Treenie pushed backward through the front door. With both hands she carried a white box wrapped with a gold ribbon. She held the box carefully, as though it contained some precious relic. She placed the box on his lap then slid in beside him, close enough their thighs touched.<\/p>\n
\u201cHere you go, baby. I\u2019m really sorry about the other night. I\u2019m not trying to pressure you at all.\u201d<\/p>\n
The box felt light on his lap. \u201cWhat is it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOpen it.\u201d<\/p>\n
He pulled the ribbon away and dropped it on the couch. \u201cYou didn\u2019t have to get me anything,\u201d he said. It was true, nothing kills a good relationship like marriage\u2014he\u2019d learned that lesson twice\u2014and though their discussion <\/em>(as she put it) was a long way from killing anything, it did contain the virus that could evolve into something lethal. Still, it was nothing that required an apology, and certainly not a gift.<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re having fun. That\u2019s all you want. I get it.\u201d<\/p>\n He slipped his fingers between the box and lid and lifted and shook it all until the box bottom dropped onto his lap. A layer of tissue-paper covered the contents, and he scrunched it out of the way so the whole package looked like a small explosive device had detonated inside. He saw white fabric with a wide row of black and orange running lengthwise.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is this?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re going to love it.\u201d<\/p>\n She stood and pulled a jumpsuit from the box. She held it by the shoulders and let it drape in front of her, revealing the suit\u2019s full flamboyance. A tiger stretched across the chest in a great leap of motion. His back legs started at the left hip, and his head and extended claws sat on the right breast. A long \u2018V\u2019 cut in the center of the suit cleaved the tiger\u2019s torso. A belt hung over the hips, covered in the same pattern that lined the out seam, and a double braid of gold chains looped from the belt.<\/p>\n Treenie\u2019s head tilted toward the tiger. \u201cThis is the tiger suit he<\/em> wore in seventy-three.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s the actual suit?\u201d<\/p>\n Treenie had been holding it by the shoulders, her head poking over the top like she\u2019d been modeling it, but with Ed\u2019s question she dropped her hands and let the suit fall to her waist. The legs bunched on the floor, and the gold satin fabric that filled the wide space flared open.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s not the <\/em>suit. That\u2019s on display at Graceland. This is an exact replica though. It\u2019s not the cheapies you find around\u2014I ordered this special from a place in Memphis.\u201d<\/p>\n Ed leaned forward and rubbed a piece of the slick fabric between his thumb and fingers.<\/p>\n \u201cDo you like it?\u201d<\/p>\n Halloween was still five months off. The anniversary of the King\u2019s death was almost three months off.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat have you got in mind?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s for you \u2026 to wear.\u201d<\/p>\n He leaned back on the couch and combed his fingers through his hair, troubling over the thinner spots just above his forehead.<\/p>\n \u201cHalloween\u2019s a ways off.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s not what I had in mind.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat did <\/em>you have in mind?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell\u2026\u201d She let the \u201cL\u201d sound drag into silence, and she stepped over to one of the recliners and carefully placed the jumpsuit on the back of the chair. The legs dangled over the seat, and the flared bell-bottoms hung halfway to the floor. She patted the jumpsuit into place and ran her palms down the front, smoothing the material. \u201cWhat I thought\u2026\u201d she spoke in a slow, steady cadence as she stepped across the living room, \u201c\u2026is that we could use it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI thought maybe I could be one of your groupies.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cElvis had groupies?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMore than he could handle.\u201d<\/p>\n She ran her hand high up his thigh and kissed his earlobe.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you think of that?\u201d she whispered. \u201cYou could take advantage of a na\u00efve groupie.\u201d<\/p>\n Her breath had been hot in his ear, and now her tongue went back to sliding around his earlobe and occasionally sneaking into his ear canal.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know if I\u2019m quite up for that tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow do you know unless you try?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s not what I mean. I just don\u2019t feel like some big production.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t like it, do you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s a nice jumpsuit.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf I\u2019d known you a few years ago I would have gotten you the black leather suit he wore on the sixty-eight comeback special. You would have been hot in that.