You didn't know what you did in a past life to start hearing voices in your head. Was it real? Were you just crazy? Sometimes, it's difficult to tell whether or not he was really there. How were you supposed to know? It wasn't like you could tell anyone. Your parents and sibling would sign off on a wellness check before you could say, "I'm not fucking crazy."

Sometimes, Presley would appear as an apparatus that felt real. Sometimes, he appeared in place of your reflection in the mirror. He'd pop up in the most random places when you're around: at work, at home, at your best friend's house when you share drinks and crepes with your idiotic elite friends.

When he was lazy, though, he was just a voice.

Who needs an alarm clock when Presley was there to wake up?

"Wake up, darlin'," he said gently, making your eyes snap open. He was perched in your rocking chair, sitting in Indian style. The chair tipped back and forth slowly, and he was a picturesque to the concept of being at ease. "You got a nasty fuckin' hangover, huh? Told ya to take it easy on the tequila with Donny last night."