“Sting,” said the pretty girl. “Sting. Sting. Sting. I just saw Sting and his band, The Police, play at the Palladium. They were great, but Sting was incredible. Sting is what I really like about the new rock and roll.”
“Sting,” said the man who was her companion. “Sting. I suppose I will be hearing a lot about Sting.”
“Sting,” said the pretty girl. “What did I really like most about Sting? It wasn’t completely the way he held his bass guitar. It wasn’t completely the way he wore his mechanic’s jumper. It wasn’t completely the fact that in his face he looks slightly savage. What did I like most about Sting?”
“Sting,” said her companion. “Isn’t it terrible what happened to him? He was walking down the street, minding his own business, when, suddenly, from out of nowhere, a large safe fell on his head.”
“Sting,” said the pretty girl. “Sting has such an unusual voice. Sting has such an interesting, unusual voice. Sting’s voice is—well, mellifluous.”
“Sting,” said her companion. “How can I tell you this? Sting slept near an open window and he caught a terrible draft, and now every time he opens his mouth to sing, his poor throat just hurts and hurts, and he can’t make a sound. Gosh, I’m really sorry.”
“Sting,” said the pretty girl. “Sting is in Quadrophenia. Sting was the best thing about Quadrophenia.”
“Sting,” said her companion. “Yes, Sting was the best thing about Quadrophenia. Too bad about that big truck bearing down on him so quickly as he crossed a busy intersection.”
“Sting,” said the pretty girl. “Sting. The way he danced. Very cool. It’s a pleasure to see him move around.”
“Sting,” said her companion. “Sting. The way he used to dance. Too bad that now his feet aren’t even attached to his body.”
“Sting,” said the pretty girl. “Sting has a very nice chest. When he came back onstage at the Palladium for his final encore, he had removed the top of his mechanic’s jumper, so I could see his chest.”
“Sting,” said her companion. “Poor Sting. Did you hear what happened to him? He was chasing a stack of pancakes around a tree when he stubbed his toe on a tree root and hurt himself badly. Now he doesn’t even have a chest.”
“Sting,” said the pretty girl. “Sting is the greatest person I have ever seen on a stage.”
“Sting,” said her companion. “Sting. Sting. Sting. Sting is greater than any living woman.”
—December 24, 1979