The King and I :: A True Story

Lets get away from the house for a while, and return to the thrilling days of yesteryear.... 

This is a true story about how Elvis Presley almost killed me. OK, maybe ‘killed’ is a little strong. How about ‘almost caused me to pass out and lie unconscious on the kitchen floor while my cats ate my eyeballs out of my head.’ Yeah, that’s more like it.

     Anywho, I live alone, and like it that way. I can do what I want, when I want, and how I want, no questions asked. It also means I have to do the yard work, house work, laundry, cook, clean, feed the animals, scoop the litterbox, shovel the snow, rake the leaves, change the lightbulbs, fix the faucet, and take out the trash. This is why I am tired and cranky. But I digress. Back to my near death experience.

     OK, so living alone affords one the opportunity to make a complete ASS of oneself in private. This is where Elvis comes in. I like Elvis Presley. Young Elvis. Old Vegas Elvis. Oh-my-god Elvis in black leather (ladies [and some gents] you know what I’m talkin’ about).  He’s The King.

     OK, so I’m in my kitchen, making dinner, listening to some Elvis. {BTW, this was a few years ago, but it could have been yesterday, and it might happen again tomorrow} Of course, I am singing along. Beautifully. When I sing in front of my dogs, I have the voice of an angel. When people are around, I sound like Yoko Ono. Not good. So, I’m gettin’ my groove on with the King, we’re singing about Suspicious Minds, the Ghetto, and Kentucky Rain. Elvis and I are feelin’ it.  We’re a duet made in heaven. The dogs and I are brought to tears on a few tracks. It’s magical.

     And then it happened. The original rock anthem, “If I Can Dream” starts to play.  The King and I transcend all space, time, and reality to become one monumental musical, tour de force of emotional, eyes closed singing. We truly want to know why, why, oh why can’t our dreams come true! We were trapped in a world with too much pain! We knew that somewhere, out there in the dark, there’s a beckoning candle!

     In true Elvis tradition, with tears in my eyes, I got down on one knee, one hand raised in triumph, the other gripping the microphone, and sang with all my heart!

     With only one line left to sing, I took a deep, deep breath, and promptly began choking on my own saliva. I was seriously choking!! Elvis just kept singing and I was gasping for breath. Bastard didn’t even care. The dogs had gone in the other room. I was all alone, choking, about to pass out from too much Elvis, the cats were going to pluck out my eyes and no one would ever know how it all happened.

     Fortunately, it all turned out ok.