Elvis Insults My Intelligence

Good afternoon.  I’m thrilled to be here today.

My name is Elvis Presley and I’m originally from Tupelo, MS.  I know, I know, you think I’m dead.

As you can see, I’m not dead.  I currently live on a remote tropical island in the South Pacific where legions of servants wait on me hand and foot.

It’s good to be the King.

You need to see things from my perspective.  I was getting old and fat, so my agent decided that I needed to disappear.  The fans will forgive you for becoming a drug addict, for getting arrested multiple times, for doing almost anything under the sun except become old and fat.  My waistline bulged and my face had begun to wrinkle.  If I could have swiveled my hips like in the old days, my sagging testicles would have swung and whapped some poor gal in the audience.

Music fans clamor for a different wrecking ball.  Flying genitals are considered acceptable at 19, creepy at 40, and gross at 79.  Ageism at its finest…

But back to my story.  To keep the income flowing in, I retired to this island.  The whole hoopla around “Is Elvis dead?” kept my name in circulation far longer than it deserved to be.  Armies of performers still don my clothes and hairdo while kids who think Metallica is ancient line up to get married by me.  And every time someone imitates me, I get a royalty check.

And don’t forget the memorabilia and tickets to Graceland and everything else you can spend money on.

I’m rolling in the dough because death’s aura conquers all.

https://i2.wp.com/upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/00/Memphis_national_cemetery.jpg

This is the Memphis National Cemetery.  I ain’t here.  (Photo credit: Thomas R. Machnitzki)

Since I’m so generous, I shared my wisdom with my ex-son-in-law, Michael.  No one was buying his music and radio stations refused to play anything by him.  No one wanted to do anything that would funnel money into the hands of a child molester.  But as soon as he “died,”  people could only remember the controversy surrounding his death.  His music reemerged that week and it sells very well on iTunes.

That’s right, kiddies.  Drugs are okay.  They can get you forgiven for greater crimes.

Michael joined me here and we plan to grow older and die on this island.  We can do it because you’re all so stupid.

Thank you.  Thank you very much.

Advertisements

34 thoughts on “Elvis Insults My Intelligence

  1. Very clever play on the challenge…. And also, I totally knew it. It’s no coincidence about both yours and your former son-in-law’s “mysterious” deaths. I would have guessed the Faroe Islands though.

  2. Pingback: The Color Purple, Maybe/DPChallenge | I'm a Writer, Yes I Am

  3. Pingback: Not All Shoes Fit The Same | The Chatter Blog

  4. Pingback: Weekly Writing Challenge: Perspectives | A mom's blog

  5. Pingback: ON THE RIVER | Serendipity

  6. Pingback: Time, Fleeting Love | Lead us from the Unreal to the Real

  7. Pingback: Kick ‘er ‘ead in! – Weekly Writing Challenge | alienorajt

  8. Pingback: Weekly Writing Challenge: Leave Your Shoes at the Door | rahul ranjan's blog

  9. Pingback: Reflections and Nightmares- Irene A Waters (writer and memoirist)

  10. Pingback: The Shoes of Francisco de Encinas (1520-1552) | Running Brook Reflections

  11. Haha! This was so slyly hilarious, but ending with the classic “Thank you very much” just sealed it. 🙂 What a fun read! Thanks for participating in the challenge this week! 😀

  12. Pingback: Weekly Writing Challenge – Leave Your Shoes At The Door | Joe's Musings

  13. Pingback: Laptop Fever [FLASH FICTION] | Ramisa the Authoress

Comments are closed.