The Beatles Short Stories

Eppy's Beatle Beatdown

Hello again! Sorry it's been ages since I've updated this book, but markysek4 told me that she'd like another of these stories, so I went ahead and wrote this one. I hope you all enjoy it! :-)
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"What? What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Just...you," John smiled in amusement.

"What's so funny about me? Is it because I thought I heard something?" Paul inquired, half annoyed, half amused.

"Well, it's just...you're so," John trailed off as he began imitating a very anxious, neurotic person.

"High-strung?" Paul finished for him.

"Exactly," laughed John with a slap to Paul's shoulder. "I mean, how many times have we been on a ruddy plane? At least a hundred times, and here you are jumping at the slightest of sounds like you've never even flown before. You've got to admit, you look quite the fool, Macca."

Paul rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in defiance, deciding to ignore John's ribbing. After all, John was exhausted and therefore would josh about and make fun of everyone even more so than that which was usual. Paul, however, was the complete opposite when he was tired, which was why his patience was beginning to wear on the thinner side of things.

"Come on, Paul. Fight back, son. You know I like it when you're brutal," John whined as he repeatedly poked Paul's arm, trying to get his attention again.

"John," Paul sighed, sounding just like an annoyed bird. "Would you please be quiet? It's nearly one in the morning, and the only reason I'm even awake now is because it's merely impossible to sleep on these freaking planes. And you talking makes it even more impossible, so would you kindly shut your gob?"

"There he is, my brutal little Macca! I knew you had it in you," John hurrahed, not bowing to Paul's wishes. "Now, tell the people back home how wonderful it feels to stand up to the caustic personality of the one and only Mr. John Winston Lennon," he continued, pretending to thrust a microphone beneath Paul's mouth.

"I'm going to kill you, John," Paul deadpanned, dramatically throwing his head back against the seat and closing his eyes in defeat.

"Oh, but it looks to mine eyes that dear Pyramus hath died instead!" John exclaimed giddily as he took Paul by the arms and proceeded to throw him onto the floor, obviously hoping for a bout of play-fighting to ensue.

"Ow!" Paul yelped, surprised by the sudden harshness. "What the ruddy Churchill, John?"

"No, no, my name is Thisbe, and you, Pyramus, are dead," John replied in a girlish tone as he held Paul, who was struggling to get out of his grasp, down.

"Knock it off, you queer!" Paul laughed despite himself as he hit at John's biceps.

"Shh, you git. Brian's around here somewhere, you know," John quipped, waggling his eyebrows.

"You dirty-minded sod!" retorted Paul with a smirk as he tried his best to wriggle out of John's grip on him.

John, though, was slightly heavier and stronger than Paul, so the latter found he could not do so—not without help, anyway.

"Ringo!" he cried, kicking the seat before him that Ringo was sleeping in. "Help me, you daft git!"

"Paul, didn't I tell you to just say no next time?" Ringo yawned, still half asleep as he turned to see John holding a struggling Paul down on the dirty ground.

"What? No, you sod! I meant help me with this freak of nature!" Paul cried as he nodded his head up towards John, who at this point was dying of laughter. "He won't let me up!"