presley31
04-07-2008, 01:40 PM
A serialized novel by Stefano Boscutti based on the crazed weekend Elvis Presley decided to visit President Richard Nixon in search of a Federal Drug Enforcement Agent badge.
New chapter posted every day. To read the story so far,
check out the table of contents.
---
"Elvis’ breakthroughs are underappreciated because in this rock-and-roll age, his hard rocking music and sultry style have triumphed so completely." New York Times
---
RSS / DAILY EMAIL UPDATES / SHARE
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER EIGHT: "I'M TALKING ABOUT THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA"
Elvis roams anxiously around his Hillcrest Drive home in Beverly Hills with an open bottle of Diet Pepsi in one hand and a head full of worry.
He opens and closes several kitchen cupboards, frantically searching for something.
He comes out to the plush, white living room and glances out the huge window that looks out to the night lights sprinkled over Los Angles. On the right is what is to become Lisa Marie Presley's circular bedroom.
Elvis has had the building work torn down twice because he wasn't happy with the quality. Even the scaffolding had to be replaced. Nothing but the best of the best for his daughter. His only child was spoilt from the start. He bought his only child little baby minks and diamonds the day she was born.
Her fourth birthday is only a few weeks away. He loves her, that's for sure. Loves her more than the sun. Calls her Injun and Yisa and Buttonhead. And prays that she grows up happy and at peace.
Elvis starts opening and closing more cupboards. Jerry is perched nervously on the edge of the lengthy sofa. He claps his hands together, and then rubs them vigorously.
"Look, E, I love you, man, but I cannot go to Washington with you right now."
Elvis seems not to have heard him. He continues wandering around, searching high and low, cursing under his breath.
"Man, if I don't finish cutting this film by the twenty-fifth, Paramount's going to have my nuts for Christmas dinner."
Jerry rubs the back of his neck. Another cupboard door slams. Jerry jumps each time they bang shut.
"Man, Paramount's gonna have my god****ed gonads for eggnog, E."
Jerry needs Elvis to understand his situation. Finally, Elvis stops his search and turns toward Jerry. He waves his hand dismissively.
"I'll fly you back by private jet. You can get back quicker that way."
Elvis makes his way back to the large kitchen, rattling through cupboards. Jerry is confused.
"How's a private jet going to get me back any faster, E? A jet's a jet, private or public. They go the same speed."
Elvis shouts out from the kitchen.
"You've just got to do this with me, Jerry. I tell you, I can't do it without you."
Another cupboard door slams. Jerry winces, takes a deep breath and tries to keep his cool. Tries to clamber out of the plush sofa.
"What can't you do without me?"
Jerry is having difficulty getting to his feet. He has to kneel his way out of the sofa. He stands, and brushes his knees with the back of his hand. He hears Elvis' voice leap in from the kitchen, excited.
"Hah! My lucky god****ed glass!"
Jerry looks in and see Elvis holding a glass up triumphantly. He pours his Diet Pepsi into the rather ordinary looking glass and takes a sip. He looks content at last.
"Elvis, why do you want me to go with you to ****ing Washington?"
"All right, all right, calm down, man. You're gonna give yourself a heart attack."
Jerry is shaking his head. Elvis is smiling at him with charm to spare.
"You know, you really need to learn how to relax."
Jerry takes a deep deep breath. Elvis leans towards him and whispers.
"Swear you won't tell anyone?"
"Yeah, E."
Jerry sighs and slumps back onto the sofa.
"Swear on your honor?"
"I swear."
"Swear on your life?"
"Shit, E! Yes, I swear, now just tell me why and I might just consider going with you to Washington."
Elvis takes a huge swig of soda, swirls some around in his mouth, considering his next words carefully. Swallows hard. Looks Jerry straight in the eye.
"I got to meet me the President."
Jerry leans back on the sofa and scratches his stomach.
"What the **** is the president of RCA Records doing in Washington?"
"RCA's got nothing to do with it. I'm talking about the President of the United States of America."
Jerry can't believe what he's just heard. Elvis stares off into the distance.
"Got to get me a badge."
Jerry looks Elvis up and down, slowly.
"Are you sassing me, E?"
"I ain't sassing anybody. I'm dead serious."
"Elvis, you got police badges coming out your ***. What the hell you need another badge for?"
"I need to get me the real, real thing. I need me a federal badge, man."
Jerry is at a loss for words. Elvis is happy to explain.
"Thinking of touring Europe on my own. Can't leave home without one, you know?"
Elvis opens the sliding glass door and steps out into the backyard. The California air is abnormally cold and crisp. The Santa Ana winds race through and ruffle his hair. He puts his hands on his hips and stares up into the night sky. He seems lost in soft thought.
Jerry follows him outside and shuts the door behind him.
"Man, you got to be crazy."
"Man, I was born crazy."
"No, I mean it. You should be locked up. Federal badge? You need a federal ****ing facility, man!"
Elvis walks over to his large, empty swimming pool. He stands at the edge of the deep end and peers down towards the concrete bottom.
"Come on Jerry, You helped me get the deputy badge from your cousin."
