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Rated: E · Short Story · Comedy · #727065
The truth about the King -- My "dead Elvis" story
To Who it may concern:

I am taking the time to write this here letter to tell you that most people who claim of meeting HIM are probably telling the truth. Though not the whole truth.

I met Him about a week ago. I was looking out the bay window of my little café at the sunrise coming up over the city dump across the road. I was hoping that something good was gonna happen that day, cause not much has come my way for years, and it did, sorta.

I guess that I’m like most folks who claim to of met HIM. I am poor and not never ever gonna be rich or famous. Maybe that’s why he chooses us; to give us a chance at meeting someone who did.

Anyways, the place that I own, the Kountry Kookin’ Kitchen, ain’t much. Just an old gas station with all the pumps gone and made over into a restaraunt. At first I thought the place would do right well, being along Route 6, not far from I-55, but most of the businesses around here are shutting down. I like being my own boss and such, but it looks like I gotta be headin' on myself real soon.

Anyways, the coffee had just finished brewing and I was sippin' at the first cup like I already told ya, when this real big old black car pulled to a stop right in front of the door. The main thing I noticed was that all them windows was so dark I couldn’t see into it. I got worried that some punks high on booze and pills had decided to rob me of the few dollars in the cash drawer and I almost went over and locked the door. But then the driver’s door flung open and HE got out!

Wasn’t no doubt in my mind that I was seein’ the real thing, not wearin’ that white spangly outfit that was his trademark. And he had his hair all greased up and combed like it had been in the Fifties, but his hair wasn’t so black. He gave me that curly-lipped smile outta the side of his mouth, you know the one that drove the girls crazy in the good old days, and adjusted his sunglasses. He came inside and chose the booth where nobody could look in and see him and plopped hisself down.

I musta been standing there like I was rooted to the floor and staring at him, cause I suddenly snapped awake. All my customers get a glass of water, drought or not, as soon as they come in and I was definitely gonna give HIM one. And put up the glass as a sooveneer!

When I put the glass down I asked did he want a cup of coffee or something to eat. On the house, of course. But he said no, that he didn’t eat or drink much anymore. And I could see that he didn’t. He was far skinnier than I’d ever imagined, especially, considering those last photos that show him as so fat. But thinkin’ back on all that had happened – or not happened – since that night in August, 1977, I could see why.

He asked me to sit and talk. He said he was lonely, but had to keep movin on. Thrilled to be asked to sit with the King, I slid into the seat across from him and right then I knowed why so many claim to of seen him, but why he never shows himself to the general public. I mean he was real nice and polite, but his voice didn’t have any strength. Couldn’t ever again, considering what was happening to him.

First off, though he wore make-up plastered an inch thick on his face, like he was ready to go on stage to sing again, I could see the dry flesh underneath. In fact he was so bad that he left flakes of himself all over the tabletop, like a blizzard of dandruff. I wouldn’t just have the water glass with his fingerprints on it to keep as a memento, all I had to do was sweep his leavings into a plastic sandwich bag.

Then I noticed the odor. Even though he musta poured a whole bottle of perfume over himself, the smell of him was overpowering. Once, when I was a kid and was walking home from school, I found a dead cat in the ditch next to the highway. It was all swollen up and when I poked it with a sharp stick, it exploded with a stink that nearly knocked me down. I could never forget that stench. HE stank almost the same.

To tell the truth, I was sorta glad when he said that he had to go, cause it probably take a whole case of room freshener to cover the lingering odor. If the Board of Health had dropped by for an inspection, they woulda closed me right down. I was proud that he had chosen my place to stop at, but was disappointed that he didn’t offer to buy me a fancy car like he’s done for others.

So I thought I would type this here letter to tell the rest of you folks about what is really happening with these sightings of the King. I’d like to say that most of these people might not be lying. I ain’t. But the truth is that he did die that day. And he knows it. But he just don’t seem to be able to deal with that fact, being so rich and popular. He told me that he just can’t stand the thought of disappointing his fans that way.

Anyways, you might get lucky and meet him yourself one day soon and he might buy you a brand new car, unless he surrenders to reality. But I wanna warn ya not to get your hopes up, or get too close to the King, if ya know what I mean.


R. Dean


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