I Loved You More
Everyone was in a good mood. As far as Paul was concerned, May Pang was a refreshing substitute for Yoko Ono. Yoko had a smothering effect on John and no matter how many times Paul tried to point it out, his preaching fell on deaf ears and always ended up making John mad. The atmosphere was so much more relaxed without Yoko. “More booze, more drugs!” John chanted.
“What can I get ya?” Paul asked from the bar as he poured himself another Scotch.
“Whatever you’re having.”
Linda passed the joint to May who gave what was left to John as Paul handed him his Scotch.
“Ah, ask and ye shall receive. Whatever would I do without Paul and Pang?”
“Yin and Yang,” Paul said.
“Bread and butter. My putter and mutter,” John giggled, then turned to May. “Can I play with your udder?”
“Your mind’s in the gutter,” Paul said and the girls laughed. They couldn’t keep up with the quick-witted repartee between the Beatles. No one could. It was as if the four lads had developed their own Beatle-ese language over the years with connotations only they could grasp.
Linda got up to wander. She wanted to leave John and Paul alone for a while, knowing the time would do them both some good. “Come May,” she said crossing into the dining room. May followed. Both women looked back and saw their mates gazing into each other’s eyes, the old John/Paul mind meld. The men didn’t even notice the women leave the room. Finally Paul spoke.
“When I used to watch you creating whatever you were creating, the way you would squint your eyes up and concentrate and…just…be the genius that you were, god, I loved you, John.”
“I loved you more.”
“No, I mean I loved you, John.”
“I loved you more.”
“I mean, in a way maybe I shouldn’t…”
“Paul. Paul, I loved you more.”
“What can I get ya?” Paul asked from the bar as he poured himself another Scotch.
“Whatever you’re having.”
Linda passed the joint to May who gave what was left to John as Paul handed him his Scotch.
“Ah, ask and ye shall receive. Whatever would I do without Paul and Pang?”
“Yin and Yang,” Paul said.
“Bread and butter. My putter and mutter,” John giggled, then turned to May. “Can I play with your udder?”
“Your mind’s in the gutter,” Paul said and the girls laughed. They couldn’t keep up with the quick-witted repartee between the Beatles. No one could. It was as if the four lads had developed their own Beatle-ese language over the years with connotations only they could grasp.
Linda got up to wander. She wanted to leave John and Paul alone for a while, knowing the time would do them both some good. “Come May,” she said crossing into the dining room. May followed. Both women looked back and saw their mates gazing into each other’s eyes, the old John/Paul mind meld. The men didn’t even notice the women leave the room. Finally Paul spoke.
“When I used to watch you creating whatever you were creating, the way you would squint your eyes up and concentrate and…just…be the genius that you were, god, I loved you, John.”
“I loved you more.”
“No, I mean I loved you, John.”
“I loved you more.”
“I mean, in a way maybe I shouldn’t…”
“Paul. Paul, I loved you more.”