Snores filled the house even in this late hour when John Lennon rolled over on his squeaky teddy bear, which emitted an alarming squeal. He sprang straight up to a full seated position. He looked around frantically until his eye fell upon the teddy bear. A mischievous smile played across his face. With a snicker John grabbed the bear and threw it with all his might at Ringo Starr who was lying peacefully in a bed nearby.
“OW!” exclaimed Ringo, clutching his head. “Whaddya do that for?”
John smiled. “Quit yer belly-achin’ an’ go get the papers.”
Ringo slipped sluggishly out of his blue-hued bed and made his way to the door. He flinched as the bright sunlight hit him straight in the eyes. He grabbed the newspaper that lay on the step and retreated to the dark safety of the house.
“Here ya are, then,” Ringo murmured in a particularly dejected tone to John. Then, climbing back into bed, he added, “Now let me sleep, will ya?!”
“Yeah, yeah! Sure…” John responded absently as he began to skim the front page. “Hmm. ‘New Beatle Popularity Poll- Page 8’. Let’s see…”
John flipped through the pages until he found the article and proceeded to read quietly for the next few seconds. Then, suddenly, his eyes popped wide open.
“Ay, Richie!! Take a look at this!”
Ringo grunted and rolled over but John walked over to him and poked him in the side with his finger until Ringo realized it would be impossible to get any rest.
“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU WANT?!!??”
“Look.” John handed the paper to Ringo who, after reading for a few seconds, mirrored John’s original expression.
“Oh, Paulie’s gonna go bonkers! You know how self-conscious he is about these things!”
“Yeah, I know,” John said. “Should we wake ‘em?”
“Might as well. Norm’ll be callin’ pretty soon anyway.”
John shrugged and took a deep breath. “AAAYYYY!!! WAKE UP!! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!”
Paul McCartney and George Harrison jumped to their feet with dual shrieks of surprise.
“We’re up! We’re up!!”, Paul shouted. George was still trying to regain his eyesight, staring blankly at the source of the loud sound.
“Hey Paul. Go take a shower! Norm’s gonna be callin’ an’ wantin’ us to meet ‘im for that radio gig.”
“Ya woke me up for that? Ok, I’ll take a shower, jeez!”
Paul gathered his clothes and towel from a dresser and went off to take his shower, leaving the other three alone. Ringo grabbed the comics from John and sat down in a nearby chair to read.
“George! Take a look at this!”
George blinked a few times and wiped his eyes. He walked over to Lennon and leaned over his shoulder to read the paper he held. His face immediately filled with astonishment.
“Holy Cow!! They got me bad side in the photograph!”
John hit him in the back of the head. “No, not that, ya fool! Here!” He pointed to the small paragraph of text under the large photo of the Fab Four. George read.
“…Hmm… Yada, yada, yada… Ooh, I’m pretty popular… Gad!! But Paul’s not doin’ too hot!”
John shook his head. “Yeah, and that’s not all. Read on.”
George read the article aloud. “This drop in Paul McCartney’s popularity was so unusual that we decided to have a talk with some of the fans. When asked if this was true, they said it was and when asked why they replied (and I quote) He just isn’t as cute anymore. Not as cute as John! (unquote)… Uh oh! Paul’s not gonna like this.”
“Not gonna like what?”
John and George spun around to face Paul, his hair slightly wet and naked save the towel around his waist. Ringo looked up from his funny papers.
“Paul! I thought you were gonna take a shower!” John exclaimed.
“Yeah, I forgot the shampoo.” Paul answered with a quizzical look on his face. “Now what’s up?”
John panicked, searching for a good explanation.
“Oh, uh, Norm called. He says we gotta be there a half an hour early.”
“Funny, I didn’t hear the phone ring…” Paul said.
“Uh, it was just really quiet, Paul! It was set to “whisper”.” George explained.
“Oh….” Paul walked back to the bathroom and closed the door. George and John let out a sigh of relief. Ringo went back to the comics.
