Wedding -- Bliss or What?

   Big ferns are gathered around the alter, crowding it.  Greenery is everywhere.  Sunlight filters in faintly.  The air is humid and still.  The minister, dressed in khaki and wearing a pith helmet and a gold-rimmed monocle, waits to one side, stroking his mustache and squinting into the distance.

   A disc entitled, One Week in the Jungle, is putting out exotic squawks, insect noises, and low, far off growls and grumblings.  A faint beating of drums can also be heard.

   The friends and family gather and take it all in.  The air is thick and the men are loosening their collars and women are adjusting straps and pushing hair behind their ears.  Someone on the groom’s side starts singing in a low voice, “A weem a weh, A weem a weh.”  He repeats it.  The date of the guy next to him joins in, “In the jungle, the mighty jungle,” and cracks up. 

   Everyone around them laughs and then tries to regain the composure due this solemn ceremony.  But then, on the bride’s side of the aisle, they take up the song.

   “Hush, my darling, don’t fear, my darling, the lion sleeps tonight.”

   Then the groom’s side.  “Oh, oh, oh.  Oh, oh, oh.  The lion sleeps tonight.”

   And then they are trading choruses of “A weem a weh” and are enjoying themselves immensely.  The minister, meanwhile, glares at them through his monocle and fires his revolver into the air.  That gets their attention.

   At that moment, a Zulu choir can be heard, distantly, at first, and then louder.  An attractive woman, familiar to all, walks towards the altar, holding the hand of a small chimp, dressed in a tuxedo.  She, herself, is dressed only in what appears to be the skin of a small animal, though cut in quite an elegant fashion.  Its natural color accentuates her deep tan.  Her hair hangs down her back in a luxurious, natural wave.  Her only jewelry: the pearls in each ear and the stunning ivory necklace above the low-cut sheath.  All is in superb taste and not in the least overstated.

   A cry is heard off to the left and, to everyone’s surprise, the groom bursts through the ferns at the end of a long, thick vine.  He drops silently, like an animal, to the center of things.  He smiles at his bride, his mouth crammed with teeth.  He is barefoot and his sole attire is a small, yet sufficient, loin cloth, held up somewhat miraculously.   His only accessory is a long, gleaming knife at his right side.

   The minister approaches, signals to the congregation to sit, and begins. 

   “Do you, Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle, take this woman…”  His head turns towards her.  “..to be your lawfully wedded mate?”

   “I do, ungowah,” he says; his voice husky with emotion.  “We are primates, never to be parted.”

   At this, the chimp screeches in agreement and begins jumping up and down.  The pith helmet ignores this and turns, light glinting off the monocle into the bride’s eyes.

   “And, do you, Jane, Queen of All She Surveys, take this man, Tarzan, for your lord and master?”

   Jane pauses, making sure she’s heard correctly.  “He might be able to command all the animals, but I am not an animal.  I take him as he is: handsome, brave, wise, and in need of a bath.”

   The pith helmet clears his throat, nods, and then says to the chimp, “The rings, please.”

   The chimp looks at the out-stretched hand, screeches some more and sways back and forth from side to side.  The bride and groom both stoop down next to him.  The groom has a somewhat stern expression and the bride scolds gently, “Cheetah, give the nice man the rings.”  She and the groom trade rueful smiles as the chimp pulls the thick gold rings out of the pocket of his tux and offers them up. 

   The couple straightens and faces the helmet, who exclaims, “By Jove.”  An exchange of rings then takes place.

   Then the minister says, “By the power invested in me by Her Royal Majesty and with my own good blessings, I now pronounce you husband and wife, for as long as you both shall live...”  And, under his breath, he adds, “...in this God-forsaken jungle.”

   Tarzan kisses Jane.

   Cheetah claps his almost human hands together, screeching.  And the congregation applauds like crazy and begins to chant, “O weem a weh.  O weem a weh…” 

   The celebration is about to begin.