Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER
That’s me there on the right. The shortest one. The one without the top hat. It was a day in September, at the community fair. We decided to dress up as gentleman – we were quirky that way. I wore a bowler – because it reminded me of a blueberry. I’ve always loved blueberries. That’s an understatement. I’m obsessed with blueberries. Their shape, their size, their colour, their texture. The taste; a perfect mix of sour and sweet. I often thought to myself, wouldn’t it be wonderful to be a blueberry, even for a day. I would hate to be thrown into a blender with bunch of other blueberries and made into a smoothie. Or baked into a muffin. No, I want to be the blueberry that’s carefully selected, on its own, and eaten fresh, by impulse. Because I stand out from other blueberries. And out of all the blueberries, I am the one that looks good enough to eat – straight away. On its own. I never told anyone about this, I felt stupid letting others know that I fantasised about being a blueberry! The man in the middle, that’s Steve. He was the tallest man I ever saw – which says a lot, because as you can see, I’m barely taller than his knee! Of course, Steve always had the advantage. For example, he had his pick of blueberries on the bush. Whereas I can only select from the low hanging ones. But if I asked him kindly, he would make sure to pick the best ones from the top. This was very important to me. I don’t know who the other man in the photo is. Neither Steve nor I ever saw him before. But for some reason, he decided to dress up as a gentleman that day – top hat and all! You wouldn’t think he was a total stranger by looking at the photo, of course. I just remember he came up to us asking “Where is the dog?” just as the photo was snapped. I always found it odd that he stopped and posed while the photo was being taken. This was next level photobombing! Immediately after, he simply walked away muttering “Where is the dog? Where is the dog?” repeatedly under his breath, not giving us a second look.
You would think it was a rainy day that day, but quite the contrary. The sun was shining brightly over head. Don’t be fooled by the umbrella, that’s just Steve’s secret walking stick. He developed a limp while he was sent away for a while, he never explained how it happened. But I knew for a fact, he was too proud to use a walking stick. He was only 30 years old. So, he used an umbrella to steady himself instead. He felt it was more socially acceptable. It made him feel refined, not disabled. That was a bold move, I think. After all, everyone could see he had trouble walking; the umbrella just wasn’t long enough to disguise his limp; but he thought he could fool people. I don’t care. We had a habit of fooling people. Heck – we made a living out of it. These same people thought I was a baby, but I’m actually the same age as Steve 2 months older in fact! We’ve been friends since school. I’m just a dwarf with a baby face. They just assume I’m his toddler son. And you would too! We’ve been scamming people for years.
After the photo, we went for a beer in the next stall, preparing for our heist. Next minute, the man in the top hat looking for his dog spotted us smoking our cigars and clinking our beer glasses. Our cover was blown. We couldn’t possibly risk him calling us out – we had grand plans for pickpocketing and looting at the fair. So I called him over, and offered him a blueberry. I always keep a stash on me – laced with sedatives. This is how I immobilise our targets. Who wouldn’t take a blueberry offered by a sweet baby. I let him have his pick. Usually, people only take one. But he was different. He said he hadn’t eaten in days, so he scooped up the lot. Before I could stop him, he had devoured the handful. Seems he loved blueberries as well. He soon fell into a permanent deep sleep. Oh well, at least our secret is safe and we can go about our business. Luckily, I wasn’t a blueberry on that day, I wouldn’t have been able to tell this story. I would be dissolving in this poor man’s stomach. Out of nowhere, a dog appeared and went straight up to the man as he lay there lifeless. He looked deeply saddened. Then he turned to me, as if he knew what I had done. I gave him a pat, and decided to adopt him. It’s the least I could do. I was responsible for his sadness. I named him Blueberry. As far as I’m concerned, he’s the luckiest dog in the world. He’s living my fantasy!