The marketing campaign for the Church of Arnold's free medicine goes into effect the very day that Mafala gives his support for Arnold and Nabulungi's relationship. Nabulungi makes lots of "texts," and she and most of the villagers deliver them at the market. After that, other than going to the orphanage, everyone hangs around the hospital and awaits the crowds. ('Oh, thank Heavenly Father," Arnold catches Rob saying to Eric, "you don't want to know how much we're paying for gas these days...") A day becomes two, and no one shows. Two becomes three, with no change. Three becomes four.

A small group of lepers arrives that day—two young men with missing fingers, a blind older woman without toes. Arnold notices that only the ex-Mormons are around to greet them. Nabulungi, their clerk, smiles and says hello, but she doesn't help Arnold, Rob and Kevin talk about the Book of Arnold the way she usually does.

Themba, the older woman, thanks them profusely as she takes a Book of Arnold and a round of antibiotics, as the church doesn't have any leprosy-specific medications. Nabulungi sighs in relief when they leave.

"Thank Heavenly Father they're gone! Quick, wash your hands," she hisses to them, before heading to the café to do just that.

Kevin and Rob share a look.

Rob says, "'They stood at a distance and called out in a loud voice, 'Jesus, Master, have pity on us! Oh, and you too...' Uh..." he snaps his fingers as thinks, "'and you too, Captain America!'"

Kevin looks thoughtful. "Mm, maybe not Captain America. Too imperalistic."

"Ah, right," Rob says, chuckling. "Good thing I'm not writing this, isn't it?"

Kevin grins at Rob. "That's some amazing recall. I'm challenging you to a game of 'Name that Verse' sometime!"

Rob shakes his head. "Oh, I'd love to, but I'm just so busy lately!"

Kevin glances around at the completely deserted front of the hospital. "Really?"

"Yes! A district leader's work is never done!" Rob's laugh is weird, but Arnold can't pinpoint why because he's too busy trying to figure out what they're talking about.

"Who's calling to Jesus?" he finally interrupts.

"Lepers," says Kevin, as Rob takes the opportunity to hurry away. "Looks like we need a few verses about leprosy in the Book of Arnold." He nods to the café, where Nabulungi is.

"You can't blame her for that!" Arnold says urgently. "Leprosy is really deadly, and it's super-easy to catch!"

"Um, actually, buddy, 95 percent of the world's population is immune to leprosy, and it's only communicable by bodily fluids."

"Says who?"

"Says the literature our bishops gave us that I read on the plane while you were reading your Kindle."

He had to get in one last re-read of The Hobbit before touching down in Uganda. "Oh."

Kevin glances at him. "You're okay mentioning this to your fiancée?"

"Sure!" He isn't, and waffles for the rest of the day. He has little to distract him: nobody else comes. Where is everybody?

When he finally says, "Hey, so, God revealed to me that we should be nice to people with leprosy, since you can only catch it by blood and spit and stuff, and it's really not their fault that they're sick," she looks uneasy.

"Has God fact-checked this? Actually fact-checked this? Not just skimmed the Wikipedia entry?"

"God's best friend said it was in the info-sheets we got before our mission."

"And God knows this is going to be a hard sell?"

"God's cool with it. And Themba took a Book of Arnold! She might be back. We can't turn people away...especially since no one's coming out."

After a heavy sigh, Nabulungi gives him a small smile. "All right, then." She's right about it being a hard sell: when he announces the revelation at dinner (about the Emergency Medical Hologram from Star Trek: Voyager and how he both gained sentience and learned to treat lepers as people), a lot of villagers go silent, or turn away shaking their heads. Mafala comes to his defence with a grumpy, "You heard the prophet, you assholes—be nice if any more of those fuckers show up."

The next day, most everybody stays at the hospital again. This time, nobody arrives. Only the day after, when most of the congregation either returns to Yunna or starts heading out to other nearby villages, do they find out why.

Arnold and Nabulungi hear it from Elder Ghali when he returns from the nearby village of Umar. "There is a rumour that our medicine is an American plot to sterilize Africans."

"Oh, Heavenly Father!"

"Some think the medicine is actually poison. Some think you must join the General's new army to receive any. Some think you must join a weird religion that involves frog-fucking and aliens to get the medicine."

"But...but only Joseph Smith got with a frog!" Arnold sputters.

Elder Ghali sighs. "We know that, prophet, but to stop a rumour is like catching the wind."

Arnold feels bad, of course—but not as much as most, because Nabulungi now has lots more time to spend with him and help plan their wedding. They develop a new, unspoken rule 72: they're together all day except for going to the bathroom and at bedtime. One of the first things they work on are their emails to Arnold's parents. Nabulungi stresses out about this; every day she seems to have a new, multiple-page draft. Arnold doesn't even question that whatever she emails them will be perfect.

