ah, youth.

So anyway, we stop at Labonzas, the convenience store down the hill from the cemetary to get some beer and snacks.

Convenience stores are holy shrines for me.
Freaky candies you thought they stopped making, like the Willy Wonka Scrunch bar, locally made fudge and shrink wrapped pickled sausages lovingly labeled with logos made in MSPaint, and best of all the comics rack.

I deliberately factor in 20 minutes pissing away time on zombie night for perusing the comics rack.

The comics rack at Labonzas is simply magical.

The Needful Things of comics, except without the Faustian deals.

See, they don't just carry the new stuff, but they unload the old comics from their dead kid's vast collection, and sell it all for peanuts.

Yellowed copies of Dial "H' for Hero, House Of Mystery, Tales From The Crypt, 50's MAD, Weird War, y'know, the good shit.

They pile up as much as will fit on that spindly little rack, and I buy it up as fast as they can unload it.

I know what you're thinking, why be fascinated with old horror comics when I blow up zombies in real life?

Well, the sad fact is that real zombies aren't as good as in comics.
They're just...well, sad.

People's grandparents and shit...and they're all messed up and don't move so good..you get the idea. Pretty grim. Not scary at all.

But, they blow up good.

Especially with the M-80's.

Anyhoo, I'm being the definition of the savvy shopper, trying to juggle how many cans of beer I want to compromise for how many House Of Mystery, and visa versa, when I hear this chick laughing.

I don't remember the Labonzas having a daughter, nor do I remember them hiring on a new girl, so I turn and look, and yes indeed there is a girl at the counter, and she's chatting it up with Lenny and laughing at his jokes.

A girl!

Laughing!

At Lenny's jokes!

Lenny's awful anti-Semitic mongoloid jokes!

While he's got shitty pants!

"Dear DC Comics, have I got a plotline for you...", forms in my thought bubble as I put back all the comics, and get a whole case of Coors instead.


15 minutes later, I'm sitting in my folding lawn chair at the graveyard, beer in the cooler, waiting for the sun to set, and totally unenthused about tonight's zombie blasting, because Lenny has brought his woman along, and she absolutely will not shut up about her fucking time at college.

Which reminds me why I prefer whores.

Thank god for the beers.

Shame I didn't buy any comics though, the zombie crop was pretty slim.
A couple car accident kids, and an executed serial killer.
A fat slow one.

Anyhoo, long story short, zombie nights quickly ended, Lenny and I drifted apart, and I became a bitter scarred hitman for something to do.

Which brings us up to the wedding.

Punches were thrown by the father of the bride, women cried, some fat stupid uncle who saw fit to include himself in the fray fell on the cake, and I sat back and read my comics.
I remembered 'em this time.

Which Is why I mentioned 'em earlier.

Foreshadowing y'see.
Good stuff eh?

Oh, and then the ninjas showed up.

Sweet Jesus, don't I hate weddings.
Especially Catholic ones.
Awful, just fucking awful.
Worst thing you can ever subject yourself to.
Long stretches of boring, followed by some sappy shmaltz, and then it's time for the electric slide.
And then the ninjas show up.

Well, you've no doubt been to a wedding, so you know how the rest goes, no need to bore you with the details.

Anyhoo, that was months ago.

After a protracted honeymoon and settling in period, Lenny finally finagled a guy's night out.
He insisted it be at that new snooty French/Venutian place in town.
Chez Labelles.
Gah, sounds like it'll be awful.

THE END