“Aw, check this out Macca,” Karen called to her fiancé up the hallway. “Britney Spears went out for Valentine’s Day at McDonald’s. Aint that sweet though? They’re not above it all are they Macca? Bein’ a big star ‘n all. Hasn’t gone to her head…” She went on, muttering to the computer screen. “You’se better watch it though dahl- it might not getcha head but them Big Macs’ll get your hips. ‘Specially after those kids,” She clucked. “Don’t I know it…”
Kaz kept clicking, chit-chatting her way through her Celebrity Fix. “Ohh! A Barebottomed-Bishop! How odd! Aw, dahl that poor little Whatchamackalit, that new model one- fell off those shoes two damn times on the runway. Poor pet. Oh, look, she’s still smiling. Good on ya love! Oohh and look, Ivana’s in St. Barths… Ooohh that looks nice dunnit? Oh, Barb’ Streisand, why you lookin’ at the camera, pet? Everyone else is lookin’ at the- Gah!”
Macca gave her a fright when he walked up behind her. He was dusty from plastering but she didn’t complain when he wrapped his big bear arms around her. “C’mon then dahl,” He said. “Let’s go do some celebrity living of our own. Can’t just sit here all day livin’ through that ruddy computer now can we? You’ll get square peepers.”
“Ohhh Mac’! Can we go somewhere real special?”
“What’d’ya say to a counter meal at The Running Child my princess?”
“Weee! Mac! What a treat! Let me go get frocked up then!”
“You look just like a peach in cream to me, Kaz. But go ahead on, I gotta get the terps on me hands anyway.”
When Kaz and Macca arrived at the Running Child that evening they knew it would be an interesting evening. For one thing, vodka redbull jugs were on special, for another, chicken parmi’s were ‘round the clock and it was still only 5p.m. And for a third thing, as if they needed a third, the only other occupants of the smoke-filled establishment were a table of four canoodling lesbians and a young, angry looking heterosexual couple who appeared to have already taken advantage of the vodka redbull jug special.
While they were waiting for their parmi’s to arrive the girl of the angry heterosexual partnership leaned over and into their booth.
“How are you’se then?” She asked, looking at her nose.
“Great thanks, pet,” Kaz replied. Macca grunted mildly, not wanting to encourage her.
But as soon as her man friend left to use the toot she was back. “Oi, can I come sit wiv you’se?” She rolled around the side of the booth and climbed in with them without waiting for a reply. “That’s my ex-husband.” She said. “Wanker follows me everywhere! Follered me here from fuckin’ Melbourne. I’ve got a restraining order out ‘n everyfink…” The accused male walked up to Kaz and Macca’s booth at that point. Macca braced himself, as if expecting trouble. But the man just nodded politely to the strangers and spoke directly to his estranged: “Wanna beer?”
“Oh, yes please.” She answered and pushed her empty pint glass towards him.” A few moments later she followed him to the bar to make sure he got her order right. “He always gets the wrong fuckin’…” She stumbled away.
The lesbians, giggling, peeped over into Kaz and Macca’s booth from the other side, having heard the strange exchange. “They’re a ripe pair!” One said. “You blokes having a good night ay?”
“Yeah, we’re good, thanks love.”
And Kaz and Macca looked at each other, both entirely grateful that they’d come out tonight- what a ruckus!
It was unthinkable to imagine the night could hold more entertainment than their booth-hopping neighbours.
But if it was thinkable it could have been imagined.
Kaz and Macca decided they’d need another jug with tea so Macca got up, gentlemen that he was, and headed up to the bar.
And would you believe it, stop the press, hold the phone- in walked Pink and Carey Hart!
Kaz’s stomach tubes nearly jumped up around her throat and strangled her. She was so excited, terrified and her heartbeat so amplified that she couldn’t think or see for just a second. Pink and Carey Hart, in the Running Child! Their Running Child!
“Oh my God oh my God oh my God,” She chanted as she watched them head towards the bar where Macca was waiting, perched on a stool. “Oh my God oh my God oh my God,” She whispered as she watched Macca, oblivious to the celeb’aura that hung about them, take up a conversation with the superstar couple. “Oh my God oh my God oh my God,” She said to Pink while punching Carey Hart in the arm after she had somehow floated across the room to them in a daze. “Purple, it’s such a pleasure-” She gushed. Then, flushed. Horrified that she had just called her idol by the wrong name. “Oh my God oh my God oh my God. Pink, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what- Oh, I’m such a Gallah. And Carey, what a pleasure, what a sincere pleasure, this is my Macca, Pink, Carey Hart, this is Macca. Oh, and I’m Kaz. It is such a pleasure! I follow you both on Twitter! I’m KazShaz1342.”
“Haha Hey you sent that birthday cake twitpic hey? You in the cake, right?” Pink laughed. “I remember.”
“I took that,” Macca puffed his chest out, because, no matter who these Yanks were or were not- he was proud of that picture.
“Oh yeah,” Carey remembered slowly. “Hey, that was hot.” He slapped Macca on the chest. “Nice work man.”
“Cheers, mate! Now, what can I get you two to drink? You must be pretty parched- bit warmer here than in the states right now innit?”
“Yeah it is,” Pink laughed again. “What’s good here? I sure am thirsty.”
“Oh, Pink, you’ll love it- they’ve got a special on vodka redbull jugs tonight.”
“Sounds good to me, yeah, let’s do it, babe?”
“Sounds like a plan. But first, a tequila shot for our new friends.”
And the rest of the night was a blur. Chicken Parmigiana, flashing lights of papparazzo, the deafening roar of the karaoke machine, tweets and retweets, giggles of lesbian couples, screams of heterosexual and estranged couples, shots at the bar, and jug upon jug upon jug of vodka and redbull.
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