The Jukebox And Everything Else

Contributed by Nicolas Papaconstantinou on 07/07/10

…And then Imagine by John Lennon comes on, and everyone’s looking across the table at Davey, like he’s some kind of sea creature, suddenly appeared in the chair at their table where their mate was previously sat.

“What?” He says, and very deliberately turns his attention back to his pint.

Jono scrunches up his face and does a little silent rendition of a palsied Lennon waving his head, mouthing along, but it only lasts for a second, and if anyone else notices, they don’t acknowledge it. Maybe out of kindness.

The rest of them are still looking at Davey blankly when he looks back up at them.

“Look, it was the only thing I could find on the bloody jukey. Leave me alone.”

“Seriously, though, Imagine, though?” Jono says. “It’s a bloody dirge!”

“It keeps coming top of all the ‘best ever’ polls on telly.” Pipes up Michael Davis. “That must mean something.”

“Yeah,” says Jono, half spitting the words, “it means the kind of fucking idiots who respond to those idiotic fucking polls like it. The fucking idiots.”

Davey and Michael Michael look at each other for a moment after that outburst, and then burst out laughing.

“The thing is,” Davey says, “I wanted to put The Ballad Of John And Yoko on. That song’s awesome. About the best solo thing Lennon ever did.”

“It was a Beatles track.” Says Michael Davis flatly.

“Yeah, and it was the best solo thing Lennon ever did. Full of energy and… wise, man. So wise.”

Settled into the corner of the booth, Just Coming Stephen shakes his head, only half laughing.

“So just because a few stupid mouth-breathing idiots blurt their opinions forth, the rest of us are stuck with their so-called wisdom.” Jono mutters. “And isn’t that the story of the bloody world?” The others ignore him. Jono is on one, and when he’s on one, it’s best to let him wear himself out. This is one of the many lessons they have learned over many nights.

“But there wasn’t any Beatles on there. Only this Lennon Best Of.” Davey says.

“Ha!” Jono explodes. “Best of? Who decides on that, eh?”

“Yes, okay, Jono.” Not a single one of them says out loud.

“Funny, isn’t it?” Says Davey, waxing reflective. “If you tried explaining a jukebox to an alien, you’d tell them that they can put some money in and play whatever songs they want. But that isn’t true. They can choose what they want, but only out of the choices that have already been made and put in it in the first place.”

“Why an alien?” Michael Michael asks.

“What?”

“Well, why an alien?” He repeats. “Why not – I don’t know – just somebody who’s never seen a jukebox before? Why does it have to be an alien?” And he winks at Michael Davis and Just Coming Stephen so that Davey won’t notice.

“Because… uh…” Davey says, then falters. “I don’t know. Just because.”

The table laughs. Except Davey, who feels a little stupid. And Jono, who is still fuming silently. And truth be told, Just Coming Stephen doesn’t seem too committed to the jocularity.

“Of course, Lennon’s thesis is based on a false interpretation of the way the world works, isn’t it?” Says Michael Davis, out of nowhere.

“Eh?” Nobody quite says.

“How do you mean?” Davey finally ventures, because he has the bravery of twice the man that he appears to be.

“He asks us to imagine there’s no heaven. Bangs on about it.” Michael Davis says, then takes a drink. “Seems to me he’s banging on about it, anyway.”

“So what’s so wrong about that?” Says Michael Michael.

“Well, you can’t imagine there is no heaven. Heaven is an article of human imagination in the first place, isn’t it?” He looks around the table, confident of what he’s saying and wanting to see the penny drop. Though it’s fair to say he’s not the best qualified person to spot the moment of enlightenment. “Even if it exists, or even if it doesn’t exist, it takes an imaginative leap for us to think about it.”

“Hm.” Says Davey, but his heart isn’t really in it.

“SO…” Continues Michael Davis “… What he should have said is don’t imagine there is a heaven. Or stop imagining there is a heaven. Or imagine what it would be like if heaven was a place you believed in but then you imagined that that place had vanished or been destroyed or…” He stops to catch his breath. “…I could go on.”

“Christ.” Mutters Jono, but it’s unclear what he’s responding to. He gets up and goes to the bar.

Just Coming Stephen has been weeping silently in his corner for a few minutes, now, but no-one seems to have noticed.