Skywriting -- Feb 08, 1998
Continued from Feb 07, 1998
...took her under his arm while Ringo and George continued to fight. John, beiing the passive-agressive he is, broke free from the fight to notice Paul taking the hot girl away from the scene. "I'm not in the mood to fight," John muttered tiredly as he watched Paul woo her. She's not worth it, he added in his thoughts. John slouched and walked down the street with both his hands in his pockets pondering what if. What if I quit the band? What if I leave the country? Where the hell am I going to get inspiration again???? Arghhh, how frustrating for him. He just needed an inspiration of anything. It could mean having to watch and listen to every word everyone says no matter how absurd. Then, out of the blue, he had an idea and dismissed at in direct contradiction to his plan, but the through surfaced again and again. He glanced at a meter maid giving a ticket and though about that. "Lovely Rita Meter maid," he grunted under his voice. "What kind of bloody business is that?" Then an idea sparked even greater...
Those darn country western singers were stealing all the great storylines about life as a blue collar workers. John knew there was great potential in reaching many, many more individuals if he could broaden his horizons. So, he took a job with the city doing all sorts of jobs... trash collection, street sweeping, collecting stray animals... and once even took over Lovely Rita, the metre maids' position while she was on her maternity leave. He wrote oodles and scads of songs... until Willie Nelson begged him to stop. John was putting him in the poorhouse with his brilliant writing. John moved on to writing commercial jingles and Willie still ended up in the poorhouse.
Oh, Lord this ain't life. It's just a rehearsal to something I don't what is, John thought, as he was walking thru the empty streets again. As he was walking, his mind was thinking of a thousnad other pieces of things. When he suddnely stopped in front of the window of a shop. There, shining in bright colours, there was an amazing dreamcoat. He entered the store seeing if the money he carried could buy that marvellous coat he saw.
Of course he could buy it - the cashier was kinda nice offering it. "But, you know, man, you should be very careful with this", she said, smiling but with a tone of concern in her voice "Whatever happens, don't ever lend it to nobody. I mean it." "What can happen if I do?", John asked, grinning. "Oh, man, you don't want to know. Follow my advice.". John simply nodded. "By the way, miss, what's your name?". She smiled. "Barret. Sylvia Barret. Daughter of Syd Barret, mind you. Be careful with this coat!", she said, and she was gone. Barret...that name was following him everywhere.
John walked out into the cool summer-night's air with his amazing technicolor dreamcoat. "Any dream will do" he smiled with glee. For once in his life, he felt sublimely happy. He walked through the abandoned streets of London Town (no one was out and about at 3 am!) until he came to a park. He decided to stroll through - there were beautiful gardens all around. He was having a wonderful time until he spotted something. Two people laying on a bench getting hot and heavy. John raised his eyebrows. Well, well, who ever could this be? As he got nearer, he recognized them as...
Paul and the random girl from eariler. Paul was always getting hot and heavy with those random girls. John watched for a few moments longer and then walked on down the street, his coat barely touching his shoulders. John started whistling that annoying tune that was always in his head but he could never get down on paper. He was so lost the beautifully lonely night that he barely noticed when some guys ran up and stole the purse he'd bought to go with his new coat. John didn't really care that much anyways, cause everyone knew (except the daft robbers, I guess) that John always carried his money in a coin purse hidden under his arm. >Meanwhile, George and Ringo were back and the studio getting drunk or high or something like that. They were supposed to be working on a new song, but it was three in the morning and creativity was fast asleep. George strummed on his guitar in a futile attempt to tune it, and sang to himself softly. Ringo was playing solitaire on the studio floor...the room was peaceful and it was moments like this when the Beatles actually had time to think. As people. Silence was something they reveled in. Suddenly, George and Ringo looked up at eachother. Echoing quick footsteps sounded down the hallway, and light female laughter danced into their ears. The two gave eachother a look that clearly meant "Paul's here." >"How's it goin', fellas?" Paul asked, half drunk, staggering into the studio with a girl hanging on his arm. He threw off his jacket and loosened his tie even more. "Getting any work done?" >"No thanks to YOU." drolled George, with a slight smirk. But Paul didn't even hear him, the girl's laughter had drowned out all other sounds. Then, maybe just to shut her up, Paul grabbed her in a deep, giggling kiss and pulled her up the stairs into the studio's sound booth. >Ringo shouted after them: "Hey, Paulie (they always called him that when they were slightly annoyed), has either of you seen JOHN this fine evening?" Ringo waited for a few seconds, not really expecting a response.... "No, not really! But I've been...busy" Paul yelled back with a laugh. He shut the door behind him loudly, as if to say "do not distrub" and then he and the girl....
