 I honestly thought my fiance was kidding when she told me about her crazy mom. What's that babe? You're the daughter of a 500-year-old witch, and she set you up in an arranged marriage to Beelzebub, one of the seven princes of hell. Shit, I hate it when that happens. 48 hours later, we were hauling ass down the interstate in a beige-saturned coop. Me at the wheel, getting tailed by my prospective mother-in-law, Agafa, who transformed into a werebat in desperate attempt to stop our wedding. Alex was in the passenger seat, frantically punching our destination into Google Maps. We'd shaken off Mumsy about six miles back, but we knew she couldn't be far since the horrible old fossil seemed to have a way of tracking us. The headlights briefly illuminated a giant set of wings. A moment later, the car sunk as something hefty planted itself on the roof. Alex and I exchanged a look, a leathery claw engulfed the side window, and squinting in the rear view mirror, I saw a pair of talony feet. Alex screamed, look out, as we almost swirled into the desert. I wasn't used to driving under such trying conditions. Two days earlier, our relationship had been much simpler. The most stressful decision we faced was what to binge on Netflix. I suggested squid games, whereas she wanted to see Bridgerton. In the end, we decided to compromise and watched Bridgerton. Within 48 hours, we were doing 30 over the limit, bugs in sand blasting the windshield, and her mother was clinging to the freaking roof beyond the passenger side window. The claw reeled back, halted for a moment, then glass sprayed inward, curved nails clamped around Alex's neck, drawing thin trickles of blood. First, her head disappeared, then her shoulders, and her upper torso as she got hauled out of the cabin. At the very last second, I hooked a pair of flailing legs, letting the vehicle drift across two empty lanes. Alex rasped something vaguely similar to Jason crucifix eyes off the road. I popped the glove compartment and then shoved his silver cross into her outstretched hand. She raised it above the roof. And next thing there's this sound like a viper hiss followed by this other sound like Sunday morning bacon on the grill. Alex recited a Bible verse. Then her mom took flight. The unexpected shift in weight caused the car to veer from one side of the road to the other. I jammed on the brakes, fighting to regain control, and was thrown into the dashboard. Alex still half-trapped outside. We came to a stop at an extreme angle against the highway, smoke billowing from the wheels. My beautiful fiancee slumped into her seat, breathing heavily, and picked glass out of her hair. There was a moment of calm in which we both sighed then pushed our foreheads together, grinned, and said, I love you. But before we could kiss, a silhouette swooped from left to right in the side mirror. The engine muttered to life and we were back on course. Seven years ago, if I told you attending a Halloween party dressed as Ziggy Stardust would ultimately land me on a witch's shit list, I might have worn my Buzz Lightyear costume instead. Or perhaps I'd have stayed home all together. Alex was by the punch bowl, dressed as Jareth the Goblin King. I walked up behind her and said, well, this is awkward. One of us is going to have to change. When she flashed that killer's smile, my heart got all tingly. If you told me then that I'd have to stare down the faces of the underworld just to be with her, I'd have said, bring it on. We talked until morning, first about our mutual love of Bowie, then life in general. I fell for her hard. She told me her parents died when she was young, which they did. It just didn't stick in her mother's case. But other than that, she didn't say much about her childhood. I always knew Alex was the one that we'd get married someday. It's just neither of us felt the need to rush things. But her mom's unexpected resurrection really lit a fire under our asses. Alex's phone soon announced we'd arrived at our destination. The neon sign above the parking lot said wedding chapel. You sure this will work? I asked pulling up as close to the entrance as possible. The lights flashed blue and yellow through the windshield. Positive. She replied, if I'm already married, that means mom's messed up her side of the deal. Elder gods don't take kindly to witches who break their oaths. You still got the rings? I fumbled through my pockets. Yeah. Then let's do this. Inside there was a board receptionist flicking through a copy of US Weekly. Alex said, we want to get married. Without looking up, the lady casually replied, there's a couple already in there, but you can go right after packages started to 49 with a love me tender option. But we have a special on Alex slammed a roll of 20s on the counter. We want to get married now. The receptionist eyeballed the cash eyeballed Alex, then waved us along. We raced through a set of double doors into a room with two rows of wooden benches, a stained glass window curved at the top and an altar surrounded by three people, a bride, a groom, an Elvis Presley, an impersonator, I should clarify, not the real Elvis. That would be ridiculous. In the corner, an elderly lady wearing a snakeskin dress was stooped over a tiny keyboard. Everybody snapped their heads towards us at once. As we raced down the aisle, Elvis stepped forward, opening his mouth to protest. But before he could get a word in Alex said to the couple, we want to get married and we're kind of in a hurry, I'll give you 500 bucks to leave right now. She counted out the notes and waved the stack around while my right leg bounced up and down. It was hard to gauge Elvis's expression through the star shaped sunglasses, but he looked somewhat shocked. The couple threw each other a look, then conferred privately. 