He doesn't until she asks, "Arnold, what is the correct plural of 'clitoris'?", anyway. Arnold's only reply is a pained whimper. It's up to Kevin to say that she should probably leave that part out.

After that, Arnold reads over what she's written. With some help from Rob, who's amazing at spelling and grammar, and Arnold for content (he asks her to delete any reference to "hasa diga Eebowai"), Nabulungi's voice shines through. She writes about her life in Uganda, briefly mentions her mother's and brothers' deaths and being raised by her father, and pays particular attention to how their son and his church changed her life.

Even now, she finishes, that I know that Salt Lake City is not the paradise I assumed it was when the elders first told me about it, I know it will be a wonderful place—particularly because I have there a new mother and father I am very anxious to meet! In the meantime, I hope we can get to know each other through our emails. May the Force be with you, that you may live long and prosper!

Arnold beams proudly at her as she clicks "send." His own email is only a paragraph, mostly about how he wishes Mom and Dad could be there for his special day—and how he knows God wants him to marry Nabulungi. It takes him much longer to click "send" than it does for her, and he wipes his sweaty palms on his pants when he's done.

Heavenly Father, I'd really appreciate it if this turns out well.

Elder McKinley stops Arnold and Nabulungi the next day. "Hey—mind if I borrow you two lovebirds for a sec?" They nod, and he leads them to his office.

"Well, once again I just want to say congrats for puttin' a ring on it. Woah-oh-oh!" he sings, raising his left hand and wiggling his fingers.

Arnold doesn't get the reference. Nabulungi seems to—she giggles, anyway.

Rob slaps his hand down. "Oh, bad Rob. Even if Beyoncé did have the best music video of all time, it's not 2008 anymore!"

"Yeah," Arnold chuckles, "get out of your Delorean."

Rob looks blankly at him for a moment before he brightens and says, "Oh! Haven't thought of that movie since I was a kid." There are two chairs in Rob's office. Obviously, Rob planned this. They sit, and Rob smiles at them from behind his desk. He has purple smudges underneath his eyes.

"How are things, Elder McKinley?" Arnold asks.

Rob waves a hand dismissively. "Oh, they're fine, just fine."

"You do look kinda tired."

He laughs loudly. "Oh! A rough night or two, nothing major. But thanks for your concern." Rob inhales deeply. "Well! I just wanted to make sure you two were completely informed about certain aspects of married life, particularly the kind that have a lot of misinformation around them, here and back home. I found this link," he pushes a piece of paper at them, "and it seems to be a solid, reputable site. And, as always, if you have any questions, feel free to talk to me. My door is always open."

The site is about sexual and reproductive health. Arnold blushes. "Oh! Thanks." There are a few steamy scenes in George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series—also in the adventures of the courtesan-spy heroine of Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel's Dart, which he never let his parents catch him reading—so he thinks he has a pretty good idea how sex works, but it probably couldn't hurt to learn more.

"Yes, thank you," Nabulungi says. He can't quite tell with her skin colour, but it seems like she's blushing as well. "I imagine you never thought your district leader duties would require you to do this!" Everyone chuckles, and Arnold feels some of the tension fade away.

"I just want to keep my Church of Arnold family happy and healthy," Rob says. His grin falters a bit. "Speaking of—I hate to pry—but are you two thinking of children anytime soon?"

"God, no!" Nabulungi says with a chuckle, and Rob relaxes. "I am not giving birth in this shit-hole, do not worry! I will not for many, many, many years."

That's a lot of manys. "How many?" Arnold asks.

"Ten, at least." Arnold can't hide his dismay; Nabulungi quickly says, "Or maybe eight."

"Oh. Guess I always thought we'd have a big family right away. Not Duggar-big!" She looks confused—of course she wouldn't get that reference. "But I was thinking five or six." Now it's Nabulungi's turn to look dismayed. "But...three or four's good, too."

"We should—" Nabulungi begins.

Arnold finds himself spilling a daydream he's been having lately. "At the orphanage, there's this girl I tutor named Kasa. She's really cute and really smart! But she's got a missing leg, and I keep thinking, 'What if no one adopts her?', and—"

Nabulungi reaches out and strokes his hand. "That is very sweet of you, Arnold! But I think it would be best for everyone if we see what our life is going to be like in America before we think about children."

"That makes sense," Arnold says, still disappointed.

"We can discuss this later," she says, nodding to Rob, who's pretending to examine his paperwork.

"Oh, right!" He forgot Rob was there. "Sorry."

"That's okay. I think that's it for me, anyway!"

"Wait!" says Arnold, causing Nabulungi to glance at him curiously. "Could you be our wedding planner?" Arnold says. He then catches Nabulungi out of the corner of his eye—she's shaking her head.

