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Another woman pulled a man half a foot shorter than her.

She stared at the paper, then at him.

Willow leaned into the microphone. “Stand tall, husband.”

The man puffed his chest out. “I am standing tall!”

By then, I was crying laughing.

For the next several minutes, women pulled names while Willow officiated every fake marriage like she had been ordained specifically for nonsense. She made one couple hold hands because the woman kept trying to walk away from her new husband, threatened another woman with “holiday alimony” for attempting to switch slips, and told a man who complained that his wife was already bossing him around, “Congratulations. You’re married.”

Eventually, the bowl started getting empty.

Willow peered inside before slowly lifting her head toward me, then she smiled.

“We saved the best for last.”

I immediately stopped laughing. “Absolutely not.”

The room immediately started making noise.

“Ooooooh!”

“Lakelyn gotta play!”

“Come on!”

I pointed at Willow. “Willow, I said no.”

She stepped down from the platform carrying that damn bowl. “Sis, it’s just for a few hours.”

“I don’t care if it’s for six minutes.”

“You don’t even have to kiss him.”

“No.”

“Hold hands?”

“No.”

“Stand near him?”

“Willow.”

She followed me as I tried to move away. “Girl, it’s Halloween Husband, not a federal marriage certificate. Nobody is changing your last name.”

“I said no.”

“You don’t even have to feed the man. He probably already ate.”

I stopped and gave her a look.

Willow smiled sweetly. “See? We’re eliminating marital responsibilities by the second.”

“I am not pulling a name out of that bowl.”

“Fine.”