"Yeah, but in case you didn't know, I'm not actually related to Richard Nixon. Shit, I didn't even vote for the Trickster."
"That ain't no problem. I ain't never voted, for no one."
"But, Elvis, it's the President of America."
"It's cool, I'll do the talking."
Elvis steps up to the diving board. Jerry lowers his head.
"But, E, the President?"
Elvis walks out to the tip of the diving board and begins to sways up and down.
"You only pass through this life once, Jerry. You don't come back for no encore. You got to go for what you want."
"The President of America?"
Elvis sways and nods and smiles. Jerry rolls his head, looks out to the stars and then back to Elvis.
"I'm on your side always, you know that, but Elvis, it's just got to be impossible to get yourself a meeting with the President of -- "
"Nothing's impossible, Jerry. Only thinking makes it so."
Jerry looks up to the stars again.
"You really want me to come?"
Elvis turns to look at Jerry. He stops swaying.
"Man, what are friends for? I can't do it alone. And I ain't gonna be here much longer."
Jerry eyes him up and down with concern.
"What did you say?"
"Jerry, I been doing this almost half my life and I feel a million years old already. I am scared I'll go out soon just like a light. Just like I came on 36 years ago in Tupelo."
He stares straight up into the stars. He notices the white smudge of the Milky Way trailing across the night sky, and lifts his finger as if to trace its path. Jerry laughs.
"Shit, Elvis, you really should have been an actor."
"Hell, I've been acting my whole life, Jerry."
He turns away from the stars and looks at Jerry.
"But I always wanted to direct my own movies."
"Everybody wants to direct."
"It's about time I started, don't you think?"
His lip twitches into a smirk. He starts bouncing the diving board, higher and higher. Jerry asks wearily.
"Washington?"
"Washington, D.C."
Elvis leaps from the board to the concrete pool deck.
"The President?"
"President Richard Milhous Nixon."
"What kind of a name is 'Milhous' anyway?"
Elvis begins to grin. Jerry starts to s******, and giggle. Pretty soon he's laughing his head off, howling in laughter. Elvis is laughing along. Jerry is crying with laughter.
Elvis heads for the glass sliding door. Jerry follows him, knowing he could never had said no.
"So, are we going to catch the next flight out of here or just keep on rehearsing?"
Elvis reaches into the back pocket of his tight pants, and fishes around. His hand emerges with his American Express platinum card held up between thumb and forefinger. He waves it at Jerry and smiles triumphant.
"Let's rock."
CHAPTER NINE: "DEAR DICK . . . "
(COMING TOMORROW) RSS / DAILY EMAIL UPDATES / SHARE
STEFANO BOSCUTTI © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
NOT WITHOUT HUMAN RIGHTS
http://boscutti.com/elvis
New chapter posted every day. To read the story so far,
check out the table of contents.
---
"Elvis’ breakthroughs are underappreciated because in this rock-and-roll age, his hard rocking music and sultry style have triumphed so completely." New York Times
---
RSS / DAILY EMAIL UPDATES / SHARE
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER EIGHT: "I'M TALKING ABOUT THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA"
Elvis roams anxiously around his Hillcrest Drive home in Beverly Hills with an open bottle of Diet Pepsi in one hand and a head full of worry.
He opens and closes several kitchen cupboards, frantically searching for something.
He comes out to the plush, white living room and glances out the huge window that looks out to the night lights sprinkled over Los Angles. On the right is what is to become Lisa Marie Presley's circular bedroom.
Elvis has had the building work torn down twice because he wasn't happy with the quality. Even the scaffolding had to be replaced. Nothing but the best of the best for his daughter. His only child was spoilt from the start. He bought his only child little baby minks and diamonds the day she was born.
Her fourth birthday is only a few weeks away. He loves her, that's for sure. Loves her more than the sun. Calls her Injun and Yisa and Buttonhead. And prays that she grows up happy and at peace.
Elvis starts opening and closing more cupboards. Jerry is perched nervously on the edge of the lengthy sofa. He claps his hands together, and then rubs them vigorously.
"Look, E, I love you, man, but I cannot go to Washington with you right now."
Elvis seems not to have heard him. He continues wandering around, searching high and low, cursing under his breath.
"Man, if I don't finish cutting this film by the twenty-fifth, Paramount's going to have my nuts for Christmas dinner."
Jerry rubs the back of his neck. Another cupboard door slams. Jerry jumps each time they bang shut.
"Man, Paramount's gonna have my god****ed gonads for eggnog, E."
Jerry needs Elvis to understand his situation. Finally, Elvis stops his search and turns toward Jerry. He waves his hand dismissively.
"I'll fly you back by private jet. You can get back quicker that way."
Elvis makes his way back to the large kitchen, rattling through cupboards. Jerry is confused.
"How's a private jet going to get me back any faster, E? A jet's a jet, private or public. They go the same speed."
Elvis shouts out from the kitchen.
"You've just got to do this with me, Jerry. I tell you, I can't do it without you."
Another cupboard door slams. Jerry winces, takes a deep breath and tries to keep his cool. Tries to clamber out of the plush sofa.
"What can't you do without me?"