"Not that you have to," Nabulungi says quickly. "You must be so busy lately."

Rob is frowning slightly. "Well, of course I'd love to help, but..."

Arnold suddenly figures out why Nabulungi was signalling him to be quiet and why Rob is frowning: Arnold assumed that Rob would be good at wedding planning because he's gay. "UH, WHAT I MEANT WAS—"

"I'm just not sure our styles fit," Rob explains. "Arnold, you're sci-fi; Nabulungi, you're African; I'm Old Hollywood glam."

Nabulungi looks confused. "I was not aware 'African' was a style."

Rob gestures expansively. "Oh, you know... Colour. Chanting. Drums."

Nabulungi opens her mouth, then pauses for a moment and finally says, "I would enjoy a princess theme along with whatever theme Arnold wants." Arnold grins at the thought of his perfect Lord of the Rings-style wedding.

Rob nods a few times. "Oh, princess I can work with. Well, if you want my help, then I am going to make it work!"

"Thank you!" Nabulungi grins. "Arnold has talked so much of how wonderful you are at organization. I know you will be such a help."

"Yeah!" Arnold says, desperate to make it seem like he didn't choose Rob because he's gay. "And you're also...really brave!"

Rob chuckles, looking confused. "Goodness! How so?"

"Well, yesterday I was freaking out because I told my parents I'm marrying a girl. But you came out to your family the second after the Church of Arnold was made. That's brave!"

Rob waves a hand dismissively. "It was almost a month after."

"Whatever, it was really soon!" Says the guy who's only going to be himself around Nabulungi, Arnold thinks, feeling a bit sad. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I told Kevin...

"That—what?" says Kevin-in-Arnold's-head. "You check me out when I'm in my underwear?" Arnold shifts in his seat as he feels the disappointed stares of Joseph Smith, Brigham Young and his father burning into him. Not a lot! he objects—but even once is pretty gross. Kevin definitely can't know.

"Oh, isn't that sweet?" Rob says. "Well—if I can preen a bit!—I'm glad I made such an impression, even though it's undeserved."

"How's your family dealing?"

"Mom mentioned something about me 'being confused' the other day. I think that means they're slowly accepting that all the times I wrote 'gay' in my twenty-paragraph coming out email weren't typos." With a wry smile, Rob shrugs. "It's a process.

"The really brave people are the people who are gay and can't leave Uganda. I can't even imagine what they have to go through."

"Huh?"

"Didn't you know? It was in the literature our bishops—" Rob obviously remembers who he's talking to, and says, "—anyway, the law is that anyone suspected of 'homosexual acts' can be jailed for up to fourteen years."

"Oh my God!"

"My country fucking sucks sometimes," Nabulungi agrees.

They practically run into Kevin on the way out. Rob hurries out of his way. Normally he'd smile, ask how Kevin was doing, pretend to brush some lint off his shoulder. Kevin frowns, concerned, at Rob's retreating form. Seems he was expecting something of the sort, too.

"Um," says Arnold. "I guess he got over his crush?"

Kevin's expression doesn't change. "I have been using less hairspray lately. I didn't think it showed..."

A laugh explodes out of Arnold. "Gosh, I'm sorry, Elder Price. I'm just...I'm pretty sure that can't be it."

"You look as handsome as always," Nabulungi says.

Kevin grins. "Oh, good." Not like Kevin needs much convincing that he's totally hot. Arnold's both amused and a little bit jealous.

"Oh, hey, Elder Price! I wanted to talk to you about something." Arnold clears his throat. "See, Nabulungi and I would like to stay together after we're married. In the same bed, I mean."

Kevin nods. "I can sleep on the couch until Elder Church's bed is free." He sighs. "It does look like nothing's keeping him here."

"But if he does decide to stay," says Nabulungi, "we should not have a plan that relies on a free bed. Arnold and I can stay with Baba."

There's no way Arnold is going to be able to make love to his wife in her dad's house. It'd just be too weird. "Elder Hatimbi is a great guy, sure... I'd just really feel more comfortable if she could stay with us."

Kevin blinks. "In our room?"

"We'd put up a curtain so nobody would see anything!"

"Please do not feel pressured, Elder Price," Nabulungi says. "I know how much you value your privacy. Perhaps I could take the couch instead and Arnold and I could...borrow the room sometimes?"

Kevin stares at the two of them expressionlessly. It's kind of eerie. Arnold is about to ask what's wrong, but Kevin smiles just before he gets the words out. "Heck, I'm not about to let two newlyweds sleep separately. As long as there's a curtain between my bed and yours, and you...let me know when you want some alone time, it should work out just fine."

"ALL RIGHT!" Arnold gives Kevin a shoulder-squeeze. As Kevin walks off, he tells Nabulungi, "See? He's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"He wouldn't have agreed to it if he wasn't, right?"

