Sparse attendance at the wedding. The families could fit into one pew behind the bridal party. An organist played that time honored wedding march, Pomp and Circumstance.
A man, clad in a girly robin's egg silk dress, strode down the aisle with his daughter in tow. The young woman, a small, pixie-like redhead, wore a tuxedo. Smiling, the man led her to the altar and took his place in the front pew.
Men, clad in similar blue dresses, processed in after, followed by girls in suits.
Among the male bridesmaids:
A rotund, scruffy bearded man. The dress made him fairly resemble a hippopotamus under a sheet. One hand constantly hiked up the side of his skirt as he waddled on high heels.
His companion, a plump faced African American with wavy hair, checked his tiny silver wristwatch, muttering something about performing later on.
A male child tossed flower petals haphazardly, a number of them spilling all over his periwinkle dress, to be stomped by his Mary Jane flats.
A little girl stumbled after, suit coat near falling off as she struggled to keep the pillow and ring box aloft.
The pixie grinned at her approaching bride: A tall, muscular figure in a white lacy dress and veil. His tiny, curly haired mother (also in a tux), led him forward by the crook of her arm.
The man arrived at the altar, facing his female husband.
A female pastor gave the formal introduction: Man and woman brought together in holy matrimony, before the sight of God. Two families brought together.
From this day forward, Quinn Mallory would be known as Mrs. Quinn Welles.
As the minister spoke, a swirling portal opened in the air, and people came flying out:
A buzz cut body collided with an empty wooden pew. He straightened his rumpled leather jacket and moaned as he rubbed an injured shoulder. He furrowed his brow when he noticed how someone had printed the hymnals and bulletins upside down and backwards.
Thunk! A small black woman struck a pole along the side aisle, with a pose that brought to mind those Halloween decorations of witches having accidents with broomsticks. Well, if the witch wore a pantsuit. A wooden hymn board crashed to the floor. Again, the upside down, reversed numbers and letters.
She landed on the floor, dizzily surveying her surroundings.
Another woman, white, with permanently scowling eyebrows, flew out and knocked over a baptismal font. An old lady, noticing the visitor's halter top and short shorts, cast her a withering look.
An identical twin of the musician bridesmaid also smashed into a pew. Unlike his double, this man wore pants, and a blazer.
The minister, pretending not to notice, continued speaking. "...Speak now, or forever hold their peace."
The man in the blazer groaned, clutching his head as he staggered to his feet. "Yeah, I'll say something: Anybody got some aspirin?"
He stumbled out into the aisle. He gaped when he noticed the figure at the altar. "Wade?"
The man in white lace turned around to look at him.
Even with the veil, the double recognized the bride. "Quinn? You're both alive?"
The body language, and glimpses behind Quinn's veil reflected worriment. "You all right, Rembrandt?"
"Why are you dressed like that?" Wade hissed. "You're embarrassing me!"
"Me? What in the hell are you doing?"
The couple stared blankly at him.
"What does it look like, Rembrandt?" Quinn gawked at the man seated with the bridesmaids. "Wait, why are there two of you?"
"Right. Parallel universe." Rembrandt screwed up his face like someone recovering from a hangover. "Or...maybe I just hit my head real hard!"