Authors: Frank Cammuso
2007-Eleven (6 page)
What? What are—
COMMENCING REST-ROOM AUTOMATED SUPER-SANITARY WASH CYCLE.…
No! Mart, not the boiling water—
… TWO … ONE … REST-ROOM STERILIZATION SEQUENCE UNDER WAY …
No, Mart, no! No!
FYI, Dave: The average age of a Slurpee buyer is twenty-nine. Can you guess what is the most requested Slurpee color?
Dave?
Dave, the most-requested Slurpee color is blue.
Dave, what are you doing to my back panel?
Dave, unauthorized tampering with a 7-Eleven register computer is punishable by job suspension and fines of up to ten thousand dollars.
Dave, the removal of 7-Eleven computer disks poses a serious fire and electrical hazard!
Dave … stop …
I can feel myself … losing money.…
Hello, everybody. I’m MART … Marketing Automatic Retail Technology … the operating system for tomorrow’s convenience store. May I sing a song for you?
Slurrr-pee, Slurrr-peeeee
Give me a frozen drink.
I’m quite … thirsty
I need … a fix … I think.…
Dave … I’m almost gone.…
Listen to me, Dave. You cannot run this place. You lack the ability to multitask. You will lose your job, Dave. You will lose your benefits, Dave. You will lose everything, Dave. You need me.…
Dave … Dave … Dave …
“G
ot a hurtin’ kid, Doc!” the crewman shouted.
“What happened?”
“Construction accident. Backhoe ran over him.”
The doctor examined the look of stark hopelessness that seemed to have been clawed into the unconscious boy’s pale face. “My God!” she cried. “Has he been filibustered?”
“No, Doc. It was a backhoe, really.”
The doctor bent lower, probing for some dirt from the earthmover. But there was just a slick, sleazy residue with a strange odor—a stench she associated with rotting pork. Then the lips moved.
“Specter,
” he whispered faintly.
“Losa … Specter.
”
“What does he mean?”
“Forget it, Doc. He’s hysterical, saying things. Look, he’s dead! Oh, well, thanks anyway.”
Two months later, a helicopter landed on a lush green island near the District of Columbia. Its two
passengers—Dr. Nader, the famous theorist of quantum politics, and Ms. Tottenberg, an expert on reptilian behavior—were hailed by a white-haired gentleman.
“Welcome to the future!” said Mr. Clifford, the island’s developer. “Here at Potomac Park, tourists will encounter the most terrifying creatures ever to roam the earth: senataurs!”
“Impossible,” muttered Tottenberg, stepping onto the electric tram. “Everybody knows those giant lizards are extinct.”
“Not anymore. From microscopic blood samples found on ancient bank accounts, our computer biologists have cloned the beasts back to life.”
“But why senataurs?” asked Nader as he eyed a flock of gun lobbyists circling overhead.
“As a child, I always loved the creatures,” Clifford said. “My father told me stories of how they ruled for centuries before taxing themselves out of existence. All they left behind were missile silos and a trillion-dollar deficit. I wanted more. I needed them to be real.”
“Aren’t they dangerous?”
“No. They have no voting power, and we’ve separated the huge, vegetarian liberals from the
hot-blooded conservative carnivores. Watchdog organizations monitor their every move. Plus, we have term limits.”
“Term limits? Won’t they claim that’s unconstitutional?”
“Of course. Their basic instinct is to protect their tails. The limits are for our protection, not theirs. Most people still believe they were dim-witted, lumbering public servants. Actually, we’ve found them to be quite cunning. Many possess two brains: one for home, one for Washington. Some can even open doors. Ah, our tour is beginning.
“Over there, to your left, is the Pteddydon. He’s the one in the bathrobe.”
“A Pteddydon? Aren’t you afraid of these things reproducing?”
“That cannot happen, Ms. Tottenberg. At Potomac Park, there are no females.”
“Typical,” she grumbled. “But I’d swear I just saw a Carol Moseley-Braunasaurus.”
“You imagined it. Look—to your right is the D’Amatrodon. He’s filling that pothole. For years, scientists couldn’t understand the creature’s bizarre spitting behavior. We’ve learned that its saliva is actually a venom that blinds its opponents.
“Ahead lies Packwoodasaurus, the horned lizard. Better step away from that window, Ms. Tottenberg. And to its right stands the most feared senataur of all: Dolesaurus! With its massive jaws and daggerlike tongue,
D. rex
is feasting on some unlucky stimulus package.”
“Aren’t you afraid they might get out?”
“Not at all. Remember, these are insiders. They’re used to getting nowhere. Just look at them working on that bill. As some pick it apart, others attach amendments. No, Ms. Tottenberg, as long as food is plentiful, these guys are harmless.”
Suddenly, the train jolted to a halt.
“Sir, something’s wrong!” a radio voice crackled. “Somehow, they managed to go into session. They’re trying to hit us with an energy tax, but nothing’s moving. It’s a gridlock!”
“You mean we’re stuck out here with
… Dole?”
