So Loretta of Third Street, the woman who had a plaster bust of Elvis Presley in her window for 15 years or so is finally moving to her new digs in the South Slope.

OTBKB reported last year that Elvis left the building. That’s because when Loretta started to pack up her apartment, she took Third Street’s iconic window celebrity out of her window.

Neighbors were aghast. One woman, who has a dog named Monkey, said that she used to tell visiting friends, “We’re in the building next door to Elvis.”

Little did I know, Loretta put her painted plaster bust of Elvis on her back deck. Sadly, exposure to the elements caused much of his paint to fall off.

Loretta was dismayed. She was, of course, planning on taking Elvis to her new home. But without paint, she didn’t want Elvis anymore.

I saw Loretta’s Elvis bust on Thursday afternoon sitting on a tasteful beige couch that Loretta was throwing away. Mostly white plaster with peeling paint, he had a almost Grecian purity. There were hints of blue, the the last relics of his famous one-piece suit visible. I thought Elvis looked really interesting that way.

I stood in front of the couch in the garbage contemplating whether I wanted Elvis in our apartment. But where? We are full to bursting with stuff.

Still, the urban historian in me knew that Elvis needed to be preserved, landmarked, put someplace special, with a plaque detailing his long history in Loretta’s window.

I called Hepcat and told him to quick, leave the apartment and take a picture but he was on a long conference call and couldn’t get away.

A duo of nannies was staring at the Elvis, admiring it. One said that she’d seen that Elvis for years in the window.

The next day when I told Teen Spirit he yelped:

“What, you didn’t take it? It’s ELVIS! MOM!,” he said disgustedly.

This morning, Hepcat started riffing on the dea of a pure, unpainted Elvis bust:

“We now know that the Greek statues were painted in vivid colors and that the purity of white marble forms was a modern misconception. Not to say that Elvis was like Athena giving the gift of the olive to mankind, but there could be a parallel here…” he trailed off.

“You could say something about painted statues losing their paint, iconic Elvis…” he ran out of steam. Lucky I was typing while he spoke.

Ah, Elvis you left the building, went on the deck and sat on the beige couch in the garbage. Now someone has taken you home…

Where oh where can you be?