Golden Lockets

I Don't Want to Do It...

Let's fast forward a few years to the month of August, 1966. The Beatles had been touring nonstop since their big break in America nearly two years ago, and they were getting a bit sick of it - George especially. He often complained to Brian that he hated all the moving around, saying that it wasn't good for either him or his daughter to be travelling at such a rate. Brian said rather rudely that George should have thought about that before he got himself knocked up. 

"I didn't know it could work backwards!" George whined. 

Brian sighed and patted him on the shoulder. "I know, Georgie. It's fine for you to feel this way, I get it, but what can we do?"

"Maybe we could stop touring so much." George muttered.

"Don't be so silly!" Brian said, sounding amazed that George would suggest such a thing. "We can't stop touring just like that! What will the fans say?"

"What's more important, Brian?" George asked the manager, his eyebrows knitted into a hideous glare, "Isn't the well-being of my three year old daughter a bigger priority than concert sales?"

"Yes, but -"

"No buts, Brian!" George shouted, "We need to stop touring! I want my Serenity to have a normal childhood, not a frantic, chaotic one full of travelling and crowds of deranged women! That's no life for a little girl!"

Brian's eyes widened. He was shocked by George's sudden emotional outburst. "George! Calm down! Can't we just -"

"NO!" George screamed, froth forming on his lip, "We need to stop touring, for Serenity's sake! You need to do something about it or I will personally throw you out of this house!"

Brian swallowed anxiously, trembling like a leaf. "I'll see what I can do..." he muttered.

* * * *

"Well, lads! I've done it!" Brian announced a week later. "You are officially off the hook!"

"What do you mean, Eppy?" John asked, propping his feet up on the coffee table. Paul was sitting close beside him, his head practically lolling on John's shoulder. Ringo was sitting on the couch opposite, a magazine lying open on his lap.  

"You lads don't have to tour anymore!" Brian declared, his face pink with pride. 

"WHAT?!" John, Paul, and Ringo cried in unison. They sounded distressed, which was the exact opposite reaction Brian had wanted. He raised a questioning eyebrow at the lads. Their mouths were hanging open, their faces still looking hilariously stunned.

"When did you decide to stop us touring?" Paul asked, finding his voice.

"George was complaining about the effect all the travelling was having on little Serenity, so he wore me down. You guys don't have to tour anymore. No more noisy stadiums. No more screaming girls. No more air travel. Just a regular home life."

"Bloody George..." John mumbled, slumping down in his seat. "He always ruins everything."

"I thought you hated touring, Johnny." said Brian, his head cocked on one side.

"I do, but why did he have to complain about it before I did?"

At that precise moment, George walked in. He was smiling brightly at his band mates. Serenity smiled too. She was perched on her dad's shoulders, her little starfish hands wrapped tightly around his throat. The other lads couldn't help grinning back. They had gotten used to having a toddler around the house a while ago and often volunteered to play with Serenity, mainly John. George reached up, grabbed Serenity's waist with both hands, and carefully pulled her off his shoulders and placed her on the carpet. She fell onto her bottom, giggling uncontrollably.