If you have no life like me, then chances are you spend every second of every day wondering: When will Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie get married? Well, now you don't have to! I have imagined the potential story of their wedding day, and it's all right here for your enjoyment! Read on!

One by one, black SUVs pull up to the African wedding compound. All the big stars are there: George Clooney, Matt Damon, The Affleck's, TomKat and Baby Suri, Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta Jones, and Julia Roberts with her cameraman manslave and their gingerbread haired demon-child in toe. Brad warmly greets his guests with a smile; Angelina is no where to be found. The party-goers sip on wheat grass shots and Dom Pérignon while chatting amongst themselves. A mohawked Maddox kicks Julia Roberts' ginger kid in the shins. The guests watch, intrigued, doing nothing to stop it, because after all he is a ginger and deserves the abuse.


Several yards away in the honeymoon tent-complete with malaria prevention net-Jennifer Aniston is pouring Tabasco sauce on Angelina's sexy honeymoon panties. "That should ruin the evening for both of them," she thinks to herself, cackling wildly like a hyena. She's wearing a Richard Nixon Halloween mask to evade reporters, but the unforgiving African sun is causing her to sweat all of the Botox out of her face. She decides a searingly spicy vadge isn't enough punishment, so she snips a few holes in the malaria net. Then it's off to the airport and safely home to LA with her loving dogs who would never leave her for a big-breasted, do-gooding witch.

Back at the wedding compound, the ceremony is set to begin. Brad's side of the aisle is packed with A-listers, friends, and family. Angelina's side includes her Asian lesbian ex-lover, Jenny Shimizu, a warlock (to bless the marriage), and her flight instructor, and a sea of empty chairs.

The ebony wedding musician begins to play "I want to fuck you like an animal" on the flute. The best man and brother of the groom, Doug, steps down the aisle holding Zahara's hand. Zahara is, of course, the maid of honor and the only member of Angelina's wedding party. Brad didn't want to draw attention to Angelina's glaring lack of friends by having a line of groomsman walking solo down the aisle. Next, Angelina steps out on the arm of her pervert/vampire-looking brother, James. Her father, John Voigt was not invited of course, due to their strange estrangement, partially caused by his weeping and declaring her criminally insane on E! News Weekend. Angelina looks radiant as she walks down the aisle in an ivory Badgley Mischka gown and marches towards Brad, who, romantically has pitched a tent in his pants. Even six months pregnant, she still bonerizes him like there's no tomorrow.

As she reaches the altar and prepares to separate from her brother, a hush falls over the crowd. Will they suck face? Will he grab her lactating hooters? He goes in…but it's only for a kiss on the cheek. He plants his enormous vampire lips on her face and then sits down next to the warlock and proceeds to rub his thigh throughout the ceremony.

From the back of the room, Baby Shiloh begins to wail. "Shut up, cracker ass!" Angelina shouts. Shiloh stops wailing, knowing Mommy will get out the wire hanger if she keeps crying. Zahara uncomfortably looks down at her shiny Mary Janes, and Maddox fingers the switchblade in his pocket while gazing at Julia Roberts' son's gingerbread scalp. Pax, meanwhile, has jacked Michael Douglas' Land Rover and left for Vietnam in search of his real parents.

The reading of the vows goes off without a hitch. Brad and Angelina engage in a long, gratuitous makeout sesh followed by the ritual trading of blood viles. Now it's time to party!

The guests dance and eat like there's no tomorrow. Well, the men eat like there's no tomorrow; the women nibble on a peppered sliver of lettuce, staring mournfully at the wedding cake while their eyes well up with tears.

Angelina gets tired of dealing with a fussy Baby Shiloh and instructs the nanny to put her in the Louis Vuitton suitcase. Baby Suri sees the terrible imprisonment and frees Shiloh from the pricey luggage. Then the two sassy young girls decide it's time to blow the joint. They leap into George Clooney's convertible Mercedes and tear off their oppressive Ralph Lauren jumpers, not unlike Liv Tyler and Alicia Silverstone in the Aerosmith video. Suri ignites a copy of Dietetics and flings it out of the car as they speed off in search of adventure.

Finally, the night wears to an end. Violet Affleck is getting grouchy over poopy diaper, and Michael Douglas is getting bitchy over his. The celebs tuck themselves into their respective tents and go to sleep. Meanwhile, Brangelina has wild honeymoon animal sex. Sure they're down two children, but that's not going to put a damper on Brangelina humping. They've got one replacement in the oven and they'll adopt another before returning to America. That is, if the mosquitoes don't get them first.