\u201d<\/p>\n She slid off the couch and knelt between Ed\u2019s legs. She unbuckled his belt and undid his zipper. The doctors said it wasn\u2019t all physical. He was capable\u2014they assured him. They suggested relaxing<\/em> or practicing on his own. They recommended that he not think about it, but most of the time he struggled to think of anything else, and already he\u2019d begun to think about it. The empty jumpsuit watched him from across the room. He leaned his head onto the back edge of the couch, closed his eyes, and waited for Treenie to give up.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n A few days later he gave it a test run. He had just showered and stepped into his bedroom with a towel around his waist. He pulled the box from the closet and set it on the bed. He cleared away the tissue paper. The leaping tiger across the chest was on top. Ed rubbed his hand over the gaping jaws and extended claws. He lifted the suit out of the box and held it up in front of him.<\/p>\n He dropped his towel and sat on the edge of the bed. He struggled for a few seconds, attempting to find the proper way to slide his legs through the opening in the chest. He poked his feet into the crotch a few times and had to bunch his legs together and bend and straighten them at intervals to maneuver each leg into its proper slot. He stood and pulled the pants to his waist. He adjusted the crotch and felt the freedom of going without boxers, and he wondered if Elvis wore underwear with his jumpsuits. He would have to remember to ask Treenie.<\/p>\n He worked through another set of awkward motions to finagle his arms into the sleeves, arching his back at times, bending his arms in strange ways, stretching fabric. He tugged the zipper to its end\u2014three inches above his belly-button\u2014and went to the full-length mirror on his closet door to inspect the results.<\/p>\n He saw a strange version of himself. Despite the long scar down his chest, simply exposing his skin to the V at his navel created some kind of sexuality, something primal and full of energy. The tiger, the bell-bottoms\u2014he surrendered to their absurdity, their excess, the sheer suggestion of showmanship. He kicked out the flared fabric then brought his legs down into a wide stance and swiveled his hips. He circled his hands in a karate chop move he\u2019d seen Elvis deliver on stage, and then he dropped into one of the dramatic crouches Elvis sometimes used to punctuate the end of a song. At the bottom of the maneuver he felt the fabric rubbing against his bare skin, and much to his surprise, he found himself nudging toward arousal.<\/p>\n He lay back on the bed, unzipped the zipper, and began stroking. So often lately he\u2019d been unable or had been content to save the effort for when he was with Treenie, but this time he could feel it. He could finish. The release waited there, deep and low inside him. It started rolling upwards, a small roil of pearls\u2014but he stopped. Treenie. Her idea, and he decided to save it for her.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n A few nights later they got together to watch Elvis movies. They had made it through Spinout<\/em> in their ongoing Elvis film festival, and this night Treenie brought over Easy Come, Easy Go<\/em> and Double Trouble<\/em>. They dimmed the lights, popped a bag of popcorn, huddled together on Ed\u2019s leather couch, and began watching Easy Come, Easy Go<\/em>. There was Elvis on Ed\u2019s 54\u201d television, playing another military man, this time a Navy diver named Ted Jackson. It was the same formula as all those movies: small-time adventure, a love interest or two, a male nemesis who Elvis would most likely fight in a bar, an authority figure, a few maladroitly wedged in musical numbers.<\/p>\n Within the first minutes of Easy Come, Easy Go<\/em> Treenie was already completely engaged, but Ed paid more attention to her than the movie. During a long underwater sequence near the beginning Ed reached for the remote and turned down the volume.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe suit, I tried it on.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow was it?\u201d<\/p>\n He shrugged his shoulders but smiled. \u201cWe could try it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTonight?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNow.\u201d<\/p>\n She rubbed his leg and leaned in and whispered, \u201cI\u2019d like that.\u201d<\/p>\n He mounted the stairs two at a time. In his room he undressed quickly and began maneuvering into the suit. Whatever he may have learned from the trial run did not readily return. He sat back on the bed and kicked and straightened his legs into the pants. He twisted his elbows and stretched his arms. A jolt of pain shivered from his neck into his left shoulder. He dipped his head to the right, trying to stretch his neck. He took a quick glance in the mirror at the tiger leaping across his chest, his own zipper scar splitting the tiger\u2019s torso, the gold braided belt drooping from his waist, the giant flare of the bellbottoms. So he looked a little ridiculous\u2014he felt pretty good, confident, and he had his expectations that Treenie would like it all, regardless.