LIVE IN HAWAII IIWhat the hell kind of Fat Farm is this that I can't get a decent peanut butter and banana sandwich? I mean don't get me wrong, I'm looking good for an old guy... sure, my arthiritic hip won't let me swivel like I used to, but we're talking Live in Hawaii good looking. Ha, ha, Live in Hawaii! They should have known that's where I'd go!But the leather jacket fits again (Don't Be Cruel)and I've finally found just the right hairpiece to pull off that greased pompadour look that the Colonel loved. I miss him and Vernon.I've been working on stuff for a comeback album, but I know y'all won't buy the fact that I've been in hiding for thirty-five years. The Memphis Mafia has been taking care of business since seventy-seven, but I couldn't convince Sonny and the boys to get leied and become the Honolulu Hillbillies.Priscilla had been looking good there for a while and it makes me smile. If anybody could've raised ol' Elvis from the "dead" it was her, if you know what I mean!My baby took a wrong turn along the road since my disappearing act. Poor Lisa Marie marryin' that scarecrow with the glove, now THAT was awkward. I should've been there to steer her in the right path. Thankfully it didn't last long and she didn't give me grandbabies with that. The Lord does work in mysterious ways.What's next for the King? A 2:30 pineapple massage followed by a 4:00 manicure. Hey, I tol' y'all I was lookin' good! I gotta go."Ladies and Gentlemen, Elvis is leaving the cabana!"
WITHOUT DOORSI've been doing a lot of thinking. Rational thinking. It's quite amazing how much of that one can accomplish without access to drugs. I've also come up with a lot of songs, lyrics mostly. I've imagined some great chords and riffs, but other than a little tapping and finger drumming, I haven't been able to test out the sounds. The accoustics in this coffin suck, by the way.
hmmm.....maybe I should spend just a few seconds editing before posting, huh? Please pardon my spelling problems.
LOST AT SEASince dropping off the radar, so to speak, back in 1937, I spent a number of years on an island I assumed to be in the Atlantic, although the climate and vegetation suggested more of a Pacific setting. My co-pilot, Fred, died in the crash. I'm not sure how I didn't.I spent four days waiting to be rescued, eating the fruit I found on the island and swimming just off shore, partly for exercise, partly because I was bored and had nothing better to do than exercise.Starting from the eighth day on, I would sometimes find what appeared to be footprints in what passed for my camp when I got back. I don't know how we didn't run into each other, but the Others, as I came to think of them, must have been very sneaky because I never heard or saw any of them.On the evening of fifteenth day, I decided to explore the island. The monring of the sixteenth, I departed, bidding farewell to the Electra. I wasn't sure if I'd see it again after venturing into the island. I didn't know what I'd find, but I'd heard animal noises and I knew the Others were somewhere.Turns out that while I had no fear of flying, pushing the limits in the sky, I wasn't so brave on the ground. Each afternoon, after exploring, I'd come back to the beach. I felt safe near my plane, broken as it was.Things took a turn for the worse on my twnety-third day on the island. I was returning to the beach after a day of exploring when I heard voices. I paused to listen and was surprised to see a small group of people coming from the beach, wiedling weapons and muttering about capturing me. I assumed it was me, anyway. I was the only person I knew of at the beach. They looked angry, and when they spotted me, the hollared and began running toward me. I turned and ran as fast as I could. I don't know how I got away, but they weren't very good at tracking, which would explain why it had taken three weeks to finally encounter them.Escaping them had gotten me turned around. I couldn't find my way back home. Sad, I think, that I'd already begun thinking of my little spot on the beach as home. For the next couple weeks, I wandered rather aimlessly. When I found a hill, I did climb, hoping to find a vantage point that would allow me to find my direction back to my plane.It wasn't until the forty-second day that I finally found such a spot. I clear rocky outcropping that overlooked the ocean where I could barely see the Electra. My joy, though, was short-lived. I'd been found.I turned and looked for a place to run, but the Others, people who looked like me, but were obviously not friendly, had me cornered. As one approached, spear in hand, my heart began racing. I imagine I looked quite like a cornered animal, looking everywhere and no where all at once. I tried to take up a defensive stance, but the ground crumbled away under my back foot and I fell.I woke to the sound of Fred's voice, calling me back to consciousness. He smiled at me and asked if I was okay. I blinked away the fog, sat up, and looked around. We were sitting on a bench outside the church from back home. Fred helped me to my feet, and began walking me to the church door, telling me he was glad I'd finally found my way home.
Rob, both interesting takes on a slightly different prompt. I love the resolution on both. Great work.