Jerry is having difficulty getting to his feet. He has to kneel his way out of the sofa. He stands, and brushes his knees with the back of his hand. He hears Elvis' voice leap in from the kitchen, excited.
"Hah! My lucky god****ed glass!"
Jerry looks in and see Elvis holding a glass up triumphantly. He pours his Diet Pepsi into the rather ordinary looking glass and takes a sip. He looks content at last.
"Elvis, why do you want me to go with you to ****ing Washington?"
"All right, all right, calm down, man. You're gonna give yourself a heart attack."
Jerry is shaking his head. Elvis is smiling at him with charm to spare.
"You know, you really need to learn how to relax."
Jerry takes a deep deep breath. Elvis leans towards him and whispers.
"Swear you won't tell anyone?"
"Yeah, E."
Jerry sighs and slumps back onto the sofa.
"Swear on your honor?"
"I swear."
"Swear on your life?"
"Shit, E! Yes, I swear, now just tell me why and I might just consider going with you to Washington."
Elvis takes a huge swig of soda, swirls some around in his mouth, considering his next words carefully. Swallows hard. Looks Jerry straight in the eye.
"I got to meet me the President."
Jerry leans back on the sofa and scratches his stomach.
"What the **** is the president of RCA Records doing in Washington?"
"RCA's got nothing to do with it. I'm talking about the President of the United States of America."
Jerry can't believe what he's just heard. Elvis stares off into the distance.
"Got to get me a badge."
Jerry looks Elvis up and down, slowly.
"Are you sassing me, E?"
"I ain't sassing anybody. I'm dead serious."
"Elvis, you got police badges coming out your ***. What the hell you need another badge for?"
"I need to get me the real, real thing. I need me a federal badge, man."
Jerry is at a loss for words. Elvis is happy to explain.
"Thinking of touring Europe on my own. Can't leave home without one, you know?"
Elvis opens the sliding glass door and steps out into the backyard. The California air is abnormally cold and crisp. The Santa Ana winds race through and ruffle his hair. He puts his hands on his hips and stares up into the night sky. He seems lost in soft thought.
Jerry follows him outside and shuts the door behind him.
"Man, you got to be crazy."
"Man, I was born crazy."
"No, I mean it. You should be locked up. Federal badge? You need a federal ****ing facility, man!"
Elvis walks over to his large, empty swimming pool. He stands at the edge of the deep end and peers down towards the concrete bottom.
"Come on Jerry, You helped me get the deputy badge from your cousin."
"Yeah, but in case you didn't know, I'm not actually related to Richard Nixon. Shit, I didn't even vote for the Trickster."
"That ain't no problem. I ain't never voted, for no one."
"But, Elvis, it's the President of America."
"It's cool, I'll do the talking."
Elvis steps up to the diving board. Jerry lowers his head.
"But, E, the President?"
Elvis walks out to the tip of the diving board and begins to sways up and down.
"You only pass through this life once, Jerry. You don't come back for no encore. You got to go for what you want."
"The President of America?"
Elvis sways and nods and smiles. Jerry rolls his head, looks out to the stars and then back to Elvis.
"I'm on your side always, you know that, but Elvis, it's just got to be impossible to get yourself a meeting with the President of -- "
"Nothing's impossible, Jerry. Only thinking makes it so."
Jerry looks up to the stars again.
"You really want me to come?"
Elvis turns to look at Jerry. He stops swaying.
"Man, what are friends for? I can't do it alone. And I ain't gonna be here much longer."
Jerry eyes him up and down with concern.
"What did you say?"
"Jerry, I been doing this almost half my life and I feel a million years old already. I am scared I'll go out soon just like a light. Just like I came on 36 years ago in Tupelo."
He stares straight up into the stars. He notices the white smudge of the Milky Way trailing across the night sky, and lifts his finger as if to trace its path. Jerry laughs.
"Shit, Elvis, you really should have been an actor."
"Hell, I've been acting my whole life, Jerry."
He turns away from the stars and looks at Jerry.
"But I always wanted to direct my own movies."
"Everybody wants to direct."
"It's about time I started, don't you think?"
His lip twitches into a smirk. He starts bouncing the diving board, higher and higher. Jerry asks wearily.
"Washington?"
"Washington, D.C."
Elvis leaps from the board to the concrete pool deck.
"The President?"
"President Richard Milhous Nixon."
"What kind of a name is 'Milhous' anyway?"
Elvis begins to grin. Jerry starts to s******, and giggle. Pretty soon he's laughing his head off, howling in laughter. Elvis is laughing along. Jerry is crying with laughter.
Elvis heads for the glass sliding door. Jerry follows him, knowing he could never had said no.
"So, are we going to catch the next flight out of here or just keep on rehearsing?"
Elvis reaches into the back pocket of his tight pants, and fishes around. His hand emerges with his American Express platinum card held up between thumb and forefinger. He waves it at Jerry and smiles triumphant.
"Let's rock."
CHAPTER NINE: "DEAR DICK . . . "
(COMING TOMORROW) RSS / DAILY EMAIL UPDATES / SHARE
STEFANO BOSCUTTI © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
NOT WITHOUT HUMAN RIGHTS
http://boscutti.com/elvis