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THE APPLESAUCE ABOMINATION

By SawyerFan

This is a little story for the Beatle Bromance contest, but this is not an official entry (I am a judge, not a participant).  I was just was inspired and wanted to join the fun.

Don't own the Beatles, only some meager merchandise.  Only doing this for fun.  I also claim to have no real knowledge of how applesauce is made, except that it comes from apples, and I like to eat it.

I'd say the rating is PG to PG-13 (to play it safe)

This is also un-beta'd so be warned!  Auuuuuuugh!



It was a bright and warm day in Liverpool, England, but the town's four most popular hometown heroes, The Beatles, would not be basking in the glorious sunshine.  Instead, the lovable mop-tops, John, Paul, George, and Ringo were crammed inside the small office of a newly built applesauce factory.  The band's manager, Brian Epstein, had thought it would be nice for the boys to take a tour of the facility to show support and encourage other businesses to come to Liverpool.

The lads really didn't mind the idea, but why did Britain's entire press corps have to be here as well?  At least only a skeleton crew was going to be working today, so they didn't have to deal with a bunch of employees clamoring around them too.  Putting on polite smiles, the four young musicians tried their best to pay attention to the plant manager who was droning on about how unique this factory was.  It was only applesauce, how complicated could it be?

"We can start the tour as soon as everyone puts on their hairnets and hard hats," plant manager, Wilby Wilkens, said cheerily.  

All four Beatles stared at the man as if he was insane.  Hairnets?  Hard hats?  Over their mop-tops?  Surely this man didn't mean 'they' had to wear those things!

"Are you including us in that?" Paul asked a bit nervously.  As the 'cute' Beatle, he had a reputation to uphold.  Could even he get away with being adorable in a hairnet?  Would the hard hat hide his gorgeous, hazel-brown eyes?

"Yes you do, young man," Wilby answered.

John inwardly shuddered at the response.  As the 'witty/smart' Beatle, he would be jeered at for looking like an absolute twat!  This was worse than wearing his thick glasses!  What kind of amusing retorts could he make while wearing a hairnet?

Eyeing the hard hat he was given, Ringo worried that the brim wouldn't be long enough to protect his beautiful nose if something should happen to fall upon it.  

As the 'quiet' Beatle, George accepted the hairnet and hard hat without a word, hoping he'd be fed some of the applesauce made here.  Reaching down into his suit jacket's pocket, he felt his 'lucky' yo-yo and smiled.  Good ol' Mum, finding his cherished childhood toy and giving it back to him.   

Before the beloved Fab Four could don their wardrobe accessories, their ears were assaulted by the familiar sound of female screams coming from all directions. Immediately the 'fear and flight' mode kicked in, and the boys searched for a possible escape.  Since the front entrance to the factory and all subsequent side doors were now blocked with hormonal teenaged girls, the Beatles made a dash to the production floor, hoping to loose their fans in there.  

The press corps was a bit slow on the realization of what was about to happen, and were soon knocked over and stepped on by the hordes of Beatle fans who were now inside the plant.  If they didn't grasp what Beatlemania was before, they sure did now!

Once they entered inside the main part of the facility, the Fab Four broke off into pairs.  John and Paul took a turn to the left, while Ringo and George ran to the right, the screams of their fans echoing in their ears.  Just as their idols had done, the female groupies split into groups and chased after their chosen Beatle.

George and Ringo were running alongside a conveyor belt that carried whole apples through a device that would rinse and sanitize them.  Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, George felt his yo-yo, hoping his lucky toy would get them out of this predicament.  As he pulled his hand out, the yo-yo's string caught upon a fingernail and came flying out of it's safe hiding place and onto the floor.  Ringo was trailing a few steps behind his younger friend, and didn't notice the yo-yo until it was too late.

The Beatles' drummer stepped on the toy with the heel of his right boot, and his legs flew out from underneath him, sending his back slamming down onto the concrete floor.  Ringo felt the air leave his lungs at impact and the world start to turn black before his eyes.

"Rings!" George cried out in alarm when he saw his mate fall and pass out cold.  Throwing the smaller man over his shoulder, the guitarist rushed to get himself and his unconscious band mate out of harms way.

