Shocking Secrets About Elvis


Lyla enters. We're in her living room. She's wearing a tight, fuzzy sweater, and Capri pants with gold mid-heel sandals--looking very much like the classic Elvis girlfriend from the movies, though at least twenty years too far on. She's got something to tell us, but she's not quite ready to get to it. She sits and takes a moment to get comfy. She lights a cigarette, takes a sip from her coffee cup.

I just love the way cigarettes and coffee go together, don't you? It's like--liquid butter turning into air or something. I like the way they kind of grab my chest: take that puff, sip a little sip, and you get a kind of a breathless, fluttery feeling, now don't you? Like first love.

She smiles at herself. Looks to us to see how we're receiving this. Finding us not too judgmental, she relaxes a little.

I mean, ok, I know I shouldn't do any of this stuff any more, but it's my life isn't it? And I know some of y'all are concerned about that old hand-me-down smoke and such, but this is MY house?

She smiles again to say: that wasn't meant to be mean, but a fact is a fact.

Anyway, let me not go on and on here; y'all didn't come here to listen to my personal philosophizin' about what-all. Let me just get to it?

A moment.

This may be the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but I am, effective today, officially resigning as President-for-Life of the Elvis Presley Fan Club of Okmulgee, Oklahoma. I do not do this because I want to but because I must. Because I have carried a burden in my heart all these many years and must now confess the truth to you before my secret rots out my heart like a termite sucking the guts out of a two by four...

Read this entire theatrical script by Michael Wright

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