600. The bride said. Done. Alex and I replied. She counted out five more twenties and stuffed the pile into the bride's hands, then ushered the couple back to the entrance. I said to Elvis, we need to get married pronto, finish the ceremony in under five minutes, and I'll give you a fat bonus deal. The keyboardist lit a cigarette and glared at me through a cloud of smoke. A pattern of blue green veins stood out from her upper thigh, similar to the digital roads we'd navigated on Alex's phone. Elvis looked me up and down, debating whether I was serious. Now, listen here, partner, I'm gonna need to see. Right here, I said, unfolding a marriage license, newly issued by the state of Nevada. At the far side of the room, Alex dragged a wooden bench across the double doors, grunting from the effort. Elvis inspected the license, then said, you got any identification? Sure do. I offered him two driver's licenses, mine and Alex's. He gave them a once over, shrugged, then shot finger guns at the keyboardist. Cigarette lit in her mouth, she nodded curly, then started a soulful rendition of Here Comes the Bride. I leaned close to Elvis and said, whatever happens, don't stop the ceremony. Oh, he replied. Alex, having zero interest in absorbing the magical moment, bolted down the aisle to join us at the altar. Elvis raised his hands in a gesture resembling the Nixon peace symbol. Well, here we are in the city of Lattes, Las Vegas, Nevada, gathered today to celebrate. Uh, King? Alex interrupted. Could we maybe get the abridged aversion? Hey, you got it, little Missy. He gyrated his hips. After double checking my license, Elvis said, Jason, please take. He double checked Alex's Alex by the hand, look her in the eyes and say, Jason, take the Alex to be my lawfully wedded wife. I looked into her eyes, though shining emerald eyes, feeling her rapid pulse between my fingers. As I repeated the vows, she chewed her lip the way she always does when she's anxious. Elvis continued his spiel, only making it so far as to have and to hold before a sharp hiss coming from behind the window stole his attention. Hey, King, if you want that bonus, you got to do this fast. Let's go, chop chop. Oh, to have and to hold from this day forward. Another shriek louder than the first. Have and hold from this day forward. I repeated in sickness and in health, sickness and health, to love and to cherish, love and to cherish, till death do us part, till death do us. Before I could finish a huge silhouette suddenly filled the window, then Agatha exploded through the glass claws poised and glided straight towards us. Things were about to get wild. Elvis dove beneath the altar, as the keyboardist lit cigarette dropped out of her mouth. I don't think either of them had ever seen a where bat before my soon to be mother-in-law Agatha circled above our heads periodically swooping down to attack. There wasn't much Alex or I could do besides windmill or crucifixes. The keyboardist made a desperate, foolish break for the exit. But before she'd even made it halfway, Agatha nose dived and sunk her claws so deep into the lady's shoulders, the ends disappeared, then carried her kicking and screaming through the shattered window. Don't stop. I shouted at Elvis, who was holding his knees against his chest. Finish the ceremony, dude. What, what are you nuts? He replied, his voice shrill and distinctively un-Elvis like. He whipped his gaze between me and Alex. What the hell is that thing? Alex said, that's my mom and I guarantee you she's coming right back unless you Agatha glided back into the room and dived for us. At the very last second, Alex's crucifix went up in a shining arc and her mom veered off course. She spun onto the floor, crashed through several rows of wooden benches, and finally collided with a far wall. That won't keep her down for long. I said Elvis swallowed a lump, then pulled himself up using the altar. Alex repeat after me, I Alex take the Jason to be my lawfully wedded husband. He spoke fast, barely leaving enough time for her to repeat the vows to have and hold from this day forward in sickness and in health till death do us part till death do us part. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Then, by the authority vested in me, object, said a voice across the room, Agatha's bat wings morphed into a black robe while her claws transformed into arthritic hands. With a simple flick of a wrist, she made the benches slide apart like the Dead Sea did for Moses. The temperature plummeted 20 degrees, or maybe I just imagine that I grabbed Elvis by the popped collar and said, finish it. The rings. He stammered. I fumbled through my pockets until I found the ring box and offered it up a panic stricken Elvis frantically gestured towards Alex. She extended her right hand while still holding the crucifix with her left with a little jiggling. I got the ring on her finger and said, I give this as a sign of our everlasting love yada, yada, yada. Agatha raised her hands, plaster and dust cascaded off the ceiling as a fierce gust of wind forced us to huddle around the altar. Alex grabbed the other ring and slipped it on my finger, quickly repeated the line. Then we both looked at Elvis. Then by the power vested in me. With a simple pinching motion, the old witch made Elvis' mouth clamp shut. Then the crucifix suddenly flew out of our hands, leaving us vulnerable and exposed. The horrible crow beckoned her daughter towards her. Gliding as if on ice, Alex was drawn straight into her mother's wicked clutches. Then she made Alex fall into an immediate trance with a pra duer forehead. While Elvis thrashed around, unable to pry his lips