I awoke this morning and put some music on while I pondered what to do with my day off.
There was a knock at the door.
I opened it to find that it was Elvis, wearing a black jumpsuit almost identical to the one he wore at his comeback tour "You're Elvis" I said.
"A huh huh" he replied.
"But your dead" I said with amazement in my voice.
"A huh huh" he said again.
"Then what are you doing here?" I asked.
"I bring you a warning man, quick! Get a burger!" He said as he pushed his way into the house.
I followed him as he headed for the small cupboard at the end of my hallway. "What do we need a burger for?
"I've been dead a long time and there's no hamburger stands in heaven, something to do with cholesterol" he said as he rooted around the cupboard.
"Where’s the Big Juggs special edition?" He asked, lifting boxes and pulling them open.
"Pardon?" I asked.
"The ghost of the last person that lived here says you have the special anniversary edition of Big Juggs in this cupboard and I aint seen a pair of big tits in a long time."
"It’s at the bottom of the pile, just after "butch lesbo's and the sunny-assed kid volume 3" help yourself" I said as I left him to find it.
I walked through to the living room and sat down to roll a joint.
I could hear Elvis rummaging in my cupboard of sin and shouted to him to get his ass into the living room so we could talk.
“So man” I said “what brings you round these parts, apart from my superior collection of top grade hardcore porno?”
“I told you already boy, I was sent with a warning for you” he said as he flicked through the pages of the anniversary edition of Big Juggs.
“A warning?” I asked.
“A huh huh” he said in that deep southern accent of his. “It’s a warning that you have to make humanity listen to”
“All of humanity?” I asked.
“A huh huh, all of them” he said as he turned the porn magazine he was holding sideways “damn man, I never thought I'd ever see a woman do that, and certainly not with a baboon.”
“Look man” I said “can we please stick to the subject in hand, what’s this warning I have to get all of humanity to listen to?”
“You gotta tell them that god is getting a little ticked off at all the wars that are being fought in his name, he’s seriously considering giving the world another going over with the biblical flood thing” said Elvis as he took a seat on the couch “He really is getting all cranked up on the vengeance and wrath. I don’t know how long St Peter can keep him in check, there’s only so many times that seeing the virgin Mary's face appear on a road sign in Mexico or a parsnip in the shape of Mother Theresa’s head can take the big guy’s mind off wiping out half the population.”
“Why doesn’t he just give the religious nuts a Second Coming?” I asked.
“Jesus say’s he’s not coming back too earth until hell freezes over, the last time he came down they nailed him to a dead tree and left him for a week and a half”
“I can imagine why that’d put him off of a second visit” I said as I reached for my cigarettes. “And if you ask me the plague of locusts may be a good idea”
“SHHH man, he’ll hear you!” Said Elvis with a look of horror on his face.
“How in the name of Christ will he hear me?” I asked.
“Shit man, he’s omnipotent!”
“How can he be Jesus' father if he’s omnipotent?”
“Omnipotent, not impotent”
“Ok, lets pretend just for a second that you are talking to a complete moron who didn't pay much attention at school and that I don’t know the meaning of the word omnipotent”
“It means that he sees all, knows all and hears all”
“What? He sees everything, hears everything and knows everything?”
“That’s about right” Elvis said as he stood up and walked over to my record collection.
“Really? Everything?” I asked.
“A huh huh man, everything”
“Even if I'm in the bath?”
“What is so hard for you to grasp about that premise man? He’s god. He sees everything that you do and hears everything that you say; he also knows all of your thoughts and deeds”
“Even if I'm in bed at night?”
“Yes you imbecile, even when you are in your bed at night” said Elvis obviously getting a little ticked off at my lack of comprehension.
“But that means that when I'm in bed at night wan...umm, you know. He can see me umm, you know”
“You lost me there kid”
“What I'm trying to say is, well, when I'm, you know, umm, how can I put this... bashing the bishop. He can see me?”
“Bashing the bishop?” Elvis asked with a look of puzzlement on his face.
“Choking the snake, shaking hands with your best friend, spanking the monkey, opening the coke bottle, pulling one off, rubbing off some skin, having a quick one off the wrist, dousing the tallywacker ”
“I'm still not with you man” Elvis said still looking puzzled.
“HAVING A WANK MAN! HAVING A FUCKING WANK!!!” I bellowed at him.