<\/p>\n He yelled downstairs, \u201cYou ready?\u201d<\/p>\n Treenie yelled back, \u201cI just wish you had \u2018Also Sprach Zarathustra.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll explain it later.\u201d<\/p>\n Ed strolled into the room with his arms out and his palms up in a what-do-you-think pose.<\/p>\n \u201cVery nice,\u201d she said and stepped to him and worked a series of wet kisses along his neck and up to his mouth. A trace of her lipstick remained on his cheek, and she wiped it off with her thumb.<\/p>\n \u201cSo, what now?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell,\u201d Treenie said, \u201cif you were a big star and could have your way with a young girl backstage or at your hotel what would you want to do with her?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHey, did he wear underwear with these things?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSeems like the kind of guy that would wear underwear at all times.\u201d<\/p>\n “The question is\u2014are you wearing anything under that?\u201d<\/p>\n She came in for another kiss, and this time she put her hand down the front of the jumpsuit, at the southern end of the \u2018V\u2019. And he was ready. No questions about it. And what occurred next occurred with an abandon and vigor Ed had not brought to bear in years\u2014decades maybe. A night destined for the memory books, shelved right alongside that first glorious afternoon on Susie Tompkins\u2019s strawberry sheets when they were sixteen, and that random and generous blow job delivered by a red-headed stranger in the Little Red Rooster parking lot not long before he met his first wife. Those moments still arose from time to time like angelic gifts.<\/p>\n It might be said that he and Treenie hungered for one another, and their mouths would have supplied the evidence\u2014only ceasing physical contact to emit some sub-lingual groan or moan or ecstatic exhortation. Their hands found flesh and their fingertips explored as though this was all a new and superior way to commune with the world. And they found other versions of their bodies, of their selves, versions built to chase, produce, and experience pleasure, versions that knew nothing of shame or reticence. A new and intoxicating freedom.<\/p>\n And Ed kept up\u2014strong, vigorous. No threatening lulls. No intrusions or portent of his own failings\u2026of the edge dulling and disappearing. No. He went and went and went\u2014such variety, such virility, the drive of a teenager again but with the wisdom to appreciate all that transpired\u2014until they both were spent.<\/p>\n They had not moved from the living room when the passion took hold, and after its zenith Ed rested on the couch and Treenie nestled onto his chest. The suit lay wadded in a heap on the chair, a casualty of desperate disrobing.<\/p>\n \u201cThat was nice,\u201d Treenie said.<\/p>\n \u201cHasn\u2019t been that way in a long time.\u201d<\/p>\n She snuggled in closer and sighed a satisfied sigh.<\/p>\n He waited for his breathing to slow, for his heart to settle.<\/p>\n She brushed her fingernails over his deflated penis and said, \u201cI can\u2019t wait for the encore.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou know what sounds good to me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d She still petted him with her nails.<\/p>\n \u201cI could go for a burger.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA burger?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah. I\u2019m starving all the sudden.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re hungry?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWant to go to Steak \u2018n Shake?\u201d<\/p>\n She\u2019d kept her head on his chest as they spoke. Now she lifted it and rolled over so she could make better eye contact.<\/p>\n \u201cOnly if you wear the suit.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d He laughed.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019d be perfect. Some random guy a tiger jumpsuit at Steak \u2018n Shake eating onion rings and drinking a banana shake. I Guarantee people would take pictures.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t think we need any pictures.\u201d He slid from underneath her and went over to the suit. \u201cBut I am<\/em> hungry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe suit.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCome on. You have to do it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe drive thru.\u201d It wasn\u2019t a question.<\/p>\n He shook his head no, but picked up the suit anyway. \u201cThe drive thru\u2026\u201d He sat down and began working on the legs. \u201cBut that\u2019s it.\u201d<\/p>\n So off they went, Ed in his flying tiger jumpsuit, sans underwear. Treenie in her shorts and tank top, sans panties. They were two people lost in their own time and place. They knew it too, and laughed about it. \u201cI hope we don\u2019t get pulled over,\u201d Treenie said. \u201cI should ask for an application,\u201d Ed joked. \u201cTell them I have previous experience\u2014Burger King, store 1524, Birmingham, Alabama.