apart, I charged. Agatha mumbled a spell which made my legs become limper than wet noodles, sending me tumbling onto the floor. There was nothing I could do. She was too powerful. Combining more Latin with grand sweeping gestures, she made the entire chapel quake. Light fixtures exploded around the room, framed pictures of Elvis danced on the walls. The stink of fire and brimstone engulfed my nostrils. And then, just a few feet before the altar, floorboards ripped apart, exposing a deep pit at a 45 degree angle. On the opposite side, far beneath the space where the floor had once been, there was an ocean of fire radiating in intense orange glow. And in the midst of it stood a titanic creature silhouetted behind flames. Judging from the outline, it appeared to have long curved horns and the torso of a man. It was Alex's husband to be. Prince Beelzebub. Inch by inch, I crawled forward on my elbows until I was close enough to grab Agatha's robe. No, I muttered feebly. Please stop. She shot me a look of disdain, bent over, clamped an icy hand around my neck and hoisted me into the air. Do you have any that you almost cost me? The tendons in her neck looked ready to explode. If you'd made me break my… Her soulless eyes glittered orange against the fiery ocean. The second this is done, she pulled me so close, I could taste the stench of disease and death wafting out of her mouth. My guts clenched. Beelzebub reached through the pit towards our world, eager to collect what was promised. Can't do this to Alex, I said. Agatha's nostrils flared. Oh, and why not? I love her. Her mouth twisted into a grotesque little smirk. Please. Beside us, Alex's head was stooped against her chest, her glazed eyes, the color of egg whites, her face expressionless. As I stared at the woman I loved, my thoughts steered back to that night seven years ago, to the time we first met. Since then, she changed my life in more ways than she could possibly imagine. I needed her like I needed oxygen. The thought of abandoning her to the underworld was unacceptable. It took all of my focus and concentration just to raise my right arm. Then, with the little strength I had left, I clenched my fist and struck Agatha's forehead. She cackled, but only for a split second, because now there was a cross indented between her eyes. She looked at me, looked at the ring, then back to me. The realization hit her like a lightning bolt. Not only was my ring made from pure silver, but it also had a crucifix etched into the top. I had a double whammy of witch-slaying power wrapped around my finger, a stroke of pure genius from my wonderful bride-to-be. As Agatha's grip slackened, I took a deep breath and then struck her again on the chin this time. Her jawbone popped open like a bin lid, remaining attached to only one side of her skull. A mammoth hand, at least double the size of my Saturn coop, pushed through the pit and almost broke through the ceiling, eclipsing the entire room with its wide shadow. I struck Agatha again. This time, a vertical slit opened, spanning from the crown of her skull to the bridge of her nose. She released my neck and hissed like a cat with a trampled tail. And then, with great satisfaction, I found my feet, took a step back, and Spartan kicked her into the pit. Be honest, who hasn't dreamed of doing that to their mother-in-law? The second Agatha vanished, Elvis made a loud gasp. Alex gasped too, as if waking from a terrible nightmare. Moments before a colossal thumb and forefinger pinched her ankles together and dragged her in the direction of the pit. I lunged forward, grabbed her hands, and then we were both getting reeled into the underworld. Finish the ceremony! I said to Elvis, who was busy hyperventilating. Halfway to hell, Agatha clung to a jagged rock, desperately rasping. No! From behind me, Elvis screamed, Say, I do! I do! I shouted back. I do, too! Alex added. Without pausing for a single breath, Elvis said, Then by the authority vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you, Mr. and Mrs. Jason Cheeseman, you may kiss the bride! We kissed. And for one very special moment, the world melted away. I forgot about witches. I forgot about demons. And I even forgot about Elvis Presley. Beelzebub immediately released Alex. With her now officially married, the deal was void. And he had no use for her. Instead, he settled on a new target. Agatha. I heaved Alex out of the pit, clear of danger. Agatha, knowing what was about to happen, tried to transform into a were-bat and fly up, but she was just too slow. Beelzebub caught her. And then all I could see was a withered head poking out of a closed fist. Through her badly concaved mouth, Agatha spat sparks in flames as she was dragged to hell. As the pit sealed itself up, Alex and I stepped away, clear of any danger. The sound of Agatha's screams echoed through the chapel. The room trembled violently as the floorboards stitched themselves back together. And then it was over. The pit was gone. I kissed my wife. It felt so good to say that. My wife. Time moved dreamlike. We kissed again, and again, and again, then six more times. I twirled her around, laughing, crying, savoring the moment I never wanted it to end. Eventually, I peeled my eyes off the most beautiful bride in the world, and I thanked Elvis for all his help. But the king had left the building. Beyond the shattered window, our keyboardist groaned and rubbed her punctured shoulder, then casually lit another cigarette. Alex nested her head against my chest and sighed deeply. The nightmare was finally over, and we were free, free to spend the rest of our lives together. Caressing her soft cheek, I let out an exhausted sigh and said, So, where should we go on our honeymoon?