A big yellow moon hung low over the Frankenstein castle, and the howling winds caused the candles in the bridal suite to quiver like a virgin bride.
It was the creature's wedding night, and Igor was downstairs in the parlor, preparing the creature for his first encounter with a real woman. (Actually, she was many dead women, but for the sake of our story let us say that she was a real woman.)
"Calm down, friend!" said Igor. "Your bride will wait! But first there are things we must discuss. Namely, your form. You're too stiff. Stand up for a moment . . . there we are. Now, slouch your shoulders, loosen those knees, and swagger on over to that table and fetch me the snifter of brandy."
The creature strolled over to the table with all the grace of a broken ox cart and drank the brandy in one gulp; dribbling half the contents down his chin.
"Drink, goood!" said the creature. "Want woman - nowww!"
"Well," said Igor. "I guess you're as ready as you'll ever be. Go get 'em, hoss!"
The creature went upstairs and fell into bed with all the aplomb of a rusted suit of armor. His bride then came out of the master bathroom and toppled into bed with a muffled thud.
And, as the creature howled and his bride hissed, the autumn winds blew out the bridal suite candles.
Igor cursed the darkness and removed his eye from the keyhole.