Elvis is NOT dead, he's running a quik-mart and trailer park in the Florida Panhandle. He used to sponsor a horse-shoe throwing competition, but the volunteer fire department guys got out of hand two years ago, and it got to be too much trouble.
He's doing well, very glad to be out of the lime-light; enjoying friends, a few beers, and tall tales of dogs, hunting, and "Ole Nestor," a supposed crazy man running the woods for decades, who lives off the land, and foodstuffs he can take in the night. Every year, around this time, a bunch of the ole boys put out twinkies, pumpkin pie, and foil-wrapped turkey with dressing for Ole Nestor, and wish him a happy thanksgiving, and one more year of life with joy, memories, and the knowledge that he made many peoples' lives MUCH more interesting.
Don't get much better: a few good friends, a few good stories, and a lot of good memories.