"Mm." She doesn't seem convinced, but she doesn't bring it up again.

That evening, Rob wants to talk about music. It turns out that Gotswana has a boombox that sometimes works—Gotswana is, in fact, fiddling with it in Rob's office when Arnold and Nabulungi enter. The selection of CDs and tapes in the village, however, is a bit limited, particularly when Nabulungi insists that their first dance song be in English.

"Well, that definitely narrows things down..." Rob mutters, rifling through the pile. Finding some English CDs, he reads off some songs. "Boogie Shoes? Disco Inferno? Papa Was a Rolling Stone?"

Arnold laughs. "Oh, man, I don't know the first thing about disco!"

Rob suddenly becomes much more excited. "Oh, Grease! Jesus Christ Superstar! Evita!" Turning to Gotswana, he says in surprise, "That's an impressive collection of 1970s musicals."

"My wife loved them," Gotswana replies. Arnold almost asks, 'Did she get bored of them?' before remembering that Gotswana has been single since Arnold has known him. "Please, borrow them if you would enjoy them, Elder McKinley! Ah, here you go!" Gotswana hands the boombox over to Rob, who takes it with a grin and a "Thank you!", and then leaves.

Nabulungi watches Gotswana go. "Gotswana also loves musicals," she notes, watching Rob intently.

Rob blinks a few times. "Well! Ah, thank you for the information, Nabulungi. But liking musicals doesn't necessarily mean—"

"Trust me—in this case, it does. And we have kept his secret; it is what we villagers do for those we care about."

"WAIT!" Arnold gapes at the two of them. "Elder Hareffi is GAY? But he had a wife!"

"Men get married to women here," Nabulungi says with a shrug. "It is just what you do."

Rob doesn't appear very enthusiastic. "He's a great guy, of course! But...just a smidge on the old side."

"Oh, only poverty makes him look old! He is in his early thirties, I am sure of it."

Rob's expression doesn't change. "Aheh! Thank you for the thought! Now, Elder Cunningham—do you like musicals?"

I like musicals when ponies sing them. "I like musicals if they're done by Joss Whedon—he's the creator of Firefly and Buffy," he adds for Rob's benefit.

"My sister, Susan, made me watch a season or two of that show," Rob reminisces. "The season where Buffy has a sister—"

"Season five! Oh...maybe your sister was trying to help you accept yourself! That's nice." It makes him wish he had an older sibling.

At Rob's confused glance, Arnold winces. Obviously, Rob doesn't want to remember that part of his life.

"How so?" Rob asks.

Well, he did ask. "You know...Tara and Willow..."

"I'm not following."

"They're gay."

Rob looks surprised. "It completely passed me by. I'm always missing these subtle things."

"It wasn't subtle. In the next season, Willow tried to end the world because her girlfriend died!"

Rob looks a bit uneasy. "Wow. Obviously, closeted-Rob worked hard to forget about that." Whatever negative feelings he has vanish as he giggles. "Oh, I'm so bad!" He slaps his own wrist. "Seems I mostly remember that blond vampire!"

"Spike! Yeah! He's a great character!" Who's even better shirtless!

"Well, give these a listen and let's hear what you decide." Rob hands him the CDs.

Arnold always liked Rob, but he likes him even more now that he knows he can talk Buffy with him. "Isn't Elder McKinley great? He's like one of the Weasleys only—" sexier, whispers a sneaky little voice, "—without glasses!"

Nabulungi has an eyebrow raised at Arnold as she grins. "Should I be setting him up with you, perhaps?"

Arnold bursts into gales of laughter—which he chokes on when he realizes that the door to Rob's office is open. He bolts for the door and glances down the hallway. No one's there. Breath explodes from his lungs.

Nabulungi winces. "I'm so sorry!"

"No, it's okay! Just...maybe save those jokes for when we're alone."

"I will." She kisses his cheek. After a moment, she says, "I think people will accept you, though, if you did tell them. Look at how well it went for—" she gestures to Rob's office, "—and you are a prophet! People will respect you no matter what."

"Sure, I'll tell people! Someday." Someday, in this case, means never.

Maybe Nabulungi knows this, but she doesn't say anything. She just gives him a small, kind smile, and kisses his cheek.

"Now," she says, "let us start with Grease."

Slowly, the wedding takes shape. Or, rather, the poverty of their surroundings shapes it: between paying for gas to drive to Kampala for the marriage licence, paying for hostels along the way, and procuring enough food to feed the village and any other guests who might drop by, Arnold and Nabulungi can't justify spending on things like rings, dresses, cosplaying or honeymoons. Everyone insists they have some kind of honeymoon, though, so Nabulungi suggests a vacation: they'll take a week off and stay in her and Mafala's hut, while Mafala will stay with Kevin. Things seem to be going smoothly.

