Don't Bother Me, I'm Crabby

As they traipsed down the aisle toward that eternal road of wedded bliss, Fred smiled. Smiled to hide the tears. Infernal itch!
That goddamn cocktail waitress from the "boys' night out" had given him a touch of the crabs something fierce, and the wedding night was going to be a huge disappointment for Carly. She'd waited all those years for him, god bless her, just so she could TRULY wear white. What a cad he was! But god, how could he resist those spectacular tits?

Focus, Fred, focus. You could always tell Carly it was bed bugs. She'd understand bed bugs. After all, your fraternity brothers weren't all that keen on the cleanliness department, despite Miss McGinty's angry posts on the bulletin boards.

Bed bugs would have to be it. Maybe Carly would get too hammered on that Asti Spumante that she wouldn't even be AWAKE. Plan B!