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King Blelvis

Andrew Wooten, better known as Blelvis, dazzles Julia Peck, left, Beth Blacklow, James Standefer and Juergen Seufert in Northwest Washington. (Photos By Kevin Clark -- The Washington Post)

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"Hi," he says. "I'm Blel-- "

"Omigod, it's Blelvis!" says the woman to her husband. "Honey, this is the guy I met seven years ago. Blelvis, I talk about you all the time."

"Are you sure you're not confusing me with Bliberace?" he says. "Or I've got a sister named Bladonna."

"I swear. Honey, don't I talk about him all the time?"

The Black Cat husband-wife-friend trio barely knows any Elvis songs, they say. Only the big ones, and everyone knows those. Blelvis asks them to just pick a word, any word, don't think Elvis, just think words. The woman says, "Bread."

"Bread, okay. I'm going to associate bread with 'sandwich.' Is that okay?" Acceptable substitution, sidewalk judges? The woman nods. "All right, this is from a song that Elvis did called 'Girls! Girls! Girls!' "

And when I pick up a sandwich to munch . . .

I never ever get to finish my lunch

Because there's always bound to be a bunch

Of girls in tight sweaters.

Blelvis throws in pelvic gyrations and a lip curl, and finishes the song by sinking to the sidewalk, improbably suspending his knees inches from the ground while balancing on his inner ankles. He keeps his weight down for maneuvers like this.

The trio claps. Blelvis bows.

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