AN ELVIS MELLON CHRISTMAS

# 9

COPYRIGHT 2005

A QUINN MARTIAN PRODUCTION

The Viking was hurtling above the Earths atmosphere in low orbit, rocketing
towards the West coast of America, specifically; Southern California and a place
called the Neverland Ranch. The relatively small
( on the outside ) craft was
negotiated a path at break neck speed ,  through the orbiting, floating “space junk”
of old booster rockets, burnt out satellites and the armed and automated “Star
Wars”- military satellites with their deadly arsenals of lasers and nukes
( that the
general public did not know about..)
and neighboring spy satellites that were
oblivious to the technologically advanced, “alien” craft. The fleet of Galactic
Confederation warships that resembled spinning,  silver hubcaps,  glittering and
refracting back light beams from the sun,  maintained their vigilant
( but only
partially successful )
guard against any intrusions or incursions from non
Confederation worlds that still tried  to lay claim to the valuable resources and real
estate of the Earth.
(We won’t mention the secret, hidden bases of Draco, Gray and
Super

Mutant Cockroach’s that were able to sneak  past the blockade….)
–Meanwhile,
inside its sleek exterior, Elvis Mellon sat with his personal assistant, Mr. Smoky,
In the small conference/dining room adjacent to the lounge. Elvis was sitting in one
of the white plasteel “Mod” bucket chairs with his back to the doorway that led into
the now crowded lounge. He sat far enough away from the long table so he could
lean back with his sneakers up on the table. His assistant, the large Gray cat
(wearing his square, black
Framed bifocals)
sat on the table by his feet, they both were looking intently at the
three dimensional “holo vid” screen that hovered in the air above the table in front
of them.  The image of President Clinton sitting in his oval office was on the screen
in brilliant, vivid color. “Elvis, I have appealed to the United Nations and the non
members alike, but I am afraid that not everyone gives a dam about Santa Claus.
The Muslim countries certainly don’t, nor does China or Russia. Even with them, we
couldn't possibly raise that kind of money, NOT in gold bouillon!! The barges of
irradiated garbage? Yes but ...
(Elvis held up his hand)   “Sir, LEAVE everything to
me! We can replicate all the gold bars, REAL or FAKE that you want and we can  get
holographic doubles of the 3 former child actors that the kidnappers requested.”

The President grimaced. “What the Hell is that all about? Why would they want
Gary Coleman, McCauley Culking and the other fella??! That’s just creepy!!”  The
cat looked to Elvis who sat with his massive gut rising and sinking with his
breathing, sipping from a coffee cup
( filled with “Old Grand Dad” of course ) “Mr.
President, If I told you who we suspect is part of this evil plot and who he’s working
with…or WHAT he’s working with…..it would make perfect sense. It was good of you
to tell the kidnapper’s spokesperson that you would have no problem with their
demands,  that bought precious time for our friend and his companions.” President
Clinton looked haggard. “Elvis, This country…nay…THE ENTIRE WORLD…will owe
you a major debt of gratitude if you can pull this off!”  Elvis swung his feet down
onto the floor

and sat up straight. “Well….sir…then maybe you can tell the American Government
and the rest of the world…those that suspect my existence that is, to take me off
their top ten most wanted lists and stop treating me like some kind of criminal and
threat to world security!”  The President looked pained. “Well, sorry Elv, but you
have pissed a lot of people off, MAINLY some world leaders and people of power
and influence over others. I don’t know if you’re some kind of time traveler or
immortal alien dude or what, but you know you have shown up in a lot of strange
places and times that frankly defy any logical explanation. Elvis tried to protest and
was about to say something when the President silenced him with an annoyed look
and waved his hand.  


“Come on now, they found that diary of Martha Washington’s about you and her and
that bottle of “Apple Jack.” Was that part about the Donkey true?”  Elvis shook his
head negatively. “All Lies sir, it was not  a Donkey!! It …was Horse, but I wasn't  
anywhere NEAR Mount Vernon when that happened!!”
The President pursed his lips. “O.k., how about when a large man looking a Hell of a
lot like you was seen  goosing  Eleanor Roosevelt on the steps of the White House?”
Elvis grinned. “I was just having some fun.” The distinguished looking white haired
world leader smiled slyly at Elvis. “Rumors abound that you tied Vladimir Lenin’s
shoe laces together in 1917 and witness’s recorded in 1937 that a big guy with a
reddish gray beard and sunglasses, holding a large gray cat, hit General Franco of
Spain in the face with a cream pie  and that was a year after you were reported to
have shown up at the 1936

Olympics in Berlin with that Colonel of yours and stole  Hitler’s beer stein.” Elvis
Looked questioningly at the cat,who   gave him a surprised look in return  and
whispered. “I guess you haven’t done that yet….Technically…. I guess you do that in
the future.” Elvis looked confused for a minute...but I already did….OH...YOU mean
–in the FUTURE…I go back into the past and do that! Hmmmmmmmmm
(looking
quizzical)
Hitler’s beer stein aye?-  Make a note of that,  Smoky. Mr. President,
sir…that was all stuff from 60 or more years
Ago, who is even left to be mad at me?” The President gave Elvis a knowing smile.
“You,  OR someone fitting your description and that of your friend Colonel T.P
Sommo, along with a large gray cat were said to have bitch slapped Khrushcev in
1961 and just like all the other appearances and incidents you simply vanished into
thin air or led the authorities on   a wild goose chase!”  Elvis adjusted his hat,
pushed his sunglasses up a bit and then removed a pack of Lucky Strikes from his
sport coat pocket. He fished out a cigarette, lit it and then addressed the world
leader. “All circumstantial evidence, urban myth and tall tales! Photo shopped
pictures and the eyewitness testimony of questionable individuals.” President Bill
Clinton nodded and lifted an eyebrow. “The same could be said of Santa Claus, if you
asked me 5 years ago if I thought there was such a person, I would have laughed

