Elvis and Marilyn hanging out at the local pizzeria.
Marilyn and Elvis were hanging out at the local pizzeria on a Friday night, debating which one was best: the Hawaiian or the new Reuben pizza.
“Ain ith goof ta be deed?” Marilyn asked, balancing a slice of pizza on her tongue and doing her best not to spill any of the sauce on her white dress. She was waiting to meet her blind date, some guy named Arthur who claimed to be a playwright.
“One for the money, two for the show, three to get ready, and four don’t you know, that sauce better not get on my blue suede shoes,” Elvis said.
“I said, ain’t it good to be dead?”
“That’s better, honey,” Elvis said, “Love me tender, love me true.”
The microphone did not appear to be working. It was there and that was all.
“We can hang out in places like this, put pizza on our tongues, and no one pays us any mind. We’re just a couple of crazy look-a-likes to the rest of the world.”
“But you got a date coming. All I got is my guitar,” Elvis said.
The bell above the door to the pizzeria jingled indicating somebody was coming inside. They both looked. If it was a live person, neither one would be able to see him or her. Not directly, anyway. Only an after image and only after a few minutes. It was the way things worked when you were dead.
They saw no one. They were all alone. Elvis and Marilyn. She put the slice of pizza on her tongue. It was the same slice she had most nights. She wasn’t hungry, so she never ate it, never even tried. That’s the way it was when you were dead.
[Author’s note: Photo finish Friday is a photo something around where I live that I think might be a good writing prompt. I try to include something written with the photo. If the photo inspires you to write something, please do. Please remember that all material is mine and respect the copyright of it. Thank you.]
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