Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER.
Once upon a time there was ME.
And ME had a severe case of man hatred.
I don’t really know why, possibly a hand-me-down from ME’s mother. I’ve stopped wondering; it just is.
For example, the sound ME hated the most, the sound that made ME’s skin crawl, was the sound of men laughing together…..so go and figure it out because I won’t.
ME was in a bar one Wednesday night, Wednesday being the day and the evening when ME most wanted to drink, it being the middle of the sell-my-hard-labour week. So ME’s in this bar, one ME only frequented occasionally, when two MEN came in carrying a large sack and laughing louding. ME immediately hated them.
The MEN ordered beers, because they were MEN, or at least it seemed that inevitable to ME, and carried their beers and their sack to a small table in a quiet corner of the bar.
They were already out of ME’s mind when a dog wandered in. Remember this is Australia: dogs aren’t allowed anywhere except the privacy of one’s home, an everyday walk and shit down a suburban street, maybe a once a week walk in a designated dog park or a designated dog area of a beach….
ME was thinking that the only dog with any sort of freedom to enter human places was a seeing eye dog, a Guide dog, and frankly you can’t call it “freedom” if you’re perpetually tied to a blind person, but whatever, this was not a Guide dog, it was a hard core sort of dog, the sort of dog you want to grab your chihuahua up in your arms and physically protect if you see it coming sort of dog. But no one paid it any attention and ME snuck a piece of meat pie down to the ground for it, mainly because ME was vaguely excited by this illicit dog.
One day, ME told herself, I’ll do something really fucking criminal but tonight I’ll just shut up about the dog and feed it bits of meat pie. Despite her aspirations to TOUGHNESS, ME was sadly lacking in ladyballs…
When suddenly the dog pricked up its ears up and turned to look at the MEN. ME swivelled around and watched as they slowly and quietly pulled something out of the sack. They were silent but intent, their beers finished, and they appeared to be about to do something serious: something vaguely daring like reciting a poem or performing an aerial trick, uninvited, in a bar sort of seriously daring…
The MEN stood and began to pull out of the sack what ME now realised were costumes. They were pulling the costumes up their legs, they were confidently inserting their arms, and finally they were pulling on the masks.
Two MEN now dressed in gorilla suits in a bar.
No one was watching. “What the fuck is happening here?!?” ME thought.
First the dog then the MEN dressed as gorillas….
One of them quietly moved the table and the two chairs they’d been occupying to one side. The other MAN pulled a wooden umbrella out of the sack, one of those pretty Japanese wooden ones. A Wagasa thought ME with a bit of pride (she’d studied Japanese because she had to in Year 9 and had retained three words that until tonight had never been useful), like a geisha girl’s. The MAN sat on the floor positioning himself with the umbrella held up behind him. The other MAN got out a tripod, unfolded it, then dug around in the sack and pulled out a camera and began to set it up on the tripod.
Because of that, well really because of everything, ME ordered another Savvy and turned herself around on her stool to face them.
Both MEN were sitting posed on the floor of the bar with the beautiful umbrella (the Wagasa) behind them. ME imagined they’d be smiling if the masks weren’t covering their MAN mouths, their arms arranged just so, their heads inclined just so, like a studio portrait from another era only gorilla style…
The camera started to click, the MEN’s images being recorded, and because of that and because ME hated men and because these MEN had surprised ME, and because ME was almost never surprised, and because ME only ever want to be surprised, ME decided to declare both herself and the dog: “You’re missing something boys!” ME yelled.
And ME didn’t wait for an answer, she led the dog with her pie over to the MEN and ordered the dog to sit in front of them. The dog arranged itself obediantly like a weird circus trained animal, arranged itself just so, and the camera continued to click and the MEN remained poised just so and ME sat on her stool like a movie director, happy with the takes and frankly feeling very proud of the dog.
The camera clicked away, the drinkers in the bar watched respectfully, until finally ME found herself recalling the HOOLA HOOP:
“A fucking bizarre invention, probably invented by a MAN, but loved by millions in the 20th century and still used in the 21st by circus and cabaret performers at the least…”
“Of course”, ME reflected, “ME was fucking unco and could never make them work”, the hoops inevitably falling to ME’s ankles after two sloppy turns around her hips in the late 1970’s.
It didn’t help that ME’s mother not only hated MEN but was herself proficient with the HOOLA HOOP despite her advancing years…. but ME thinks of HOOLA HOOPS now and can’t work out whether the HOOLA HOOP is a missing piece of this picture, as in the MEN should have had a HOOLA HOOP propped up against the Wagasa; or a comfort/discomfort throwback-to-childhood memory perhaps free-associated with this old school photo pose; or a reminder that MEN have occasionally contributed positively to the world, even sometimes bringing joy (although not to ME who hated the fucking HOOLA HOOP) and making people laugh (like ME’s mother when watching ME fail with the HOOP…) or that its time for ME to go home.
It was time to be practical thought ME: it was time to go home.
But before she left her stool, and the dog, and the MEN, and the bar, ME mentally recited a set of promises:
“ME will go out alone to drink more often”
“ME will sometimes give a group of two or more men a chance should they surprise ME pleasantly”
“ME will do something really fucking criminal before ME dies”.