“Quick! Trash the paper!!! We can’t let him see it!” John quickly followed out George’s order and tossed the paper in the nearest wastebasket. Suddenly John’s phone rang and George answered.
“Hello? Oh, hey Norm. Yeah, we’re up… Oh, ok… yeah, we’ll be ready. Bye… Hey fellas, Norm will be by with the car in 45 minutes. Anyone want some toast ‘n’ jam?” He strolled off to the kitchen.
“None for me, thanks. Ringo, you want any?” Ringo licked his lips. “Yeah. George, gimme a few slices with some strawberry jam.”
John stole a quick glance at the bathroom door then turned back to Ringo.
“That takes care of things…for now at least.”
Thirty minutes later all four of the lads were dressed and Ringo was on his seventh piece of strawberry toast.
“Mmmm. Strawberry’s the best of the berries, ya know.”, he mumbled.
“I know. You told me twice already.”, Paul said with a groan. Then he turned to George. “Who’s this that’s interviewing us again?”
“Vic Pointer… I think.”
Meanwhile, John had been watching Ringo with some interest.
“Slow up, son. You’ll give yourself a tummy ache!”, John said with a laugh.
“Last piece!”, Ringo answered back.
Paul’s voice came from across the room. “Hey, John. Where’d ya put the papers?”
John’s eyes were as big as saucers. “Uh, i.. it didn’t come today.”
Paul laughed, “Yeah, right. Whaddya do with it, Lennon? Out with it!”
He started for the trashcan but John blocked the way.
John smiled charmingly. “Oh, heh, heh, you don’t wanna look in there! It’s … got Ringo’s dirty tissues in there!”
“No it doesn’t!” Ringo cried indignantly.
John’s head snapped in Ringo’s direction. Under his breath he sharply said, “SHUSH! YES IT DOES!”
Paul was, by this time quite confused and his face showed it.
“Ok, now! Just what’s going on here?”
John and Ringo looked at each other, both wondering just how they were going to get out of this mess. Just then George, who had been staring out the window, shouted to his mates.
“Ay! Norm’s here!”
Paul backed off, still wondering what the hell was going on. Ringo and John wiped the sweat off their foreheads and breathed a sigh of relief in cartoon fashion.
The Fab Four piled out the door and out to the car where Shake was holding the door open for them. They all greeted him and he smiled jovially. Once they were all in, he squeezed inside and closed the door. The car drove off on its way to the radio station.
In about ten minutes, the car pulled up in front of the radio station building and the Beatles jumped out. Norm and Shake followed behind. As the boys entered the building, John shouted back to Norm with his smart-alecky smile.
“Hey, hurry up, ya swine!”
Norm shook his head in disgust.
“Will he never give it a rest?”, he growled.
Norm and Shake quickened their pace while the boys waited patiently at the door.
“If we’re late, I’ll make it known that it was all your fault!”, John joked.
“Oh, shut up, Lennon!”
The group went inside and boarded the elevator. John was the last to get in and he pushed his way to the back. Norm pushed the 2nd floor button and they began their assent. From the back of the cabin came John’s sarcastic voice.
“So, Norm, how’s that pig farm you got?”
“Quiet, Lennon! Or, I’ll thump ya!”
John laughed and oinked quietly to himself.
*DING!* The elevator door opened and they were greeted by the familiar sound of screaming girls. The lads smiled.
“John!”
“George!”
“Ringo!”
On Paul’s face was a look of confusion. Why weren’t they shouting his name, like they usually did? Something strange was going on.
Norm and Shake did their best to clear the way though the surging mob and George, Ringo, John and a disconcerted Paul slipped through the door into the little room. Led by a pretty young girl, they moved through the waiting room and into the recording studio in the back.
“Hey, Ring,” said Paul, “is there somethin’ funny goin’ on?”
Poor Ringo grew suddenly pale. “Uh, uuhh. No! Nothin’s goin’ on that I know of.”
