"Oh dear Gloria, _my love, my dear, my _reliable mule, _my everything_, I would never desicrate our faith, our long lived, fiery passion for each other," the Duke of Harvington pleads, played by a rather drama-inclined red head, "Oh, Gloria!"

She reacts to the confession by glancing at the audience which seemed larger to her than it actually was. She swallowed.

"My sweet, sweet Gloria of Burastaburg, forgive me! The Duke of Harvington begs your forgiveness!"

From the left of the curtains, another wig-wearing figure enters, looking more frantic than even the Duke of Harvington.

In a peculiarly dull tone, Gloria explodes, "and here is your mistress now."

"You've told her?!" Divany Chumley gasps with intensity. "She would have never known! Duke of Harvington, arg!"

Gloria faces the Duke of Harvington and says flatly, "You bitc—"

Divany Chumley blasts the Duke of Harvington square in the chest, who is already thrusting a hand to his forehead, with a smoothboore rifle taken delicately from her bosom. "You betrayed me, the Duke of Harvington. Our bigamous marriage is ruined, and the Chumleys shall have no part in your corroding family lineage, especially due to your sentimental nature; though I appreciate your affectionate gestures—and wish to know where you found those macadamia nut white chocolate confections—it is your utmost weakness."

The Duke of Harvington bleeds blood that somehow appears more akin to cloth and rolls into Glorias arms. She struggles to catch him. "Gloria, _forgive_ me. Please please please."

"Who shot a rifle, lord, at my OWN son's WEDDING?!" a voice calls as dozens of actors swarm each side stage, all equipped with various wooden weapons. "Your daughter shot my son!"

Another voice immediately retorts, "Your son is in the arms of another woman!"

"You've basically killed him! Harvingtons, FIRE!"

"Likewise! Chumleys, take aim!"

The stage is encapsulated by explosion noises from speakers crunchier than a distorted radio. Several people pretend to die.

"Take me Gloria; I only wish to die with you as my final lover."

Gloria tries to cry but does not. She laments, "Such an idiot, such a quack; I would love you no other way," and she misses a kiss to the forehead.

"Gloria... _Amidst the chaos, I fade away peacefully in your arms._"

The audience of less than seven boos.

"It should've been Divany," the screenwriter sobs.