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John saw a conveyor belt carrying lidless cans full of applesauce, and motioned for Paul to follow him.  Getting on his hands and knees, John hurriedly crawled under, but his backside hit the belt and caused it to buckle up a little.  A small amount of applesauce splashed out of one of the open cans and landed on the ground at the disturbance.

Glancing behind himself before he got on all fours to follow John, Paul's large eyes grew even bigger at the nearing group of fans.  He also noticed another batch of girls who were a bit further away, but closing in fast.  Gear.  

He began to crawl under the conveyor, but his right palm slipped as it touched the spilled applesauce.  Paul's arm flew out in front of him as his body fell off balance, causing his derriere to make solid contact with the conveyor belt above him.  Several cans of applesauce overturned, and coated his hair in a liquified goop that dripped into his face.  A surge of panic hit the young bassist when he felt his bottom being pulled along with the belt.  He was stuck!

"John!" Paul hollered.  "Help!"  He saw his song writing partner stop and turn around, but John was too far away to be of any immediate assistance.  The first group of girls was almost upon him!  Using all the strength he could muster, Paul dug in his feet and surged himself forward, freeing himself from the belt.  A ripping sound could be heard, but Paul didn't care if his suit got damaged as long as he was clear of that conveyor!  His victory was short-lived as he felt a cool rush of air on his butt-cheeks, momentarily stunning him.

The fans stopped in awe as they viewed the perfect, apple-shaped bottom of Paul McCartney in all it's glory before them.  A few of the girls reached underneath the conveyor belt and grasped Paul's ankles, pulling him back towards them.  The 'cute Beatle' disappeared into the group of squealing girls that converged around him.

John watched his best friend's plight in horror, rushing as fast as he could to rescue his younger band mate.  In the corner of his eye he saw a large mass of blue uniforms, signaling the arrival of local Bobbies.  Hopefully they would be able to pull Paul out in one piece!

As John neared the horde of females, he couldn't help but notice the squeals had died down, replaced by giggles and smooching noises.  Grateful he had backup, he bellowed, "All right lassies, let Paul go!"

"That's right! You heard him, young ladies!" A Bobbie yelled.  "Back away from the Beatle!"

One by one the girls lifted their heads in surprise and stepped away, finally revealing the disheveled and huddled figure of Paul, who was covering his head with his arms as he laid there on the floor in a bowing position.  The law swooped in and quickly ushered out both sets of fans that had been chasing the two Beatles.

"You okay, Paulie?" John asked in concern as he crawled back under the conveyor belt, and scanned over his best friend for any signs of injuries.  When his eyes landed upon Paul's uplifted backside, he couldn't control the burst of laughter that escaped.

"When did you . . . start wearing . . . white knickers with red and pink lipstick marks?" the leader of the Beatles asked between fits of giggling.  When Paul lowered his arms and lifted his head, John began to laugh harder.  The bassist's usually perfectly coiffed dark hair was a wet, sticky mess that continued down into his face, which was now a blushing red in shade.

Pulling himself to his feet with as much dignity as he could muster, Paul quietly pulled off what was left his torn suit jacket and used it to cover his exposed bum, tying the arms around his waist.  He stood stoically as he watched his 'former' friend bend over in hysterics, waiting for the right moment to comment.

Coming up for air, John's face and hair was hit by the contents of a can of applesauce Paul had taken off the conveyor.  Sputtering, the rhythm guitarist smirked while wiping off as much of the fruit product as possible.  "Can't a mate have a good laugh once in a while?"  

Paul batted his long, curling eyelashes dramatically. "I was afraid you were going to laugh yourself to death, luv," he said in faux sweetness, "so I took drastic measures to save your life."

"What a stellar chap you are!" John said with a faint chuckle.  "But seriously, when did you start wearing those knickers, son?"

"Let's go find Geo and Rings," Paul said suddenly, his face turning beet red.

"C'mon, answer the question," John pressed.  "I've already seen them, so why be all prissy about it?"

Paul frowned and crossed his arms across his chest.  "I don't own a pair like that," he admitted grudgingly.

"What?  You're daft!  I saw them."  Eyeing his friend like he had grown another head, John thought back to the odd looking undergarment he had seen Paul wearing.  They were a whitish color with pink and red kisses all over, complete with a bum crack.  Bum crack?  Knickers don't have bum cracks on them! His almond-shaped eyes widening in realization, John's mouth fell open.