“Hmmmm…” The girl stopped and smiled at them. She seemed especially focused on John. Usually Paul was the main attraction.
“Wait here and Vic will be here in a minute.” She giggled and walked away, still keeping her eyes on John. John smiled back and waved his fingers in a little goodbye. But she was soon back with Vic Pointer, Liverpool’s most popular radio talk show host and d.j.
“Hey, there fellas! How are you all today?”
The lads responded unanimously with “Fine.”
“Well, then, let’s get started, shall we? Have a seat.”
Everyone sat down in the soft brown chairs that were set in front of the microphone and Vic’s table. Vic sat down in his larger than life purple chair and put on his headphones.
Vic began to give instructions. “ Ok, now, I’ll turn on the mikes in a few seconds and introduce you. Then I’ll ask you a few questions and we’ll wrap up the show with a few of your songs. You’ll say a few parting words to the fans and then you’re free to go! Sound good?”
The boys began to answer but before they could say a word Vic continued on.
“O-kaaay!!! Let’s go!” He flipped a big red switch and started talking in his distinct radio voice.
“Hey there music fans! This is Vic Pointer here and guess who I’m with? Yup, that ‘s right! THE BEATLES!!! I’ve got John Lennon, George Harrison, Ringo Starr and, yes, even, Paul McCartney!”
“ ‘Even Paul McCartney’ ?!?!?”, Paul said under his breath.
Vic continued “And they’ll be answering some questions for all of us. Say ‘hi’ boys!”
John leaned close to the mike. “Hi boys.”
George, Paul and Ringo chuckled. Vic was slightly peeved.
“Okay, first of all, I’d like to talk to you about your new album that will be out soon, Rubber Soul. Now, can you tell us anything about that?”
George answered. “Well, Paul sings in French on it. And I’ve got a few more songs on it meself!”
“Yeah, and I get to sing again, too!”, Ringo put in.
“Ah, that’s very interesting. We’ll hear a preview a bit later. My next question is for you, Paul…”
“Finally, someone pays attention to me.”, Paul muttered under his breath.
“…In regards to the recent polls…”(at this Ringo, George and John tensed) “…How do you feel knowing that you’re the least popular Beatle?”
The question was answered with silence. George, John and Ringo looked at each other and grimaced. Paul, however, didn’t move a muscle. He was completely pale and his eyes were fixed in the “wide-open” position.
“P-Paul? Paul? Are you ok?” Vic gave Paul a strange look.
John made a nervous attempt to lighten the mood. “Don’t leave yer eyes open like that, son. They’ll dry out.”
He moved Paul’s eyelids to make him blink but Paul didn’t respond.
“Paul!” Vic covered the mike and spoke to the boys. “Is he alright?”
“Might want to cut to a song or somethin’,” Ringo told him. Vic was back on the mike. “Hey, we’re having some technical difficulty so listen to this great Beatle hit while we work it out!”
He hit a button and “You’re Gonna Lose That Girl” began to play in a low volume. Vic, seriously worried, leaned towards Paul and snapped his fingers in front of his face. Paul didn’t even flinch.
“Hmmm…”
It was then that John did the only thing he could think to do. He gave Paul a vigorous shaking.
“Paul! PAUL! Wake up, lad!” He gave him a little slap. Paul finally blinked.
He blinked a few times in fact.
“Ugh. Me eyelids are all sticky and dry…What happened…Oh, gawd. I remember now.”
He held his head is his hands.
“Is it true? I am really on my way out? This is the beginning of the end…” Paul broke into sobs. “You can all say goodbye to James Paul McCartney…”
“Hey, your first name is James, then?”, George broke in.
Temporarily relieved from his pain, Paul replied, “Yeah. You didn’t know that?”
“No.”
Paul broke down again. “Agh! Me own mate doesn’t even know my first name isn’t Paul!! It’s all over…”
Ringo tried to comfort his mate. “Aw, cheer up, Paulie! Look on the bright side!” he said cheerfully.
