His eight gold rings sparkled, alligator skin dress shoes squeaked, a scent of Axe Body Spray was present and shimmering green rays came off the tuxedo fabricated purely from hundred dollar bills. He’d actually designed a tuxedo that could support a popped collar — astonishing.

This is the final episode of A&E Editor Tyler Gaskill’s allegorical exploration of American love life.

My best friend’s wedding — a bridesmaid took a drag of her cigarette on the stoop in front of the chapel. A strap to her dress snapped while she waved the smoke away.

Just then, the groom’s father stepped out of the parked, and freshly waxed, Hummer limo.

My suitemate Ron was getting married and his father, Karl, already looked pissed.

Karl frowned and adjusted the tie of his tux.

It baffled me why Ron wanted to take the ultimate step in relationships. His excuse of no sex didn’t carry weight. I heard parents scream about dandelion stains, while Ron’s kid nephews attempted to play and fidgeted in their outfits.

Karl grumbled to the smoking bridesmaid, “Put that out, you minx,” as he briskly jogged up the steps to the marble entrance. Her mouth hung while a Karl’s tuxedoed crew followed past.

One questioned plagued me from the moment of my arrival: where was Ron? Suddenly, a ripple of funky sounds erupted from chapel’s entrance. It was the O’Jays’ “For the Love of Money.” As heard that echoy refrain: “Money, money, monn-eh,” I wanted to hide behind the tall shrub in front of me. The music stopped Karl too abruptly for my liking.

Only Ron Barzinski would force our heads to unconsciously nod to funk as we entered the site of his marriage. Karl shook in fright as artillery-sounding fireworks exploded all around the marble-pillared entrance.

In a haze of smoke, Ron emerged from the Hummer limo. I felt like I was watching a twinkling galaxy from light years away — impossible to take in with one glance. His eight gold rings sparkled, alligator skin dress shoes squeaked, a scent of Axe Body Spray was present and shimmering green rays came off the tuxedo fabricated purely from $100 bills.

He’d actually designed a tuxedo that could support a popped collar — astonishing. Behind Ron’s classic grin, “Money,” was all he said once his chrome cane tapped the concrete.

It was that classic grin that had lassoed me into forgiving him.

After I got out of the hospital, I went right to Ron’s room at Sandburg 1860. Before I had a chance to be angry at Ron for stealing my girlfriend, tricking me into a beating that resulted in a three-week coma and possibly anally probing me, he asked me to be his best man.

My ex-girlfriend of two weeks and Ron were getting hitched. Ron didn’t smile, hug or jump around when he told me. He just stood shoulder-flexed, chin-up and grinning.

“You in?” he asked, and raised his hand for a high-five.

I remember my high-five being foolish and sliding of off his stone-like palm. As he walked away he had said, “Good, you can keep the old man off my back.”

I watched Ron give that same stone palm high five to all his relatives as he did a strange dance past his father into the chapel.

Karl’s expression soured. I thought he might not make a scene after all.

While Jenny performed her self-written vows, I stood next Ron. I knew I was wrong when I watched Karl’s face contort every time Jenny said the word, “Lie-berry,” instead of the proper pronunciation Lie-brarry.

He nearly jumped out his seat on the third mispronunciation, and I screeched. With all eyes on me, no one saw Karl run up and grab his son by the back of the arm.

I remember crouching behind Ron’s brother for protection from Karl’s wrath. But Karl’s wrath went beyond my comprehension. He proved so once he started peeling off his face, and screaming in a possessed voice, “How dare you defy me by getting married under the sanctity of God!”

Screams tore through the chamber. Karl’s face didn’t reveal a bloodied skull but rather another face with red leathery skin. I could see Jenny’s face under her white veil. She looked rather calm considering someone just tore his face off in front of her only to reveal her groom’s father is Satan.

Karl’s voice shook the ground, “Ron, you’re the prince of darkness. Now, look at this girl! I’d thought I’d raised you better than to bring home some gold-digging harlot. Why, I just saw one of her friends smoking out front stinking up everyone’s nice suits. Is this the kind of crowd you wanna be associated with?”

While madly crawling backwards I yelled to Karl, “If Ron’s the prince of darkness, then who are you?”

He didn’t even turn away from Ron — who was watching his feet — “I’m the lord of darkness, moron.”

This was my chance, “Jenny,” I yelled. She was yawning when I caught her attention.

“I’ll save you! Come with me!”

With anger she said, “Don’t be trying to get back with on my wedding day.”

“Are you still marrying, Ron? He’s the Prince of Darkness!” I said horrified.

“Yeah, I guess. But won’t you have a lot of money,” she said to Ron.

He lifted his head with a grin, “Hell yes, I will.”

She grabbed his head, said “I do,” and kissed Ron.

The priest said, “I now present to you … uh … married people.”

After half saving, half trying to destroy my best friend’s wedding, I deserved every ounce of that open bar. In fact, had it not been for all that booze — plus the freaky girls who were willing to attend the prince of darkness’ wedding reception — and Ron’s advice, I wouldn’t have scored with that smoking bridesmaid.

I owed everything to Ron.

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