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I’m in the trailer behind the pig barn changing into my jumpsuit and wig, and I miss The Elvisator’s act. I hoof it over to the platform as the second contestant, a black Elvis dressed all in leather, is singing “All Shook Up”. A bunch of young’uns run around in the dusty field in front of the stage, while their mamas and grannies sit in lawn chairs eating corn dogs and funnel cakes. Most of the men are off watching the tractor pull.
Sweat drips down my face and I hope my make-up doesn’t run. Five years since The King died. Five years since I’ve been on a stage. It was easier to kick the pills than to live without the adulation, the attention, the adoring audiences. I killed The King to save myself. I had to. But I sure do miss the music. Five years and you’re cured, like cancer, isn’t that right? It’s not like I’m an alcoholic. This one time can’t hurt.
Finally the man in the straw hat and overalls announces, “Now give it up for our third and final contestant, in his first appearance as an Elvis Impersonator, Ellis Orion!”
If there’s any applause, it’s drowned out by the roar of the tractors. I walk up to the mike and grin at the audience. Shake my hips. Pick out a pretty young thing in the front row and wink at her. She pretends to swoon.
The music starts, and it all comes back. The notes, the moves, the lyrics. I’m not on a rickety stage in some Podunk town inhaling greasy popcorn fumes and diesel exhaust, but back in Vegas, in the good years, my name in lights, a fire in my belly. When the music ends, I see I’ve thrown my scarf into the crowd, and two little boys are fighting over it. I smile and say, “Thank you, thankyouverymuch,” and saunter off the stage.
The Elvisator wins. He gives a thank you speech, tears running down his face. Tells the audience that he’s proud to represent The King and continue His work. The black Elvis comes in second.
I shake their hands and congratulate them, then follow the crowd past the Chitlin Strut tobacco-spitting contest down to the barbecue. A plump old lady in a tight “Elvis Lives” tee shirt pats me on the shoulder and says, “Don’t you worry, sonny. You’ll do better next time. You just need to practice.”
Next time. I promised myself there wouldn’t be a next time, that this was just a one-time thing, a joke, really. But as I buy my dinner, I’m thinking about growing out my sideburns and hair, working on my moves. About entering a bigger, better contest. Winning it. Going on the circuit.
Most of the picnic tables are filled with families, but I see a table with just one fellow sitting. I walk over and ask if I can join him. He gives me a crooked grin and says in a honey drawl, “Please, set yourself right down.”
“Thank you kindly,” I say, taking a seat across from him. And if it isn’t like I’m looking in a mirror, twenty-five years ago. Same clothes, same hair, same expression. I pick up my ribs.
“I brought my own dinner,” he says.
He lifts his sandwich and a familiar smell hits me. Fried peanut butter and banana. I think about getting up and finding another table, but it’s hot and I’m hungry.
“I can’t help but notice how much you look like Elvis,” I say between bites, “but I didn’t see you in the contest.”
“I don’t do contests,” he says with a sneer. I know that curled lip.
“So, you do a solo act?”
“No, I don’t ‘do’ Elvis at all. No offense, sir, but in my opinion, Elvis Impersonators are morons, parasites, feeding off The King, may He rest in peace. I live Elvis.”
“You live Elvis?”
“Yes, sir. I embody Him. I spread His Word by my example. People see me, and they know The King is alive in spirit. I attend all the contests I can and sit quietly, offering an alternative to those false idols.”
“You don’t sing? You don’t perform?”
“No, sir. Well, sometimes I sing in the shower. Or at church. I do love music. But I’m not interested in fame. Just in Elvis’s essence.”
Maybe this boy is right. Maybe he’s found the way. Maybe he was sent by The Lord to show me how to truly be happy without the applause, the love. I hear a scuffling and look over to see a middle-aged woman dragging a young girl over to our table.
“I wanted my little Krissy to meet you,” the mother says to my younger self, her voice breaking. She dabs her eyes with a hankie, and pushes the shy girl toward our table. The man-who-lives-Elvis takes the little girl’s hand and croons, “Why, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Krissy. You listen to your mama now, you hear, and be sure to do The Lord’s work.”
“Oh thank you, thank you, so much! Bless you!” the mother says, and she and her daughter stumble towards a group of adoring onlookers.
The man-who-lives-Elvis looks at me beaming. “That is my satisfaction,” he says.
I recognize that exalted look in his eyes.
I’m sweltering under my wig. I pull it off and lay it on the table between us. I need to get out of this jumpsuit. I stand and pick up my tray.