“…*sniff*…Hey, at least I’m still the “cute one”, right?” Paul said with the seemingness of a smile.
Vic answered. “Well, no. According to recent interviews with the fans, John is now the cute one.”
“Paul?” Paul had passed out cold on the floor.
Back in the Beatles household, George was returning from the washroom with a damp cloth. By Paul’s bed John and Ringo knelt with concerned expressions.
“Is he still out?
“Yup,” said John. “Put the cloth on his forehead.”
George applied the dripping rag and Paul’s eyes made a slight movement. The lads resumed their watch. When suddenly…
“Hey, I think he’s startin’ to come to!”
Sure enough, Paul blinked a few times and slowly opened his eyes. He looked up at the three figures that loomed over him but didn’t say a word.
John whispered to Ringo. “D’ya suppose he can still talk, then?”
“John? … George? … Ringo? Is that you?”
John whispered again. “Nevermind.”
“Why? Why? WHY?! What did I do wrong?”
“Aw, Paul, you didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve just gotta accept the fact that there’s always gonna be someone cuter that you.”, said John, with a charming smile.
Paul, miraculously healed, flung himself at John, his hands on his throat.
“I’ll get you for this, Lennon! This was all your doing, wasn’t it?! I’ll kill you!!!”
“Gaaa.. Paul! *choke* … knock it off! …” John was furiously trying to defend his life. He reached for a book that had been knocked to the floor, grabbed it and hit Paul over the head a few times.
“Oh, no! There’s no hope for you, Johnny-boy!!!” George shouted at the brawling Beatles. “Ay! Break it up! Break it up!”
He tried to tear Paul’s hands away from John’s jugular vein but had no luck.
“Ringo! Help!” Ringo joined the struggle and together they wrenched Paul’s hands open. John took the opportunity to scamper away behind the sofa.
“Leggo of me, dammit!! Let me at ‘im!”
“Paul! Get a grip on yourself!” Ringo said with a little shake.
“Wow, Ringo! Authoritative, aren’t we?”, George remarked.
Ringo smiled proudly. “I try.”
Together, he and George pinned Paul to the floor. Paul sighed.
“Ok, ok! Get off me! I won’t kill John… not right now.”
John poked his head out from behind the sofa.
“Oh, whatta’ll I do, guys?”, said Paul in despair.
“Perhaps it’ll just blow over.”, Ringo put in.
John’s voice came from behind the furniture. “Yeah, just go out act cute and make like it don’t bother ya. That’s sure to win ‘em over!”
Paul thought it over for a second.
“Yeah, y’know, I think that’s what I’ll do! I’ll just walk down the street to the pub or somethin’ and try to be cute as cute as possible!” Paul smiled with confidence.
He got up, grabbed a jacket and cheerfully headed for the door. The others looked worried.
George piped up. “Paulie, do you really think you’re in, uh, any condition to go out?”
“Aw, George, don’t be silly! What could happen?”, Paul replied merrily.
Paul burst into the house, looking distressed and slightly torn up.
He slammed the door and leaned against it, panting heavily.
“What HAPPENED, Paul?” George asked with concern.
Paul was out of breath. “They… they chased me! An’ they threw stuff at me!… Aw, this is useless. Whatta’ll I do? ”
“Let’s go to tha pictures!”, piped up John.
Everyone stared at John for a moment.
“What? You outta your bleedin’ mind, Lennon?”, said George.
“Naw, really! A movie’ll do wonders for your nerves.”, retorted John.
Paul was still giving him a doubtful look.
“Well, that’s all fine. But how am I gonna get outta the house? I mean, you see what they did to me and I don’t fancy any more abuse! I’ve got very tender skin, you know.”
John flashed his mischievous grin. “I’ve got an idea…”
Ten minutes later, John was escorting a strange looking character out of the house while Ringo and George lagged behind a bit.
“This isn’t going to work… This isn’t going to work… This isn’t going to work…” Paul mumbled to John.
“Sure it will… Just act NATURAL!”, John answered back through gritted teeth.