"He and the girl", John grumbled. He and the girl. Paul and the girl. Paul and Jane and John and Cyn and John and Cyn and John and Yoko. And John and May and John and Yoko. "Busy? yer always busy! Too busy to care about much except where yer next royalty's comin' from!" The door opened. Paul wore no shirt and John could see the girl was in a similar state of disarray farther back in the room. She clutched a sheet to hide herself. "Don't bother, Luv...I've probably seen yours before.." "John- you dirty...."
"What are you goin' to say, Paulie? We're in the same boat!", John laughed. For the first time in ages, there was no answer. "Lend me your coat, Johnny, I just don't know where's my shirt." "Believe me, you do know.", John laughed - but lent the coat. It was too late when he remembered that he couldn't lend it. But anyway. He was wanting to see what would happen to the person who wore that dreamcoat without permission given.....
Some smoke came from the coat, takin'the place by surprise. White and red and yellow and silver and deep blue and grey and green and purple...taking away John's mate into a psychedelic fog. And a laughter. A heavy laughter. John was thinking it was funny - I bet Paul wasn't thinking the same. Especially when he found out his feet weren't on the ground anymore. And when the smoke was gone....
He found he wasn't himself anymore. His vision of John was stretched out of proportion. Lennon seemed eight feet tall. The bird he had been with was cowering, a mere five inches. "John- how do you deal with this bloody thing? I've...I've never seen anything like this!" John laughed at his old bandmate's confusion. His laughter became an almost howl that filled Paul's ears. "I was hoping you could tell me, Paulie!"
In all reality, Paul towered over him. John had to steel his courage to speak to him in such a voice. Paul had never learned to hear the quiver in his voice that told when he was scared witless. He would have heard it a thousand times before concerts. Paul looked like some grand Shah in the days before any Englishman had arrived in those parts. And John, minus his coat and decidedly cold, craned his neck and attempted to look him in the eye.
Paul started to shout. "I wanna come back to where I was before! John, you bastard, you got to tell me hoe to come back!". John was howling like a madman. He loved the result of it. But he began to get worried. "Well, take the coat off, it might help.". Paul took away the dreamcoat, but it didn't help. Worse - this time Macca shrinked.
Paul could be hidden inside a matchbox. John was dying of laughter. "John!", Paul shouted, in a voice that could be barely heard. "Stop laughing, help me!". "I can't! I just don't know how to help you!", John said, and his voice sounded like an earthquake. "Where did you buy this coat? In some magic trick's house? Stop laughin'! This situation ain't funny AT ALL!" John stopped laughing and kneeled to talk to his friend. "We'll think of something, Paulie." "You'd better!", Paul shouted. "What harm can you do to me if I don't?", John asked in a laughy tone. Geroge, that was behind them, said : "Hey, nice coat, this one, can I try it on?". They both shouted "GEORGE< NO!!!", but, of course, he didn't hear it!
"NO!!!!!!!!!!!" Paul squeaked, but his voice was so small it could hardly be heard. The half-naked girl ran from the room, eager to find a new lover. George pulled the coat on, and surprizingly, it didn't do anything to him. "Hmmm...the collar doesn't really flatter my jaw line." quipped George; he tossed the coat on the floor, grabbed a sandwich from a tray that had appeared, and walked out of the soundbooth.
