The Beatles Short Stories

Two Sick Babies

Okay, everyone! It's been a while again, and I'm sorry! I did receive a request from PunchedTheBurrsar, whom I would like to thank for making this story a story, and that's why I decided to update this book. I hope you like it!
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"John, I was watching that!" Paul McCartney whined with a sniffle as his best mate, John Lennon, switched the television channel.

"Oh, sod off, Macca! No one cares about watching a bunch of dogs sniff each other's butts!" John vexed as he collapsed onto the sofa where a blanket-covered Paul was already sitting.

"I do, ya git! It's adorable! Maybe no one cares about watching the boring, old news! Did ya ever think of that?" Paul snapped back before he fell into a coughing fit.

"I don't care about what you care about, Paul! Just go to sleep or something! You're sick anyway!"

"But so are you!"

"Well, I'm stronger than you, Princess. Remember that concert last year you caused us to miss because you got sick? I've never caused us to ever miss anything! Heck, I was able to outplay you on "Please Please Me" and I was sick then!" John retaliated, although his little speech caused him to break out into a fit of chills. "Hand me that blanket!" he then demanded as he tugged at Paul's fluffy blanket.

"No! It's mine!" Paul moaned like a baby as he tugged it back out of John's hands.

"But I'm cold and I want it, so hand it over, Paul!" John argued, once again trying to take his mate's blanket.

"No, you bugger! It's mine! I've got a fever, so I deserve it!"

"Well, I've got a fever too, so your point is invalid!" John yelled, finally tugging hard enough on the blanket, which resulted in him and Paul falling off the couch.

"Ow!" Paul shrieked dramatically as he came tumbling onto the floor, his head whacking the coffee table in the process.

"Mine," John managed to taunt as he evilly waved the blanket in front of Paul, who was actually beginning to tear up.

"I've had it, Lenny! I'm sick, now I've got a headache, and I refuse to let you push me around any longer!" Paul cried as he pulled himself off the floor and made his way over to the telephone.

"Well, what are you going to do about it, Princess?" John sneered whilst he snuggled onto the couch.

"I'm phoning George and Ringo, that's what!" Paul sassed, wiping his snotty nose on his sweater sleeve as he dialed the number.

"Oh, that's horrible!" John fake cried as he clutched his chest and bit his nails. "I'm so scared! The Great Princess of Liverpool will surely dethrone me with the help of her two little village peasants, Georgie Porgie and Richard the Falling Starr!"

"Shut up, John," Paul scoffed with a roll of his fever-glowing eyes as he put the telephone up to his ear.

Moments later, the sound of George's voice became audible.

"Hello?" he spoke cheerfully.

"Hello, George?" Paul replied in a congested tone, which immediately caught George's attention.

"Yeah, what is it, Paul? Are you alright?" the lead guitarist asked sweetly.

"No, I'm not unfortunately. You see, John and I are both ill, and John's being mean to me, so I wondered if you and Ringo could come over and help me out. Would you do that?" Paul asked pathetically, which caused John to burst out into laughter.