We were drunk when we pulled into the church parking lot. Poor Madge hadn’t slept in days. Now we have to try and make it through some bullshit ceremony. One last tug on the bottle and I put the pistol in my suitcoat pocket. Madge shoots me a look. “Sweet fucking christ baby, ya can never be too careful.”
As we sauntered up the sidewalk I could hear all of them in there, singing hymns. Sounded like a love dirge sung from a caveman to a goat. Who are these people? It was then I saw the chains wrapped around the front door handles. “Fuck, its never easy is it.” I said, reaching for my gun.