I just had to write this! I may have a stupid mind, I may have a sick mind, but one thing's certain: I am definitely retarded . . . retarded . . . retarded  .. EEKag sg *cough* sorry . . . voice box got stuck for a minute there. . . anyhoo, when you read this you may think, "YEAH, Baby!", or "Holy Mother of God . . ." or " . . . Is that it? God damn, this person is stupid." Oh well, here goes, boy howdy. . .
 

    The sun sank deeper below the horizon as Guybrush and Elaine's honeymoon boat slipped farther and farther away as Guybrush waved good bye to his old crew mates; Haggis McMutton, Cutthroat Bill and Edward "Snugglecakes" Van Helgen.
    Well, the wind wasn't very strong and Guybrush wasn't very bright, so it took almost an hour to lose sight of land, in which he kept up his persistent waving . . . for almost an hour.
    "Aah," he gasped as he finally lowered it, positive that he was going to develop a severe case of stiffness, "I'll be feeling that for weeks!"
    Elaine snuggled closer to him as the stars began to wink in the dark misty sky. "Well, here we are."
    "We're finally married," Guybrush gazed at her lovingly. "I'm yours, you're mine . . ." His voice trailed off as his eyes averted to the fluffy clouds in the sky. Then, with a quick wicked look he spoke again. "What do you wanna do?"
    Elaine caught his hint and grinned back. "What do you want to do?"
    "Do you want to?" Guybrush couldn't seem to stop grinning.
    Elaine flung her arms around his shoulders and sighed. "Of course! I'm all yours . . . but be gentile."

    The dark blue sky deepened to black and the stars became more prominent as the silver moon slipped up to greet the clouds and shine through the single window on the ship with one candle flickering softly . . .
    Elaine was resting on the bed in a deep maroon robe as she tentatively rested her chin in her dainty hand pondering her next move.
    She moved her knight with deliberate slowness. "Checkmate!"
    (Playing chess on their wedding night . . . . now that's damn sad.)
    "Aw, come on! My rook's right there," said Guybrush in dismay.
    "Guybrush, that's your bishop."
    "Bishop, rook---what's the difference??"
    "I still win."
    "Be gentile with her, that's a laugh," he grumbled.
    "Hand 'em over," Elaine grinned. "We had a deal."
    Guybrush simply sighed and pulled out one of two tickets to Wrestle Mania and gave it to her. "One of these days, Elaine . . .ONE OF THESE DAYS. . . POW!. . . To the moon!"
    "What the hell does that mean?"
    Guybrush stared blankly, wracking his brain for an explanation. "Uhhh . . . . it's a. . . secret. And I can't tell you because it's too . . . secret a secret."
    "Ok, Brush Boy, what's next on the agenda, parcheesi?" Elaine rolled her eyes.

                                                 Fin(k)