Two months later Jill was once again pregnant. Although she was still sad about her miscarriage, she wasn’t too depressed anymore.
We decided we needed to get away from it all and go on a picnic. We had to take two baskets. One was for all of us, and the other was for just Shawna’s lunch. She’s a very good eater, you know.
“And my mother asked us before we left America if we wanted any sandwiches.” George told Jamie. Jamie giggled giddily.
“I have a joke!!” I announced, excitedly.
“Well, come on, what is it?” Jamie asked.
“What do you call a dog with Wings?” I asked in a funny British accent.
“Linda McCartney!” We all giggled hysterically.
“Linda?” Paul asked, confused. “I’m not related to a Linda.”
“Linda McCartney is an ugly girl we knew in a band called Wings.” I told a white lie.
“Oh,” He said, still puzzled as to why that was so funny.
* * *
“I love you, I love you, I love you.” Paul was singing me part of 'Samantha.'
It had just won song of the year. It was our six month anniversary, and we all went out for dinner to celebrate. Shawna ordered three fried chickens, while the rest of shared two. As Shawna was inhaling her supper, a man in black entered, firing shots all over the room. We all screamed but Shawna didn’t even notice. She did however, notice a scrap of chicken fat on her plate. The man raised his gun and pointed it towards Shawna. “Look out!” Paul yelled at Shawna, as he dived to protect her.
He did, but failed to protect himself. The man shot him in the chest. “You just shot Beatle Paul! He’s Beatle Paul!” I said over and over again, sobbing.
Just then Paul stood up, stunned. “Eh, uh, what just happened then?” he wondered. There was a hole in his shirt, “You’ve been shot!” I exclaimed.
“No, I haven't.” He insisted.
“But we just saw him shoot you.” Ringo said, puzzled. “You must be bulletproof.”
I felt his shirt for the bullet. When I found it I exclaimed, “It hit his Ringo Starr credit card! You saved his life, Ringo!” I said as Paul and I hugged him.
“Thank you, Ritchie baby!” Shawna squealed. "Thanks Paulie.” She said as she tried to hug them.
“Oh no you’re not, not this time,” he and Jill said as we pulled her off Paul.
“Well, that was enough excitement for tonight.” George sighed, looking at Jamie.
“Yeah, I’m so tired,” John said, yawning.
“I’m tired too, John.” Shawna informed him, raising her eyebrows suggestively.
“Well you’re not sleeping with me.” He told her, disgusted. “I know your game. I don’t want your disease.”
* * *
"Paul," I said as I shook him, 2 ½ months later. “My water just broke!”
He woke up, fell out of bed, and dragged a comb across his head. “She’s having her baby!” Paul yelled up and down the halls. If they weren’t already awake, they were now.
“What, what?” Ringo mumbled, breaking away from Jill’s kisses. “We’re, uh, very busy.” He said going back to what was doing.
“Ringo!” Jill protested. “We have to go to the hospital! We can have sex any time but I can only see my best friend’s baby born once!”
“All right, all right.” Ringo said as he pulled on his pants. “This oughta be interesting.”
“Come on George!” Jamie instructed.
“Aw, do I have to go?” George whined. “I was just in the middle of a dream about breakfast sausage!”
“Me too!” Shawna exclaimed.
“Yes, you’re going, now, now, now!” John said as we piled into his Rolls Royce.
* * *
“We have a baby son.” Paul told me when I woke up twenty-four hours later. The room was brightly decorated with a variety of psychedelic posters and ballons.
Suddenly, I noticed a loud noise coming from outside. “What’s everone screaming for?” I asked. “It’s hurting me ears!”
“It’s my fans, honey, they can't help being excited." Paul explained. A man with a microphone showed up out of no where and shoved it in my face. "Mrs. McCartney, what does it feel like to have just had Paul McCartney's baby?" He asked. "It feels wonderful!" I exclaimed happily. "Get him out!" I said after he asked me some slightly embarrassing questions. "He's mocking my image!” “Yeah!" Paul shouted. "She needs her rest you know."
After that I drifted into sleep peacefully holding Paul's hand and staring at the bright rainbow on the ceiling.
* * *
"Oh Samantha!" Jill and Jamie said excitedly, "We're so happy for you! We're happier than a warm gun!”
"Oh Samantha!" John said, mocking them, "We're so happy for you! We're going to squirt you with a water gun!" Then he added, "I don't believe in guns. They kill people. They almost killed poor Paul over there."
"Oh don't remind me." I said worriedly as a fan pounded on the window, "George!" she screamed, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Hey, he's mine!" Jamie warned, wrapping her arms around him protectively.
“All right, on your way." The doctor told my friends. "She needs her rest, and visiting hours are over."
"But I'm Paul McCartney!" Paul protested.
"I don't care who you are, you're leaving, right now.” He told him, pushing him out the door.
"Bye, hon!" I said, "I love you!"
"I love you, too, Samantha." He yelled as he tried to fight off the surgeon.
* * *
Three days later, we were in looking at the baby. We still hadn't thought of a name for our son yet. So, finally, we put John’s, George’s and Ringo's names into Paul's hat (the one he uses to disguise himself) and I picked out a name. It was Paul.
"Hey!" I said. "How did that get in here?" I asked, pretending I didn't know. "Oh, well, I guess its name is Paul. Let's choose the middle name." I drew again. "George. Paul George McCartney."
“I like it." George said, grinning.
The rest of us nodded our heads in agreement, even Shawna. “I think you should have a girl and name it after me." She always had to offer her opinion on everything.
"I don't think so." Said Paul.
"Well I'm hungry," Shawna said, rubbing her stomach, "Let's eat!"
* * *
One week later I could go home. I was so happy. Paul had decked our bedroom all out with tulips. Red ones, yellow ones, white ones and ones of every other color. It was very beautiful.
Shawna was hungry again, so we had to out to get lunch. We went to the first Wendy's in England. I had Chicken Cordon Blue. I can't even begin to tell you what Shawna ordered, but it was a lot.
"Are you done yet Shawna?" I asked, impatient.
"Don't rush me," she ordered, "I eat best under pressure."
Read Chapter Seven
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