John and the newly miniaturized Paul looked at eachother, and then John shrugged. "Sorry it had to turn out like that, mate. Maybe we can get you your own special tailor to make you some little suits or something. After all, we're the Beatles, if our money can't solve this, nothing can" John laughed at himself. "Stop joking around with me, John! CLOTHES aren't the problem! Where are we going to find some little tiny girls for me to get with?" Paul screamed, and then he held his head in his hands and wept at the thought that he might never have sex again.
but then John said "oh f this" (we can't swear in this story!) and he crushed the mini Paul with his carrot feet a la Monty Python's Flying Circus Cartoon. R.I.P. Paul M.
"I can't swear in me own dream?" "It's not a dream" Sally intoned. John laughed at her. "Wot is it then? If it's not a dream...You don't mean to tell me this is real, d'ya?" She shook her head. "You really haven't figured this out yet, have you?...Oh, Lennon, Lennon..." Figured out what? He felt himself, then felt the tiny Paul. They FELT real enough. "Lennon, you're- I don't know how to explain this...."
...but you've obviously smoked something you shouldn't have." "Yer what?" said John, finally taking an interest in the issue. Hang on, he thought. I know what this is. The bird's a policeman. Policeperson. "Nope." siad John, picking up a nearby newspaper and pretending to be interested in the stock market. "Now..." said Sally, "Don't bother trying to lie to me. I know you've been at something." John decided she was a p'liceperson. A rather good one at that. But what did she mean? He vaguely remembered something about glue in the art department...And Mimi's ceiling wax..but he realised it would actually be something worse than that to get him in this state. "You bought a highly hallucinative illegal substance of a shifty looking British girl hanging around Primrose Hill?" That's done it, thought John. That would be Nutmeg. "Uh, maybe.." He said. "And that substance would be?" asked Sally. "Candy floss." said John. "Candy floss spiked with...Alcoholic lemonade." "Well," began Sally, surprised. "This girl......
"Yeah." said John miserably. "Nutmeg." "She's infamous for her scheming ways, you know, Mr Lennon," said Sgt Sally, straightening her hat. "Eh?" asked John, baffled. "Didn't you know? She's the Candyfloss Dealer of The Emerald City. The munchkins are so stoned, we can't make a sequel to The Wizard of Oz." "Nutmeg??" John was shocked. "But she wasn't the sort to deal in that kind of business.." Sgt Sally cut him short. "Yes, she was. You've been fooled, Mr Lennon, sir." John sighed. "I knew it was too good to be true. Shame..She was a right looker."
"This girl" John parrotted. This girl and that girl and My girl. "Firstly, d'ya know how much Nutmeg you gotta eat to get high? And it tastes like.." "Shite, to be precise. Tastes like Shite." Stu had reappeared by his side. "Stu- wocha doin' here?" "I'm yer spirit guide..." "Stuart." John spoke in a low rumble. Stuart grinned, his eyes hidden by large dark glasses.
"oh yes!" Apu said "now da tme has come for our deey-lee hind-oo lesson" Nicholle, who was married to him shoved a squishee into his mouth. She mumbled to him something about spirit guides. Apu and Nicholle decided they were going to narrate the story......
"Spirit guide? Whazzat, Stu?" Has he come to take control of my destiny? Not even me best friend could do that. Not even this best friend. "I don't quite know myself" Stu scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. "I've never done this sort of thing before." Stu was the same as he remembered. He supposed people didn't age in this "spirit world". John felt his own receeding hairline. It had gone at the corners of his forhead. "I'm old, Stu. I'm forty." His hair was streaked with grey. "God, Stu..I'm so old" "Old's how you think of it..nothing else."
"Oh my God Stu where is my Rogaine?" John was panicked-he didn't want to wear a toupee but that seemed to be the only thing to do. All of a sudden Stu had a brilliant idea-he stole a black magic marker from a little kid and began colouring John's head-John was impressed with Stu's ingenuity. "I've misjudged you my boy," John told Stu admiringly but then he thought about something. Where was Paul? Then he saw Pauly-boy and his mouth dropped open. Paul had gone completely bald, gained about 50 pounds and the worst part was he was growing hooters and since his career had gone down the tubes he was now touring as the "Madame Freak-a-lot from Liverpool" John laughed hysterically when he realized that those steroids he had popped in Paul's drugs had finally caught up with him-and paul had figured it out. "dammit Lennon I'm going to beat the crap out of you" and Paul waddled after Lennon who ran in glee...