Paul was completely decked out with a fake beard, dark sunglasses and a matching black trenchcoat and hat. The four lads walked up to the bus stop and sat down to wait for the next bus.
“I’ve got a bad feelin’ about this, Johnny.”, Paul said under his breath.
Just then the bus pulled up.
“Shut up and get on the bus!”
Once on the bus, they moved to the unoccupied seats at the back of the bus. Just as they were sitting down the bus began to move. Ringo looked around.
“Hey, at least the bus’s pretty empty!”, he said cheerfully.
But at the next stop, a group of girls boarded the bus.
“Aw, HELL!!”, John grumbled.
Paul looked at him wide-eyed. “What now, genius?!”
“Aw, lay off! I’ll get us outta this!”
But the girls had already spotted our heroes and were advancing.
“Better hurry! They’re closin’ in!”
John had an idea. “Quick! Get out!!”
“What? Are you mad? The bus is on the move?”, protested George.
“Would you rather they have at you?” John gestured toward the girls.
Immediately the boys pried open the bus doors, jumped out and hit the ground with a *THUD*. The screaming girls stared disappointedly after them.
“Whew! Looks like that’s the last of them!”, gasped John. He looked at the other Beatles. “Are you hungry, then?”
Paul was outraged. “What?! How can you eat at a time like this?” `
John smiled. “A time like what? I’m too cute to worry.” Paul growled and started to lunge for John but was held, just barely, by George and Ringo. John snickered.
“Lay off, John!”, George said, annoyed.
Paul had cooled down but was still a bit miffed. “Just wait, Lennon! There’s not always gonna be someone there to save you! And when there’s not, you’d better watch yer sorry hide!”
“Ooh!”, John mocked. But George broke them up before anything else could happen.
“C’mon guys! This is neither the time nor the place. Now let’s get some food.”
Ringo licked his lips. “Yeah, I’m starvin’!”
John, Paul and George rolled their eyes simultaneously as they pulled themselves off the pavement and brushed off their suits.
Soon the Fab Four had walked to a familiar restaurant where Norm had taken them a few times. They rushed inside, their tummies growling.
The manager met them at the door.
“Ah, hello, lads! Nice to see you again!” The manager was talking to John, George and Ringo. “Follow me. I have your table ready.”
He began to escort the three off to the table when Paul grabbed his arm.
“AY! What about me, then?”
The manager brushed Paul’s hand off and stared down his nose at him. “I am sorry, sir. But we only serve the famous in here. Go to McDonalds’.”
Paul was visibly flustered. “WHAT? Fred, it’s me, Paul! Stop foolin’!” He pulled off his disguise.
Paul started to join his mates but Fred the Manager put out a forbidding arm.
“I’m sorry sir. I must insist you leave.”
Paul stood aghast. “Fine! FINE! You guys enjoy your deluxe cuisine. I’m goin’ down to McDonalds’. At least their food’s digestible!”
He stormed out, leaving his costume on the restaurant floor. The remaining boys looked at each other.
“Well, we can’t just let him go off out there alone.”, George said after a few moments.
“Aw, he’s a grown man. He can take care of himself.”, John voiced. Ringo finally spoke up. “Yeah, but this is Paul we’re talkin’ about!”
John came to his senses. “You’re right!” And all three of them were out the door, leaving a disappointed Fred behind. When they caught up to Paul he pretended not to notice them. John tapped Paul’s shoulder.
“ ‘ello there! Mind if we join you for a Big Mac?”
“Sorry, John. I’m not goin’ there.”
“Where are ya goin’ then?”, inquired Ringo.
“Off to a nice field were I can curl up and die in peace!”
Paul quickened his pace. But the others quickened theirs to match.
“Aw, come off it, then! It’s not as bad as all that.” Ringo put in. “I’m short but ya don’t see me complainin’!”
Paul glared at Ringo. Then he noticed what was approaching behind him… an enormous mob of fans.
“Agh! Run, there’s more of ‘em!”
