Well, it’s set to be a nude wedding, deep in the jungle of one of the smaller Hawaiian Islands, and positioned in a clearing at the foot of a waterfall, which is palatable because Jelly resembles a younger Ewa Sonnet, and her beanmate looks exactly like the Swedish student from Cashback. Since they couldn’t find a child for the role of ring bearer, they asked a friend who’s a professional female stage midget, which is exciting, since I haven’t seen her since she played Ricky Roma in the all midget version of Glengarry Glen Ross. Of the one hundred invited to the ceremony, I am the only man, and my guest, the cute girl who lives in my building, is the only non-lesbian, and she’s never even been to a traditional post-naked-lesbian-wedding orgy before. I agreed to take all the pictures. (I used to be a professional photographer before I started writing pulp.) But I still have not decided what to buy for my gift to the born-again lovers, the electric Gelato machine or the Seaside Pearl Prius.
How Goes The Plans For Jellybean’s Wedding?
