The King And I (Short Fiction)
15th July 2012
In: Short Stories
I was an Elvis fan from the age of three. Mum had all his albums on vinyl and she recorded them onto cassettes so we could play them in the car. I knew all the words to Jailhouse Rock and Blue Suede Shoes before I even went to school. I liked some other stuff, too. We had Beatles records and Rolling Stones, but it was Elvis I really loved and, when he died in 1977, I had just had my tenth birthday and it felt like the end of the world. Mum and me immediately went into mourning.
The kids at school thought I was nuts when I wore a black armband with the words The King Is Dead that Mum had embroidered on it in purple. Mr. Duncan, my form teacher made me take it off because he said it was inappropriate to wear it in class. Johnny Kalowski sniggered behind me and I turned and gave him the most evil stare I could manage. Later, when I opened my locker, I found my autographed fan club picture of Elvis that I’d sellotaped to the inside of the door had been scrawled over in thick red felt-tip —
FAT, FORTY AND SNUFFED IT
The words stung me like a slap in the face. I burst into tears and vowed revenge on Johnny Kalowski. I was absolutely sure he was to blame.
*
In the autumn of 1985, the editor of our local paper handed me, their most junior reporter, an assignment no one else wanted to cover. I had to go to see an up and coming rock band perform at the newly opened sports arena. I’d heard of the aptly-named Kasualty, spelt with a K— their first single had rocketed up the charts in a dozen or more countries — but I knew hardly anything about them. I did some research and what it uncovered made me smile as I sharpened my critical
skills in anticipation.
The night of the concert I was all set to slaughter them in print. I would be as scathing as I dare without getting my editor worried about a possible libel suit. They were bound to be crap anyway, so it shouldn’t be difficult. I got to my front
row seat early and sat watching people stream in. It was a full house.
The youngsters packed around me were obviously all big Kasualty fans and their excitement was catching. I started to feel almost mean about my intentions. Then I remembered my Elvis picture and steeled myself. Payback was long overdue. I got impatient for the band to appear.
A loudspeaker abruptly crackled and the opening announcement was drowned out by the audience’s roar as the band members came running on stage. Immediately they launched into their first number and I looked up at Johnny Kalowski. It was the first time I’d clapped eyes on him since we left junior school. It was irritating to admit, but he looked pretty cool. Worse, the band turned out to be really good. I’d never thought of myself as a rock chic but I was having a hard time hanging on to my prejudice and was close to enjoying myself. It was all very unnerving.
I hadn’t really thought there was much chance of Johnny recognising me. After all, I was probably the last person he would have expected to see at one of his concerts. But I suddenly realised he was staring down at me and I felt annoyed
and embarrassed all at the same time. Then he grinned and nodded. I smiled back because I suddenly couldn’t help myself. My old anger seemed to have melted clean away.
I was totally unprepared for the dedication. I felt myself flush as he spoke into the microphone. “The next song is especially for an old friend — my tribute to The King. Great to see you here, Linda!” He blew me a kiss and sang directly to me. His version of Are You Lonesome Tonight? complete with guitar riff, got me
just there, and I knew that it was his way of belatedly apologising.
My editor insisted on some changes to my review. “Linda,” he told me, gruffly, “There’s only one King of rock and roll and, sadly, the man’s no longer with us.”
“I know that, George. But Johnny was really, really hot!” I protested.
“And he’ll burn out. The band will split — and another lot just like ’em will come along. Rewrite it and chop it down to 500 words.”
I shrugged and did more or less what he’d asked. But it still included a glowing line about Johnny: ‘Lead singer Johnny Kalowski showed great style and versatility in his tribute to the late, great Elvis Presley — Johnny’s memorable version of Are You Lonesome Tonight? was sheer class.’
Well, a girl can change her mind, can’t she?
The kids at school thought I was nuts when I wore a black armband with the words The King Is Dead that Mum had embroidered on it in purple. Mr. Duncan, my form teacher made me take it off because he said it was inappropriate to wear it in class. Johnny Kalowski sniggered behind me and I turned and gave him the most evil stare I could manage. Later, when I opened my locker, I found my autographed fan club picture of Elvis that I’d sellotaped to the inside of the door had been scrawled over in thick red felt-tip —
FAT, FORTY AND SNUFFED IT
The words stung me like a slap in the face. I burst into tears and vowed revenge on Johnny Kalowski. I was absolutely sure he was to blame.
*
In the autumn of 1985, the editor of our local paper handed me, their most junior reporter, an assignment no one else wanted to cover. I had to go to see an up and coming rock band perform at the newly opened sports arena. I’d heard of the aptly-named Kasualty, spelt with a K— their first single had rocketed up the charts in a dozen or more countries — but I knew hardly anything about them. I did some research and what it uncovered made me smile as I sharpened my critical
skills in anticipation.
The night of the concert I was all set to slaughter them in print. I would be as scathing as I dare without getting my editor worried about a possible libel suit. They were bound to be crap anyway, so it shouldn’t be difficult. I got to my front
row seat early and sat watching people stream in. It was a full house.
The youngsters packed around me were obviously all big Kasualty fans and their excitement was catching. I started to feel almost mean about my intentions. Then I remembered my Elvis picture and steeled myself. Payback was long overdue. I got impatient for the band to appear.
A loudspeaker abruptly crackled and the opening announcement was drowned out by the audience’s roar as the band members came running on stage. Immediately they launched into their first number and I looked up at Johnny Kalowski. It was the first time I’d clapped eyes on him since we left junior school. It was irritating to admit, but he looked pretty cool. Worse, the band turned out to be really good. I’d never thought of myself as a rock chic but I was having a hard time hanging on to my prejudice and was close to enjoying myself. It was all very unnerving.
I hadn’t really thought there was much chance of Johnny recognising me. After all, I was probably the last person he would have expected to see at one of his concerts. But I suddenly realised he was staring down at me and I felt annoyed
and embarrassed all at the same time. Then he grinned and nodded. I smiled back because I suddenly couldn’t help myself. My old anger seemed to have melted clean away.
I was totally unprepared for the dedication. I felt myself flush as he spoke into the microphone. “The next song is especially for an old friend — my tribute to The King. Great to see you here, Linda!” He blew me a kiss and sang directly to me. His version of Are You Lonesome Tonight? complete with guitar riff, got me
just there, and I knew that it was his way of belatedly apologising.
My editor insisted on some changes to my review. “Linda,” he told me, gruffly, “There’s only one King of rock and roll and, sadly, the man’s no longer with us.”
“I know that, George. But Johnny was really, really hot!” I protested.
“And he’ll burn out. The band will split — and another lot just like ’em will come along. Rewrite it and chop it down to 500 words.”
I shrugged and did more or less what he’d asked. But it still included a glowing line about Johnny: ‘Lead singer Johnny Kalowski showed great style and versatility in his tribute to the late, great Elvis Presley — Johnny’s memorable version of Are You Lonesome Tonight? was sheer class.’
Well, a girl can change her mind, can’t she?