Categories > Celebrities > Beatles > Beatlemania!
The Part Where You Read Paul's Mind
0 reviewsA short chapter giving readers a chance to get a peek into Paul's thoughts
0Unrated
I left my stupid watch at EMI. Again. I was furious with myself. How the bloody thing managed to even get off my wrist is beyond me.
I walked into the studio just as the receptionist was packing up, looking very pleased with herself. When she caught sight of me, her smile widened.
“Oh, Paul? Someone’s left you and Ringo a package each,” she informed me cheerily.
“Oh?” I had already lost interest. Fans were constantly dropping things off. Handmade teddy bears, shirts, lacy knickers- we’ve got them all.
“It’s from a girl called er...Alice Westwood?” she continued.
My head shot up. “Alice? Oh, may I have them please?”
The receptionist looked deeply disappointed. “Here,” she said grumpily, handing me two packages.
Mine was bigger than Ritchie’s. That was good, wasn’t it?
Forgetting about the watch, I strolled back out of the studio and got back into my car, eyeing the packages greedily.
Once at home, I ignored the annoying gate birds and went straight inside. I ripped the package open to find a plain, brown journal. I flipped it open to the first page.
Paul-
A place to fill up with ideas once your head is full.
Love,
Alice
My heart swelled. She did know me. Without a second thought, I grabbed a pencil from the kitchen and began to write. The words didn’t make sense yet, but phrases had been running around my head, making me crazy. I looked up to see Ringo’s gift. I considered opening it myself, but just as my fingers closed around it, the phone rang. I answered to hear Ringo yelling at me. Not even a hello.
“Paul! It’s Ringo! Alice has given everyone else their Christmas gift. Where’s mine eh? You better not have opened it, you greedy wanker!”
Guiltily, I let go of the parcel and shoved it away from me. I grinned to myself. I felt daft smiling with no one to see.
Christ, I needed a permanent room-mate.
I walked into the studio just as the receptionist was packing up, looking very pleased with herself. When she caught sight of me, her smile widened.
“Oh, Paul? Someone’s left you and Ringo a package each,” she informed me cheerily.
“Oh?” I had already lost interest. Fans were constantly dropping things off. Handmade teddy bears, shirts, lacy knickers- we’ve got them all.
“It’s from a girl called er...Alice Westwood?” she continued.
My head shot up. “Alice? Oh, may I have them please?”
The receptionist looked deeply disappointed. “Here,” she said grumpily, handing me two packages.
Mine was bigger than Ritchie’s. That was good, wasn’t it?
Forgetting about the watch, I strolled back out of the studio and got back into my car, eyeing the packages greedily.
Once at home, I ignored the annoying gate birds and went straight inside. I ripped the package open to find a plain, brown journal. I flipped it open to the first page.
Paul-
A place to fill up with ideas once your head is full.
Love,
Alice
My heart swelled. She did know me. Without a second thought, I grabbed a pencil from the kitchen and began to write. The words didn’t make sense yet, but phrases had been running around my head, making me crazy. I looked up to see Ringo’s gift. I considered opening it myself, but just as my fingers closed around it, the phone rang. I answered to hear Ringo yelling at me. Not even a hello.
“Paul! It’s Ringo! Alice has given everyone else their Christmas gift. Where’s mine eh? You better not have opened it, you greedy wanker!”
Guiltily, I let go of the parcel and shoved it away from me. I grinned to myself. I felt daft smiling with no one to see.
Christ, I needed a permanent room-mate.
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