“You better watch your god damned language now boy or I may have to open up a can of whoop ass on y’all, I got a black belt in karate and I aint afraid to use it” he said as he started to punch and kick at an invisible enemy.
He spun around on the ball of his foot and sent my TV crashing through the window. There was a sound of material ripping and Elvis looked down at his crotch “Got a needle and thread man? I ripped my jumpsuit”
I went and got him a needle and thread and a pair of Bermuda shorts to wear while he stitched the crotch of his jumpsuit.
“Wait a minute” I said “Jesus doesn’t have to come back man”
“Why not?” Elvis asked.
“If god is impotent” I said.
“Omnipotent” interrupted Elvis.
“Yeah man whatever, if he is omnipotent as you say he is. Then surely he could just make someone his conduit here on earth”
“He tried that already man, no one believed the guy”
“Who was that?” I asked curiously.
“David Icke. He even went on national TV and told everyone that he was the Son of God and the press and media ripped the poor guy to shreds” explained Elvis.
“No wonder no one believed him man, he was a worse TV presenter than Janet street porter and a third rate goalkeeper for a shitty football team” I said in amazement at being told that David Icke was the second coming “I mean come on man, god has all the power in the universe and he gets a Coventry City goalkeeper to be his second coming. Sorry man but I find that a bit hard to believe”
“What’s so hard about that to believe?”
“A bad goalkeeper man, come on”
“His first conduit was a carpenter”
“What?” I asked amazed “Karen carpenter was one as well?”
Elvis shook his head and looked skywards with a look of desperation on his face.
“Jesus was a carpenter you idiot. Didn’t you read the bible?”
“Well I did try to but I couldn't get to grips with all that... “Adam lived an hundred and thirty years, and begat a son in his own likeness, after his image; and called his name Seth And Seth lived an hundred and five years, and begat Enos And Enos lived ninety years, and begat Cainan: And Cainan lived after he begat Mahalaleel eight hundred and forty years, and begat sons and daughters”... it bored the hell out of me. He could have got a better writer to write it for him, maybe he should have thrown in a car chase or something like that just to keep people interested” I said, thinking that if god was listening then I was being scored from the good boy’s list and firmly carved onto the stone tablets of Satan's future torture victims.
“Jesus Christ almighty” said Elvis with a tone of dejection in his voice.
“Careful man” I said “remember what it say's about not taking the lords name in vain. You could go to hell for that man”
Elvis looked at me with what seemed to be pity in his eyes “I was asking for his strength to keep my spirits up”
“Really?” I asked.
“Yes man, really”
“You’ve really fallen for that religious mumbo jumbo aint you?”
“It’s not mumbo jumbo man; it’s the gospel truth”
“Prove it” I said.
“How?” Asked Elvis.
“Get him to make it snow outside” I said thinking that if ever I needed proof that god existed it beginning to snow on a day where the temperature was 60° in the shade was a pretty convincing arguement.
“Were you dropped as a child?” Asked Elvis.
“Not that I know about. Why?”
“Don’t you know that tempting god is a dangerous thing to do?”
“Is it?” I asked.
“Of course it is you idiot!” Elvis said with his voice slightly raised.
“I guess that lesson was given in Sunday school after I got kicked out.”
“You got kicked out of Sunday school?” Elvis asked with a look of disbelief on his face “What for?”
“There was a small misunderstanding”
“What kind of misunderstanding?”
“Ok i’ll admit it. I took a piss in the font. How was i supposed to know it wasn‘t the urinal? It was made of stone and had water in it!” I confessed.
Elvis’s mouth dropped open and he fixed me with a look like i’ve only ever seen on one person before and that was just after I told an ex-girlfriends dad that i thought he was a scumsucking piece of shit.
“I think I may have come to the wrong house...”
“What made god think this was the right house in the first place?” I asked out of sheer curiosity.
“Well like I said about god being impotent”
“Omnipotent” I interrupted.
“Yeah man, whatever. What he done was he looked into everyone's heart and soul and picked the person who has the most compassion within them”
“And he chose me?” I asked amazed.
“A huh, apparently you have compassion for all people regardless of their race, colour, creed and beliefs” Elvis said.
“It’s a quality I have.”
“How do you manage that?”
“Weed man.” I said as I held up an ounce of the finest Nepalese hash that I'd ever managed to get my hands on.
