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diaryland: sirilyan.diaryland.com: entry for 2005-02-08 (20:48)
In which our plucky young hero visits the City Hall of tomorrow, today.

"And there's just two more things before we can give you this marriage license," the clerk said.

"Like what?"

"First," the clerk said, "here's a vial for your menses." He pushed a small plastic jar over the counter. "If you aren't menstruating right now, we'll need a recent pregnancy test, signed by a doctor. You can use this form for it."

Jenny blushed a little as she accepted the jar and paper. "It seems a little... invasive," she said quietly.

"I wouldn't know, ma'am. I just work here. Now, Mr. ... Atkins. Here's your jar. There's a collection room down the hall."

"Uh... thanks," said Clark, and he went off in the direction the clerk had indicated. Not ten seconds later, he returned, red-faced and shaking with anger.

"There's a camera in that room!"

The clerk sighed. "I know it seems awkward, Mr. Atkins. But... we've had trouble before. People have their friends produce samples, they ask their doctor to provide a fake. The camera lets us make sure you really did produce the sample."

Clark grumbled. "I'm not going to do it."

"Then you won't get a marriage license, Mr. Atkins. The definition of marriage is a union between a man and a woman, so that they can produce and rear offspring. If we let you get married without collecting menses and semen samples, then where do we stop? Do we let menopausal women marry? Do we let men who've had vasectomies? Hell, we might as well just go ahead and let two people of the same sex get married, and then let them adopt just for the hell of it." The clerk adjusted his glasses. "Even if I didn't agree with it, I'd have to enforce it. And not that it's any of your business, but I do agree with it. So, Mr. Atkins, if you ever want a marriage license in this country, I advise you to shut your mouth, swallow your pride, and jerk off in that cup for the camera. If it's any consolation, they erase the tape every night after reviewing it."

Clark glared at the clerk for a long moment, then headed back down the hall. Well, he thought to himself, at least my marriage will mean something.

Until I get my hands on half of the family fortune, divorce that frigid bitch and fly to Rio, anyway, he grinned, and if that wasn't traditional he didn't know what was.

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