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” I say. “Pray for me, boy. Pray for me and I’ll pray for you.”
Jeanne Holtzman is an aging hippie, writer and women’s health care practitioner. Her work has appeared or is upcoming in Night Train, The Los Angeles Review, Dogzplot, Hobart (web), Foundling Review, The Best of Every Day Fiction and flashquake. You may reach Jeanne at J.holtzman@comcast.net.
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ELVIS HAS LEFT THE CHITLIN STRUT • by Jeanne Holtzman,
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34 Responses to “ELVIS HAS LEFT THE CHITLIN STRUT • by Jeanne Holtzman”
Comments
« THE DESTINY OF ARCHER DEFT • by Douglas Campbell | Home | IT’S GOOD TO BE HERE, MEREDITH • by Steve Kissing »
February 17th, 2010 at 12:31 am
Wow! I’m all shook up.
Interesting premise. Excellent beginning. Got a bit preachy towards the end.
February 17th, 2010 at 5:49 am
Wonderful through and through. Five stars.
(I was afraid the fellow at the table would turn out to be Jim Morrison – so glad you avoided the “easy” twist).
February 17th, 2010 at 6:42 am
I like everything about this story.
February 17th, 2010 at 6:56 am
Jeanne, this is a terrific story. Great job!
February 17th, 2010 at 7:02 am
Very well done and clever idea.
February 17th, 2010 at 7:47 am
I like this story a lot. You’ve done here something similar to what TC Boyle does in Lassie Come Home and Wild Child, take a cultural icon and set it on its head. Not an easy thing to do, but you’ve certainly done that.
I’m in general an avoider of the Cult of Elvis, but this is an excellent story which also comments on our icon-obsessed society. Five stars from me.
February 17th, 2010 at 8:19 am
Clever, terrific, well done – loved it!
February 17th, 2010 at 8:22 am
I enjoyed this one. I like the way he unselfconsciously (if that’s a word) took off his wig. The confidence coming back. Nicely done.
February 17th, 2010 at 8:45 am
First off, the title – I don’t get it. What the heck is a “Chitlin Strut?” Yeah, it was mentioned later in the story, but even that wasn’t clear, and I didn’t see any Elvises leaving it.
And then the story, I didn’t get that much either. Who was the POV character? Was it an Elvis who had faked his death and was now returning? Or not?
I don’t much get this Elvis-cult thing. And by the way, I was around when the real Elvis was at his peak. He was just another singer, most of whose songs I didn’t care very much for. Just another singer!
February 17th, 2010 at 9:16 am
This was an interesting and charming story. I’m more of a Beatles girl myself, but I loved everything about this from the time period it was written in, to the setting of the small town to the younger Elvis advising the older one.
February 17th, 2010 at 9:17 am
I almost didn’t read it. Elvis would be an old cracker even if he was still alive, which he ain’t. And I didn’t know what the other thing was. Then I did read it. Got interesting for a while, when the MC said he killed Elvis. Then the ending faded into a big, ‘hun??’ So I didn’t get it. However, I ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed. Thought, maybe, I should read it again, but then I just couldn’t bring myself to do that. Sorry.
February 17th, 2010 at 9:20 am
I also never admired Elvis, and found the persona actually repulsive. I think he was created, as mentioned by some commentors, as an icon of some sorts of characters living on the “fringe.” I read somewhere, long ago, that his songs originated in gospel singing, so the “preachy” dialogue would be in character.
Jim – I think that the “Chitlin Strut” is keep-up-your-strength by eating nourishing food that the rich reject,an attitude now not fully acceptable and superceded by “Where’s my steak?” – a true advance in civilization.
February 17th, 2010 at 9:29 am
C.M.-
Um, I don’t think Elvis was the cracker type. I think if he sat around the cracker barrel, listening to the raconteur, his response after the telling would be “Wah?” Gabby Hayes is more like a cracker type.
February 17th, 2010 at 9:52 am
First thing I have to say is I love this story. It mixes the cultural icon with the southern charm. The implication that Elvis walks among us is a fantasy of practically every daughter of the south.
Now… for those that have expressed a curiosity about the “Chitlin Strut” there really is such a festival found in Salley, SC.
From their website: http://www.chitlinstrut.com/
“The first question the curious ask upon arrival in Salley, South Carolina for the annual Chitlin’ Strut, is ‘What is a chitlin?’
