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My King

Ker-Snap! A giant Catawba leaf shoots toward the sky and gently floats downward, just missing my dusty tennis shoes. My trusty red bandana is always the weapon of choice whenever fighting off giants or trolls in the backyard. I'm sure I would have been a match for Zorro, considering all of my practice. After stuffing my well-worn cotton cloth into my pocket, I ran into the house straight to my bedroom.

The clock is ticking, with only an hour left until dark, so I must take advantage of every moment. Cautiously removing my Elvis record from its cardboard sleeve, I placed it onto the turntable, careful to avoid scratch noises. Sweet clicks and static emerged from my JBLs as the album began to spin. I hurried to raise the window as the King's voice penetrated my room. It was all the inspiration I needed to push forward on today's final journey. The speaker was as big as me, but I managed to rest it on the window stool before locking the wonderful wooden artwork into place by shutting the window. Flamming Star played less than a minute, but I thought it was best to restart the album before running outside again.

The enchanting melody of my King's voice cascades through the air as gracefully as the falling leaf did earlier. His lyrics pound through my veins, pumping my blood more perfectly than my own beating heart while explosive words ring through my ears, igniting an untamed imagination. This day belongs to Elvis and me; together, we are unstoppable.

The sweet smell of the crabapple tree made its way through my senses and demanded some attention. Luckily she was just down the hill and still in range of the sounds from my speaker. A pit stop is in order on the way to my destination because I need a tool to carry out my plans. My intentions are not to eat those apples because they are way too sour, and the delightful odor will not fool me a second time. I rocked a tree branch back and forth while twisting it simultaneously, finally freeing it from the limb. The end of my long stick is perfectly pointy and ready to serve its purpose.

A couple of yellow fruit flies had already claimed some of the fallen apples. I guess they must be a fan of the tartness inside of those little round jewels, so I'll let them enjoy their feast. Standing on my toes, I used my fingers to grab a low-hanging branch. Once I had a good grip, I pulled the limb down with one hand and plucked the tiny nuggets with the other. Using my shirt as a pouch, much like a mother kangaroo, I loaded up all of the crabapples and strolled over to a nearby open field, being careful not to leave my friend Elvis behind.

The miniature bounty fell to the ground and bounced around a bit after releasing the hold on my shirt. It sounded like a distant stampede from an old episode of The Lone Ranger as my harvest landed. Quickly, I grabbed an apple and forced it onto the end of my new makeshift sword. Juices streamed down my weapon as I worked my projectile in place. Elvis sent me words of encouragement while I lifted my instrument into the air as if I were about to throw a football. Swish! I flung the stick forward, releasing the microscopic missile into the atmosphere. It must have traveled at least a country mile before vanishing from sight. I spent the rest of the evening flinging crabapples with my buddy Mr. Presley only stopping to run back in the house to restart the record.

(Hear me tell the story)

Feeling fresh from my evening shower, I decided to sit in front of the fan that sucked cool air through the window screen to watch a little television. Mom isn't a fan of me watching Three's Company, but I'll be sure to keep the volume down, so she's none the wiser. "Why the heck is the news on right now?" I thought to myself as I flipped through all three channels. Something strange is going on because it's barely 8:00 p.m., this doesn't seem right. I froze before turning the knob once again to see a familiar face on the monitor.

"Elvis Presley was pronounced dead," rang from my tv as I collapsed on the hard wooden floor in the living room. The anchorman's voice faded in and out while I desperately tried to understand what was happening. Most of the words aren't making sense, but the dates under the King's picture behind the newsman told me everything I needed to know. My friend is gone.

Mom and Dad came to check on me once or twice before they went to bed. They usually make sure I'm fast asleep before retiring, but they gave me tonight. I watched television until the stations finally played the National Anthem and signed off. Devastated, I made my way to the bedroom and placed my record on the turntable. Elvis reminded me that I had a lot of living to do, and he instructed me to chase my dreams. I slept listening to my friend and drifted off thinking about how he paid me one last visit before going to Graceland.

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