"Were those birds kissing your . . . ?"  

"Yes."  Paul's answer fell on deaf ears as John threw his head back and howled in laughter.  Calmly reaching down, the bassist snatched up a couple of the fan badges that had fallen off the girls during the attack on his bottom.   He then placed the pins inside John's open palm and closed the fingers around them.  "Have a giggle about this, Johnny Boy," Paul said smugly as he walked away.

Wiping away tears of laughter, John glanced down at the objects Paul had given to him and nearly chocked.   'I LOVE JOHN' and 'JOHN IS THE ONLY ONE FOR ME' screamed at him in bold letters on the badges.  His own bloody fans had done the deed?  Why those ungrateful wenches!

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George didn't know for how long he had been running for both his and Ringo's life, but he wouldn't be able to do it much longer.  The fan girls were gaining ground on him, and the drummer's dead weight over his shoulder was making it harder to move any faster.  To make matters worse, his lucky yo-yo had fallen out of his pocket and now he was practically helpless!

"C'mon, Ringo," George pleaded to his motionless friend.  "I need you to wake up, mate!"  Getting no response, the lead guitarist tried to console himself with the fact that at least Ringo wouldn't know what hit him when their doom ascended upon them.

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"Sack it, Paul!" John said with a growl as he watched the bassist fidget behind him with a discarded rag he had found lying around.  "You surely must've rubbed your bum raw by now."

"I just want to make sure all that blasted lipstick is gone," Paul snapped back, pulling up his jacket to take another glance at his violated derriere.

"Oh, isn't the lipstick of MY fans good enough to embellish your posterior, Your Majesty?"

Giving the rhythm guitarist an impish grin, Paul winked playfully.  "Don't be so touchy, Johnny.  I'm sure those birds won't be disgracing your fan club anymore, and there had to be a couple who couldn't make it today so you still have fans left."

"Get stuffed," John muttered under his breath, doing his best to ignore Paul's snickers.  His ears picked up on the sounds of screaming girls and he raked his eyes over the area ahead to see where the commotion was coming from.  It had to mean Ringo and George were nearby!

He recognized the figure of George running in the distance with something draped over his shoulder.  Squinting, John tried to make out what the youngest Beatle was carrying.  Whatever it was, it was obviously slowing George down.

"That's . . . that's Ringo!" Paul cried out in horror as he pointed in the direction John was looking at.  "He's not moving and George is about to be caught by those fans!   We've got to do something!"

"I know!  I know!"  John's quick thinking brain went into overdrive.  Even if they ran as fast as they could, there was no way he and Paul would reach them in time, and there wasn't any  Bobbies or security to be seen.  He had to find a way to distract the girls' attention from George and Ringo.  But how?

An idea came to him.  "Paul!  Wave and yell to try and get the fans to chase us.  Maybe then George can find somewhere safe."

"Okay," Paul agreed nervously, "but do you have a plan to keep us safe?"

"I noticed a place on the way here we can duck into, and the girls should run right by us without knowing it.  Start using your gifts, Mr. McCharmly!"  

Both the founding Beatles began to shout and scream at the top of their lungs as they waved their arms above their heads wildly.  It worked as the horde of females halted briefly in their pursuit.  Realizing it was John and Paul, the fan girls rolled their eyes at them in disgust.  Not only were the mop-tops sticking up in the air in a tangled mess, there was some kind of substance on the men's faces.  Did those two honestly expect them to abandon their beloved George and Ringo for that?

"Blimey!  Geo and Rings' fans sure are loyal to a fault," Paul commented in disbelief.  He had pulled out all the stops.  Even his endearing 'wink' failed to mesmerize.

"There has to be something!" John said, frantically searching his mind for any kind of answer.  A brainstorm hit the leader of the Beatles, and he grasped a hold of Paul's arm, swinging the bassist in front of him so they stood face to face.

"What?" Paul sputtered in shock.

"Oh ladies! I've got something very special to show you!" John yelled out, pointing to Paul's backside which was now facing towards the girls.  Having caught the fans' total attention, he yanked off the jacket covering his band mate's lower half, revealing the now lipstick free butt-cheeks.

Paul's face turned crimson, but he stayed put.  If this would help his mates, he'd endure the embarrassment.  He could hear the girls' impressed oohs and ahhs behind him, yet why wasn't John having them run for their lives?