“You smoke cannabis?” Asked Elvis.
“As god is my witness man. After all he made the stuff and he obviously likes a puff now and then.”
“What makes you think that god smokes cannabis?” Elvis asked with a curious look on his face.
“He must do”
“Well, just look at all the diverse animals, plants and people we have on this planet, there are millions of different species but all fit into a group of some kind, primates, insects, rodents, mammals and then there’s lots of subgroups such as mammals that can fly, ones that live in the oceans, ones that live in tree’s so he’s got to have had at least a small toot on occasion. And if that’s not enough proof that god likes a toke then I have three words that’ll settle this argument once and for all”
“What are the words?”
“Duck-billed-platypus” I said with a smile.
“Pardon?” Asked Elvis.
“You heard right man, duck-billed-platypus”
“And how exactly does that explain that god smoked some weed in his days on earth as he was creating all the plants and animals on earth?” Elvis asked filled with intrigue.
“Just look at the damned thing. It has the tail of a beaver, but the beak of a duck. It’s a mammal but it lays eggs. It’s like god knew that one day a guy named Charles Darwin would come along and write the evolution of the species but that one animal throws his whole theory out of kilter. And lets face it, if you said to someone that you were going to create such an animal the first thing that they’d do would be too lock the medicine cabinet and hide all your Rizla papers” I said as I reached for the Rizla papers to roll another joint.
“You may have a point there man” said Elvis. “But as I was saying god say’s you need to get everyone to listen to his message and stop all the fighting”
“It’s not possible man. Too many things would need to be changed.” I said. “I’m not about to walk around telling people not to fight about religion. And besides humans like to fight each other”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Because for so long the general public has been kept arguing amongst themselves about trivial shit” I commented. “That’s how the system works, it’s a good way of keeping people in check. If they are arguing amongst themselves about race, colour, sports, the health system, the state of the roads, the price of fuel, sexuality, the latest plotline in East enders, Coronation street, what’s happening in the big brother house or anything else, then they aren’t thinking about how it’s all so that the super-rich family’s of the world can keep going to the bank. The world is not controlled by the people. The government controls the people and the governments are controlled by big business.”
“You’re paranoid man” said Elvis “Maybe you should stop smoking that stuff”
“You can talk huh; you were on so many drugs in the latter stages of your life that you rattled like a pillbox when you came on stage”
“Hey man, they were all prescribed to me by a doctor”
“Don’t be such a fucking hypocrite man, just ‘cos they are given to you by a doctor doesn’t distract from the fact that you were higher than the entire audience at Woodstock for the best part of your life. You paid the guy to give you those drugs man, he wasn’t a doctor he was a dealer.”
Elvis looked at me with loathing in his eyes but I ignored it.
“Why doesn’t god do a TV special?” I asked “after all the church has enough money to pay for a whole day live interview with him on every network in the world. The ratings for that would be huge. Then he would be able to straighten it all out in one fell swoop.”
“He’s paranoid about how he would look to everyone” said Elvis.
“What for?” I asked.
“Well man, everyone has this idea that he has the looks of a movie star, you know. Like Moses is expected to look like Charlton Heston and Jesus is supposed too look like Max Von Sydow. He feels he can’t compare to those guy's. He wouldn’t live up to everyone’s expectations” Elvis said as I finished rolling my joint and lighting it.
“What does the big guy look like anyway?” I asked inhaling the smoke deeply.
“He looks like all of humanity”
“Huh?” I said “what do you mean?”
“It’s like looking in a mirror man; to you he looks like you and to me he looks like me”
“How can that be?” I asked.
“God made us all in the image of him. He is all of us”
“Nope man, I still don’t get that” I said wondering if I was stoned enough to try to figure it out without having an aneurysm or spontaneously combusting and burning like a monk at a peace protest.
“All of humanity was created in his image so therefore he looks like all of us. He is us and we are him”
“One entity you mean?” I said suddenly grasping onto what Elvis was trying to get at.
“That’s it. One entity, one mind. Every thought you have, every word you speak has all been thought or said before by someone else at some point.” Said Elvis.
“So, if nothing you can do, think or say hasn’t been done, said or thought before what’s the point of living?” I asked wanting to know what the meaning behind life was.
“How the hell should I know boy? I'm just a fat, old, dead rock star man”
“Why don't you do it then?” I asked.
