I Been to Gracelandbyjthserra©
Every week's the same, come Saturday morning I head out back and she hollers, "Where ya goin'?" I'd holler back, "I'm huntin' Elvis Ma." You'd figure she'd figure it out sooner or later. I wasn't exactly truthful; I wasn't huntin Elvis. After the first time out, I knew exactly where he was, so I didn't have to hunt him.
Now stop lookin' at me like that. Yeah, it's Elvis, Elvis Presley, the singer. Not some Las Vegas Dime Store impersonator, but the genuine Elvis. I know what you're thinkin', I thought the same when old man Charlie told me. I couldn't believe when he told me he met Elvis in an old shack two miles back in the woods. He stood there, scratchin' that stubbly slack-jaw and told me how to find Elvis. He said he'd known Elvis from back in Tupelo. That's how he knew, well, that and his eyes.
Charlie explained how Elvis' eyes changed color. Yeah, ever since he was little, if you looked real good, they start to whirlin' and suddenly, they'd turn blue, then brown and then black. Liked to made old Charlie dizzy I suspect.
Anyway, I went out to the old shack and there was a man there. I listened to him hum and sing a bit. He sounded good, but I wasn't sure until I looked deep in his eyes, then I knew. Dammit... yeah, it ain't exactly true what I just told you about Elvis's eyes. But doggone if it just doesn't seem that way when you first meet him. And knowin' old Charlie, he was probably half-tanked every time he visited Elvis.
Elvis explained it to me, you see. It's contact lenses. In order to stay what you call incognerito or whatever you call it, Elvis had these different colored contact lenses. Now every pure blooded, Elvis lovin' fan knows his eyes are a charcoal brown, so he wears different colored lenses, so no-one knows who he is. They just look real quick and then turn away: just another impersonator.
I'm just testin' you there, to see if you really are a fan. Yeah, his real eyes are blue. Blue as a cloudless Tupelo sky at noon. Blue as those suede shoes he sings about. Blue as, blue as... well blue as Tom Bitner's dog's tongue got when it caught in a fence. Well, maybe not that blue.
Well, anyway, I have fun when I go to visit Elvis, trying to guess what color his eyes'll be this time. Every Wednesday morning I wander in. He sits up on the front porch with his guitar and cane. Yeah, he has a cane, ever since he threw his hip out last summer.
And women, let me tell you 'bout Elvis and his women. I learned early you don' go visit Elvis on a Friday, no sir. You see, his woman folk come visit him on Fridays, every Friday best I can tell. I'll tell you why I know if you promise not to tell him.
Well, it goes back a ways, not a long time after I first met him. One time, I set up a fishin' trip on a Saturday, so I knew I wouldn't get to visit then, so I stopped by on a Friday to let him know I'd not be there the next day. Well, I walk up to his porch and he's not out there like he always is on a Saturday.
I scratched my head, but before I got confused, I walked over to the window and took a peek inside. Well, the room was empty, but I saw another door in there was closed. So I walked around to the side of the house and was about to tap on the window, but jus' before I did, I heard a sound, a strange moanin'.
Thinkin' Elvis might've been sick or somethin' I took a peek in the window. Oh my, but what did I see but two nekkid women and him in there. He was nekkid to, I promise. There he was in the bed with two women.
Well I looked hard and saw where the moanin' was coming from. One of those women was on her back, legs spread out wide-like and ole Elvis was kneelin' 'tween her legs. I watched his tongue slidin' right up that woman's cunny and she was a buckin' and twistin' in time. The other woman kneeled over the woman and was a suckin' her teats, first one and then the other.
I first thought maybe I should sneak away, but I never seen anythin' like that before, so I just took to watchin' more. And what I saw was somethin' else. You see that girl on her back must have willied, 'cause she suddenly threw them legs over Elvis' shoulders and bucked her ass up off that bed with a loud wail. Then she calmed back down and lay there, all the while, Elvis rested his head on her thigh. He was breathin' pretty hard and one hand was a rubbin' his jaw.
