It’s four in the morning, and you’re crashed out on your rotating King-size waterbed. As you muddle through the puke-green haze brought on by ingesting two dozen deep fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches and enough Demerol to bring down a mature bull elephant, you realize that you need to find a TV repair shop skilled in post-shotgun blast maintenance, as well as a place willing to rent women’s gorilla costumes on short notice.

Sure, you could take the easy way out and let your hyper-fancy iPhonePodGiga 3.7 do the heavy lifting, but what’s the point of killing yourself slowly via bloated overindulgence if you don’t do it in style?

To that end, I give you…

Make no mistake, this truly is the ultimate Elvis telephone, meaning that all previous Elvis-branded telecommunications devices were but imperfect shadows cast on the walls of the Jungle Room.

Related posts:

  1. Calling in
  2. A true nature’s child