Retreat to Pork Chop Hill

The Martians arrived en masse, this morning, replete with Celery Spears and Tabasco Flame Throwers. They were joined in arms by the Fantom Fats and their Puny Pounds. I found them waiting for me in the kitchen.

I, girded by my Fat Belt and Cape and armed solely with a Protein Power Shake, knew I was completely outmatched by my sworn enemies. So, I feinted to the left then dodged to the left and narrowly escaped a pulverizing punch from one of the Tabasco Flamers. Oddly, that shot seemed to have gone wide and landed at the feet of the Fantom Fats standing nearest to me.

I fled the Fat Cave, jumped into the Fat Mobile and drove posthaste to Pork Chop Hill. It was there that I would rally the support I needed to defend against these alien menaces.

I stopped briefly on Blueberry Hill. There I found My Thrill, an undercover agent with a message from H.A.M.B.U.R.G.E.R. – Humans Against Martian Butt Uglies Readily Grabbing Earth’s Resources. They would meat me atop Pork Chop Hill to stand against these invaders.

Upon my arrival on Pork Chop Hill, I was met by Kernel Sanders, leader of the 1st Kentucky Fryers. His face looked grim as he gave me his assessment of our current situation.

“The Bloody Martians have us outflanked on the western side. The Fantom Fats are planting their Puny Pounds all over our back side. An entire Battalion of Chi’s Burgers was ambushed by the Martians who were packing an old Cold War-era veggie bomb – they smeared our Burgers with Ketchup. The few remaining bits of Burgers have withdrawn to the rear to be treated at the Mayonnaise Clinic.”

At that moment, a Squad of Tater Tots came trotting in. They were escorting a Phalanx of Fats whom they had captured while out on patrol. There in their midst stood a rather large, green Martian – the King of the Martians. It looked like victory was ours.

“Great job, Tots. Get those Fats out of my sight. Lock ‘em up in the detention center. But don’t let them near any water. You do know that Fats are not water soluble?”

I turned to the King Martian. We glared at one another. I could see he was one tough cookie. He was probably going to be a tough nut to crack. I led him into my tent to talk. Several Fry Guys stood guard outside the door.

“Ok, you big, green Alien, I need to hear you sing. Tell me the whole truth and nothing but the truth. And just to make things easy, let’s start with your name, rank and serial number.”

“Elvis. King of Rock and Roll. V8.”

“Hey, I said no funny business. Now, start singing, before I have you dragged out of here and beaten to a pulp.”

“It’s true, I am Elvis, The King of Rock and Roll. Look, Fat Man, it was 1977 and my life and career had both tanked. I was washed out, no good. I got no kick from champagne. I turned to eating. Oh, how I loved to eat. It seemed to be the only thing that made me feel good. Soon I was as big as the Goodyear Blimp.

“On that fateful day, as I lay on the bathroom floor, I had a vision on greenness. Martians had landed.

“’Oh, great King of Rock and Roll’, they said to me. ‘We cannot permit you to die. Let us take your immortal soul back home with us where you can live as King, forever.’

“I had sold my soul for rock and roll and here the Martians were offering to give it back to me. I accepted their offer and went to Mars with them. I have spent most of my time teaching the LGKs* to shake their hips and sing my old songs.

“But sometimes, as I look back to Earth, I see a person, like you, who needs my help. That’s when I load up my Martians and swoop in to the rescue. And you, my friend, are being rescued by us.”

I stood dumfounded and starred at the King of Rock and Roll and Mars. I could see him begin to gyrate his hips. And I knew he was on my side. That’s when I heard a commotion outside of my tent.

“Don’t go out there”, said the King. “The Fats and the HAMBURGERs have joined forces. Neither of them wants you to turn to the Green Side – become a vegetarian or even a vegan. They’ll do anything to stop you. Follow me. I know a secret way out.”

And so, the King and I went running down Pork Chop Hill towards the Martians. The Martians were cheering us on. Just as we were about to reach the safety of the Martian Base Camp, I felt myself falling.

When I opened my eyes, I was staring into the faces of several of my hiking friends. I was Dazed and Confused.

“Where am I?” I asked.

I told my friends what I thought I had just experienced. They shook their heads and asked me if I had eaten anything before coming out for the hike. I said I had had a protein shake for breakfast. They told me I should probably eat more before I come hiking with them, again.

I guess this was all just a dream. Or was it? How else do you explain all those mysterious Elvis-sightings that have been reported over the past decades?

“Donuts make my brown eyes blue.” Or was that, “Don’t it make my brown eyes blue?”

*LGK = Little Green Kids

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