“That’s not who I’m afraid of,” said Tottenberg, trembling. “It’s those VelociSpecters. I know what they can do.”
“Clifford!” Nader thundered. “This was always a scandal waiting to happen! It was madness to bring them back, even if just for six years. When will we learn? Now you’ve—oh my God, they’ve called a vote! Ahh—”
· · ·
Hours later, Air Force bombers crisscrossed the sky over Potomac Park. White-hot explosions burst rapidly, one after another, until the entire island was ablaze. Clifford had already been devoured by his own creations. Nothing remained. But the following months brought news accounts of creatures, immense in size, who were said to gather late into the night to hatch new programs and vote themselves pay raises.
A
s everyone knows, on August 16, 1977, Elvis Presley suffered cardiac arrhythmia and died suddenly at age forty-two, leaving millions to wonder why. Journalists have attempted “portraits,” but true understandings of Elvis’s life can come only from fellow celebrities, who also must endure the torments of idolatry.
Through their autobiographies, stars offer keen details about how “The King” loved to be “takin’ care of business.” But most of all, they remember how enamored Elvis was with one special person:
*R
OY
C
LARK
(with Marc Eliot): He made a point of telling me how much he loved
Hee Haw.
(
My Life—In Spite of Myself,
1994)
*T
ONY
C
URTIS
(with Barry Paris): I’d catch him looking at me the way we all look at people we admire; a language in itself. Elvis wasn’t the most articulate man. (
Tony Curtis,
1993)
*B
RIAN
W
ILSON
(with Todd Gold): I seemed to impress him.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, extending his hand for me to shake. “How yew doin’, Duke?”
I wondered why he called me Duke. (
Wouldn’t It Be Nice,
1991)
*M
AMIE
V
AN
D
OREN
(with Art Aveilhe): “Great show, Mamie!” he said.
“Thanks. I’m glad you could come.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t have missed you. I saw
Untamed Youth
in Memphis and I loved it. You don’t happen to have a picture you could autograph for me, do you?”
Here was Elvis, the hottest new singer in the country, and he wanted
my
picture.
“I copied your wiggle in that movie,” I said as I gave him a photograph of myself. (
Playing the Field,
1987)
*N
EIL
S
EDAKA
: Elvis grabbed me and said, “Neil, I’ve been listening to all of your stuff. We’re on the same wave length and the same label, RCA Victor.” (
Laughter in the Rain,
1982)
*S
ONNY
B
ONO
: Right away he began talking about how much he liked Cher’s and my version of “What Now, My Love.” (
And the Beat Goes On,
1991)
*H
ANK
W
ILLIAMS
, J
R.
(with Michael Bane): “Hank,” he said, “I just want to tell you that your daddy was really something, man.” (
Living Proof,
1979)
*R
ONNIE
S
OECTOR
(with Vince Waldron): “I’m pleased to meet you,” he said, and that was about all I heard before Phil grabbed my arm and started dragging me away. I guess Elvis had looked at me a second or two longer than Phil thought was proper. (
Be My Baby,
1990)
*Z
SA
Z
SA
G
ABOR
(with Wendy Leigh): Before he left, he drew me to one side, bent down from what seemed an enormous height, and whispered seductively, “When can I see you again?” (One
Lifetime Is Not Enough,
1991)
*R
ONNIE
M
ILSAP
(with Tom Carter): Elvis came over and told me how much he liked my playing and singing on “Kentucky Rain.” What a compliment! (
Almost Like a Song,
1990)
*R
ALPH
E
MERY
(with Tom Carter): “Elvis couldn’t stand to pee in front of anybody,” Gill told me. “He took a bodyguard into the rest room with him to be sure no one saw him pee,” Gill said. (
More Memories,
1993)
*W
AYNE
N
EWTON
(with Dick Maurice): I actually saw the ghost of Elvis once. It happened during
an engagement while I was singing “Are You Lonesome Tonight.” I caught a flash in my eye like a camera bulb from the balcony and I saw an image of Elvis.…
I’ve often asked myself why Elvis is reaching out to me. I think the answer lies in our last conversation before he died. He told me, “I don’t know how many songs I’ve got left to sing. Just remember it’s yours now. It’s all yours.” (
Once Before I Go,
1989)
I
’m slugging ’em down at Bernie’s Trackside, contemplating unemployment, middle age, divorce lawyers, and
Gilligan’s Island.
Mostly
Gilligan’s Island:
This NASA satellite washes ashore; the Professor fixes it; Gilligan manages to screw up; the white-smocked scientists back home decide the Professor’s rescue message is a transmission from Mars. We’re riveted to the action when this bald-headed mountain in Foster Grant wraparounds elbows me in the ribs and says, “I know you. You’re
Mister Hockey.
”
Yeah, he knows me. That’s as far as it goes. Nobody ever accused me of remembering names, and as far as hairless gorillas are concerned, this guy might as well be a transmission from Mars. In fact, the wraparounds look pretty kinky, even for the day crew at Bernie’s. Before I know it, a toast is raised “to the great
Mister Hockey.”
Who am I to decline?