The answer may not sound too appetizing but once eaten, you cannot deny that something special has just been realized. Chitlin’s, a contraction of the word “chitterlings” are pig intestines, and the people of Salley fry them by the ton during the celebration which is held on Saturday following Thanksgiving. (end quote)
Sounds yummy, doesn’t it.(but then I like root canals)
February 17th, 2010 at 9:55 am
Terrific story, Jeanne. Very funny on the surface, but underneath lies a subtle meditation on the strange relationship in our culture between celebrity and authenticity. Five big ones!
February 17th, 2010 at 10:15 am
Oh, yeah. chitterlings, I knew that, just didn’t put it together. But how does a chitterling strut? It’s more like collapse, isn’t it?
And Roberta you made me laugh. Here in the deep south, which is where I am, any old white boy is a cracker. Not to dis the King, he was great in his day, um… thirty plus, forty plus, years ago.
February 17th, 2010 at 11:52 am
“Thank you, thankyouverymuch.”
February 17th, 2010 at 12:59 pm
Enjoyable story. It effectively uses the idea of restarting your life, which I think many people have contemplated, and the difficulties of staying apart from the “old you.” Elvis was a great choice for the MC. The funniest part for me was that the real McCoy came in 3rd in an Elvis impersonators (sorry, tribute singers) contest.
Well done.
–John
February 17th, 2010 at 1:22 pm
Very good story well written. Wasn’t it Charlie Chaplin who failed to make the finals in Charlie Chaplin look-a-like competition? But the ‘Live’ Elvis character is what makes this story. Drawing in the gullible to think he has some sort of righteous stance. Very, very good story. Deserves a strong five.
February 17th, 2010 at 3:07 pm
I was going to say it, but Rick beat me to it: Thank you, thankyouverymuch! Mickey is right – I got the name from the real Chitlin Strut.
Among other things when I wrote this I was thinking about the motivations of artists of all kinds -singers, musicians, writers etc – to make art.
February 17th, 2010 at 7:03 pm
#17. … ditto …. and four hip-shakes
February 18th, 2010 at 12:04 am
Fantastic story, five stars, loved the irony of the Elvis embodier teaching Elvis himself a thing or two about being Elvis. (And I wasn’t even trying to see how many times I could use Elvis in a sentence. It is, however, a new record). Great stuff!
February 18th, 2010 at 1:04 am
I didn’t think I would, but I actually liked this piece. Hope to see more of your work soon.
February 18th, 2010 at 8:18 am
Douglas Campbell – How right you are! Pithiest comment. they’re all fake really.
J.C. You may be right. The one who “lives” Elvis might not be the original and the 3rd contestant, the loser, learns how to be himself, not necessarily a crowd pleaser. Good point.
February 18th, 2010 at 8:38 am
C.M. Mar – Both Elvis and Cracker “types” are rural.
February 18th, 2010 at 8:43 am
Very nice, Jeanne. I remember reading a draft of this somewhere…Zoetrope? It’s really come together during edits.
February 18th, 2010 at 11:30 am
I’m not an Elvis nut but I did enjoy this story. It was fast paced with the right touch of description. And a good message.
February 18th, 2010 at 3:35 pm
Nice story, Jeanne. It made me smile.
February 18th, 2010 at 4:06 pm
Thank you all! And Roberta – I did intend The Elisator to be the real Elvis.
February 18th, 2010 at 4:07 pm
Ooops! My mistake!! The Elvis in the show was the real Elvis ( The Elvisator was another contestant. Sorry!)
February 18th, 2010 at 4:38 pm
I loved the story, and totally understood it. The King is dead – long live the King! Well done Jeanne.
February 18th, 2010 at 5:57 pm
This reminded me of the Bruce Campbell movie Bubba Ho-tep, which is a good thing! Thanks for the thoroughly enjoyable read.
February 24th, 2010 at 2:44 pm
Ah, well, I certainly can’t agree with one of the commenters that Elvis was just another singer. His importance as more than just another singer is pretty well documented.
But on to the story. I like everything. My only problem is, does this experience that the protagonist has bring about some sort of a change…
I just looked at the story again. When the protagonist recognizes the exalted look in the eyes of the other Elvis lover’s eyes, I guess that’s the epiphany on the part of the protagonist. And then the protagonist ask the Elvis lover, a true Elvis lover who does not need the adulation, to pray for him.
Being an editor of my own flash fiction publication I should get it.
Thank you. Thankyouverymuch.
June 7th, 2010 at 1:54 pm
[...] if you think that lightning can’t strike twice–well, Jeanne Holtzman’s Elvis Has Left the Chitlin Strut would prove you [...]