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sort of wedding. Instead of wearing the amazing wedding dresses we<br />

dreamed about but couldn’t af<strong>for</strong>d, we pinned magazine cut outs of<br />

them to our t-shirts. Her brother, who had gotten some sort of license<br />

on the internet, officiated the ceremony in the living room of our<br />

fourth floor walkup.<br />

“Ok,” I reply, really just to make her happy. “But let’s wait<br />

until they have a chance to clean up.” By ‘they’ I meant the<br />

alligators.<br />

#<br />

To get to the bridal store, we have to navigate a maze of<br />

downed power lines and cracked, jagged pavement, all the time trying<br />

to be stealthy enough to avoid any trouble. It got pretty ‘Road<br />

Warrior’ after all the shit went down, but there’s so much uncleared<br />

rubble obstructing traffic where we live downtown that roving bands<br />

of crazed, blood thirsty pirates hasn’t been much of an issue. Our<br />

biggest fear has really been the alligators, along with various other<br />

creatures it has rained, and the myriad gangs that seem to spring up<br />

each day.<br />

We’ve both been runners since high school, so our strategy so<br />

far has been to evade with speed, armed with some cricket mallets we<br />

found in Ollie and Simon’s apartment. Ollie and Simon were the best<br />

man and best man at our wedding. They already killed themselves. A<br />

lot of people have. It’s sort of ‘in’ right now. Kara and I have talked<br />

about it – I mean every couple has – but we have decided to ride it out<br />

<strong>for</strong> now, at least until our food starts to run low.<br />

“Move!” I shout as I catch movement out of the corner of my<br />

eye. We both break into a sprint across Cherry Square. If we had had<br />

alligators chasing us back when we were in high school, I know two<br />

girls who would have made it to state finals.<br />

We make it to the store and survey the square from inside.<br />

We can’t see anything, but both of us hear something ominously large<br />

splash into the fountain.<br />

You have to stay frosty in the apocalypse.<br />

#<br />

Kara pulls a gown down from the rack <strong>for</strong> me to try, but I’m<br />

hesitant. I worry it will make my ghetto booty look even more<br />

pronounced. So I start tearing through the racks and try on gown<br />

after gown, becoming increasingly frustrated with each one.<br />

Of course Kara finds an elegant sheath that’s perfect <strong>for</strong> her<br />

right away. She looks so beautiful. She’s one of those women that<br />

2 Typehouse Literary Magazine

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