The company that handles the estate of Elvis Presley recently slapped a cease-and-desist order on Las Vegas chapels that perform Elvis-themed weddings. The letter bans the use of “Elvis Presley’s name, likeness, voice image and other elements of Elvis Presley’s persona in advertisement, merchandise and otherwise.” The move may devastate Vegas wedding chapels, most of which are small, family-operated businesses, and left them scrambling for alternatives.

One idea being considered is to have weddings performed by impersonators of another Las Vegas icon, Frank Sinatra. Here is the draft of a script of what the vows of a ceremony presided over by the Chairman of the Board might sound like.

Today, we are gathered here to witness the marriage of (groom’s name) to this dollface, (bride’s name).

Marriage is a big, important step in people’s lives, etcetera, etcetera. Let’s get on with it.

Do you, (bride), take (groom) to be your lawfully wedded husband?

Do you promise to love, honor, and obey him, to keep the house clean, the kids under control, and, every Sunday, to make him pasta with homemade Italian sauce—not some crap out of a jar?

Do you promise to always keep your mouth shut when he goes out with the boys to drink, play poker, and shoot craps?

Do you promise to accommodate your husband’s needs and desires and to satisfy those needs as many times as necessary regardless of the day, time, or vehicle?

Do you, (groom), take (bride) to be your lawfully wedded wife?

Do you promise to love and honor her, and to not run around with pimps and whores or, at least, to keep her in the dark about it?

Do you promise to occasionally get her flowers, candy, perfume, and other stuff that broads like?

Do you promise, if you keep a goomah on the side, to always wear a rubber so you don’t knock her up?

If anyone here has just and lawful cause why these two should not be joined in matrimony, let them speak now, or better yet, just mind your own business and shut the fuck up.

Then, by the power invested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you man and wife.

O.K., pal, give her a kiss and scram. I got nine more of these things to do, and I wanna hit the tables before the sun comes up.

Jilly, send in the next two lovebirds.

John Ficarra, former editor of Mad magazine, recently tested positive for immaturity