Grinning devilishly, John knew he had the lasses hooked, but he wasn't quite finished.  Paulie had to suffer a bit of payback for corrupting his former fans.  "Have you ever seen anything so perfectly shaped in your life?" he asked the enthralled audience.  "And feast your eyes on that smooth, porcelain skin tone."

"John?" Paul questioned in a panicked tone.  "What are you . . . ?"

"I bet you can bounce a pound off this firm example of flawlessness!" John declared in a loud voice, giving a dramatic slap across the exposed flesh to prove his point.  He could barely contain his smirk when Paul flinched in pain at the contact.

"John . . . ," Paul warned, his fists clenching at his sides in aggravation.

"Run!" the rhythm guitarist said with a mocking wink as he grabbed Paul's right forearm and drug him along.  They could hear the sound of pounding footsteps behind them, and sped up their pace, trying to get a good amount of distance between themselves and the female mob.

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George kept his legs moving, even though he felt they would give out at any moment.  There was a door up ahead, and either it was a way out of the production area, or hopefully somewhere they could at least lock the door and buy some precious time for help to arrive.  He knew their manager would have called for police assistance.

"Almost there, Ringo," George said as he reached for the door knob.  When it turned easily in his hand, the lead guitarists hurriedly opened the door and ran inside.  He felt horrible for having to unceremoniously drop his mate onto the floor, but they were now in total darkness because he had to immediately close the door.  Praying there was a lock on the knob, George felt a round, button-shape object sticking up in the middle of the door knob and pushed it in, hearing a clicking sound that let him know the mechanism had worked.  He then used his fingertips to search near the door frame for a light switch, finding it off to his right.  Soon the area was lit up, showing that they were inside a storage closet.

Satisfied they were safe, George turned his attention to Ringo, pulling the smaller man to a sitting position against some shelving built into the wall.  He tapped the drummer gently on the cheek, and grinned broadly when a soft moan left Ringo's lips, and vivid, blue eyes met his chocolate-brown ones.

"Kip's over, chappie," George said with a relieved laugh.  "Leave it to you to come to your senses when all the danger is over."

Ringo rubbed the back of his head, looking around slowly in confusion.  "How did we end up in here?  Did I pass out or something?"

"I saw you land on your back," George explained.  "Must've knocked the wind out of yourself, so I had to carry you over my shoulder to escape those barmy girls."

"Thanks, mate," Ringo said with a warm smile.  "You're the best, Georgie."

George ducked his head and shrugged sheepishly.  "Aw, you'd do the same for me."

Grinning, the Beatles' drummer nodded.  "I know I'd try, but I don't know if I would've been as successful."  The two friends shared a quiet laugh at the thought of shorter Ringo carrying the taller George.

"Hey, it's awful quiet out there," Ringo noted, pointing to the closet door.  "Think you might've lost the girls?"

"I was so busy running that I didn't even notice if we were still being chased!" George realized to his chagrin.  "Come to think of it, I thought I heard John and Paul yelling at one point, but I wasn't sure if I was just imagining it."

"Maybe we should check if the coast is clear and find those two," Ringo suggested with a worried look.

"I'll go see where John and Paul are," George countered.  "Stay here, and take it easy since you were out for a spell."  The youngest Beatle carefully turned the knob, and cracked the door open enough for an eye to peek through.  It looked deserted, and he didn't smell any girlie perfume, nor hear the sound of female giggles or sighs.  He opened the door a bit wider, and saw that indeed they were alone now.

"Lock the door after I leave," the lead guitarist instructed Ringo, "and don't open it unless you know it's one of us."

"Be careful, lad," Ringo said in parting, watching his band mate's lanky frame slide through the doorway.

George glanced around warily, his ears tuned to pick out the slightest squeal of the female persuasion.  He began to wonder why the fans had abandoned the chase.  The last he remembered, they were hot on his heels.  Had John and Paul intervened and got the girls to go after them?  As his mind pondered on different scenarios, George caught sight of something he had forgotten all about.

Lying on the floor in front of him was his cherished yo-yo, none the worse for wear!  The lead guitarist picked up the prized object happily and placed it back inside his pocket.  Maybe his lucky yo-yo would help him find his two missing mates!