\u201d<\/p>\n And Treenie told the story about the Christmas Lisa Marie wanted to see snow and there was none in Memphis, so Elvis called for the jet to be fueled up and they flew 1500 miles\u2026 just to see the snow, and then flew back.<\/p>\n \u201cMust be nice to able to do that on a whim,\u201d Ed said. \u201cGood thing I only wanted a burger.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t need a plane to get whatever you want.\u201d<\/p>\n They pulled into line behind a Suburban at the drive thru.<\/p>\n \u201cSure you don\u2019t want to go in? It\u2019s not too late.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sure.\u201d<\/p>\n They were quiet. A newer country song\u2014something by a guy with two first names\u2014played softly.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know, maybe you were right.\u201d \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat then?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe suit\u2014I haven\u2019t had that much fun in a long time.\u201d<\/p>\n The building glowed white in the night. Ed rubbed the braid draping from the tiger suit\u2019s belt. The Suburban\u2019s red brake lights tinted their faces.<\/p>\n \u201cCome here.\u201d She leaned toward him. She grabbed his head with both her hands. For the longest time she did not say or do anything\u2014just held his head and gazed at him. The song on the radio faded out and another one began. The Suburban rolled forward, and she finally kissed him.<\/p>\n As for their order, they went all out. Burgers, onion rings, chocolate shakes\u2014more food than they would eat, but the world belonged to them just then, and they desired a feast. After they received the food, before they rolled too far from the drive thru window, Treenie checked the order, and sure enough there\u2019d been a mistake.<\/p>\n \u201cFries,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n \u201cNo onion rings?\u201d Ed pulled along the curb.<\/p>\n \u201cJust fries.\u201d She smiled at him.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not<\/em> going inside. I\u2019ll eat the fries.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll go.\u201d She winked at him and bounded from the car, receipt in hand.<\/p>\n Ed watched her go. She was right, about the suit, about moving in. She was right. And he would tell her. The second she opened the car door, he would tell her. Maybe you <\/em>should move in, with an eye toward \u2026 the longer term.<\/em><\/p>\n He could still see her as she strolled up to the front counter and leaned over the stools by the front register. She showed the receipt to an employee, and he nodded and headed toward the back. She took a seat at the far end of the counter and gazed off toward the kitchen activity. Yes<\/em>. He could see them together far into the future. And he liked watching her knowing that, and knowing that soon she would be coming back to him. He sipped from his milkshake and waited.<\/p>\n Four teenagers\u2014two couples\u2014came up to pay. Ed imagined they were on a double-date\u2014a movie and a milkshake. One of the girls carried a large yellow purse, and something about it Made Ed\u2019s chest go gooey, like something warm was leaking there and filling him up.<\/p>\n The girl set her purse on the counter and soon she and her girlfriend were laughing together. The boys waited to pay, hands in pockets, doing their best to pretend they weren\u2019t impatient. Ed sipped his milkshake again and used his straw to dig out the cherry. (All the while he took care not to drip on the suit\u2014he figured such a garment would undoubtedly require a trip to the dry cleaners.) As he chewed, another man drifted toward the counter. He wore camouflage pants and a gray hoodie, and he held a phone pressed to his ear. He paced to the counter then to the door. He ducked to peer out the window, and after seeing whatever he needed to see or not see, he looked over his shoulder toward the high school kids.<\/p>\n This guy seemed out of place in a way Ed couldn\u2019t quite pinpoint. He nonchalantly paced back over to the counter, put his back to the kids and to Treenie, and, with aplomb and confidence, scooped the purse from the counter and cradled it close to his body. As he started for the door, he kept the phone pressed to his ear.<\/p>\n He had been invisible to the teenagers and to Treenie. But Ed saw it all. He said, \u201cHey,\u201d when the guy scooped the purse, as if his voice from inside the car could disrupt the action. And as the guy strolled through the exit, Ed, acting on instinct and adrenaline, exited his car and stepped forward and said \u201cHey\u201d again.<\/p>\n The guy looked up. He had dirty blond hair and three days of stubble. He tucked his phone into his pocket but otherwise kept on.<\/p>\n Ed stepped into the path, and though dread seeped into his feet, he had every intention of holding his ground.<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s not yours.\u201d<\/p>\n The guy stopped halfway down the sidewalk. His eyes blazed with a distant intensity. His nostrils flared. After a second, he tilted his head.<\/p>\n \u201cThe fuck you supposed to be?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s not yours.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe purse\u2014it\u2019s not yours.\u201d<\/p>\n The guy cradled the purse close to his body, like a yellow football. He began a slow, untimid march toward Ed.