King of Nothing

So this weekend we visited Graceland, the home of Elvis Presley.  Well, it was.  He's dead now.  Well, not everyone believes that.  But even if he isn't dead, he doesn't live at Graceland anymore.  Or does he?  They won't let you upstairs.  I wonder why.  Hmmmmm. 

As I mentioned before, I always tell the little ones - kids, not midgets...jeez - that I used to, in fact, be Elvis.  They were very disappointed that the staff of Graceland didn't welcome me home like a prodigal son and kick all those damn people out of our house.  They were jonesing to jump in the pool.

Elvis sure did live like a king.  I guess they didn't call him the King of Rock-n-Roll for nothing.  The house is pimpin', but it doesn't even compare to the planes.  His planes kicked ass.  My man was living large.  Graceland was the original Crib.

All of this opulence got me thinking... I'd like to be the King of Rock-n-Roll.  Or the King of Pop.  King of England - or Morocco.  King of My Own Domain even!  Anything!  But mostly I'm just the King of Nothing.

It might sound like an easy job being King of Nothing, but I tell you - it is pretty tough.  First, there is a lot of waving at nobody.  Too much of that will give you carpel tunnel for sure.  Second, every time I walk into a damn room they have to have that music.  Mostly I just sing that myself due to the shortage of musicians among my subjects.  Also, I have to spend a lot of time on the throne.  It's a very nice one - made of porcelain - but it can get uncomfortable if you sit on it too long.

Usually when I'm on my throne I read, or play one of the cool games I download from the iTunes store, but there are also times when I spend long moments in deep thought.  There are times when I feel a release, and other times when I can smell something brewing in the air.  I make sure to mark these moments on the great paper scroll that is always kept close to the throne.

OK... that was getting a little out of control.  Moving on now...

After we left Graceland - and I kept going on and on about it - Mrs S and I had this conversation:

Mrs S:  I bet you would mary Elvis' daughter if you had a chance.  Just so you could be connected to Elvis.

Me:  If there were no you in this world, then hell yeah I would marry her.  And I would even take her name.

Mrs S:  You would want to be called Lisa Marie?

Me:  Her last name, dufas!

Mrs S:  Oh!  Yeah, I guess that makes more sense.

If I married her, I wonder if I would be the Prince of Rock-n-Roll.  I could live with that.  But only - I repeat - only if Mrs. S never existed in this world.  She has stolen my heart forever, and no one could ever compare.  {Cheese alert}

Well, I must get back to my duties in ruling over nothing.  A lot to not do.  No where to go.  No one to see.  Busy busy.

Stickman out!