View Full Version : Blue Christmas: part two

The Pepsi Challenge
29-Mar-07, 06:55


“These goddamn cavities!” Elvis said aloud, holding the side of his face. “Where in the name of our sweet Lord are those painkillers Dr Nick gave me?”

He felt for the pocket in his robe, but there was nothing there. What confused Elvis then was that he wasn’t wearing his robe, but one of his rhinestoned embroidered white stage suits. He even had a garland of flowers from Hawaii around his neck.

He looked down at his feet and at the body of a corpulent man lying face first in a pile of vomit on the tiled floor of the bathroom. Elvis involuntarily stepped back, and a voice behind him said: “Careful now, brother, I am bare footed.”

Elvis swung round, and threw his hands up, spreading his legs in a comedic kung-fu stance. The cape of his stage costume flapped up over his face and as he brushed it aside he shouted the warning, “Fists of fury, man!” to the interloper.

The stranger gave a familiar laugh. He was a slim, handsome, middle aged man with dishwater-blond hair. He was dressed in a plain cotton shirt, and denim dungarees, and of course, no shoes. It was the simple garb a poor resident of Memphis might have worn 40 years previous.

“Brother, I ain’t here to fight you,” said the man, “I am here to guide you.”
Elvis was now breathing in short gasps, and now looking directly at the stranger, he felt like it was almost like looking into a mirror.

“Jesse?” Elvis said, his arms dropping. He gazed closely at the face of his long dead, stillborn twin. “Jesse, I have often dreamt of you.”

“No brother, that was me visiting you, as you slept.” Jesse pointed at the obese corpse on the floor. “It is time now, brother.”

A scream startled both brothers. Ginger stood at the door of the bathroom, but she didn’t scream at the unearthly twins, after all she could not see them. She dropped to her knees and tried to turn the dying Elvis over. He was too heavy, she got back to her feet and ran to the phone in the adjacent bedroom.

Jesse, turned to his twin brother and said: “Well, your time is not up just yet, you still have a few hours of futile struggling at the hospital, brother.”


In the hallway of Graceland, an open copper coffin is laid out. From the front door, a steady procession of grieving fans troop past the body of the King of Rock and Roll. Most are weeping, some are inconsolable, and many need the help of their fellow mourners, their grief so complete.

By the casket stand Elvis and Jesse. Elvis looks into the coffin. “Sweet Lord, those morons have dry-blown my hair to look like goddamn Liberace!” screamed The King.

Jesse laughed; he casually brushed his own fair locks from away his forehead, then he took Elvis by the arm, and tried to lead him away. But The King stopped, and seeing the flowers laid out by well wishers, took the Hawaiian garlands from around his own neck, and put them at the foot of the casket. He stood for a moment looking at the house, at the grieving fans, at his own corpse, then turned and followed his brother.

In the living room the Graceland staff and his friends stood and sat about, some talking in a low voice, others silent. In one corner being comforted was Jesse and Elvis’s father. Vernon was already too drunk to stand, and would rarely be sober again in the few years he had now remaining. Jesse understood this, and Elvis reckoned it.

“Can I see Momma, now?” asked Elvis, I don’t want to stay here no more.”

Jesse hesitated, knowing he had an uncomfortable message to deliver.
“How many people do you think are outside now?”

Elvis shrugged his shoulders, Jesse continued, “Over 50,000. Not of course from just Memphis, but all over the south, the USA, and some from abroad, Japan, Australia, even Scotland.”

Jesse now looked intently at his brother, held both his hands in his own, and continued, “There is a place for you, but there is work for you to still to do.”
“I am a dead man, Jesse, I am a dead man,” implored Elvis.

“Not in the eyes of those people outside nor millions across the world. You can if you want to, do good work. Help those with the most brutal injury a man can endure.”

“What is that, Jesse?”

Jesse Garon looked his famous twin in the eye, and knew that he had achieved his mission. He smiled that famous smile they both shared, and he said: “Why, to mend a broken heart, dear brother... to mend a broken heart.”

They say if you truly love someone - especially if you and your partner are destined not to be together - you’ll let them go. Because you see, the capacity to love is a vital, rich and all-consuming function of the human spirit. And as shown here, you can find nobility and sacrifice and new love... down the road, around the corner, even at the corner shop. Thanguverymush.