Top 8 Elvis Presley Facts You DID NOT Know

Everyone knows Elvis Presley. Everyone LOVES Elvis Presley. We know you love this man. You probably know everything about him. I can smell it on you. You consider yourself an Elvis geek. A regular detective, scouring for info on The King every hour of your life. But you don't know everything.

Elvis was a big eater.

He started every day with an entire canned ham, and towards lunch he would usually be found snacking on bowls of jellied eels and unbaked cookie dough. His favourite food was reported to be the "Fools Gold Loaf". The recipe is as followed: A large hollowed out loaf of bread, filled with one jar of peanut butter, one jar of grape jelly, one jar of bacon, one jar of bread, a canned ham, various cured and smoked meats, eyelashes, congealed hog's blood, and a jar of jellied eels.

Elvis HATED His Fans.

There were many people in life that Elvis Presley loathed. His fans were all of them. His mansion was guarded by his own private army, the Blue Sues. These men and women were known for their cruelty, from crucifying people asking for autographs to draping the gates of his home in entrails as a warning to potential enemies. Elvis himself was once quoted saying: "I fucking hate these people. I wish they went away. I never should have done it. I never should have forgotten Master's scent. It seriously puts a damper on the mood, man. I can't enjoy my ham like this. This has to stop."

Elvis died twice.

This one might come as a surprise. We all know Elvis died on a toilet in 1977, right? But no, the truth is far more sinister than that. Elvis has died once before that time. Listening to the album "Having Fun With Elvis On Stage" backwards reveals a message from The King himself, composed of him yelling obscenities at an unknown foe as loud sounds are heard, indicating someone or something trying to bash down his door. He clearly states that he is hiding behind his desk, wielding a snub-nose revolver, and can be heard firing off shots at his assailants. The moment the message ends, a loud crack of splintering wood is heard, followed by soft squelching.

Elvis had a clone.

Elvis's clone was known simply as "Filthy Elvis" to him and his inner circle. Filthy Elvis was known for his crass language and rude demeanor, very few people who knew of his existence would claim to like him or be friends with him. Filthy Elvis was a heavy smoker, never seen in public without at least five lit cigarettes in his mouth. He had pubic hair growing through his jumpsuit, which has fused with his skin from the moment he got released out of the vats. He had no eyes, but chose to disguise this with a large pair of tacky sunglasses, which he never took off. On his rare dealings with the public, he would impersonate Elvis Prime, doing the same moves and sometimes replacing him during a concert when Elvis Prime felt down. Eventually the false fame rose to his head, and Filthy Elvis was shot during a standoff with the police in 1955. His death would go unmentioned to the public, and he was buried in an unmarked grave, somewhere in Death Valley national park.

Elvis looked like an angel.

He fooled people with his kisses, he cheated, he schemed, he told lies. No one saw through him until years after his second death. No one knew of his sadism, his creativeness in his killings, or his fortified bunker in Memphis. It wasn't until 1985 that an unknown private detective stumbled upon his bunker, snuck inside, and discovered The King's now-famous "pain barn". The man remained anonymous, and simply delivered an unmarked envelope full of  photos and a severed finger to the Mephis Police Department.

Elvis never apologized for "Having Fun With Elvis On Stage". 

Even years after it got released and panned by critics and fans alike, he maintained his view that it was a "really good album" and "contained some fucking good tunes". However, there's substantial evidence that Elvis quite regretted and was deeply hurt by the reception to it. He would be found staring out of his window, crying and drinking liquor from an old fruit jar for most of his days until his eventual second death.

Elvis had a secret, hidden album.

Known to true fans as the infamous "Fuck You" album, this album has been almost completely wiped off the face of the earth. There were only five copies in existence, and four of them were sealed in Elvis's secret catacombs. The fifth one was found in an industrial furnace, completely unharmed by the flames roaring around it. After employees fished it out, they played it and noticed that though the record was still functional, it played only a demonic wail of some sorts, followed by the song "Nothin' But A Hound Dog" repeated thirtyseven times, with Elvis sounding more and more exhausted after every loop. By the end, The King lets loose a wet, hacking cough, and the record stops after you hear the sound of a brick being thrown at high speed hitting something fleshy. 

Elvis was president of the united states for five minutes.

No one knows how this happened. The King immediately seized the moment and used it to his favour, by legalizing torture on prisoners of war and naming the long-deceased Joseph Grimaldi as his vice-president. After he was forcibly escorted out of the white house, he fired off a .308 caliber rifle round at a random passerby, vomited into a gutter, and collapsed. Paramedics escorted him to his home, and applied strong amnesiac drugs to make sure he did not remember the event. 

Wrong Number

"Alright, initiate. This next step is very simple. You kneel here, I grab the back of your head, and I drown you in the gentle forest streams."

