John is a graduate of Bennington College. His micro-fiction has appeared or is soon to appear in Flash Fiction Online, Every Day Fiction, BURST, Alienskin Magazine and other venues. He writes a blog of daily micro-fiction spanning all genres at www.johnwiswell.blogspot.com.
Thinking he couldn't have heard the man correctly the first time, the clerk looked up from his computer and asked, "I know you want to file for a marriage license, but who do you want to marry?"
Everett pointed to himself.
"You can't marry yourself."
"Our state licenses unions between two people regardless of gender. At least it does this month."
"But you're only one person."
"The state does not have the right to discriminate against me."
"And it won't, sir. But you aren't two people."
"On the license, simply write that it's the marriage of Everett Summers and Everett Summers. If you want you can give the second one my middle initial." When the clerk did not go running for the license, Everett added, "It's 'F.'"
"That is not legal, Mr. Summers."
"'F' for Frederick."
"You are not two different people. You only have one birth certificate."
"Actually," he said, pulling a second piece of paper from his briefcase, "I photocopied the original."
"Sir, that would be illegal."
"It's not illegal. It's five cents a copy at the local library. If you bust me, I'm taking the librarians down with us. You will not deny my love. It's unyielding."
"You don't want the state to deny your narcissism?"
"If a man cannot join himself in holy matrimony, who can he join?"
"According to state law? Anyone else."
"Be practical, man. Just sign it. My insurance is going to be amazing."
The clerk squinted.
"You're going to use spousal benefits to get insurance from your work policy?"
"Doubling down. Since a new person isn't technically being added, they can't up my rates. But since we'll both be covered under spousal law, I'll be entitled to twice the coverage. Any time I go to the doctor I can make two claims. I'll probably rack up so much credit between the two of me that I can afford breast implants."
"You want breast implants?"
Everett put a hand to his lips.
"Anything for my husband."
"You're a sick man, Mr. Summers."
Everett frowned, but left his hand up.
"Two sick men, in search of great insurance benefits."