Then, two unexpected complications pop up: goats and beer.

"At least we have enough medicine to trade for a goat for the wedding ceremony!" Gotswana comments at breakfast one morning.

"Oh, great!" Arnold beams. They haven't had meat in a while.

Gotswana glances between him and Nabulungi. "You have told him what happens with the goat, right?"

"I was getting around to it," she murmurs. When Gotswana leaves, she explains, "The goat is slaughtered at dawn on the day of the ceremony in front of the entire village. Everyone sings and celebrates. We get goat so rarely, you know."

"Okay." Arnold forces himself not to look too grossed out; this tradition is pretty tame. The goat needs to die for them to eat it, right? "Maybe I'll just stand at the back."

Nabulungi fiddles with her tie. "Traditionally the groom slits its throat."

"What?"

"Baba can kill it for our wedding," she says quickly. "It will not be a problem."

Arnold shakes his head. "I can do it! How hard can it be?" His mouth has gone completely dry.

Nabulungi rests her head on his shoulder. "I do not want you doing something that is not part of who you are."

"It'll be fine." His heart is thumping in his chest.

The beer is much more straightforward.

"So, best man," Mafala says to Kevin, "you'll be paying for the alcohol, since I am poor as shit, right?"

Kevin starts. "Mormons don't—" he begins, then shakes his head. "Uh, I didn't think there was going to be alcohol."

"You are fucking with me." Glancing between Arnold and Kevin, Mafala snorts. "I do not know how you have parties in Sal Tlay Ka Siti, but here, we have booze!"

An idea strikes Arnold. "Since one of our members has had a bad experience with alcoholism," he can see Kevin shaking his head out of the corner of his eye, "it only seems right to be sensitive..."

Unfortunately, Arnold is talking too loudly again; behind him, Brian Church dryly says, "Um, I know the difference between a wedding and hardcore alcoholism. Don't worry. You're not hurting my delicate feelings or anything." He seems determined to take anything anybody says to him the worst possible way.

"The Book of Arnold says only not to drink 'regularly and to excess,'" Mafala says. "And I believe Jesus turned water into wine for a wedding, right?"

Arnold glances at Kevin helplessly.

Kevin nods. "Sure. When we go to Kampala to get a marriage licence, I'll buy some beer." The words don't fit easily in his mouth. Arnold catches elders Davis and Michaels sending each other concerned glances.

He, Kevin and Nabulungi proselytize in Yunna that day. It turns out to be the day that Arnold's parents email him. It's another reminder of the world he left behind.

His mom writes:

Dear Arnie,

Your latest email was a VERY BIG SURPRISE! BUT I am SOOOOO HAPPY that my BABY BOY has FOUND LOVE as I always PRAYED YOU WOULD! I've seen pics and videos of her on the website and the Youtube and she's VERY beautiful. I also received her email. She's SO articulate!

But I'm worried, sweetie pie. Your marriage won't be in Temple, so YOU WILL NOT BE TOGETHER IN THE AFTERLIFE. Heavenly Father will not think your married. IF you try to "be a husband" to her, you will be SINNING. I spoke to Sheila at church, and she sad a marriage in Africa isn't even LEGAL here. IF YOU TRULY LOVE Nabulungi, you MUST WAIT UNTIL YOU COME BACK HOME TO MARRY HER!

SATAN is using your and N's natural feelings TO TRICK YOU. HE is always hungry for souls, especially ONES AS PURE AND BEAUTIFUL AS YOURS! In your heart, you know this and I pray you heed Heavenly Father's wisdom altho I know it will be hard.

EMAIL ME SOON ARNIEKINS! YOU are the most important thing IN THE WORLD TO US!

Love,
Mom

When he finishes reading, Arnold is grinning. This is definitely not going as bad as I thought! He clicks on his dad's email.

Your mother prays for you every day and goes to bed sobbing, and I am sickened to my soul to see the man Satan has twisted you into...Reject the temptress and turn your thoughts to Heavenly Father and the light...Come home and we will welcome you as the prodigal son...

"My sons, remember, remember, that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation." (Hel. 5:12)

Arnold stares at the screen, stunned. He reads Mom's email again, searching for a hint of what Dad just told him. He tries to swallow, but his mouth is dry.

"I am sick to my soul to see the man you are," Dad says—he sounds so terribly sad. "A man who lies, who makes daily mockery of his Heavenly Father, who fills his mind with trash, who dreams of fornication with men, who would marry a women only for lust..."

A hand squeezes his shoulder. It's Nabulungi, who murmurs, "Arnold?" Kevin sits beside him, hand outstretched, and Arnold takes it.

