Beatles Drabble (For deadcagey)
(I don't even know what this is)
“George,” Paul whined, slouching into the room.
“What?”
“I’m bored.”
“Congratulations.”
“Make me un-bored,” Paul demanded, sitting down on the couch, resting his feet on George’s lap.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, figure something out.”
“Why don’t you two go out and have some fun,” John suggested, turning from the piano.
“Yes, and getting mob is on my list of priorities today,” George said, going back to his newspaper.
“But isn’t it Independence Day or something?” Ringo asked.
“What?” the other three looked at him.
“Yeah, because of the Revolutionary War.”
“There was a war?” Paul asked.
“Probably just America throwing a tantrum,” George shrugged.
“But wouldn’t that be taking their day away from them?” Ringo sat down in one of the chairs.
“Well, why don’t you two go out?” John said, going back to the piano. “Everyone knows Paul needs the exercise.”
Paul laughed sarcastically at this as he stood up and left, dragging George along behind him (who was frantically trying to grab onto something to keep Paul from taking him, but to no avail).
--
“I blame you,” George said, any menace behind the statement lost in his smile. Both he and Paul were racing down a street with a large group (fifty, roughly) of teenage girls (and a few blokes).
“Oh, come on,” Paul smiled back. “It’s fun, isn’t it?”
George just shook his head, grabbing on to Paul and forcing him into a side street. Making a few left and right turns here and there, the two (somehow) ended up in a supply closet just inside of a building.
“A bit cramped in here,” Paul commented.
“Dark, too,” George responded. After the sound of Paul searching, he said, “Paul, I don’t think that’s a light switch.”
“Oh.”
George reached above them and his hand found a cord. There was a click.
“Let there be light,” George said, looking to Paul. There faces were mere centimeters from each other.
“It is really tight in here.”
“Just a bit.”
“So, how long are we going to wait?”
“Dunno.”
“Hm.” Paul opened his mouth to speak but George pressed a finger to his lips. The two listened.
“I think they’re gone.”
“You think?”
“Might as well check.”
“They opened the door and poked their heads out.
Left.
Right.
No one.
“Back to the hotel?” Paul suggested.
“Alright.”