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John was heaving for air when he and Paul finally came to the hiding spot.  Nestled between two gigantic pieces of electrical machinery was an accessible space big enough to squeeze a body through.  He pushed Paul into the opening first and then followed, making sure he stayed back far enough so not to be detected easily.  As he watched the girls run past, his alarm grew as he saw the crazed looks on their faces.  Were some of those lassies actually foaming at the mouth?  He felt Paul wrap both arms around his right one, and shared a concerned glance with the younger man.  The fans were only supposed to chase them, not get rabid!

The two Beatles stayed absolutely still until the screams died down a bit.  Poking his head out cautiously, the rhythm guitarist saw the coast was clear and motioned for Paul to join him.  Removing his suit jacket, John offered it to his friend.

"Ta," Paul said with a grateful smile, wrapping it around his waist to hide his backside from view.  Suddenly he was jerked forcefully along as John grabbed hold of his left forearm.

"Let's get out of here before the birds come back!" John exclaimed in a low voice.  Keeping his grip on Paul's arm, he made a mad dash to where they last had seen George, hoping the youngest Beatle found a place for them all to hide.

Ambling along, George kept a look out for his two missing mates, clutching at the yo-yo inside his pocket.  He pulled the toy out and stared at it, wishing for John and Paul to show up.  Hearing the sound of footsteps, the lead guitarist looked up and beamed.  Coming at him in the distance was the very Beatles he was thinking of!    

"John! Paul!" George yelled out joyously.  He waved his childhood plaything in the air.  "I found my yo-yo, and I found you!"

The two running Beatles cringed when they heard their band mate bellow out their names.  If the girls heard it . . . .  Their fear became reality as they heard the screaming start getting louder behind them.  John ran up beside George, and grabbed a hold of the younger man's wrist, trying to pull him along.

Startled, George lost his grip on the yo-yo and he watched in horror as it flew up in the air and skid away from him.  "No!" he cried out, struggling against John's hold on him.  "My lucky yo-yo!"

John gave a harsh tug.  "We have to hide!  Your fans have gone balmy!"

George gave a forlorn glance at his poor toy before joining his friends in their flight.  He took them to the storage closet where Ringo was waiting.  

"Rings!  Open up!" George called out.  

As soon as the door opened, John threw Paul inside, causing the bassist to crash into Ringo, sending them both crumbling to the ground.  He then shoved George in, who barely missed stepping on his fallen mates.  The leader of the group pulled the door shut behind him, locking it instantly.  

"What's all the fuss about, lads?" Ringo asked, untangling himself from Paul and standing up.  He took in John and Paul's untidy appearances and frowned in confusion.  "What happened to you two?"

"Sh-h-h-h!"   John placed his index finger to his lips.  He could hear the girls getting closer and there was no way of knowing if the fans had seen them enter the closet or not.

Outside on the production floor, the horde of females had indeed seen the Beatles run through that doorway.  They pressed on in determination, for the goal of an apple-shaped bottom was within their grasp.  And by jove, that bum was going to be grasped!

The fans were so focused on the closet door that no one saw the yo-yo on the floor.  One of the girls' heels stepped on it, and it sent her falling backwards, colliding into the teenagers behind her.  The yo-yo skidded off to the side, causing another Beatlemaniac to drop to the ground and take out the fans following when it came in contact with the sole of her shoe.  Because they were running hard to catch up to the others, the girls in back crashed into the ones that were on the floor, creating a jumbled mess of entangled limbs and bodies.

Soon a cat fight broke out between the girls, frustration building to a dangerous level.  If one fan tried to break free, the others would pull her back down.  If they couldn't touch Paul's buttocks, no one was!

Tension filled the four Beatles as they listened intently against the closed door.  Odd sounds were coming from out on the production floor.  It sounded like female voices, but instead of squeals and laughter, they heard grunts and growls.  

"Are those birds fighting?" George asked.  "Let's take a peek  . . . ."

"No," John dissented.  "If they see that door open, it'll cause a stampede and Paul will be torn to bits."

"But they're mine and Rings' fans, so why would Paul be targeted?" the youngest Beatle questioned.

"Because John presented me bare naked bum to your fans to get them to chase us instead of you," Paul supplied, giving the leader of the band a glare.  "Of course he had to go into explicit detail which turned the girls absolutely potty!"

"You had Paulie moon our fans?" Ringo asked John in shock.  "That's a bit extreme, don't you think?"