<\/p>\n It dawned on Ed that this man, though he appeared to be a 135-pound petty thief, could be armed. It wouldn\u2019t be unprecedented for a purse snatcher to carry a knife, maybe even a cheap revolver.<\/p>\n The guy didn\u2019t stop until he\u2019d come within an arm\u2019s length of Ed, and Ed thought: do not get stabbed in a Steak n\u2019 Shake parking lot. Do not get shot while wearing an Elvis jumpsuit. He imagined the EMTs trying to piece together just what the fuck went down: a middle-age man in a tiger jumpsuit with a gaping chest wound and a stray yellow purse lying nearby.<\/p>\n He instinctively put up his hands.<\/p>\n \u201cAre you calling me a thief?\u201d<\/p>\n Not in a Steak n\u2019 Shake parking lot. Not over some tweaker nabbing a teenager\u2019s purse for its lone $20 bill and her parents\u2019 Master Card.<\/em><\/p>\n Ed stepped back. \u201cHey, man\u2026. I didn\u2019t mean anything\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n The guy closed the space, like they were engaged in some strange, blade-less fencing match and he intended to claim the surrendered territory.<\/p>\n \u201cWho the fuck are you?\u201d<\/p>\n Ed could smell the guy\u2019s breath\u2014cigarettes and rot.<\/p>\n Do not get stabbed.<\/em> Ed blurted out, \u201cElvis.\u201d<\/p>\n The guy narrowed his eyes. They still glistened with intensity. He worked his jaw in a phantom chew and sent his tongue circumnavigating his lips.<\/p>\n \u201cAren\u2019t you dead?\u201d<\/p>\n Ed looked into the restaurant. He wanted just then for this whole thing to be over. He hoped the high school kids would notice the missing purse and rush out. He wanted Treenie to waltz through that door with a bag of onion rings. But Treenie still sat at the counter, and the kids were moving toward a different exit. They did not even know what they were missing, what had been stolen from them.<\/p>\n The guy noticed Ed staring into the restaurant. He glanced over his shoulder then back to Ed.<\/p>\n \u201cElvis died on the shitter.\u201d He smiled as he spoke.<\/p>\n Ed could not discern if this was merely a random factoid or an overt threat, but the guy did not leave long for Ed to ponder. His smile contorted to a grimace. He took a deep breath. The sinew in his neck pressed against his skin, and he shot forward. He did not attempt to slip past. No, he seemed to be intent upon running through Ed, as if neither of them was more corporeal than the morning fog.<\/p>\n Ed did manage to grasp one of the purse straps for a second and to hold on until it snapped. He lost his balance and slid backwards on the pavement. The thief\u2019s footsteps padded off into the quiet forest of the night, and surely he would never be caught.<\/p>\n Ed lay there, staring into the light-polluted sky. Traffic hummed out on the highway. A car door slammed in some unquantifiable distance. The sidewalk was warm, but his lower back blazed with a furnace of pain. His elbow ached. He could still smell the guy\u2014a three-day-old wet towel smell, tinged ever-so-slightly with a redolence of urine.<\/p>\n Treenie would be there in a minute. She would fuss over him, touch his cheek, ask what happened. He would tell the story, say he did what he could. He\u2019d tell her he was okay\u2014though any bruises always took longer to heal these days. He\u2019d joke and say, He freaked out when I told him I knew karate<\/em>.<\/p>\n He stood up. His heart had slowed, but his back and elbow still burned. Already a deep stinging had developed in his hand where he\u2019d clung to the purse strap, and undoubtedly other nicks and aches would emerge.<\/p>\n Treenie finally backed through the door, a bag of onion rings in hand, and for a second there, he ignored the pain and all the pain yet to come.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" He saw a strange version of himself. Despite the long scar down his chest, simply exposing his skin to the V at his navel created some kind of sexuality, something primal and full of energy. The tiger, the bell-bottoms\u2014he surrendered to their absurdity, their excess, the sheer suggestion of showmanship. He kicked out the flared fabric then brought his legs down into a wide stance and swiveled his hips. He circled his hands in a karate chop move he\u2019d seen Elvis deliver on stage, and then he dropped into one of the dramatic crouches Elvis sometimes used to punctuate the end of a song. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":15075,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-14961","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","writer-ethan-castelo"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14961","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=14961"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14961\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":15146,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14961\/revisions\/15146"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/15075"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=14961"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=14961"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=14961"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n\u201cAbout going inside?\u201d<\/p>\n