Macca is finally getting what he deserves, though John happilly. "At least you can have sex now!" screamed John as Paul flipped John the bird in angry response. Paul is not 2 feet small anymore. As John ran, however, the marker that Stu drew on his head began to smear and John realised he had long, handsome hair anyway so he did not need marker to cover up his "bald spot" that Stu said he had. John just ran home to Mimi's house to get some sleep anyway. He was really hyper on whatever though because it is a loooooong way from London to his childhood home in Mendips.
"John!!!" John snapped out of his daydream and was back to reality. There sat small-enough-to-fit-in-a-matchbox Paul sitting on the table. He was in hysterics. John had slipped off into a daze in an attempt to block out the harsh reality. Paul was small. Paul was hysterical. Paul wasn't getting any. "JOHN!" he was furious "What the hell are we going to do? That girl left me high and dry thanks to you!" John chuckled "IT'S NOT FUNNY, LENNON" Paul roared (well, he tryed to but since he was so small, his voice had gone up a few notches) But just then George and Ringo came back. "We've got an idea....
"We'll set Paul up with our friend here so we can go get our own girls" and they brought in Rupaul and an army brigade of other select transvestites straight off the Jerry Springer show. The transvestites waved coyly but not Rupaul, no way he/she was a REAL.....outgoing individual. Ruapaul walked straight up to miny- Paul, hauled him up to his feet, pinched his bottom with his/her 53-inch red nails and screeched "THIS BEEFCAKE IS RUPAUL'S PROPERTY NOW! C'MON SUGAR YOU CAN WATCH ME TRY ON MY SWIMSUIT LINE!" and then proceeded to place her "property" in a safe place-down the front of her dress. All that could be heard was an agonized scream which sounded like a mosquito buzzing from poor, poor Paul..John, George and Ringo doubled over in hysterics. yes, life was good.
I know a great way to shock the principal." said a young John. He told his friends (who were more like his fans) his amazing plan. It was more heinous than any of his previous stunts. He planned to carry it out the next time he was in the principal's office. Then the day came. He was called in for a run-of-the-mill prank. The principal was about to start a lecture. John peed all over the floor. "John Winston Lennon.....
what the hell you are doing?!?" the pricipal then took John to the office and had a long chat. the end. NOW, back to ru paul... "paulie? do you like this bathing suit?" she said. "SERENITY NOW!" said paul. A voice were soon heard. "leave my man alone!" Ru Paul looked. it was..... X E N A (warrior princess)!!!
got in big trouble. "Wosh your haands after you go to the batheroom!" Apu exclaimed. It was something he'd learned in America, because the bathrooms in India were not very nice and people didn't bathe that often and when they did it was in a river. Apu made John clean up his urine and scolded him "many, many times" for "such an unsanitary practice". "You should only go in the toy-let! See how you like Indian bathrooms" he exclaimed.
"Gah- awful trip this is..." John held his head in misery. What can I do? Where can I go? These ghosts keep chasing me!"
"John, you're such a bloody eejit." "WHAT?!" exclaimed John. He whirled around to see a scrawny little Irish fella who glared at him and then said, "Listen, you eejit, I'm only gonna say this once: Imagine whirled peas."
"Whirled Peas" Jock Larfed to herself. World Peas if you Pleas.
Oh man. What was the name of the cashier? Sandra? Sandy? Sarah? Suzie? She told me not to lend the coat... "JOHN!", Paul shouted again. "FOR GOD'S SAKE!". "Quiet, miniature, I am trying to think!", he said. Suddenly the name appeared in his head. "Sylvia!" "who?" "The name of your saint, tiny Paulie. The gilr that sold me the coat.". John carried his shrinked mate into his pocket, on to the shop. John only hoped that Sylvia Barret, the cashier, wasn't a dream. That laughter he heard was so close to the laugh of the REAL S. Barret!
