Elvis Presley's Head Live at the Flea Market

*clickable for a closer look*

What the hell happened to spring? It lasted A DAY. It's been hotter than Texas Pete on a jalapeno up in this holler.

I've been enjoying the three day weekend, lounging around, eating bonbons... yeah okay. Ya'll know that's a lie. I'd planned on getting the carpets cleaned on Saturday, but when The Amazon's plans to meet her college roommate over in Big City for lunch fell through, I knew she was disappointed, having been chomping at the bit to get out of the holler for a day, so we loaded up in Jolene and headed to the new flea market up by Wally World.

My hillbilly blood must run deep, because I love me a good flea market.

Being new, the parking lot wasn't exactly packed and there were a few empty spaces where vendors should be, but there was still plenty to take in. When I spotted the Elvis bust (pictured above) I stopped to get a closer look.

Ma loves Elvis.

A sweet, southern lady, who'd had an unfortunate run in with Miss Clairol 51D, Black Velvet, appeared, grinning from ear to ear.

"You like Elvis??" she asked.

"My mom does.." I answered. But before I could finish, a man's voice was heard from the back corner of the shop.

"Make him sing for 'em baby," he said.

The sweet, southern lady grabbed a microphone and started pushing buttons, her husband giving instructions from his place on the purple Victorian love seat, with the mannequin head decorated as a 1920's flapper permanently affixed to the head rest.

His wife giggled impishly, pushing the black velvet hair away from her face as Elvis' eyes began to move, his facial expression changed and he broke out into a shortened version of "Hound Dog." It looked real. It was kinda creepy.

I looked at T.A. "Do you know how much fun we could have with Ma if we had this?" I asked.

T.A. grinned.

"We could sneak it in her bedroom while she's asleep.." I plotted.

"Oh when my wife brought him home," her husband began, "I came in the door after work and she said, 'Hunny, I have some bad news fer ya. I done went and had an affair. He's still in thar in the bedroom. I sure am sorry.' And well, I walked in thar, not sure what to find and thar he was, blankets tucked in under his chin. She'd put pillers up n' under the blankets so's to look like a body, ya see. I thought she'd bought a whole Elvis, dint realize it were just the head, but I knowed she dint cheat on me. Knew that the whole time."

As he spoke, his mate walked over to the eerie, singing head and adjusted it's hair, taking great care to make sure everything was just right.

T.A., being a connoisseur of all things writing related, spotted an antique typewriter on the floor, momentarily forgetting about Elvis. I saw a twinkle in her eye I've not seen since the last time I went antiquing with my oldest friend's mom back in Chattanooga.

I think she's got the collecting bug. Time will tell.

We never did ask how much the sweet old couple wanted for their singing Elvis. I'm pretty sure it was more than the $20 I had with me and to be honest, I don't think Miss Black Velvet wanted to part with it.

After the flea market we stopped at Wally World to get a prescription filled. We can't be having me run out of my "crazy-pills-I-probably-should-have-been-on-for-the-last-30-years" drugs. We stopped at the I-mother-flippen-Hop on the way home. T.A. was bothered that I'd not been there yet.

So the carpets didn't get cleaned, although I did fix the vacuum cleaner and drag it around the bedroom. The garden didn't get hoed, dug or even walked in at all and I'm using the Easter Sunday get-out-of-housework-card for today, even though there's no hint of Easter in my house other than the empty Peeps box in the trash can.

Don't judge me.

There will be a roast later, if I ever get it thawed in the nuke-ro-wave and into the slow cooker. I know it's late to be slow cooking anything, but T.A. doesn't get off work until 7 or so and Ma's snoozing, fighting her dose of the crud.

I'm hoping for a peaceful Sunday.

*knock on wood*

Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!


BetteJo said...

That would be my word for the Elvis head - creepy!

Happy Easter over there - don't even have an empty peeps box over here. :)

croneandbearit said...

I love flea markets and garage sales. You find such interesting junk and the odd treasure. I would have to skip the Elvis head. Too icky. One of our local flea markets keeps getting raided by the police because of so much "wrong" merchandise as in black market and counterfeited stuff. I always laugh at the inside stalls that sell the tee shirts and sweatshirts and ya know if they can't spell the name of the university mascot right...it's probabaly not sanctioned merchandise. But that's the fun of flea markets - ya never know what you will find or who you will see!