The Elvis Syndrome

"L.A. DISTRICT RICK MANDAMUS CONVENTION: COMMUNITY HALL, 7PM ONWARDS. GENUINE LOOKALIKES ONLY, PRIZE FOR BEST COSTUME."

The more Rick read the announcement, the more his mind was made up. It would be safer at a down town L.A. community centre packed with genuine, insane, Mandamus fans than it ever was at an up-market celebrity bash, where screaming fans were ready to tear the clothes off any actor, without even recognising the face. Besides which, he wouldn't have to take Millicent.

But, still, was it really safe? Yeah, sure! These people were Capital N Nuts first class obsessives. Not mere screaming fanatics. Anyone who went to conventions dressed up as an actor's double had to be certifiable. And safe. Yeah, he'd go. No paparazzi, for a start. No hamming it up for his adoring public, entwined around the so-in-love Millicent Capital B Bitch. Why wouldn't he go? This would be the one party he could actually enjoy. And he'd win their best costume prize.

The more he thought about it, as he dressed himself up in the genuine suit as worn by Rick Mandamus in 'Fall From Venus', the more he knew this would be Capital F Fun. He could swear at his fans, fall over drunk and get off with as many call girls his wallet would allow. What reporter would expect to find him at a shabby community hall filled with the low-lifes of L.A.? Which was a point. Forget the call girls, keep the wallet to the minimum and leave the platinum cards at home. Hell! He was going to be the real Capital M McCoy at this place! He could get off with anyone he fancied!

He picked up the phone and pressed the fast dial.

'Mandamus. Car for five minutes.'

Then he realised that could be a mistake.

'Hello? Directories?... Yeah, a cab firm, any.'

He arranged to pick up the cab at the corner of the street and didn't give a name.

'I know you, don't I?' the cabbie told him as he slipped into the grubby back seat.

'Sure you do. Rick Mandamus.'

'Rick Mandamus! Wait till I tell the wife! I thought you'd have limos and the like?'

'Chauffeur's night off.'

'Where to, then, Rick?'

'That Community Hall down town.'

The cabbie glared at him in the mirror. 'Rick bloody Mandamus. Had me going then. I would have told the wife and everything, too.'

'I am Rick Mandamus. I'm their special guest.'

'Yeah, you and three hundred others! I bet their chauffeurs have all got the night off, too. I tell you, that's some party them chauffeurs are having themselves!'

They shared no further words until they reached the community hall and Rick paid the cabbie off, neglecting to include a tip.

'Well whad'ya know? You are Rick Mandamus after all!' the cabbie retorted sarcastically, abandoning him to his fate.

He found himself amid a steady stream of mirror-images, some fat, some thin, some tall, some short, but most dressed just like him in the famed suit from 'Fall From Venus'.

'Jeesh!' he complained to the one fan alongside him who'd chosen to wear a tux', 'have these people got no Capital I Imagination?!'

'Get you! Like he really talks that way?!'

'Sure he really talks that way! Are you a fan or what?'

'Listen, pal, I live and breathe Rick Mandamus, I don't just look like him...'

'Too right you don't!'

'Well what have you come as? His older fatter self transported back in time from the next decade?!'

'Jeesh! Get a Capital L Life!'

'Get an original suit!'

It wasn't the best of starts. Rick realised, as he began to mingle, that it was better not to remark on the Couldn't-Look-Less-Alikes and simply to wait for the nudges and whispers as guests recognised him.

But there were no nudges and whispers.

'Supposing he really was here, right now,' he suggested to a fellow guest as they propped up the bar.

'Yeah, right - and not one of us recognises him!'

'No, really, who'd you think it might be?' he prompted.

'Well, I reckon I look more like him than most, but I know it's not me! I'm just plain Charlie Whitcombe!' He took his time and surveyed the crowd. 'Now that guy over there. He could pass for him with all but family, I reckon. Wouldn't you say?'

'Yeah, I guess,' Rick agreed reluctantly. 'What about me?'

'No offence, pal, but you could do with losing a few pounds first!'

'Yeah, but come on! The face! I'm the real Capital M McCoy here!'