The store was there. "Sylvia, you're in there?", John shouted. THe girl appeardd on the balcony. "Oh, hello, mr. Lennon. What's the problem?" "Remember the coat? Well, something had happened. I lent it to my friend and...first he grew like King Kong and now he's as small as a Lilliput's citizen!" Sylvia just sighed. "I told you, I told you Teddy Boy! Do not lend it!" . John turned his head to the cashier. There was only one person in the whole world that called him Teddy Boy. "Sally Townshend-Barret! If i could swear in this story I'd say some colorful language that would shine in Techincolor!" Sally laughed. "Oh keep your trap wide shut and bring in the 'trouble'. Who's it? Ringo?" "Even worse, it's Paul"
"Oh boy" , Sally sighed. "There's only one thing that can make him come back to where he was. And the funny thing is that I just don't know what is. You got to find it out." "Sally, you are nuts." "Oh, am I? Shut up, Teddy Boy. I am nuts because YOU are nuts. Behave nicely and I'll be L7. Got it? Get out. And I am sorry for you, Paulie. But you too have to think in something to save you. Ciao!"
Sally then stepped out into the street where she was hit by a streetcar, a tractor trailer, a 1993 Geo Metro, and then spit at by random people.
Paul's face sunk as Sally pushed them out the door. "Now i'll never have sex again!" he screamed. John had never seen Paul this upset. His palms were sweating, his face was twisted into an undescribable scowl. John felt bad. Really, really, bad. What were they gonna do? But just when he thought things couldn't get any worse they heard a voice. "PAULIE?? MY BABY? WHERE ARE YOU? YOU ARE MINE NOW, SUGAR!" and around the corner sprinted RuPaul. "Oh NO!!!" Paul exclaimed...
Sally was dead at last! Everyone cheered! It wasn't a dream! The mayor declared it "We Hate Sally" day and all the little children jumped for joy.
A new law was passed declaring it a capital offence to ever speak her name again and all the little children jumped for joy.
John regained his cloak and curled it about him. It gave him the power to rise above the foolishness. Perhaps it would take him to the begining. He smiled as he remembered leaving a puddle in the headmaster's office. ashame he couldn't do that again. Just to get a larf. Get some attention. Remember exactly who he was....
When John found out about the glorious passing of Sally he was overjoyed! As was Paul who would never again have to hear that annoying voice call him "Teddy Boy". The two mates happily skipped off arm in arm to go write songs, drink brandy, and not mention Sally EVER AGAIN!
"DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD!" sang John and Paul
"DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD!" sang John and Paul. "DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD!"
Seeing that Paul was still only 2 inches tall Rupaul and his/her fleet had a great slumber part with their new toy. They got to dressing him in Ken clothes, then Barbie clothes and then they began to colour his body with different fingernail polish. What fun! Paul chirped in agony as they dressed him in a ciggie-carton with suspenders and chased him with a Pez despenser. Knowing that he faced desperation Paul was suddenly relieved when he heard one of the "girls" say in her girly-baritone voice "Girls it's time to honour the Gods" and with that they dropped their play toy and walked to another room to honour the Gods of "Cellulite", "Silicone" and "Prozac" with the High Priestess Dixie Wentsworth. Now it was time for Pauly's escape....
"DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD!"
"DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! "DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD!"
"DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD!"
Sally was only as dead as he could imagine. Yoko's voice filtered into his head again. "You're not dying....don't leave me alone" "shite...why does she keep saying that? I'm here! I'm fine! Look at me!" He waved his arms madly. Keith Moon looked up from his magazine. "Yeah, John, we know yer here..Go back to sleep..." May Pang lay on the couch beside him, sound asleep. He rested his head on her shoulder. She shifted in her sleep.
"DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! "DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! "DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD-DEAD-DEAD!"
"John...it's late...we should go home" Her voice was low. "I don't want to go home yet...party's just started" May opened her eyes. Ringo lay in a heap in the corner, still clutching his drumsticks. Keith looked up at her, shushed, and went back to reading his magazine. "There's no party, John...just a bunch of people who don't know when to give up.." "Our best quality, May" He turned over and dozed, his breath making the pillows smell like expensive brandy. May shook him to no avail. He was out cold. Better than making a fool of himself.
Continued on Feb 09, 1998
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