I was 5 years old when Elvis died. I didn’t know who he was. They called him THE KING! He looked like some exotic fat sweating Hindu love God to me. Today is the 35th anniversary of his death. May his soul sing for all eternity baby!
Last night I was visited by 3 Elvis’s
The young, crazy vibrant Elvis
The fat, drugged old Elvis
and the massive dead Elvis
They told me to change my ways baby
that I was losing hydrogen and helium at my core
while expanding in mass.
Then they asked if I was going to eat that. They were pointing at my kitchen wall. I said no and stepped aside.
With a high leg kick and pelvic thrust young Elvis tore the wall from its studs, his manhood making love to it in several different ways and yet somehow all at once.
Fat Elvis snorted up the dust and sang a jaunty ramblin’ tune all while cooking the larger remnants of the wall into a red hot cosmic frittata.
Dead Elvis held the entire scene in his infinite mouth. His massive mutton chops closing in upon it from time to time, obliterating all light and sound. Then the giant Tibetan horns sounded and the mutton chops lifted and the whole cycle began again. This repeated itself throughout the commercial break during the age of Kali Yuga and then we went for for some ice cream.
This story and drawing are from the book only $8.95 on Amazon, baby!
(Source: hookersorcake)
