Once we hit the edge of the desert, I thought it was time that we had the talk. The Elvis, do you know you are dead? talk. I had found a classic country station on the satellite radio and had been enjoying him singing along to random lines so I hated to bring the mood down by killing him, but it had to happen at some point on the trip.
“So Elvis, I don’t know if you have figured this out, but you don’t actually exist in 2014.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, um, you like died. A long time ago, back in the 70s.”
“Well, then how the hell am I here if I’m dead? This sure ain’t heaven.” Then he paused to think if it might be. After all, there was commercial-free country music on the radio and The Rockford Files with no static on the TV.
“I wish I had a good answer for you