“Been tried man, I've been seen by many thousands of people since I died. I've tried to spread the message that we are all in this together and that heaven on earth is achievable if we put all our differences aside and work as one people, but everyone I choose to tell just thinks I'm a sad lonely old rocker who works in a steel mill and dresses as Elvis at the weekends in a desperate attempt to recapture their happier youth.”
“That’s to be expected though, you do look a bit like a bad impersonator of yourself” I commented.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Elvis asked with a look of hurt in his eyes.
“Well, I always imagined you’d be taller than you are.”
“Hey man, I'm tall enough to whip your ass man” he said as he stood and started to flay at another invisible enemy.
“TAKE IT EASY MAN!” I yelled “you already kicked my TV out the window and ripped your jumpsuit. I'd rather keep a hold of my electrical hardware and I'm sure that you don't want to rip your pants again.”
“It happens all the time man, I may not be alive anymore but my sewing skills have improved since my death. Just goes to show that there's a good side to everything” said Elvis as he calmed down and took his seat again.
“I think the problem lies in the fact that we are all driven by the need for money” I said, trying to work out what is basically wrong about the world that we live in. “if we done away with money I think life in general would be of a better quality. After all what is money?”
“It’s for buying stuff man, I remember one time I bought fifteen Cadillac's in one day” Elvis said smiling.
“Who were they for?” i asked.
“The staff at a restaurant in Las Vegas, man did they do a good rack of ribs with Barbecue sauce. I used to have my private jet fly them to me wherever I was doing a show. Good ribs man, good ribs” Elvis said, licking his lips and yearning for some ribs.
“As I was saying before your stomach jumped into the conversation, what is money?”
I could see that Elvis was about to say it was for buying thing’s again so I kept talking.
“It’s just a token. It’s of no value whatsoever. All it is is a piece of paper. Why don't we become a cashless society? We’re almost there as it is now; credit cards are the new currency and what’s a credit card? It’s a piece of plastic with no value whatsoever.”
“But” interrupted Elvis “How would we get thing’s that we need”
“Think of it like this, I work in a garage and you work in a bowling alley...”
“Hey man, I'm a rock and roll legend, I aint workin’ in no bowling alley, I'm in show business.”
“Ok then Mr Ego, you work in a Vegas lounge doing your own inimitable style of showmanship and I work in a garage.” I said, trying to put across how the idea could be worked “I don’t mind working in the garage as long as if I feel like it I can walk into the Vegas hotel and catch your show at anytime I feel, and you are comfortable knowing that if your car breaks down and comes to my garage that it’ll be fixed for you.”
“So everyone just keeps doing the job that they are doing but with no money at the end of the week to buy what they want?” Asked Elvis.
“Why not?” I asked. “Working as one race is surely better than not working as individuals?”
“I suppose so” conceded Elvis. “But human greed is a hard thing to try to rid the world of. Everyone is busy trying to get enough for themselves and forgetting about the larger issues”
“All society‘s problems could be sorted out by ridding the world of greed” I stated.
“How?” Elvis asked.
“All people are in employment doing whatever job they are trained to do. Builders build farmers’ farm, brewers brew, and governments run the essentials of society. All the work goes on day to day just like it does now. We house anyone who needs a house and educate him or her to do whatever job they would like to do. After ten years working together we would have full employment and housing.”
“But what if you want to change the job that you are in?” Asked Elvis.
“Then you go to your local office of employment and tell them you’d rather not be a lounge singer or a builder or a farmer and that you’d like to try your hand at being a fisherman or a judge or whatever else you fancy doing”
“But who’s going to do the job that you aren't going to be doing anymore?”
“Well, I'm sure that there would be someone that would like to do the job that I was doing. You forget that even though I'm leaving a job, I'm also creating one”
“You could be onto something there” said Elvis.
“I think we should do away with calendars in the world as well” I suggested.
“What will that cure?” Elvis asked.
I took a cigarette and lit it. “What century are we in?” I asked, straying slightly off the point to make the point.
“The twenty-first century” said Elvis.
“No we aren’t. The world is a whole lot older than that. It’s accepted by scientists to be between one billion years and five billion years. The oldest known hominid is thought to be 4 million years old. So why do we insist on measuring time by how long it’s been since some guy that you never met? Have you ever wondered why we measure time in seconds?” I said as the joint began to open my mind.
