TITLE: The Twelfth of Never
GENRE: Contemporary upper MG
If this were a movie, you’d be hearing Elvis music right now. The soundtrack to my life. Mom says she gave birth to me serenaded by the soothing tones of his love song, “The Twelfth of Never,” and I entered the world crying in perfect pitch with it.
My name is Presley. If I had been a boy, I’d most certainly be Elvis. Thank God for my chromosomes.
Not that I don’t love The King. I do. It passed into my DNA, straight from my grandparents through Mom, his biggest fan. She’s president of Michigan’s Elvis (Lives) Forever Fan Club, able to tell his life story, with exact dates of milestones, concerts, album releases. She never mentions his death, although she claims not to believe the Elvis sightings reported in supermarket tabloids, so I can try to pretend she’s normal. Except for the potato chip she bought on eBay for its likeness to Elvis’s facial profile. If you squint your eyes, the one burnt edge resembles his hair and those thick sideburns from the 1970s, when he was heavy and wore the sparkly one-piece outfits.
She had the potato chip shellacked, and she keeps it on a tiny foam pad in a little plastic display box on her desk at work. Which also happens to be at my school. She’s the secretary at Greenhaven Middle. And I’m about to tell her the music has to stop.