The lads took off with the fans in close pursuit.
“We’re a regular ‘band on the run’ today, ain’t we?” remarked Paul.
“Aw, shurrup!”, replied the other three.
“Where… to now?”, asked George between breaths.
“HOME!!!”, John shouted pointing in the general direction. And the four of them sped off to the house.
***
The sun was going down just as the boys reached the doors of their house. They hurried in through their respective doors just as the fans caught up. Once inside they locked the doors and pulled the curtains.
“Now what do we do?”, asked Ringo.
“I dunno,” said John with a shrug, “I didn’t plan any farther than this!”
“Let’s just lay low ‘til they leave.”, suggested George.
“But I’m still hungry!” Ringo’s tummy was growling audibly.
“Alright then,” barked John, with a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Grab a box of cookies.”
And so the Fab Four waited patiently, crouched behind some chairs until the last squeals outside died out. George peeked out the window while Ringo continued to munch quietly on his cookies.
“Are they all gone?”, whispered Paul.
“Yup.”
The lads cautiously crept out from their hiding place. John plopped into his pit.
“That was fun, eh?”, said John sarcastically.
“Yeah, loads!”, Paul retorted with a yawn. “Ugh. I’m beat. I’m hitting the sack.”
He got up and headed towards his bed.
“Sounds like a good idea.” George started to follow Paul’s lead then turned to look at Ringo. But the lad was already curled up leaning against the wall with the cookie box in hand. George smiled and walked to his bed. He crawled in and turned off the light.
“G’night Paul.”
“Night George.”
“G’night John.”
“Nighty-night!”
“G’night Ring—ah, what’s the point?” Ringo was now snoring loudly.
Paul awoke suddenly to a strange smell. He lay in bed sniffing; trying to figure out just what it was when he heard a scream of distress. Being the chivalrous Beatle that he was, Paul immediately leaped from his bed and darted out of the house, momentarily forgetting his pummeling of the day before. Looking up the street he soon saw that one of the houses had a trail of smoke coming from one of the windows. A small crowd had formed in front of the house but no one was doing anything. Without a moment’s hesitation, Paul ran to the house, bursting through the crowd and before any of them could say anything, was through the front door and into the house. The screaming continued to issue from inside the house, then suddenly cut off.
Within a matter of seconds, a slightly charred Paul emerged from the burning building carrying a young blonde-haired lady in his arms. He set her gently down on the ground. Whispers began to travel through the crowd.
“Isn’t that Paul McCartney?”
“Yeah… I think so!”
Then realized that he was out in the public eye and began to panic.
He stared at the crowd but they didn’t seem to have that bloodthirsty stare that the fans did the day before. One man spoke up.
“ ‘scuse me, but aren’t you Paul McCartney?”
“…Uh, yeah. That’s me.” Paul was hoping they wouldn’t bruise him too bad. But to his surprise they began to clap.
“Good job, son!”, said the man.
Paul noticed that a news crew was just arriving. He looked at himself and realized he was in no shape for the press. He had been so tired the night before that he hadn’t even changed out of his suit, which was now crumpled and he was covered in soot.
“Uh, I’ve gotta go, folks! But I’ll see you around!”, Paul said with a smile. He ran back to the house. Everyone else was still sleeping.
“Eh, why not join ‘em?” thought Paul. He climbed back into bed and fell fast asleep once more.
The next time he awoke he found that the other three Beatles were awake and reading the papers. John had an astonished look on his face.
“Naw! This can’t be right! I’m not the cute one anymore?! What’s goin’ on?” (At this Ringo, who was sitting quietly watching TV, started humming “What Goes On”.)
“Well, Paul will be happy.” George put in.
“Yeah, Johnny,” said Paul, who had arisen from bed. “Don’t take it so hard. Y’know what they say, ‘easy come, easy go’!” Paul was smiling cheerfully. Snarling, John threw himself on Paul and started swinging. With cries of exasperation, George and Ringo jumped in…
Get back to the hosting page