and said your crazy, but YOU introduced him to me, and I thought the stories about
you and your crew of intergalactic miscreants was another fairy tale until you
showed up that time to expose one of my trusted aides as a hybrid Draco agent!”
Smoky’s tail twitched like an epileptic rattlesnake which meant he was either
impatient or annoyed. “With all do respect, sir, and to quote one of Elvis’s heroes-
“The Duke” John Wayne; we’re   burning daylight pilgrim. Cant we table this
discussion of Elvis’s alleged bad behavior till after this crisis is averted?”    The
President leaned forward closer to the screen. “Well, my Friend, if you can rescue
Santa and bring his kidnappers to justice, I will see what I can do, good luck.” The
image faded and the holo vid screen disappeared. Smoky thrashed his tail nervously
and looked intently at his boss.

“Do you think you can trick the Cockroaches and their accomplices?” The big man
stretched and yawned, finishing his booze and stood up. “When they contact the
President to make arrangements for the drop, they will be talking to Virgil-AS
President Clinton.  As if on cue Virgil appeared in Holographic form, and as if to
remind Elvis of one of his past exploits, he appeared as George Washington. “I have
run a long range and short range scan. There are three Super Mutant Cockroach
battle cruisers cloaked and sitting over Las Vegas Nevada.

I have brought the Visigoth in low orbit near by and alerted Captain Ashtar and the
Confederation fleet of their presence and your plan.”  Elvis Mellon and the cat
exchanged looks, the cat hissed. “That conceited windbag, he better not try and
interfere and take all the credit like last time!” Elvis petted the large feline and
scratched him under his chin. “Don’t worry, He’s too busy looking at himself in the
mirror and brushing his blond, perfect hair to be bothered with any cockroaches.”  
Virgil/George Washington was
dressed in a dashing, Blue Continental army dress uniform with the iconic powdered
wig and clutching a saber. “Why don’t I beam Zik, Doctor Sax and Grond along with
Thor and the chimps, to the cockroach nest underneath Vegas -to rendezvous with
the Colonel’s special Black Op’s team, who are leading Confederation troops down
there. The Colonel will stay with us and deal with what ever we find at Never land.”
Elvis Mellon fixed his tie and then used the end of it to wipe his sunglasses clean.
“Sounds like a plan Virgil, er Mr. President.” Virgil morphed into President Clinton.
“I am intercepting a signal being sent to the White House, its show time.”

Aboard the battle cruiser. “XXXXXTHRYYZZZ” ( which is insectoid/cockroach- for
The WAR MONGER)
the flag ship of the dreaded super mutant cockroaches,
Commander Xiiiixxzzzthtthyyyrrf
(the equivalent to “Jones” in Standard or Earth
English…)
   sat on his bridge, staring at the view screen with his multifaceted   
compound eyes.
(Earth cockroaches have over 2000 lenses in their compound eyes,
allowing them to see in almost every direction at once. Super mutant cockroaches
have double the lenses and can see things that most species of sentient life in this
galaxy couldn't  even dream of….)
He was looking at the night time lights of Las
Vegas from high up in the Earths atmosphere. “Communications officer
Xxfffgghghhyyd, I want a split screen with our Gray agents doing the negotiating
AND  the American President, and turn up the audio, Ensign Zxxxxgggrid get me a
pastrami on rye, heavy on the green mold and a coffee, no cream two sugars!”  

Deep below the surface, underneath the place kno
wn as the “Neverland ranch” the
two Grays perpetrating the ruse of being one ,  tall cloaked , mysterious being,
stood in front of  a camera that was transmitting
( via the Super mutant cockroach
battle cruisers )
to the White house, with a large screen monitor ( tv screen )    
showing the President in his Oval office.  What they didn’t know was that Virgil was
intercepting their beam and was now appearing as the President with a holographic
back ground of the Oval office. “Mr. President, your time is up. Do we have a deal?”
The President looked tired and grim
faced. “I don’t know who you are or who you are working for, but if there is indeed a
God, I hope that he or she can forgive you for what you have done and what you are
going to do. YES, we will meet your demands, it will bankrupt this world and cause
untold strife and crisis, but the loss of our beloved cultural icon Santa Claus would
be even greater.” The shadowy figure on the screen with his face hidden by the
folds of the hood and the darkness, nodded. “And the three former children stars we
asked to deliver

The ransom?” On the large television monitor that the two disguised Grays were
watching, a 17 years  old  Mcauley Culkin walked into view next to the President’s
desk, wearing blue jeans and a blue sweatshirt. From the other side of the screen, a
29 years  old Gary Coleman
( still looking much younger then his years )  wearing a
dark blue suit and tie, and  a twenty six   years old Emmanuel Lewis
( still looking
like a child )
and dressed casually in brown slacks and a yellow sweater, stood to the
left of the President. Elvis Mellon and Smoky were still in the Viking’s
conference/dining room, out of sight and watching Virgil’s brilliant holographic
subterfuge. They were watching a split screen monitor as well, the Hooded figure on
the left side of the screen and what he was seeing- the image of President Clinton
and the three former child actors in the Oval office on the right.
From somewhere behind the dark hooded figure could be heard a high pitched
almost feminine voice. “Oh, their a little old…but they’ll do just fine!”  TO BE
CONTINUED....
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