I don't care what you think of me. I care what they think of me. I care what God thinks of me...and He loves me no matter what. His thoughts don't stop some tears from falling from his eyes. Nabulungi kisses him—Kevin lets go of his hand and steps away, which gives Arnold his hand free to stroke her hair and her cheek.

He lets her read Dad's email. Her expression is sombre as she finishes it and says, "He obviously cares for you very deeply. Please, do not think too harshly about your father. He does not know the new Arnold, and because he does not know you, he is afraid for you."

Arnold manages to breathe more easily. She's right: Dad just doesn't understand the situation. He starts to feel a bit better, though he can't help but grumble, "Be nice if Dad could say 'I love you'..." A scary thought distracts him. "Oh, crap—did he reply to your email?"

A faint frown creases her brows. "No." She smiles. "Your mother did, though. She does not want me to marry you yet, but she seems to want to get to know me."

Kevin comes back from the cashier with a bottle of Coke. "So, how are things, buddy?" he says sympathetically.

"Good!" The turnaround obviously has Kevin confused. "Nabulungi helped." He kisses her cheek; Kevin looks away. "She's AWESOME at this sort of thing!"

Kevin smiles. "Well. Great. So, why don't we get back to some proselytizing, huh? Elder Davis was boasting that he's almost got a baptism lined up. Let's give him a run for his money!"

That evening, Kevin pries Arnold away from Nabulungi for a moment to ask what he wants for his bachelor party.

Arnold shrugs. "Just everybody together playing some boardgames. "

"You're sure you don't want anything else?"

"I wish I'd brought my D&D books," Arnold says, sighing wistfully.

Kevin looks stunned. "Elder Cunningham! Dungeons and Dragons is Satanic!"

"Dungeons and Dragons—Satan's game," says the voice of an 8-Bit Theatre spoof.

Arnold can't help but snicker as he slings his arm around Kevin's shoulder. "Buddy, let me tell you a little something about tabletop roleplaying..." As he talks, emphasizing how it's nothing more sinful than a group of people getting together for a movie, the wariness gradually fades from Kevin's expression.

"You sure know a lot about this," Kevin comments.

"I always dreamed I'd have friends to game with. Now I've got friends, but no gaming stuff. Oh well." Struck by an amazing idea, he pulls Kevin in close. "You and me and Nabulungi can get a Pathfinder game started when we get back to Salt Lake! WOULDN'T THAT BE AWESOME!"

"Um...sure!" Kevin obviously doesn't get it yet; Arnold will just have to help him see the light.

At breakfast on the morning of his bachelor party, Nabulungi grins and says, "Elder Price has something for your bachelor party that you are going to love!"

Him naked? Arnold thinks automatically, before shoving that thought to the depths of his brain. "Oh?"

"It's in your room!"

When he gets there, Kevin, beaming, hands him a three-ring binder. Inside, printed out in black and white, is the Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Bestiary. Arnold's heart soars—then stops. He flips to the back, but that's all there is. Kevin printed out the bestiary instead of the core rulebook.

"We can have a D&D bachelor party after all!" Kevin crows. "You should thank Nabulungi. She convinced me that pirating it was okay. After all, you've already paid for the books, and it really was the only way to get it here..."

"Elder Price, this is one of the nicest things anybody's ever done for me. Thank you so, so much!" Arnold gulps, steeling himself. "But...this isn't enough to play the game."

Kevin looks crestfallen. "Huh?"

'We just...need a lot more stuff than this."

"Like what?" Kevin asks, a sudden fire burning in his eyes.

"Well, a few more pages printed out from a few more books..."

"We can do that in Yunna. What else?"

"Dice."

"There's the board game dice."

"We need D20s and D4s as well—" at Kevin's worried frown, Arnold changes that to "—I can work with those. We'd also need miniatures."

"I can make some!" says Nabulungi.

"You aren't coming with us?" Arnold says, disappointed. They haven't been out of each other's sight all week, and it's been wonderful.

"I think you boys need some time alone. This is for your bachelor party, after all!"

"It's three hours there and three hours back," Kevin says. "Well, Elder Cunningham, looks like your bachelor party is going to be an all-nighter."

"You can make it there in two hours if you speed," Nabulungi suggests.

"We're not breaking the law!" Kevin sputters—and yet, they somehow manage to make it to Yunna in two-and-a-half hours.

Getting everything together takes almost three hours—Arnold leaves the logistics to Kevin and spends most of his time writing out a quick scenario. Nabulungi's miniatures consist of people made of sticks and seed-pods tied together with grass. Arnold's bachelor party starts close to midnight in the break room of the mission. Fortunately, they have enough Sprite and Fanta to keep everyone awake.

