Strings, Spells, and the Beatleverse

Chapter 5: The Secret of Mister Brian

5.1: The Disappearing Act

One night, Mister Brian, the man who was everything and nothing to the Beatles, revved up his shiny Pontiac and zoomed out of Liverpool like he was escaping a bad date. No goodbye, no wave, no second thoughts. Just a man on a mission. He checked his rear-view mirror every five seconds, like a man with secrets the size of the moon. His getaway? Strictly hush-hush. Like a James Bond scene, only with more leather seats and less action.

He drove through landscapes that looked like they came straight out of a post-apocalyptic dream, dodging everything, until he hit a place so remote that not even Google Maps knew where it was.

And there he was—his old friend, the flaming pie guy.

5.2: The Flaming Pie Chronicles

Mister Brian grinned like a kid on Christmas morning when he saw the old man's den. First thing that hit him? A flaming pie. And no, it wasn't some metaphorical thing—it was literally a flaming pie. The kind you'd sleep in. The kind you'd probably catch on fire if you weren't paying attention. The old man was perched in front of it, singing some bizarre tune that sounded like it came from a different dimension. Or maybe it was just a song about how much he liked fire. Who knows?

The old man crooned like he was summoning something ancient, something magical. Mister Brian tried to follow along, but the lyrics were... let's just say "abstract." He got the feeling it was some kind of autobiography, but honestly, it felt like the guy was having a midlife crisis, even though he was probably 500 years old.

Here's a snippet of the lyrical genius:

Never need a lighter, never need a match,

A flaming pie is my playground, it's my high-temperature home.

And I dance on the sacred fire, I dance on the sun,

Everything shines, everything burns, and everything is perfect (for me, for me).

Blue waters are my disaster, and firemen my nightmare.

Yellow is my colour, incandescence my paradise.

No one understands, so natural for me to fry my toes (and a beard hair, and a beard hair).

Yeah. You can imagine Mister Brian's face when he heard that.

5.3: The Old Man's Secrets

Now, Mister Brian wasn't a newbie when it came to weirdness. After all, he'd been dealing with the Beatles for a while. But this old guy? He was the real deal. The kind of eccentric wizard you read about in fantasy novels. And his advice? Well, that's when things got interesting.

"So, you've found three Beatles, huh?" the old man said, raising an eyebrow. "That's all? Where's the fourth one?"

Mister Brian blinked, like he had just been slapped across the face. "What? There's a fourth?"

The old man chuckled darkly, waving a hand as if he were dismissing a child's silly question. "Don't be foolish, Brian. Pete is not a Beatle. He's not the one. Never will be."

Mister Brian was crushed. Pete was a nice guy, sure, but not a Beatle? The pressure was starting to get to him. "Then who's the fourth? Where the hell do I find him?"

The old man gave him a grin that sent chills down his spine. "Relax, Brian. I've seen the fourth. He's out there. He's been 'baptised' already. Just... not the way you think."

Mister Brian's mind raced. A fourth Beatle? But how? How do I find him?

5.4: The Beatles and Their Destiny