Charlie patted his shoulder. 'There's such a thing as over doing it, too. Lose the catch phrase with the pounds and you might be in with a chance.'

'Jeesh! You people are Capital U Unreal!'

'That's the whole point,' Charlie agreed, 'an entire convention of Unreals!'

Rick grinned. 'Let me buy you a drink, Charlie, then I can tell the grandkids I once didn't buy The Rick Mandamus a drink!'

When they had progressed to buying the Rick Mandamus drinks they were too far gone to remember which of them he really was.

'Supposing I told you I was him?' Rick told Charlie confidentially, 'aside from being overweight and too mouthy?'

'On the level, Rick, you could pass as him at a pinch.'

'But why am I not him?'

Charlie smiled. 'Okay, you want to do the ultimate con job. But you'll need accessory number one - Millicent. Look around. Not one genuine Mandamus here, because the genuine Mandamus would never leave the house without her. You don't get a Millicent, you don't get the part!'

Rick put an arm around Charlie. 'Yeah? Well let me tell you a little showbiz secret. They can't stand the sight of each other!'

'Get out of here! If you think I'm drunk enough to believe that then it's you who's had one too many, pal!'

'Capital S Straight up, Charlie, I am Rick Mandamus and the only reason I'm here tonight is because she's not!'

Charlie laughed at the notion and bought his friend another drink.

How many more drinks were bought that night will never be known, but when Rick next rejoined the land of the knowing, it was from his position on the floor of Charlie's bedsit.

He sat up groggily and tried to work out where he was.

'You're awake, then?' Charlie remarked unnecessarily, 'head okay?'

'Head's always okay. Well used to it. But the stomach's starving.'

Charlie fixed up a full breakfast and they watched the local news channel as they balanced plates on their knees.

'Another big fire up town,' Charlie remarked, glancing up at the screen to see fire engines and squad cars outside a glamorous mansion.

'Hey! Turn up the volume!' Rick demanded, 'that's my house!'

"...home of Rick and Millicent Mandamus. Mrs Mandamus is still in shock and this morning friends and relatives were comforting her. Tributes have already begun to pour in..."

'Oh my God, oh my God!' both Charlie and Rick screeched in unison.

As Charlie sat dumbfounded, the fried egg and sausage sliding off his plate, Rick snatched up the remote and began to flick through channels. The apparent house blaze flooded all channels. And it had quite obviously claimed the life of film legend Rick Mandamus.

'Charlie, you've got to listen to me, you've got to help me here,' Rick pleaded.

'Look, it's not funny any more, Rick - if that is your name. The man is dead. What you're doing isn't funny no more - it's sick.'

'Please, Charlie, he isn't dead. I'm here, God dammit! Look, look, I'll show you my wallet, my ID - everything.' He felt desperately for his wallet, only to emerge with a small wad of notes held in a money clip. 'Jeesh! Of course! I left my wallet at home. Dumb to take it to a down town community hall, I reckoned.'

'Hey! You might not think you're one of us, but that don't give you no right...'

'Look, I'm Capital S Sorry, man. But I'm desperate here, Charlie!'

'Shut up and listen to the report, this guy's starting from the beginning here.'

They listened together in horror and bewilderment.

"It seems the fire was triggered by a specially built jewellery box belonging to Mrs Millicent Mandamus..."

'I knew it! That God Damn Capital D Damn electric box - she meant to kill me, the...

'Shut up and listen!' Charlie protested.

"...wired to prevent anyone other than Millicent opening it. Mrs Mandamus is thought to believe that Rick Mandamus was attempting to slip a surprise anniversary gift into the box. Today would have been the sixth anniversary of their first date together, according to sources close to the couple."

'Ah, jeesh, the way they used to celebrate every little anniversary,' Charlie wept, blowing his nose noisily.

'She made them all up!' Rick screamed in frustration. 'Hang on, listen!'

"...so badly charred that he was identified only by the remains of his wallet, which had fallen from his fingers. Friends of Mrs Mandamus say that she blames herself. The electrified jewellery box was a terrible blunder and had only been purchased a week earlier."