Arnold has all the characters meet in a tavern. Each player describes their characters—everybody lists gives their name, race, class and weapons. When Arnold says, "You can also describe what your character looks like, too," only Kevin plays along.

"Um, Mortlock has...brown eyes and brown hair and he's tall." Oh, buddy, good try!

Arnold's first setback as a GM comes when Eric shows way too much interest in the bartender Arnold off-handedly described as "disgruntled."

"Why's he disgruntled?" Eric asks.

"Do you ask him that in character?"

"Um...yes?"

Arnold reaches for the first voice he can find. "'Oh, good sir, me wife is sick with the flu.'"

"Is he supposed to be a pirate?" Rob asks.

Eric, examining his equipment list, pipes up with, "Oh! I have a healing potion! Can I give it to his wife?"

Rob objects. "Maybe he's just saying that so he can knock us out and drag us to his pirate ship."

Arnold quickly has the kingsguard burst in and deliver the group's quest for the adventure. They have to track down a thief who stole a magical tome from the Pathfinder Society archives. As they track the thief through the woods (with much help from Mafala's ranger's wolf), they're attacked by an army of kobolds. Arnold is using a quick homebrew system (I'M SORRY PAIZO! he wails internally) of him rolling a D6 against the player and determining the winner by whomever rolls the highest.

The game goes downhill when Elder Michaels interrupts their combat with, "Wait—if I roll badly, I don't get to play anymore?"

"I'm not killing anyone in our first game..."

"If there isn't danger, then where are the stakes?" Elder Davis asks. "Where's the tension? The drama?"

"Come on, I don't want to be mean..." But at their insistence, he starts reporting his die rolls fairly. Soon, elders Davis, Michaels, Church and Neeley, along with Gotswana and Ghali, are playing cards. Arnold suspects that not all of them were as truthful as he was.

The combat becomes even gorier, with everyone using up all their healing spells and potions. Gratifyingly, Eric and Rob get pretty into it, and high-five when they finally win the fight. Arnold had quite a few more encounters planned, but it looks like he'll have to edit this game a lot.

Eric, having figured out what "in-character" means, is not about to let it go: "because I'm Neutral Good," he insists they bury the bodies of their fallen friends and the kobolds as well.

"We are looking for the fucking book," says Mafala. "If you start digging, I will sic my wolf on you." After Eric's wounded, "Hey!" Mafala shrugs. "What? It is a game! Might as well try to win it and get that book."

"You can't just rule by force—that's not right," Eric complains. "In character, I challenge you for leadership of the group!"

Arnold nervously says, "Elder Thomas, you're a halfling and he's an elf with a wolf," but neither Eric nor Mafala listen, and they start their combat.

"I stop the fighting with my peace spell!" says Kevin over the clatter of dice.

"'Peace spell'?" Arnold grabs Kevin's character sheet and reads it over: Bane, Cause Fear, Cure Light Wounds... "You don't have a peace spell. You don't even have Command."

"It's magic, right? It can do anything. And aren't these games all about imagination, anyway? Wouldn't my character have a peace spell?"

In the time it takes Kevin to understand that you can't make up spells on the spot, Eric's character is dead, the actual Eric is glaring sullenly, and Mafala is ordering everyone else to find the book.

"Maybe Eric's just unconscious and the wolf is carrying him in its jaws," Arnold suggests.

Mafala shrugs. "Yeah, sure."

"I come up behind the elf and backstab him, which means he's surprised and can't retaliate for this round," Rob says, reading his character sheet. "Hurt my companion, will you?"

Mafala grins goodnaturedly. "Eat my wolf, dwarf!"

To Kevin, Arnold whispers, "Maybe you should loot the bodies of the kobolds."

Kevin recoils, grossed out. "You want me to steal from dead people?"

"Not people—kobolds! It's part of the fun."

"I'm a cleric! I'm Lawful Good! I'm not about to loot corpses!"

In the end, Mafala wins the fight, loots the bodies of the kobolds, and finds the book.

"Now we can get enough gold pieces to help the bar-tender's wife," Eric says cheerfully.

"Do you do this?" Arnold asks.

"Pirate!" Rob hisses to his companion, but Eric says, "Yes!"

"It turns out he is a pirate!" Arnold says, suddenly getting an idea for an ending. As Eric's face falls, Arnold adds, "And he's so grateful to you for helping with his sick wife, that he gives you a treasure map to the Dwarf King's gold!"

"Oh, cool!"

"Good game, Elder Cunningham!" says Rob. "I had a lot of fun."

"Me too!" adds Kevin, and though Arnold thinks he might be fibbing, he doesn't care. He pulls Kevin into a hug the second he can.

"You're the best friend anybody could ever have," he whispers.

"I'm just glad it all came together," Kevin says, chuckling.