“I can’t say that I have man” said Elvis as he scratched at his thigh. “Loose thread” he said to explain the clawing he was doing in the general vicinity of his crotch.
“It’s another way for the people who run our world to keep you in control.” I said, taking a deep breath. “We are brought into the world and told from the start that everything is a competition and that second is as good as last. Then we get told to measure our lives in seconds. Doesn’t that strike you with the thought that you are set of into life with the suggestion that you will never succeed in life?”
“Put like that it does.” Said Elvis.
“We’d need to get rid of the hypocrisy that is so rife in society as well” I said.
“Such as?” Posed Elvis.
“The belief that deviating from what is thought of as normal behaviour makes you somehow different from anyone else. If you want to go home at night and dress up like a wolf and have your wife chase you round the kitchen while she’s dressed as little red riding hood then that’s fine just so long as you both willingly consent.”
“Have you been talking to Pricilla?” Elvis asked in a defensive tone.
“Pardon?” I asked, not sure that I'd heard what I thought I had heard.
Elvis laughed nervously “Nothing man, I was just joking” he said as he squirmed in his chair nervously and tried not too look me in the eye.
“Yeah man, whatever.” I said shivering slightly at the thought of this fat, dead, rock and roll star crawling around the kitchen on his hands and knees singing hound dog. The shiver passed as I was warmed by imagining Pricilla dressed in a skimpy little red riding hood outfit.
“Hey man you still with me?” Said Elvis. Wondering why I was staring into space like a human version of the Hubble telescope.
“What? Huh? Sorry man. I was miles away” I said as Elvis derailed my train of thought. “So what can god do to get a little love into the world?”
“What i think we need man is more random acts of kindness, good deeds, like buying ribs for hungry people.” said Elvis as he started to look through my collection of videos. “You still got that porno with the lesbian orgy in it?”
“What is it with you and porno man?” i asked.
“There aint no porn in heaven man” he answered as he rooted around in my cabinet and selected a tape from my collection. “Is this the one with the two women with the double ended dildo and the giant sized tub of whipped cream?”
“Will you please stop making a mess of my tapes and sit down. We have issues to sort out” i said.
“Aww man, come on. i’ve been in heaven for ten years. i need to see some chick licking another chicks pussy like a dog lapping water.” he said as he sat down and picked up the big juggs magazine again.
I suddenly realised that he had said he had been dead for ten years. “Wait a fucking minute man, you’ve been in heaven ten years?”
“Yeah man” he replied.
“But you died in 1977. August 16th. i remember ‘cos it was my birthday and you dying totally fucked my party” i said, remembering how my mother had went to pieces at the news and had sent everyone at my party home so she could spend the rest of the day weeping and playing “are you lonesome tonight” over and over again, thereby souring me of Elvis's brand of music for life.
“I didn't die in ‘77 man. I died in ‘93.” he said smiling. “My death in ‘77 was stage managed by the CIA so i could go into witness protection.”
“Witness protection?” i questioned.
“Yeah man, i got into a lot of trouble with the DEA when Dickey Nixon gave me a special agents badge and found that i had enough dope in my trailer to keep Woodstock going for a decade or two. man was Nixon pissed at me for that one man.” he said leering at me with his famous lip curl.
“Why are you looking at me like you’re a hungry coyote and i’m a prize hen?” i asked.
“You’re a real good looking guy. you know that?” Elvis answered causing me to worry.
“Look man, you may be the king of rock and roll but i’ll still kick you clean in the balls unless you get that idea out your head man.” i said with a little anger in my voice.
“Hey man i just thought you might wanna do a favour for big Elvis by giving little Elvis some attention.”
“Look man just ’cos i aint a homophobe don’t mean i wanna drop to my knees and give your pecker the kiss of life. any more of that and you’ll be right back in the hit parade.” i said as i made a mental note not to turn my back on Elvis in his current state.
“Hey man” said Elvis “You got a telephone?”
“Yes. you wanna make a call or something?” i said.
“I wanna call for some ribs man. I’m hungry.”
“You can’t get ribs unless you get ones from the Chinese restaurant” i informed elvis.
“What? you mean to tell me there’s no southern take outs in this place?”
“Only KFC” i said.
“Kentucky fried chicken?”
“Damn man, that stuff’s just shit man.”
“Don’t i know it”
I awoke this morning and put some music on while I pondered what to do with my day off.
The funny story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.
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