"Well, it worked for my fans," John hastened to explain his actions.

"You had Paulie moon your fans too?"

"No, my trousers ripped," Paul interjected, lifting the jacket up to show the drummer.  "John's fans saw it and grabbed me."

"Cor!"  Ringo couldn't help but smile.  "You have to admit, if anyone's bum would fit in with an applesauce factory, it would be Paulie's apple bottom!"  Even though he was blushing, the bassist chuckled along with his three band mates.

Loud, male voices alerted the Fab Four to the arrival of help.  The boys stayed inside the storage closet until they heard their manager calling out their names in a panic.

"Thank heavens you lads are all right!" Brian Epstein cried out in relief when he saw the Beatles wearily emerge from a doorway.  He did a double take when he caught sight of John and Paul, but didn't ask.  All that mattered now was getting them safely out of the factory and back home!

George was ecstatic when he spotted his yo-yo on floor.  He hurried over and picked it up, this time placing it in a pocket inside his suit jacket.  Thanks to his lucky toy, they survived the hordes of fans in one piece!  

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The plant manager hurried to Brian and the Beatles as soon as they entered into his office.  "Thank goodness you found the boys safe!" Wilby Wilkens said sincerely.  "I'm so sorry everything got out of control, but I wasn't expecting anyone knowing about this except for us and the press."

"It's quite all right, Mr. Wilkens," Brian replied.  "Somehow the fan clubs found out about this tour before it hit the paper."

"Are you all still interested in a tour?" Wilkens asked.

"Sorry.  The boys are exhausted and had a few accidents along the way, so they need to go straight home."

The manager nodded in understanding.  "Well, I guess I should start work on getting this place sterilized since people were running around the production floor without the proper equipment on."

"We do feel terrible about that," Paul added.

"No, please don't.  You were only trying to keep from being attacked."  Wilkens shook his head in disbelief.  "Who would've guessed that nice, normal lasses could get so crazy and violent!"

"Maybe certain kinds of 'apples' should be kept from their reach," John teased, receiving a punch in the arm from Paul, and sniggers from Ringo and George.  Brian and Wilkens shared a look of discombobulation and shrugged.

"Were we going to get any complimentary applesauce?" George suddenly piped up.  From all the running he did today, his belly was starting to complain.

Wilkens smiled and walked over to an industrial sized refrigerator located in the corner of the room, and pulled out a tray that had five bowls of applesauce on it.  "Actually, I was planning on giving you boys these to sample after the tour."

George eagerly grabbed his bowl and began to slurp up the sweet tasting food.  Ringo ate his as well, but John and Paul looked at their applesauce and grimaced. It was bad enough they were wearing the product!

Noticing that his two older friends hadn't touched their bowls, the lead guitarist pointed to the food.  "If you're not going to eat it, can I have your shares?"

John grinned evilly and Paul winked in complicity as the bassist poured his fruit over George's head.  The youngest Beatle angrily wiped away the dripping applesauce.  What a waste!  He was still hungry!

Ringo began to laugh until he felt something wet spilling over his hair and down into his face.  He looked up at John.  "Why'd you do that for?" he demanded.

"Wouldn't want you to feel left out," John said with a crooked smile.  "I say that now we've all been christened in applesauce, our work is done!"  The Fab Four shook Mr. Wilkens' hand in parting and drug a sulking George out to their waiting car.

"Is it always this 'lively' with that lot around?" Wilkens asked the still stunned Brian.

The Beatles manager gave up trying to figure out the reasoning behind the applesauce episode and chuckled.  "Yes it is."

The two men said their goodbyes and Brian walked to the car that held his clients.  His hand lingering on the passenger side door handle, he smiled to himself.

'Another day with the Beatles!' he thought as he entered inside the vehicle.

How true it was!


THE END
A simple tour of a newly built applesauce factory causes the Fab Four a day of havoc!
© 2011 - 2024 SawyerFan
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samsummers08's avatar
LOL! That was awesome! My favorite line was, "Paul batted his long, curling eyelashes dramatically. "I was afraid you were going to laugh yourself to death, luv," he said in faux sweetness, "so I took drastic measures to save your life.""

That cracked me up! But I felt so embarrassed for poor Paulie! Oh, the shame of it! ;-P

Great story, love :D