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Why Elvis cried…

March 11, 2014
tags: , , ,
by

He woke up feeling totally tired. 6 hours of sleep were not sufficient. His legs were still aching from the previous day’s activity. There was no choice. He woke up from the bed to face his world. The man in the mirror was old and bald. His Crow’s feet were longer and wrinkles criss-crossed his face. His denture-less mouth over-closed and his lips were dry. A silvery stubble was growing from the previous night. Despite the man’s age, his eyes still sparkled with vitality. A toothless smile softened his entire face to look like a baby. The man took inspiration from his reflection. He was ready…ready to face life to the fullest just as he did every day since he was in his early twenties. Pablo never backed down from any fights, even if it meant losing the love and affection of his parents.

His suit was white, the same that Bill Belew had designed. Though the eagle on his back was the exact replica, he had never visited the USA. No matter that. He knew the right pitch and tempo to sing in. He had mastered the voice of his role model. Ever since he had seen him sing “Aloha from Hawaii” on the Telly in 1973, he had decided what he was going to do. He started singing in the same voice. He practised day and night. His studies had to face the darkness. He eventually dropped out of college despite his parents’ strong insistence in continuing their dream for him to become an Engineer.

“No. Yo quiero cantar. Quiero ser Elvis.” No. I want to sing. I want to be Elvis.

40 years had passed. He was still singing. The King changed. The country changed. Even Elvis had left the building once and for all. But Elvis’ voice was still echoing in Barcelona Metro. His voice welcomed the dazed tourists of the city. His voice welcomed the busy people who hurried to finish their own errands. His voice brought back good old memories of that age to the veterans who grew up listening to him. Standing in the high heeled shoes for more than 5 hours a day for the past 10 years had taken a heavy toll on his body. A distinct hunch made his head move forward while Elvis grasped the mike to sing “Life”

Somewhere out in empty space

Long before the human race something stirred

A vast and timeless source began intelligence was born

And then there was the world

People were too busy to notice him singing his heart out. He had made only 2,20 €. Maybe he had to starve tonight as well. No, he will not stop. He will sing on. He is Elvis.

While he was nearing the twilight of “Life” for the day, his stomach was singing for sustaining his Life. That was when a Mexican lad in his early twenties stopped right in front of him. He hated his mother’s Tortas. He hated the taste. He liked to have a McBurger. But not a Torta! Just when he was going to throw it away into the trash did he find the old hunchbacked man. He was wearing a black wig and singing in a low pitched voice more in gibberish than in English. He gave the Mexican sandwich to Pablo. At least this man could eat it instead.

He sang the last stanza such that everyone in Barcelona Metro could hear that night:

“Well He showed the world that dreadful day

That love could be the only way

Or all is lost of life  everlasting life

For life is love and love is life”

One man’s trash is another’s treasure. One man’s disliked lunch, is another’s best supper of the day.

Today Pablo will sleep without hunger.

Elvis cried.

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