Tamara Smith sliced open an eggplant. The seeds arranged in the likeness of Elvis’s profile. “Oh, God!” Tamara screamed. She was The King’s biggest . She had all his CD’s and all the ’s of his movies. She knew everything about the from Mississippi. She had been to his birthplace to his memorial—Graceland—in Memphis. She had never actually him live, yet she worshipped him. She felt she was his soul mate, because they were born on January 8.

She always claimed that would be alive today if she could have him that fateful day. She had had a feeling that morning in her own bathroom. She that there was danger for Elvis in his . She suspected that he might slip in the , or maybe accidentally electrocute himself with his hair . But she wasn’t sure. All she knew was Elvis must not use his bathroom that day.

dialed Memphis 411, but Information told her that number was not listed. She called the Memphis , but they said she would have to get line behind all the other crank callers. She her cousin who lived in Memphis, but her was out.

She almost died when she saw TV news that night, August 16, the saddest of her life. I was right, I was , she kept repeating to herself. If only she gotten through to poor Elvis.

Now she had eggplant. It could mean only one thing—Elvis was to communicate with her. She wrapped the eggplant saran wrap and put it in her refrigerator. next day she was going to visit Mabel, palm reader / medium / manicurist, to have a séance.