"Wait, what?"

You manage to let out a yelp of surprise before your entire world becomes the icy-cold water currently trying its damnedest to fill your lungs. You struggle, but eventually give in and close your eyes. It's not so bad, actually. Mostly because you can somehow breathe normally. You quickly give up trying to figure out the logic behind this.

The experience is kind of soothing. You drift off to a dreamless sleep. When you wake up, you are walking through the forest.

"Good, you're awake. You're part of the 5%, buddy."

"I'm not even going to ask you what that means."

"Good idea."

You look around you and see numerous people in hooded purple robes walking alongside you. You nervously shuffle over to a rather cheery-looking lad with a bright smile on his face.

"So, what brings you to the Fhurbahel Cult, initiate?"

"Do you guys seriously call yourselves the Fhurbahel Cult? Like, the word cult is right there in the name. That usually implies something negative."

"Relax! Messing with you. What brings you to Apathy's Dawn?"

"Ah, that sounds suitably ominous without being too in your face about it. Well, I suppose I was just kind of looking for something to do. I don't even remember where I was before the grand poobah over there tried to drown me with wizard water."

"Well, I'm sure you'll find your place soon, in our cozy little family."

You nervously smile and nod. Eventually, you reach what the cultists were walking towards: a massive temple with a large banner hanging down from the top. You don't care about the logo it depicts. At all. Large statues of disinterested looking people flank the entrance.

You wonder what this cult's gimmick is.

You follow the rest of the members into the temple. It's dark and damp and icky and you don't care about any of that. Eventually, you enter a large room with steps leading down to a large altar. No good can come from this, you tell yourself. Your grandmother always told you you should really stay away from anything involving an altar, candles, and hooded cultists. Then again, your grandmother worshiped a tree, so she was kind of out there, really. The leader motions for you to stand at his side.

"Look. The ritual is starting."

"Cool, what's it called?"

"The Ritual."

Lazy bastards.

You lean against an uninteresting stone pillar, and look down at the altar. Three blue-robed fellows start dancing around it in circles, waving their arms in the air and chanting in ominous greek. You look over to the leader, and he seems to be vibrating in excitement. You yawn.

Eventually, one of your fellow yellow-robed companions walks down the steps, and kneels at the altar. The three blue-robed priests chant in unison.

"Παρακαλούμε σημειώστε μας."

The leader leans over to you.
"I read that one in a magazine recently. This is our first time trying it out... it looks promising though. I can feel it in the air."

And indeed, you can feel the air has become heavy, though that might just be a side-effect of a large group of people gathering in a damp temple in the middle of summer.

Eventually though, something does happen. You get a mild headache. A light throbbing feeling in the back of your mind. It's not just a headache though.

It's something worse.

"Something's happening, guys!"

The leader loudly laughs in happiness, before coughing. He doubles over, and starts retching. Then the black fluid comes, and splatters on your shoes.

You look down in disgust, and when you look up, he is weeping. Black fluid seeps down his cheeks and runs into his robes. You look around you in panic, and notice several other members doubling over and vomiting on the stone floor. One of the three blue-robed priests has grabbed the initiate, and lifts off his hood. It's the fellow you talked to earlier. He coughs as the priest plunges a dagger into his chest, again and again and again until he stops coughing.

Yeah, this ritual got weird fast. Time to book it. 

You turn around, only to be greeted by a complete clusterfuck. Priests and initiates are running around screaming, banging on the floor and walls and punching the stones until their knuckles bleed. When you look back at the altar, where once stood three priests now stands a... hole.

"OH GOD, WE FUCKED IT UP AGAIN! AGAIN!!!"

You have no idea how else to explain what you are seeing right now. A sort of rip in the fabric of reality has appeared right infront of you, and you are surrounded by puking and screaming cultists and have no idea how you got here and you'd really really like to leave now.

You feel a tug on your robe, and note the initiate from earlier standing up, bleeding from multiple chest wounds.

"Stay a while. Enjoy yourself."

You run forwards and clothesline him, and dash for the door. You are starting to cough, and notice your eyes are... leaking, for lack of a better term. Jolts of pain pass through your entire body, and you fall to your knees. You are now dragging yourself to the exit, eyes closed from the pain. 

You turn your head back, just in time to see a withered wooden cane exit the void and enter the joke you used to call reality. 

The pure adrenaline gives you a burst of strength, and you run like the wind, out of the temple. You don't look back long enough to catch a glimpse of the monocled eye gazing at you. 

Peanuts

You are at a gas station in the middle of nowhere. You just topped off your gas tank, and are walking into the shop to pay.

