three kings
Ted Hovey

"Is this for sale?" I ask the woman coming into the garage.

"Well, if it were up to me," says the woman.

The white cape has a ten-inch black quarter note on the back, and silver and gold sequins around the edges. It's draped over a life-size cardboard cutout of the greatest singer ever, Elvis Aron Presley. I don't see any price tag.

"What do you mean, if it were up to you?"

"I'd sell it to you, cheap, but my husband would probably kill me."

"Where's your husband? Let me talk to him."

"He's not here. He's up north deer hunting."

"If you could sell it, what would you ask for it?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe twenty-five dollars?"

"I'll give you fifty for it."

"You'd pay fifty dollars for that old thing?"

"Well, okay, let's make it sixty, deal?"

"You're tempting me, mister."

"Okay, one hundred dollars. That's my last offer."

"I didn't realize it was so valuable."

"Well, it really isn't, but I feel kind of crazy today."

"I just can't sell it. Al would be so disappointed."

"When does he get back? Maybe I can talk to him about selling it."

"He'll be back tomorrow night. Say, if you're that interested, come to the Now or Never Club next Saturday evening. Al will be competing in the Elvis look-alike contest. He's going to sing You Ain't Nothin' But a Hound Dog."

"Ma'am, I'll be there myself, doing Love Me Tender."