An Impetuous Tale [Elvis]

Chapter 1 - A Change in Scenery

This road was packed with people that had Elvis on their shirts, pants, face masks, and some guys even had that pompadour and tacky jumpsuits. On the road, there were cars that had Elvis's face on the windows, mostly of him from the 70s.

"Wow, this really is something else," I muttered as I drove down Elvis Presley Boulevard in my rental car, a white Corolla, also paid for by my work. I saw signs to the mansion and hotel. The mansion was just south of the hotel less than half a mile. Really, I could walk there from the hotel. I would do that the next day so I could explore the mansion property as well as the museums and other places across the street from the mansion.

I turned into the hotel, passed a tall bush, then came... What? Where's the hotel? It's gone! My car was bumping on grass. I turned around and found the main road again, the one I was just on, only all the cars were vintage. Confused, I looked back at where the hotel was supposed to be, but it wasn't there, just a grassy field.

"What the heck is going on? I swear it was right there." I drove out of the grass and pulled over next to the curb. I got out of my car, and the moment I did, I realized that I myself just came out of a vintage car. My heart jolted. "What?! How the heck did that happen?!"

I jumped away from the car in horror and bumped into someone. I gasped as I turned and saw a blonde woman wearing something that I had seen my grandmother wear in old photos of when she was young. The hair style was even the same.

"Miss, are you okay?" asked the woman who looked not that much older than me, and she was wearing pink.

"Um..." I started, but I was stopped by a shiny black vintage car pulling over against the curb, and a couple of men in black suits came out of it. Suddenly, the woman I was talking to screamed and ran up to the car. Several people did, in fact, and soon, a whole swarm of people came up, jostling me. Someone came out of the car...

A man who looked like Elvis and had the black hair. People even called him Elvis and demanded of him an autograph.

"Wow, people really take these Elvis impersonators seriously." A thought came to me, a thought related to why I was in Memphis. "I have to talk with a few Elvis impersonators for this article. He's a good one, and not one dressed in a tacky jumpsuit."

In fact, this man was dressed in black slacks and a plain white dress shirt, no tie. He was smiling at everyone, and... wow. He was a spitting image of Elvis. He did a freakishly good job of making himself look like him.

I came closer to the crowd, and I heard one man ask, "Elvis, are you leaving soon to LA to start your movie Harum Scarum?"

I never heard an answer, and I momentarily wondered why a man would ask him that since that movie came out in the sixties, according to Grandma. That was one of her favorites of Elvis's movies, mainly since her family came from that area of the world where the movie takes place.

"Yes, sir," said the Elvis impersonator. "I leave next week."

More people asked questions regarding that movie, and many more asked for his autograph. I wouldn't be able to talk to this man with all these people here. I knew that, as a reporter, I had to sometimes push my way through a crowd. I had done it before—that was why Mr. Strauss complemented me about getting information.

I shimmied through all these people, many of them squealing girls and women. One man elbowed me in the gut, making me wince.

"Gosh, this is ridiculous," I muttered. "He's just an impersonator."

I pushed my way through, and someone else jostled me, and I fell through to the sidewalk, right on my left arm, shooting pain through it. I yelped because of it.