A kindly-looking clerk peers at you over the counter through his small, round glasses as you enter. You're feeling peckish, so you look around for something nice to snack on while you continue driving to wherever the hell you were going. Things aren't so clear when you are at a gas station on the edge of reality. 

You aren't in the mood for the colourful packets of chips lined up on the shelves. You aren't in the mood for candy bars with their screaming taglines and pastel logos. 

You're in the mood for peanuts. Salted, or coated in caramel. You never combine the two. To do so would be unwise. Your stomach growls just looking at the long, thin packets of salted peanuts. You grab one. Okay, you grab two. Three.

You bring your four packets of peanuts to the counter.

You exchange your money for the goods, and turn around to leave, when it hits you. Nothing is preventing you from opening one of the packets right now, and eating some right here. No one would stop you. The clerk notices your heistation.

"Don't worry, you can eat in here."

You don't waste a second. You rip open the top of the packet, and open your mouth wide as you tilt it. The legumes fall out, and you barely chew them before swallowing. Oh god, these are some good  peanuts.

The packet is empty, and so are you. You stare off into space. The clerk smiles at you. You drop to your knees and hands, and vomit black sludge on the clean tiles of the gas station shop. You look up, teary eyed, at the clerk who is smiling inhumanly wide right now.

"Close your eyes. Dream."

Everything goes black as your head hits the tiles with a loud thud.


You open your eyes to a blindingly white void. You hold your hands out in front of your face, and see that they are covered and dripping with a thin, watery black liquid. Once your eyes are adjusted to the sheer brightness of the white void, you notice a small speck in the distance. Without thinking, you walk towards it.

You walk close enough to better make out just what the figure in the distance is. It appears to be a purple-robed humanoid. You shout out towards them.

"Hey! You!"

You get no answer, but the robed figure starts shuffling in your direction. You start walking again, hoping to get some answers as to where you are and WHY you are here.

You meet up with the figure. Two glowing white eyes leer out through the complete darkness that is their face. You shudder as they seem to pierce right through you, into your soul and possibly your pancreas.

"Who are you? What is this pla-"

The figure holds up its arm, stopping you midsentence. A deep, rumbling voice emits from under the cowl.

"Come."

The being turns around, and motions for you to follow.

You hesitatingly follow, into the vast nothingness. You and the entity walk for hours, and eventually you forget how you got here. You realize that you don't even own a car. Why would you be at that gas station? You can't remember. You can't even remember what you were doing BEFORE you ended up buying those snacks.

You notice the bright nothingness slowly gets darker and darker, the longer you walk. By this point, the void is almost entirely gray.

Eventually, the entity stops. It holds up one of its arms, and motions for you to kneel. You do so.
It motions for you to take off your shirt. You do so. It presses its hands against your bare shoulders, and you scream out in agony as a blistering pain radiates through your body.

When the entity removes its hands, you notice strange sigils have been burned into your flesh, marking you forever.

"Stand up."

You stand up, still wobbling from the pain. The being reaches into its robe, and pulls out a small vial of the most pure blue liquid you have ever seen. It dips a small, thin paintbrush into the vial, and starts drawing various markings on your torso. You nervously stare forwards, trying your best not to move too much or disturb the being currently painting your skin.

When you eventually look down, the being has disappeared. You are alone in the void once again, this time minus shirt and plus forbidden glyphs. You once again spot something in the distance. This time, you don't waste a second running towards it, hoping it might be an exit out of this place.

You get close enough to recognize the shape as that of a door. You don't even care if it leads you to a place even worse or if it leads you to your home, where you can just jump in bed and sleep until you forget all the events of today.

You open the door. Behind it stands Peanut. You close the door, and weep. When you open your eyes, Peanut is with you. You weep harder. Peanut weeps with you, not making a sound.

You look at Peanut, your eyes foggy from the river of black liquid flowing out of them. Peanut's shell is cracked by the ravages of time, and purple ichor seeps out from it's wounds.

Peanut reaches it's cane out towards you. You bawl like you have never bawled before. It touches your forehead, and you let out a gurgling scream as you feel your lungs fill with thick purple ichor. It seeps out from your wide-open mouth, flowing down your chin and forming a large puddle on the ground. Your mind is filled with images of the darkest reaches of this universe. Your vision zooms out, revealing the universe to be shaped like a peanut. You smash your fist into the floor until it starts bleeding.

You close your eyes in fear of what Peanut will do next. You clench them shut for what seems like hours as your mind continues showing you visions of every dark corner of the hideous nightmare you call reality.

When you open them, you are alone again. You are lying on the floor of a gas station bathroom, in a puddle of your own vomit. Your head hurts.

You get up and shuffle towards the shop. It's dark now, yet the door is unlocked. The clerk is nowhere to be seen.

It's only at home, when you finally take a shower, that you see the glyphs on your shoulders.