'Capital B Bitch!' Rick screamed, 'That's murder, God dammit! She only bought the damned thing in the hope that I'd open it and fry my brain! And my wallet! That corpse had my God damn wallet!'

'Rick, you're taking this way too far, now...'

'Yeah? And if Rick never goes out without Millicent, what the Capital H Hell was she doing out on her own last night, while the poor bastard fried?!'

'She was at that big International Women's Day bash, wasn't she?'

'I know she God damn was! I paid for the God damn Capital D Dress! Bitch!'

Charlie was moved by the intensity of his emotion. If he didn't yet believe his friend was Rick Mandamus, he at least believed his friend truly believed he was. He flicked through the channels again to see if there was any further information.

"The real tragedy was that he actually called for a car," a chauffeur was telling a reporter, "but he cancelled it almost immediately. He never could bear to go out if Millicent wasn't with him." The reporter turned a saddened face to the camera. "And there you have it. A case of what might have been. Instead, it's thought that a lonely Rick Mandamus elected for an early night and unthinkingly reached for his beloved wife's cherished pearl necklace, the gift he had given her for the fifth anniversary of their first kiss and which, Mrs Mandamus tells us, he often liked to hold in her absence."

'He must have been a burglar!' Rick said, leaping to his feet, 'a Capital B Burglar! He found my wallet on the dressing table, by the phone, then he went for her jewellery box! The bitch! That was meant for me, you know. She used to leave it on top of my things, or in my way, just daring me to pick the damn thing up and sling it!'

'Look, Rick, I'm sure, whatever you say, she loved you. It was just an accident.'

'I'll show you my next American Express bill, Charlie. A dollar to a cent says her black dress for the funeral is already on it! Go on, call them up now! I'm telling you, she has it Capital B Bought already!'

'If you really are him, Rick, we've to call the police.'

'The police! Charlie, you're a Capital A Angel! I'm just not thinking straight. They'll get me out of this.'

Charlie wasn't so sure.

'You'll need some sort of proof,' he warned carefully. 'Do you have anything?'

'Well, no. I left my wallet at home.'

'But private phone numbers? You must know a few stars that the likes of normal Rick and me wouldn't know?'

Rick racked his brain. 'No, no I don't. Oh, God, Charlie, I don't. I'm hopeless with numbers, that's why the bitch always gets so much out of my accounts. All my numbers are stored in my cell phone.'

'At home?'

'Of course at home! Come on, Charlie, I've never been down town before in my life. I believed the press reports. I left everything at home.'

'If we can just get the police to get you to Millicent, she'd know you.'

'You think she'd Capital T Tell them?! She's the merry widow now! One whiff of me still alive and she'll take out a hit!'

'Well don't tell that to the police!' Charlie warned, 'Rick and Millicent are the Gracie Allen and George Burns of our time.'

'Gracie who?'

'Never mind. Just worry about the police right now.'

The police, predictably, found the whole story highly amusing.

'The guy's original, anyway,' one of the officer's remarked quietly to his colleague, 'one more Elvis trying to get back home and I'd be ready to shoot myself!'

'I heard that!' Rick protested, 'And I am not Capital F Friggin' Elvis! I am not an imitation Rick Mandamus, either. Get someone from the lab here this minute and do a DNA test.'

The police found this demand even more hilarious.

'Sorry, pal, but you're mistaking yourself for the real Rick Mandamus who can afford DNA testing!'

'What do you mean? You can't deny me a test! If I got some girl pregnant and refused to pay child support you'd whip the needles out quick enough!'

'Well, there you go, pal. Come back and see us in nine months.'

'You Capital B Bastards! You know God damn well Rick Mandamus is infertile!'

The policeman patted him on the shoulder sympathetically. 'Sir, you don't have to take this look-alike thing quite that far.'

Rick stopped spluttering and swearing and stood in silence, the true horror of his predicament finally permeating every pore. He waited for the police to leave and simply sat and cried.

The year following the death of Rick Mandamus saw a sudden popularity of Mandamus impersonators. They opened shopping malls, fetes, jumble sales and gave after dinner speeches at office parties and school reunions.

But only one of them ever wore the genuine suit as worn in 'Fall From Venus'.