AN: Hey.

Chapter 3

Elvis was in the house this night, as the stars were barely seen due to the bright lights of the Vegas Strip.

It was a little chapel that was near the casino we were calling home for the next couple of days. The paint was starting to flake off the outside and some of the florescent letters on the sign were unlit.

The Little Chapel of Love was now Th Lile Chapl of Lve.

"Maybe we should find somewhere else?" Kid suggested, eyeing the cigarette butts that littered the ground.

I looked down at the little, white dress I was crammed into and the matching heels of death. My sweatshirt and comfy pants needed to be close, so I could quickly change and get to the buffet. "This place is good."

"You have a bump." Tanya pointed out.

"So?"

"You can see it with that dress."

"So?"

"You want to change before the wedding?"

"To sweatpants?"

"No. Maybe a more flattering cut of dress for your wedding?" Tanya was a broken record.

I poked my belly. "I don't care. It's only going to get bigger."

Spawns grow. Tanya should know this. She watched Trailer's ballooning midsection get massive with the gargoyle baby.

Kid pulled me close. "My Bella looks beautiful!"

"What's with the touching?" I asked as we went inside.

"We're getting married tonight!"

"Fine," I huffed and relaxed my body against his. "Don't get used to it. Whoa."

This place was where Elvis memorabilia went for it's final resting place, as Love Me Tender was piped in over a pair of decrepit speakers from the late seventies.

The shag carpeting was a burnt pumpkin orange and the walls a coffee colored hue. There were mannequins wearing Elvis clothing knock-offs complete with tags. Posters hung off the walls that had small rips along the edges and there was a display case full of Elvis wedding souvenirs.

"I really want the bear with the gyrating Elvis tee-shirt shirt for the spawn. It needs a souvenir of it's first vacation." I was already maternal and buying the child random junk to clutter the house with.

Giant stared in awe at the case. "Babe, can I have the Elvis beer steins?"

"I don't care." She was bouncing that Godzilla baby up and down in the Baby Bjorn.

"Maybe we should get married too, Jazz?" Dictator gave Cheech a mushy smile.

"No!" Kid yelled. "I'll call Dad!"

Kate looked at her watch. "Can we get this show on the road? I want to catch Cirque du Soleil's late show."

A elderly woman with a Pricilla Presley bouffant sat at the front desk wearing an bright magenta track suit. It looked comfy and clashed with the decor. "You here to get hitched?"

"Yes! My angel and I are her to seal our love!" Kid cooed.

I added, "The spawn will be a bastard if we don't."

She shrugged and handed Kid a clipboard. "Fill this out. Do you want the picture package and commemorative CD of Elvis's greatest hits?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed, before my appalled fiancé could say no.

Teeth handed her his credit card. "My treat for you two. A wedding gift!"

That was very cool. What wasn't cool was—

"Isabella Marie! How did you know Mommy was getting married?"

I turned to my mother running awkwardly towards me with a white and gray leopard printed dress. It was so tight, I was shocked she could breathe.

"Umm—"
Behind her was a dark haired man wearing gold chains around his neck and a brown leisure suit. He wore sunglasses at night. Oh my God.

"Who told you? This is wonderful!" My mother clapped happily.

"I'm getting married to Edward, Renee." I nodded towards my kid. "Where's Phil?"

"It didn't work out. This is your new daddy, Royce." she explained. Phil probably had enough of her crazy. Smart man. She had red lipstick on her teeth. It could be seen even clearer with the shocked look on her face. "Are you pregnant?"

"Yup."

"Isabella Marie! What did you do?"

"I had sex, silly Renee. Would you like me to draw you a picture?" Did she need a birds and bees lesson?

"I can't be a grandmother! I'm pregnant!" She screamed.

Shouldn't those ovaries be dried out by now? Closed for business? That vagina is ancient.

"Uh huh, you here for the the wedding?" An obese Elvis waddled out. His white velour suit was decked out in plastic rhinestones and his black wig crooked on his head.

I guessing they were going with old Elvis.

Ain't Nothing But A Hound Dog came on.

"You go first, Mommy. It's your theme song," I offered.

What a night.