I forgot what all the lyrics are for "I Got Stung," to me one of the greatest songs that Elvis recorded. Which is a weird state of being for anyone who sings the snippets of the song and can't quite get the lyrics right. I know, I could google it and memorize it, but I'm old. I'll reserve the rest of this paragraph for any future excuses I might thing of.
Anyway, I have a manic style in mind when I'm even humming this song. It's flagrant, the style I'm thinking, flagrantly improvising the lyrics, which for me, when forgetful, is to stock it up with sexual imagery, with thoroughly priapic apparatus and conduct in mind. If the real Elvis appeared in my room, I'm sure he'd enjoy the craziness of it all. But then he'd start singing and completely owning the song, leaving me for royalties a piece of chocolate out of my own pantry. Or, who knows, maybe he'd take me a few suburbs over and get me a new Cadillac! Anything from bright red to something less fun.
I can't go on, because I almost launched into a whole cussing thing, which would probably mean I'd be locked out of the system, a stinging rebuke from whoever owns Blogger, which I believe is Google. Great guys, but with trillions of blogs being their pride, I don't want them looking askance at me, not even for a minute.
I got stung by a cute honeybee.