Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER.
The first time I saw Paul McCartney, I was standing at the counter searching for the camera he was actually holding. He looked at me briefly, before staring off into the middle distance, something had caught his eye. I stood back, was it him I thought while turning my gaze to the direction of what was taking his attention away.
Outside the window was the most extraordinary bird I had ever seen, the bluest of blues. And in the twilight, it had almost disappeared the way a gecko would or whatever that creature is that can change itself from one colour to the next. “So beautiful,” I heard him say, “beautiful,” he whispered to himself. I took a step towards him, as he took a smaller step towards the window, looking further, squinting his eyes.
“Dear God,” he exclaimed, “that snake is the most marvellous creature I have ever seen.” I wondered what on earth he was referring too. The creature I saw had just chirped, extended a wing in a stretch before preening its stomach. As I stepped closer, I realised that he and I were concentrating our eyes on two very different things. In fact, in that Dear God moment, what he had alerted me to was indeed a snake. Its luminous body was twisting around the trunk, eyes fixed on the blue bird content in its solitude.
With a sharp ring that pierced the air, his phone announced itself. And as the words of “I told you I’m not going.” fell from his lips he slipped the phone into his pocket which missed and hit the floor, smashing to pieces and leaving shards in our path. At this moment I too noticed he had moved further towards the window, his mind fixed on the bird and the snake and the story unfolding on the tree in front of us.
Then I remembered something. He and I were both vegetarians, what the fuck were we doing? Standing to wait to see a bird be swallowed whole by its predator, I couldn’t bear the situation any further. It was time for courage; I didn’t care that this was Paul McCartney, the man who had sung Black Bird. I lunged to the window and clapped my hands together, punctuating the drama of the moment. The snake and the bird looked up. They’d not noticed our presence, the girl with the crimson cheeks, the pop star holding a camera.
In what seemed like slow motion the bird let out a squawk and flew off leaving the snake to wonder what might have been. Turning back towards Mr McCartney, I suggested, “if you’re not going to buy that camera, then I’d really like to.”