As Eric and Rob leave, he catches a strange expression on Rob's face as he watches him and Kevin hug. It seems like pity. But then Rob turns away with a yawn and Arnold figures he's misinterpreting things again.

On instructions from the villagers, Nabulungi brings a Book of Arnold with her to the cemetery to ward off ghosts. Arnold didn't speak out against their advice; this tradition doesn't hurt anyone, after all. She lays it beside them as she spreads out the blanket. They're not eating lunch in the cemetery, of course—that'd be creepy—but they're not far away.

She lays out a mouthwatering spread: fried flat-bread, paw paws, mangos, and matoke in vegetable sauce.

"Wow! This looks really great! And you call yourself a bad cook."

"I had Elder Price's help with most of this," she admits. "We really have to find someone for that boy. He is quite a catch!"

"Why are you so interested in setting up Elder Price? And...well, everyone else?"

"I am so happy with you—I want everyone else to be happy, too! And the villagers can be so separate from you white boys sometimes. You still go about in pairs most of the time, you always stay at the mission... People might be interested in each other but not notice each other, you know?"

Arnold suddenly remembers Elder Thomas's request to date at the beginning of the month. "Elder Thomas is interested. We should set him up with someone!"

Nabulungi nods excitedly. "I will see what I can do. Though," she chuckles, "so far my matchmaking has not had much success. Poor Elder McKinley—the look on his face!" Arnold whoops with laughter as she giggles. "Not one of my better ideas," she concludes. After taking a few more bites of her matoke, she asks, "Would it bother you if Elder Price were with someone?"

"Heck, no. He's my best friend. I'd love to see him dating! I'm just not sure it's going to happen anytime soon."

"You seem very sure," Nabulungi notes. "I wondered if that was because you might be jealous."

"I'm not." She's really clever at emotional things. In fact, Arnold realizes, if anyone can help Kevin figure himself out, it'd be her. With a surge of excitement, he blurts out, "Actually, it's because he's asexual."

"Oh? I do not know the term."

"Not interested in sex at all."

Nabulungi looks surprised. "Is he sick?"

"He's not—or I don't think he is, anyway. He told me that he's just never felt like that before."

"Oh, he has not met the right woman," she says confidently. "Or man. But you should be the one to prod him on this. He will take it much better from you."

Arnold isn't quite sure that's how it works. But I'm not the smart one about emotions, here. "I'll see what I can do."

The village must have been more prosperous once: a few of the older headstones are granite or marble, but now the graves are marked with pieces of cardboard with names on it. Nabulungi leads him to a grave marked 'Abagebe Hatimbi.' Beside it are 'Motogusinile Hatimbi' and 'Chinoyazue Hatimbi.' Arnold hopes she doesn't expect him to have her family's names memorized; he'll try, but he can't guarantee anything.

"This is Mother," Nabulungi says, nodding to Abagebe's grave. "Moto died in the firefight; he was twelve. If you look closely at the south-facing wall of our home, you can still see where some of the blood hit. We tried to clean everything, but we could never manage that one spot. Chino..." She swallows, blinking back tears. "He died when he was just a baby, after Mother died bearing him. Baba said Mother missed him so much that she took him with her to Heaven."

She sniffles; Arnold puts his arm around her shoulder. Her voice is thick with emotion. "She was the best mother anyone could have. She was patient and kind and smart. If we had lived in Kampala, she would have had so many opportunities. She could have run a shop—no, she could have been a CEO! When I go to Sal Tlay Ka Siti, I will find a job worthy of her. I will make her—" a sob racks her body "—make her proud of me..."

ARNOLD, DO SOMETHING! His thoughts run in panicked circles as he hugs her and she buries her face in his shoulder. What kind of husband can't even stop his wife from crying?

"Calm down, silly!" says Pinkie Pie. "Don't be scared. Remember—when I was a little filly and the sun was going down!"

NOT HELPING! He cycles through a few fictional characters, but he can't come up with anything useful.

Nabulungi's sobs shudder her entire body. All Arnold has is one Kleenex; it's folded into a tiny square by the time they're forced to throw it away and she wipes her eyes and nose with the sleeve of her white dress shirt. Arnold looks at the graves, feeling guilty. I'm sorry I'm taking her from you.

She slowly relaxes and her sobs become sniffles. "I have not cried like this for years," she murmurs wetly. "But...it would be so lovely to have them at our wedding..." Her hands rest on his shoulders as she looks into his eyes. "Could you lie to me, please, Arnold? Tell me they are well and happy."

"Of course they are. And they'll be at our wedding, too."

"And you can never leave me, Arnold. God will not let you."

"Of course He won't. We're going to be together forever—in eternity, too, no matter where we get married."

"Thank you, prophet. My love. Thank you."

They turn back to look at the graves. For once, the fandom voices in Arnold's head are silent.