There was a nostalgia section in the old man’s record store.
It had vinyls going back decades; recordings by long gone artists. The man perusing the racks selected an old original by Elvis Presley. He stood reading it for a while. He’d always been fascinated by the conspiracies about Elvis’s death.
Making polite conversation, the man said, “Nobody really knows how he died, do they?”
The old misery said, “Don’t they? I wouldn’t know about that.”
“Well,” he went on, “one of the most popular theories I heard was that Elvis actually faked his own death, in order to escape from the Mafia. What do you think?”
The old man sighed. “I have no idea.” He rang the sale up and handed over the change.
“I just thought you’d be interested, that’s all,” mumbled the customer.
Getting even more irritated, the old man said, “Look. Would it surprise you if I told you I couldn’t care less how he died?”
The man said, “Oh! I was just interested, that’s all. I mean, you are in here selling these old records, I’d have thought you might have a theory about it.”
The old man sneered. “Well, I haven’t, OK?”
The man shook his head in dismay. “I guess, to be sure, I’ll have to wait until I get to heaven, then I’ll ask him.”
The old man sighed and said, “What if he went to hell, have you thought about that?”
As he left the shop, the customer called out, “If that’s the case, you can ask him.”