We join them now as they head Southwest on Natchez Trace Parkway, toward the great state of Mississippi. The Suburban purred quietly along at exactly two miles an hour over the speed limit, and both Carl and Emma enjoyed the scenery as they passed through Lewis State Forest in Tennessee.

Carl was having a mid-day snack, while Emma munched on some Oreo cookies. A huge stick of pepperoni was laying on the dash of The Whale, and a loaf of French bread about two feet long was propped up against the seat. A big jar of yellow French's mustard was nestled in a cup holder. Carl ate like this: first, he dipped the end of the pepperoni into the mustard, then bit off a chunk. The pepperoni was then parked on the dash while he picked up the loaf of bread and bit off a piece the size of a baseball. The mass was then chewed enthusiastically for a minute or so, then washed down with a swig of Yoo-Hoo Chocolate Soda.

While Carl was making grunting, slobbering, chewing and grinding noises. Emma was daintily twisting the top off an Oreo cookie, then eating the white part first, and only when that was gone, did she nibble at the remaining crunchy discs.

Carl took another huge pair of bites and asked, "Hmmmfruuufffffharr itthhh id thrhhrhuui Mittthhhhitththiiiff i?"

Emma sighed. "Carl, I do wish you would quit talking with your mouth full. Now, swallow that disgusting stuff and try it again, please?"

Carl gulped and swallowed, doing a passable imitation of a boa constrictor downing a bowling ball. "I said how far is it to Mississippi?"

Emma wrestled a Triple A map open and studied it. "We're less than an hour, but first, we sort of cut across a corner of Alabama, then we get in to Mississippi."

"Great! I can hardly wait 'till we get to Tupelo where Elvis was born. I been wantin' to go there for years. You know what kind of an Elvis fan I am."

Emma smiled. "Me too. I'll never forget all those wonderful songs from when I was back in school. Blue Suede Shoes... Heartbreak Hotel... gosh, that was real music!"

"You bet. My favorite was Don't Be Cool and then I like Love My Fender. Say, Emma, why don't you turn on the radio and see if you can pick up some Elvis music? Ya know, he woulda been 56 this year if he'd lived."

Emma shook her head from side to side. "There are rumors that Elvis is still alive, you know. People say that he just wanted to get out of the limelight. They might be right."

Emma fired up the huge radio and started fiddling with the tuner:

"... so stop on by Friendly Fred's Ford and check out the deals on the new trucks and cars. Hell, we're practically giving them away. In fact, we lose thousands of dollars on every car and truck we sell. How do we do it? Easy. Volume! That's the key. So come on down and ..."

"...special limited offer. Yes, you can lose all the weight you want to with the new Fat Blaster Nutri-Pill System. The fat just melts away. And you can eat all you want. That's right... stuff your face like a pig and follow it with these little blue tablets, and you'll ..."

"...fortunes are being made right now in the exciting world of stamp investing. Our typical investor here at the House of Gold, Silver and Other Stuff gets a 40 percent return on his money. Of course, we can't guarantee that everyone will ..."

"...followed by the Bulgarian String Quartet playing favorite themes from the Russian Death March Opera ."

"...and that was P. J. Rap Jammer doing his big hit, Suck My Lips. Next up, L. D. Slam Dude with ?"

Carl punched the OFF button. "Boy, there just ain't nuthin' on. What say we stop, gas up, git a bite to eat and see if we can buy some Elvis tapes to slap in the tape deck?"

A short time later, they crossed the Mississippi state line, found a cluster of small stores and a gas station, and pulled in.

Emma went for burgers and fries, while Carl ambled over to a convenience store.

Fifteen minutes later, he leaped into The Whale, eyes all bugged out, and started babbling excitedly. "Emma! You ain't gonna believe this, but the old lady who works in that store over there told me where Elvis lives. You see, I bought all these here tapes, and asked her if she knew anything about Elvis, and she told me that Elvis lived out in the woods about 20 miles south of Hattiesburg. He works at a small souvenir stand called Little Guys. We gotta go there!"

Emma let out a delighted squeal. "Hit it, you big stud-muffin!"

Moments later, the rear tires of the huge Suburban left a pair of black stripes on the pavement.

They spent the night in a Motel 6 outside of Jackson, and headed south early the next morning. Carl got to Hattiesburg and asked for directions to Little Guys souvenir stand. It took a half-dozen stops, but they finally got some directions at a state-operated tourist information facility.

Apparently, Little Guys souvenir was out in the woods close to the end of the Pascagoula River. Carl had to buy a detailed map and a topo map, because the river had recently flooded, and the only way in was roughing it on some un-mapped two-track fire-roads.

Before mid-day, they peeled of f highway 49 at Wiggins and headed east on highway 26. About 30 miles later, they pulled off the road and carefully followed the topo map down some ugly roads that were still good and muddy from a recent rain. Carl was forced to go to four wheel drive, and had to pay attention to keep from sliding off the trails.

He saw a few dirt bikers and asked them if they knew where Elvis was. They told him that about that about four more miles down the road, they'd find the Little Guys souvenir stand and, yes, for sure, Elvis was there.

Carl could hardly contain his excitement as he drove the last few miles. At last, he'd get to see Elvis!

After what seemed like an eternity, Carl rounded a corner, found a smooth dirt road, and a quarter mile later, a small building popped into view. The sign read: "LITTLE GUYS STAND - HAND MADE SOUVENIRS".

Carl slid to a stop and leaped out. Emma hit the ground a fraction of a second before he did. They went through the door and up to the counter. An elderly man was behind the counter, reading a copy of Hustler and sipping from a pint of Jack Daniels.

"How do there. Can I help you folks?"

"Yes. We'd like to see Elvis, please? If it's not too much trouble, that is."

"Nope. No problem at all. He probably needs a break. Been carving pine ash trays all morning."

Both Carl and Emma look stunned. "Elvis? Carving ash trays?"

"Yup. And there ain't anybody much better at it. Lemme go git 'em for you. You might want to get your camera out. Lots of people want to have their picture taken with him."

Emma was nearly breathless. "I would imagine so!"

Two minutes later, a very short little man walked in. "Hi. I'm one of the elves. You folks wanted to meet me?"

"Uuhhh...we wanted to meet Elvis... that is... I mean...", Carl stammered.

The little man smiled. "Hey, don't be bashful. Lottsa folks make that mistake. My name is Guy, and I was one of the original elves in the movies years ago. Get it? Not Elvis... elves."

Carl let out a low moan, which quickly turned into a groan as Emma hit him in the ribs with a sharp elbow shot. "Bonehead," she hissed.