"John, you're sure everything is going to be okay?" I asked for the fiftieth time.
"Of course it will! I should know. This is probably my seventh plane trip."
"I'm not so sure. Look at all of the people. How do we know it's not above the weight limit?" Paul whimpered.
"Not you to!" Ringo groaned, even though he was just as nervous.
Once we were seated, I pulled out a book and started to read.
"Hey, Riley! We're taking off!" Ringo cried.
"Oh."
"Are you okay, Love?" Paul asked.
"Just hope I don't get sick."
"Aw, don't worry about that. Everything's going to be a okay!"
"If you say so."
The ride was going along fine, until my stomach started to get uneasy.
"George, I'm not feeling to good."
"Um, uh, try uh."
"I'll take you to the bathroom," Paul decided.
"I think I'm gonna get sick."
"Oh shit."
"Sir, I don't like my daughter to hear that kind of language," a woman snapped.
"Sorry."
"I hope so."
"Paul, Paul!"
Then, just as I made it in the bathroom, all of my lunch came out of my mouth.
I rinsed out the vomit, and returned to my seat.
"Do you feel better?" John asked.
"I little."
"Come sit next to me. I'll get you really cozy."
"Me to," Ringo grinned.
"Okay!"
So, the two got a heavy blanket laid down on the seat, a pillow on the arm, and a lighter blanket for me to cuddle up under.
"Like it, Babe?"
"It's wonderful, Ritchie."
As I fell asleep, Johnny ran his hand through my thick hair.
"Ritchie, where'd the thick hair come from?"
"I don't know."
"It's beautiful. Just like corn silk. Golden to."
"Are you drooling over my girl?"
"Just admiring."
"For now."
"Not!"
"We'll see."
"Riley! We're landing!" John cheered.
"Wait? Landing?!"
"Yeah, we're almost home."
"Finally! I'm so glad. That was a rough tour."
"Was it ever! I've got blisters on my fingers."
"Don't worry, they'll heal, Ritchie."
"Yeah, then they'll be calluses."
"I've got them to."
"That's true."
Once we got off the plane, girls surrounded us.
"John! I love you!"
"Touch me, Paul!
"Ringo's all mine, Riley!"
"George!!"
"Can I have your autograph, Paul?!"
"John!!"
"Are you married yet, Riley?"
Oh great. Reporters.
"No, actually, we're just good friends."
"Are you pregnant?"
"No, I'm not married."
"Are you engaged?"
"No, she's just a good friend," Ringo replied.
"What they need's a damn good wacking," I thought to myself.
"Sorry about them, Honey Pie," Ringo murmured when we got to the house.
"They're just nosey asses," John replied.
"I couldn't tell."
"Are you gonna make something? I'm starving," George complained.
"Of course, Geo."
The End.
Merry Christmas to Paul, Ringo, and @paul_is_my_husband!
