by Rod Drake
The ghost of Lenny Bruce watches intently from the wings. It’s 1979; Saturday Night Live is halfway over, when Andy Kaufman launches into his breathtaking Elvis, captivating the studio and television audiences as the impression always does. Andy has the King down; hips sway just right, lip curls perfectly, the body language is authentic, the attitude real. But the key is that this isn’t a comedy bit or a goof – Kaufman is Elvis, every nuance and movement an exact recreation of the King, not the funny little blinking Foreign Man or even Andy Kaufman anymore. Lenny Bruce recognizes a kindred spirit (and one that would soon be in the ethereal sense) – someone else who gives a performance as art, and art as the performance. The ghost of Elvis appears next to Lenny then and nods, saying “That boy’s crazy, but he gets me and does me right.”
Rod Drake, whose full catalog is here, lives, observes, thinks and writes in the neon capital known as Las Vegas. Check out his longer stories in Flashes of Speculation, Fictional Musings, Flash Flooding, Flash Forward, MicroHorror, and AcmeShorts.