LOL this is a collab with my friend Penny. She wrote her point of view, and I wrote mine...and she drove me insane with editing EVERYTHING (including this),so review and I will give you a mental cookie. I will also accept suggestions on the story line...LOVE MY PEEPS! 3
Penny and I stepped out into the sunlight, a rare phenomenon in Liverpool, on a good day to walk to the record store. As we walked down Fortline Road, two young men stumbled out of the walkway in front of us.
"Look at this Paul, a couple of pretty birds," he said facetiously.
The one I took to be Paul retorted, "Johnny don't be cheeky." At this point in time the gears in my head began to spin. I found the one I assumed was Paul quite attractive, and I began to wonder who these men who spoke so boldy to us were. However, Penny ended up speaking first.
"And who might you two be?" She asked skeptically, looking them up and down.
"James Paul McCartney at your service, but you lovely ladies can call me Paul," he responded kissing my hand.
Penny scoffed and retorted "There aren't any ladies here, sir. And you?" she inquired, eying the other.
"I'm John Lennon, no need for middle names or pleasentries," he said eying Penny almost as mistustingly as she had him.
"I'm Emily...in case anyone was wondering," I interjected, rolling my eyes. Penny tends to get a bit ahead of herself sometimes. I found John interesting, and Paul attractive, a perfect duo, like Penny and I. Paul eyed me with a look in his eye that was questioning. "You're not from here are you?" He questioned with a look of intrest in his adorable dow eyes.
"No, we're from America," I said proudly. I looked to Penny for confirmation, only to see her having a face off with John, reminiscent of a scene from a cheesy Western. I mentally facepalmed, although this is the sort of thing I would expect from her, knowing how her city-grown street smarts left her with an extreme case of paranoia. I snapped in front of her eyes.
"Penny!" I called, breaking her concentration. She looked up and I motioned to keep walking. "If you guys wanna come we're going to the record shop," I said looking at my watch and seeing how late it had become.
So there we were, on an unfamiliar sidewalk, with Emily talking to some random males that came stumbling out of an apartment, the crazy chick. Maybe if she'd wipe the drool off her chin, she would've seen how sketchy these guys were, especially the one called John. He just stood there, staring at me, and in his eyes, I saw something hidden from me. Maybe it was that middle name of his. Or maybe, it was something worse! Maybe is was a past as a criminal! Maybe he spent time in federal prison! Maybe... as my mind flew down Unfounded Assumptions Lane at ninety miles an hour, I sensed a fairly annoyed presense at my side snapping in front of my face. I barely surfaced from my land of imagination (of the worst) to hear my name being called. I understood that the direction of the conversation going on around me would lead these men to believe that they were welcome to walk with us, which, in my mind, they most certainly were not. Emily should've known better than to make decisions in her googly-eyed state. I mean, look what this cat was about to drag with us into that poor, unsuspecting record store! And yet, I could tell that we were going with them, regardless of my opinion, so when I heard Paul's enthusiastic, "Sure, sounds fun!" I resigned myself to this fate and began walked alongside my little hormone blinded Em, and off we went, following the grey concrete path. Strange men, irrationality, and records, oh my!"