Long Live the King

Long Live the King

by Neelakantan Krishnaswami

The laws of probability suggest that all events, given enough time, must occur. In another time, there is/was/will be a man known by the name of John Fitzgerald Kennedy, who was the President of the United States of America. Furthermore, he was shot by a man who is known to the cognoscenti as the Most High and Royal Galactic Overlord. The reason for this violent and senseless attack, was, as is usual in the male half of the human species, a rivalry for the attentions of a woman. However, this was no ordinary woman, but one so sublimely perfect that even the launching of a thousand ships would not be enough, so beautiful that even global thermonuclear war and the extinction of all multicellular life on Earth could not avenge her loss. Or, so these two titans thought, as overcome as they were by the rushing of pheromones through their respective brains, and the complete loss of rational thought that inevitably follows the radically altered biochemical state known as ``love'' prevented these two from recognizing their incapacity.

Their long saga begins, of course, at that type of social gathering known as a ``birthday party''. The Overlord was, at that time, incognito on Earth, patiently gathering the data that would allow him to plot the final end of freedom in the Galaxy. To that end, he had taken up a persona that encouraged the dissolution of established social norms, and who portrayed even the correctional institutes as fun places to hang out. It was because of his prominence that he was invited to this birthday party, for it was in fact the very party that celebrated the anniversary of President Kennedy's birth! He was pleased that the miserable Earthlings recognized his importance, even in disguised form, and he watched the proceedings with a pleased air. His good humor evaporated as he saw the love of his long and brutal life sing the song ``Happy Birthday'' to the President! His love - love no longer! - had abandoned him for one she thought had greater power! She was false now, and he swore that the man who had brought her to this state would die!

Thus it was that when the President of the United States was making a ceremonial procession through the city in Texas known as ``Dallas'', that a shot rang out and his brains were splattered across the seat and all over his companions, and the sorrow of the nation was great. None was more sorrowful than the Overlord's lost love, and her misery was compounded by the fact that she knew who the true killer was, and that none would believe the truth. Oh, yes, she knew, for the Overlord's song ``Looks Like an Angel'' was a damning confession. But who would believe that the murderer was none other than Elvis Presley? Who would believe - with the exception of readers of certain newsmagazines - that she had had an affair with BOTH the President of the U.S. and the King of Rock and Roll? She went into a severe depression, and within a very few years, she died a broken woman.

The murderer himself was not immune to the effects of his crime. He felt the enormitude of his sin, and he wished greatly to die, but he was not brave enough to commit that action. Instead, he went into a tailspin, abandoning musical craftsmanship for cheap instant fame, until he fell so low as to sing ``I'm Just Wild About Smorgasboard''. He sustained himself during these years on nothing but amphetamines and corn dogs, until his regimen of drugs and junk food wiped out even the memory of his rulership of the entire Galaxy. He made a last, feeble effort to restore himself to his former glory with his ``Comeback Special'', but that too, soon failed him. He fell into drunken disrepute, and died miserably upon not the throne of the Universe, but upon the throne of indoor plumbing.

These sad events are, nonetheless, all to the good of our poor planet, since the conquest and pillage of Earth cannot begin until the Overlord commands it so. But do not rest too comfortably, since the news of Elvis, Lord of the Galaxy, is racing out to the stars at the speed of light. Once news reaches those alien shores, can they not, with their awesome technologies, restore their leader to life and plunder our world? It might, in fact, be the path of wisdom to proclaim your allegiance to Elvis now, before their armadas arrive. So, goodbye, and peace, love, and Elvis! May he live forever!