Now & Then: Lovebirds and jailbirds get their due

Dear Nephew,

Did you hear about your cousin, Cornelia? She got married again, this time to a guy named Wilbur who’s in his third go-around.

They didn’t want a big fuss and decided to just go to the magistrate.

Well, they went to the courthouse on a Saturday and found out the magistrate worked from the jail on weekends since that’s where all the action is.

At the jail, the magistrate told them the only people available as witnesses were two trusties out in the yard.

So out they went, Cornelia in her off-white CoCo Chanel mini ensemble with spiked heels and Wilbur in a lime-green leisure suit and wingtips. Mincing across the grass to the trusties who were snipping shrubbery, Cornelia and Wilbur were a fine sight for prisoners in orange jumpsuits.

“Y’all gettin’ married?” one of them asked. “Need a witness or two?”

“Yes we do,” Wilbur said.

“Me and Venus usually provide that service,” said the first trusty, who gave his name as Shoeless Joe. Joe had lost his left foot one night, he said, while sleeping too close to the railroad track. Venus had his right arm laying across the track that same night and that’s why they called him Venus.

Meanwhile, the magistrate had to work the wedding while dealing with a DWI here, a pot-seller there and a couple of street fighters cooling off in separate holding cells.

The magistrate led Cornelia and Wilbur, aglow 

in their wedding best, and Joe and Venus, sporting leaf-covered uniforms, into a cell just off the lobby.

“OK, are you two sure it’s what you wanna do?” asked the magistrate as he looked over the marriage certificate.

“Yes we are, sir,” tweeted the two lovebirds. Joe and Venus just smiled.

“Well, Wilbur, do you take, uh, Cornelia to be your lawful wedded wife?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Cornelia, take Wilbur to be your husband?”

“I surely and purely do.” “I now pronounce …”

“Just a minute, your honor,” Wilbur said. “We have rings to trade, I mean exchange.”

“Oh, well, make it quick,” said the magistrate. “I have an assault and battery outside my office fit to be tied.”

“Right, your honor,” Wilbur said. “Uh, Venus, do you have her ring?”

Venus reached into his left pocket and came up empty. Then he crossed over to his right pocket and scrounged around until he finally pulled his left hand back out with a jerk.

The ring went flying through the air, pinging off all four walls before coming to a halt at Joe’s nub. Wilbur picked up the ring and placed it on Cornelia’s third finger, left hand.

“And now …”

“Just a minute, your honor,” Wilbur said. “We have a ring for me, too.”

This time Joe checked his pockets but couldn’t find the ring as the magistrate was getting more impatient. Joe looked inside his one shoe — nothing.

Then his face lit up like one of those police flashlights searching for contraband.

He held up his left hand where he’d put the ring on a finger for safekeeping. After 30 seconds of tugging, he got it off and handed it over to Cornelia, who deftly put it on Wilbur’s third finger, left hand.

“And NOW I pronounce you man and wife,” said the magistrate, adding quickly, “Please kiss the bride, and good luck to both of you,” before rushing out.

Wilbur planted a big one on Cornelia then led her out into the lobby where Joe and Venus were loitering, not too keen on going back outside.

“We want to thank you two for, uh, helping us,” Cornelia said.

“Yes, thanks a lot,” Wilbur said, reaching out to shake first Joe’s right hand, then Venus’ left.

“We do this a lot,” Joe said. “Most people give us a little somethin’.”

“Oh, sure,” said Wilbur, pulling a couple of bills from his wallet. “Here, take this.”

“Thanks,” said Joe. Venus smiled and winked at Cornelia, who blushed back.

So Cornelia and Wilbur went off to a new life together and Joe and Venus traipsed back to their boxwoods.

“Makes me feel kind of warm inside,” Joe said, “sorta like a suspended sentence.”

Venus just smiled.

Well, I just thought you’d like to know about your cousin. The last I heard they were happy as larks and were thinking of starting a new visitation program out at the jail.

Love, Uncle Ambrose and Aunt Victoria

■ Larry Penkava is a writer for Randolph Hub. 

Contact: 336-302-2189, larrypenkava@gmail.com.