While he was a restin' the girls commenced to kissin', not just on the cheek like women sometimes do, but on the mouth with wet, slobberin' tongues. Lawd I do like what I saw, matter a fact I took to rubbin' my own wacker at that.
Anyway, Elvis finally got rested and moved the girls apart. He laid down on his back between them and began diddling with each of their teats. Now his wacker had gotten soft a bit, but I watched as it stood up hard while he diddled them. I knew he was aliken it. He took one of the women by the waist and moved her closer. She whupped her leg over him to where she was kneelin' over him. So there he was layin' on his back and this woman lowered herself down onto his wacker. The other woman reached her hand around and commenced to fondlin' his jewels.
Knowin' I was about to make a mess, I whupped out my wacker and stroked away on it while I watched them go at it. I was watching from behind, so I can't tell for sure, but I think that woman on top took to diddlin' her clit as she moved up and down on Elvis. I can't be sure, but in no time she was moanin' right along with him.
I had to catch myself from moanin' 'cause suddenly I spilled my white puddin' on the ground in tiny little spurts (I never was one to spill much pudding"). Anyway, as I was lettin' the last drops from my wacker fall away, I heard Elvis cry out, "A hunk a hunk of burning love." He arched his back, just as that woman was rubbin' herself furiously. He collapsed back on the bed and she laid forward over him.
I figured I better get to goin' so I put my wacker back in my pants. I glanced back in the window and saw that the women started kissin' each other again. Elvis was just watchin' them now, his wacker, still shiny from that woman, lay off like a limp dog.
I carefully snuck away and when I came back a little over a week later, he acted just normal to me as before. And it's been like that ever since. We talk a spell, and then he sings a bit. I still stare at his eyes when he sings, just to see if they start to whirl.
Hey, don't you go lookin' at me like that, rollin' them eyes. I ain't crazy, it's honest to worn out boots Elvis. I mean it. I tell you it is the real-fire Elvis.
Look, I been to Graceland, so I know. Yeah, I been there. I drove right up to the stone wall with all that writin' on it. Somebody else must have seen him, cause painted there on the wall it says, "Elvis lives." I read that and hollered out the window, "He sure does, he's sittin' rockin' on the front porch of an old shack off Cliburn Flea Creek." The folks just looked at me.
But I been there. I parked across the street and got on his bus. Well I didn't really get on the bus. They wanted two whole dollars to let me on that bus and another two dollars for me to get on the airplane. But I looked at the windows, all tinted dark. And on that airplane, in pretty letters Lisa Marie. I looked all around for her, but didn't see her. Hell, I'da probably had to pay a dollar if I saw her.
But you know, from across the street, you can look over at his house and boy, oh boy, what a pretty house. I could of gone and looked inside, but they wanted five dollars for that. So anyway, I went in the store there and bought a genuine Elvis plate. Actually bought two, one for me and one for Elvis. I had him wrap his up real fine. They did a good job, even if they laughed when I told them who it was for.
When I got home, I took out my Elvis plate and took a dab of Crisco and rubbed it on the plate where his hair is painted on it. I kind of streaked it over him and then looked again. Sure enough, it was Elvis, just like he is sittin' out there on that front porch.
I went out to give Elvis his plate and told him about Graceland. He just shook his head and explained why he didn't go back there anymore. He said that there's just too many people there these days. Elvis is really kind of shy, so he stays on that old front porch.
You're doin' them eyes again. I tell you he is very shy. Yeah, you say any man swings his hips that way ain't now way shy. Well I tell you he is. He explained to me how that all started on account of his momma accidentally starchin' his bunders one time. Bunders? Yeah, bunders... you know, jockeys, skivvies, underwear. Yeah, she starched his bunders and it was intolerable uncomfortable, so he took to walking funny. Well, everybody seemed to like it, so he kept on.
But that's another story. I got to go huntin' Elvis. I bought an Elvis ashtray at Nellie Bord's garage sale and I'm gonna give it to him. He likes stuff with his pictures on them. Especially the stuff from Graceland.