Arranged Marriage to the Neckbeard of my Dreams

Chapter 1: Who the fuck is Chris??

"Allison, will you marry me?" my father asks stoically.
"Um, no?" I reply, confused by my father's words.
"Great! You're not going to. You're going to marry a man named Chris."
"Dad, is this a joke? Where is this coming from?" I asked, still super confused.
"No, now pack your shit you worthless rodent. Just kidding but seriously go pack he's outside."
Oh father. Always the joker. Just to humor him, I went to my room and packed up all of my belongings into a few large purple suitcases that had pictures of aliens and ghosts all over them. I had forged them myself in art class. I loved them.
"Okay dad, ready to go!" I said a few hours later. My dad burst into the room, grabbed my bags hurriedly, and started wheeling them outside.
"Yo big man I've got arms too fool!" I cried, sprinting just to keep up with him. I was only 4'11, and he was 6'11. His legs were significantly larger than mine so I had to literally sprint all over the place to keep up with him. It didn't help that he threw banana peels at me from time to time, just to keep it "fresh" as he always said.
When I finally caught up to him, I was panting heavily. I vomited quietly into a bush before wiping my mouth and sprinting over to the orange Honda Civic that had pulled up. It had a matte finish, indicating to me that it had been painted after it was purchased. By who, I might never know.
"Dad what is this?"
My dad looked at me with a pained expression, as if he were trying not to laugh.
"This is Chris, your new husband! Congrats! Bye now!" he called as he galloped back to the house.
I figured this was all just part of a big practical joke! After all, it was my sixteenth birthday. I was expecting a surprise party.
Just to humor my clinically insane father, I hopped into the car. The sight I beheld brought tears to my beady brown eyes.
Sitting in the drivers seat was the most gorgeous gentleman I had ever seen in my damn life. His black trilby sat upon his luxuriously greased hair like Jesus Christ sat upon Mary in Michelangelo's Pieta. His one eyebrow framed his adorably uneven eyes like a picture frame, and his nose gently sloped at least three inches from the rest of his ivory-white face. The precious baby-like hairs on his upper lip quivered as his lips curved into a smile, allowing me to see his golden yellow teeth. I dragged my vision down from his eyes, about the same shade as his teeth, to his glorious beard that stretched like a magnificent vineyard down his thin neck. I was in love.
"H-hey, I'm Chris," he said coyly.
"Hi Chris, I'm Angela. I mean, Allison," I smiled, forgetting my name.
There was an adorably awkward silence.
"I guess we should, uh, go then. Hehe," he said, and we were off, driving to what I presumed would be my sweet sixteen!!!!