Hound Dog
'Ain't nothin' but a hound dog, dah di dah.
Ain't never caught a rabbit . . .' Barry Monroe sang as he admired himself in
the full-length mirror he kept in his hallway. It was December 1988, and Elvis
Presley would have been fifty-three years old. Barry was fifty, and he was
known as “The Hound Dog”—due in no small part to his obsession with all things
Elvis. This included his stage act as an Elvis tribute singer. Twice divorced,
Barry had even insisted on naming his only daughter Lisa-Marie Monroe.
By day, Barry was a builder, specialising in
home extensions and loft conversions, driving around in an authentic American
1950s Ford pick-up truck. The rest of the time—and always attired in Elvis jumpsuits—he
drove a pink 1963 Ford Zodiac. Barry had spent years collecting his outfits, memorabilia,
and all of Elvis Presley’s records. He had done dozens of voice-overs for
commercials requiring the sound of Elvis's voice, and he was being considered
for a role in a film focussing on Presley’s religious side.
Greenview Care Home was unusual, in that all
its inmates were elderly ex-cons—mainly gangsters, one-time mobsters—and
exclusively male. It was run by Kenneth Prior (or “Kenny-The-Bump”) a retired
gang leader and a huge Elvis Presley fan. Kenneth had booked “The Hound Dog”
for Greenview’s Christmas party in the main hall for 1988. There would be a bar
(unlicenced of course!) and scantily clad bunny girls serving drinks to the
party-goers. Funds raised at the event were to pay for much-needed improvements
to the care home, required to meet ever more stringent health and safety
legislation.
The night went as planned, and Kenneth was
pleased with “The Hound Dog”, particularly as he stayed in character throughout
the evening, even whilst drinking and chatting with the residents. Greenview
had been a two-hour drive for Barry in his old Ford, so it had been arranged
for him to stay the night in the rarely used “Links View” suite, reserved
mainly for visiting relatives. As the night drew to a close, Barry retired to
the “Links View” suite, unpacked his overnight luggage and relaxed with a large
scotch. His P.A., microphone and backing track machine had been carefully
loaded into his car earlier. It was just past midnight.
Pete Cohn and Stan Frazer were the last two
residents in the hall that night. Both were a bit senile, and both had drunk
more than was good for them. They had been transfixed by “The Hound Dog’s”
performance and amazed at how he looked exactly like Elvis. Heck, he even spoke
like him.
'I tell you, Stan, that's the real Elvis.
He never died; I didn't buy that. Why, only last month he was spotted in a
supermarket over Royston way, buying cuppa-soups.'
'Okay, Pete, here's the deal. Fingers and
Kenny're out back, clearing up. Now, if they agree with you, we'll go over “The
Links” an' get him trussed up. I got Mafia connections, so, in the morning,
I'll put in some calls. See if we can't get a few grand for him. You in, Pete?'
It was a rhetorical question.
So, with help from Fingers-Finbar and
Kenny-The-Bump, the plan was carried out. Barry’s car was moved into one of the
garages on site. Barry himself was bound and gagged as he slept, and utilising
a cot from the medical room, he was moved to a utility storeroom in an annexe
and locked in.
The following morning, Stan Frazer made
numerous phone calls to various contacts, and following each aborted
conversation, he would add more exaggerations to subsequent calls.
'Yes, Mickey, we got fingerprints . . .';
'I'm tellin' you, Big-Ham, he got I.D. on him, proves it . . .'; 'Oh, Joey,
'course we checked him out, man. He's carryin' his daughter’s picture . . .';
'Yep. That's right, Davey-Boy, he's signed a statement admittin' . . .' and so
it went on all day.
'No one's buyin' it, are they, Stan?'
Kenny-The-Bump concluded at tea-time.
'You old fool, Stan! Look what you got us
into,' sneered Pete Cohn.
'Nothin' for it, you mugs,' said
Fingers-Finbar. 'We're gonna have to spring him.'
'He'll go to the Rozzers, you berk,'
remarked Pete.
'Not if we slip him some extra wedge, boys.
Come on, it's getting dark. Let's get it over with.' Kenny was adamant.
The moon was full as the four old reprobates
approached the annexe where Barry was imprisoned. As they neared the building,
they heard howling from the inside, and Stan wet himself. Momentarily, they all
froze and then proceeded to the locked door cautiously. The howling then
changed to a low growling sound. Pete started backing away.
'Come on, you mugs, ain't nothin' but our
ears playin' tricks. Make with the keys, Fingers,' said Kenny-The-Bump sternly.
Just as Fingers-Finbar “made with the
keys”, the door splintered in front of them. The splintered hole quickly expanded,
and a slavering wolf-like creature thrust its head through the aperture,
snarling ferociously. The four old crooks simultaneously wet themselves, felt
their bowels loosening and turned to run, but legs that had done a lot of
running at one time were now hindered by arthritis, rheumatism and weakened
muscles. The werewolf was upon them in seconds, slashing, tearing and devouring
them amid the sound of crunching bone. It was all over in a few minutes, and
the werewolf started to morph back into human form. The human returned to the
annexe, climbed into an Elvis-style jumpsuit and picked up an overnight bag.
Then he walked outside, carefully stepping over what was left of the bodies,
and licked his lips as he did so.
'So long, ol' timers,' he drawled as he
walked away.
Twenty minutes later, a pink Ford Zodiac sped
out of the Greenview Care Home gate; its driver singing “Heartbreak Hotel”,
substituting the words Heartbreak Hotel with the words Greenview Care
Home, whilst Pete Cohn breathed his last dying words.
'So,
the real Elvis is actually a werewolf. Wow.'
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