Trippin’ In Graceland

Weekly writing challenge- Backward

Boots and fists pelted his face and torso much like hail from a Texas thunderstorm would pelt a vehicle. He heard his ribs crack and splinter with each steel toe that hit his frame. He curled up into the fetal position and wrapped his hands over his head in attempt to keep his windshield from shattering.

As he drifted into unconsciousness, Sirens in the distance caused the kicking to cease and the hit and run to begin.

He looked up to see the final boot, covered by white bell bottoms with sequins, connect with his nose. The gushing of blood was followed by a kneel down and a whisper into an aching left ear…

“Elvis….has left the building.”

“Just take this…we are gonna have a blast!” Jake said as he held the little round tab in his hand.

“I don’t know where we are going, we just finished a bottle of tequila and now you want me to take acid? Kind of overkill isn’t it?” He replied with a slur in his voice.

“Come on, dude….don’t treat me with a suspicious mind….trust me? Have I ever failed you before?” Jake said with a curl in his lip.

“Yes. Yes you have.” He answered.

“We’ll…thank you. Thank you very much.” Jake replied as he placed the tab under his tongue.

He shook his head and put the tab in his mouth chasing it down with the last of his beer.

“Let’s go, bud. I have such sights to show you.”

As they reached Jake’s beat up Cadillac, his head began to swirl, his stomach turned a bit and his head started to tingle.

They got in and Jake turned the ignition and popped a cassette into the deck.

“Viva, Las Vegas” began to blare through the rough speakers.

He looked at Jake with a dumbfounded look and asked,

“Why are you playing your parents music?”

“This is preparing you for our night. Tonight…we ride with the King!”

By the time the Cadillac stopped at their destination, the world began to contort and change.

He saw tracers as cars drove by. Faces began to look like images in a carnival house ofmirrors.

They went up to the door and paid the cover charge and walked into a sea of Elvi’.

He looked at Jake with a scared quizzical look and asked,

“Dude….where are we?”

Jake struck an Elvis hip shaking move and replied,

“Elvis lookalike karaoke night at the Memphis Inn! This is going to be awesome! I’m gonna go find a Pricilla to hit on. Catch you later, teddy bear!”

He watched at Jake sauntered off into into the polyester, sequined jungle.

He walked cautiously up to the bar to order a drink, being careful to avoid the shifting tile underneath him.

He found a space, between fat Elvis and young leather clad Elvis, and ordered a beer.

The whispers in his mind began to become clearer as the acid bore on to full effect.

“The King he died upon the throne, it is in this place his soul does roam. Get out while you can, before you succumb to his plan…”

He looked around to find out who said it.

He stared at Asian Elvis, who was hitting on bouffant Pricilla, and then at Army Elvis who was hitting on teenage Pricilla, but couldn’t figure out who was speaking to him.

He shuffled through the Elvis looking for Jake.

A terrible rendition of “Blue Suede Shoes” throbbed in his head.

He tapped, who he thought was Jake, on the shoulder and blurted out.

“I gotta get out of the Elvis hell.”

The man, whom he tapped, turned around. He was holding a fried peanut butter and banana sandwich.

“Elvis hell? This is the premiere event to further immortalize the King. Are you dissing the King?”

He frantically replied,

“He has been dead since the ’70’s….let him rot! You people are freaks! Where’s Jake?”

Jake knew better than to save him from biker Elvis. He slithered back into crowd of various Elvi.

“Maybe, you need to step outside with us to get a little fresh air. I think you are getting us all shook up, hound dog.”

Biker Elvis grabbed him by his collar, nodded with a lip curl to his gang of sideburns and flared collars, and led him out the back into the alley.

“We don’t take kindly to strangers….in the ghetto.” Midget Elvis said as he flipped off his cape and dropped to one knee and outstretched one arm fully extended and the other with a fist by his side.

Before he had time to react, he was swarmed by 2 Blue Hawaii Elvis, I zombie Elvis, and Biker Elvis.



The Shine

“You are a human interest reporter and the last 3 stories I have gotten from you do not hold my human interest!” The editor screamed.

“Dad, it’s not my fault…this city sucks and doesn’t have any interesting humans living in it.” The reporter retorted.

The editor sighed, calmed down a bit, and looked at his young reporter son dead in the eye and spoke.

“Look son, you think just because you work for me that I am supposed to let this mediocre writing slide by? When you are here…you are a reporter, not my son. Go find me a story worth printing and give me a reason to pay you for it!!”

The young reporter stomped out of his Father’s large office and out of the building, determined to find something worth writing about.

The kid was just a few months out of college with his journalism degree in hand when his Father hired him.

Sure he barely graduated, but as the old saying goes, “A ‘D’ still gets the degree.”