My Night With Elvis: Swallow That Dream

The Tender Continuation From My Night With Elvis: Kitten With a Dip and My Night With Elvis: Clamfake?

ATLANTA, GA -- Darkness dawdled. It would be awhile until "Viva Las Vegas" and "Jailhouse Rock" commenced at the drive-in. I mingled among the patrons, when, suddenly, the children, mistaking me for the King of Rock and Roll, forced this ol' boy to sit, so they could take turns climbing onto my lap.

"Elvis, for Christmas, will you bring me a Kid Galahad doll?"

"Sure, little girl," I said. "How 'bout a Fun in Acapulco Praline Sweet Potato Casserole for your baby brother, baby?"

"Yeth," she blushed, when, suddenly, an erotic fragrance wafted lovingly into my nostrils.

I leapt to my feet. The kid's pa caught her before the bounce.

North of my patented Pouty Elvis Lip Snarl, my patented Pouty Elvis Olfactory Snort went into overdrive.

I sniffed and hopped about like 1976 Stage Elvis in an effort to zero in on the source.

Mike sniffs and snarls, pinpointing something fragrant nearby. Photos copyright 2004 Mike Durrett, all rights reserved.

Mike sniffs and snarls, pinpointing something fragrant nearby. Photos copyright 2004 Mike Durrett, all rights reserved.

A-HA! P'nut butter 'n' nanner sammiches were on the premises.

And that's alright with me. My gut feeling was right on, mama.

I yanked a fella out of his '57 Chevy.

"I need to borrow your car!"

I floored it and was soaring pretty high off the eighth drive-in parking ramp when the fine ride returned to Earth. I grabbed the emergency brake, jumped from the sedan, and sprinted a few yards to the saintly lady serving the homemade delectables to the audience.

"Thank you. Thank you very much," I said, relieving her of her burden.

I, Michaelvis, and a fresh carton of sandwiches returned to the folding chairs to wait for the movies to start, TCBB.

Takin' Care of Business and Bananas.