It was a hot balmy night in downtown Belfast. A man woke up so suddenly beside his unconscious young wife. He could feel a strange presence in the room, and through the half light he began to see a group of people standing around his bed. A strangely dressed bunch of men and one woman, all humming quietly the tune of Sweet Home Alabama. The humming subsided and a man at the foot of the bed began to speak in a soft Memphis drawl.
"Ah heard it through the grapevine you have the voice boy." The young man sat bolt upright in bed and said:

"Are you The King?"
"Ah used to be son, ah used to be..." answered the bequiffed one, moonlight glinting off his gold rimmed impenetrable shades. "But now ah'm something else."

"What's that?" asked the young man, feeling oddly calm.

"Well, son," continued the Memphis Flash, "some say I'm the twentieth-century boy... and some say I'm the voodoo chile. Some of these boys think I'm a working class hero... but they're all wrong."

The crowd began to hum again. "Shut up goddammit... ah'm talkin'." The hillbilly cat leaned over the end of the bed and whispered... "What I am son... is dead. Stone dead. And ah'm here to tell you that I'm sick of being dead. Ah wanna live one more time. Ah wanna make one more record. And it better be a blockbuster of a record or ah'm gonna kick me some ass." He fired a glance at a deceased man in granny glasses who shuffled uncomfortably. The ex-pelvis put his arm around a small, not unattractive red-headed dead woman. He went on, "What happened was, a few days ago I was sittin' on the dock of the bay, singin' a song to the siren... that's Rosie here."

"For the millionth time... it's Janis. J. A. N. I. S!"

"Sure it is Janis baby but you'll always be a whole lotta Rosie to me. Say are you putting on a little weight honey?" The woman wriggled away from the ectoplasmic embrace and took a swig from an odd shaped bottle. "Anyhow... me and Rosie here was sitting there, and all these boys you see here came along and asked me would I consider makin' another record... and the told me all about you."

"Me!!"

"Son..." said the celestial crooner, fiddling with one of his enormous jewel encrusted rings. "As of right now... you will be known as The King and you shall sing in my name for the betterment of mankind... or I'll kick your ass."

"Yessir," said The New King.

"And you'll need this!" He handed The New King a small red pulsating fleshy lump. "Swallow it son. That's a little piece of my heart, give the boy a drink Rosie." The New King took the drink and washed down the cardiovascular crouton with a big slug of jack.

"My God! What's that?"

"That's whiskey in the jar, boy!" Instantly The New King felt the power surge through his body, making his right leg vibrate. he jumped out of bed and announced to the spiritual superstars, "From now on... it's all or nothin'." A party atmosphere fell upon them and they began to hum Love Will Tear Us Apart.

"There's one more thing," said The King. "You must go to New York."

"New York?"

"Yes boy! There you will find four Japanese babes who will make music and protect you from evil. But don't get any funny ideas, you dig?"
"No woman no cry," shouted a dreadlocked figure at the back.
"Well said Bobby... now let's git!" At once the heavenly humans began to disappear like mist. Before they were completely gone The New King called out, "What should I wear?"

As just a pair of gold rimmed shades hung in the air, that magnificent voice boomed out.

"Son, I've seen your wardrobe and it rocks. Just come as you are."