The Gift of Girls

Chapter One: John

"I spy with my little eye something... white." Paul said, sounding about as enthusiastic as a child who had received a pair of socks for Christmas.

"Is it the ceiling?" George piped up from the floor. He was lying on his back with his long, spindly legs propped up against the living room wall, staring directly at the ceiling. His tone of voice reflected Paul's - bored and unexcited. Ringo was practically falling asleep. His chin was resting in the palm of his hand and was gradually slipping out of his grasp. His blue eyes were dull and glazed over with boredom. I myself didn't feel anymore enthusiastic.

"This is ridiculous." I said from my spot in the corner of the room.

"Well, you think of something else we can do." Paul snapped.

"I can't be bothered." I grumbled. I glanced up at the weather outside. Little droplets of rain splattered against the glass and trickled downwards. The atmosphere was very depressing, and the vast sea of unanswered fan mail didn't help in the slightest. I sighed heavily.

"I wish it wasn't raining, then maybe we could go out and do something fun."

"What? Like parading?" Ringo suggested.

"No way!" said George, barely shifting from his odd position on the floor. "The last time you went parading you got us all arrested! If we're going to do it all again then you can count me out."

"Ha, the quiet one speaks!" I said. George glared at me, his bushy eyebrows knitted together. It was obvious George was in a savage mood and I certainly didn't want to encourage it.

"All right, Johnny. What do you suppose we do?" George asked.

I mulled over the possibilities, stroking my chin so I appeared deep in thought. How could we take care of our boredom? What made yesterday seem so enjoyable but made today feel like one big blah-fest? I jumped to my feet and strolled around the room. I could feel the other three watching me, even George was staring up at me from the floor. 

"Well..." I said, running my hand through my hair. "Well..."

"Well what?" Paul asked irritably. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at me, his expression less than sincere. I rolled my eyes at his attitude and mimicked him, crossing my own arms and frowning. This infuriated Paul even further. "What?" he growled. 

"You know what I think?" I said.

"Very little." George replied, smirking at his own stupid joke. 

I ignored him. "I don't think we're suffering from boredom."

"Not suffering from boredom?!" Paul exploded, his face reddening. "Are you blind, John?! Or are you completely simple?!"

"We aren't suffering from boredom." I proceeded, nodding politely at Paul. "I think we're just lonely."

"Lonely?" Ringo repeated.

"How can we be lonely, John?" said George, one thick eyebrow raised. "We have each other."

"Tell me this, George." I said, leaning casually against the wall just beside him. "With our busy schedule and touring and all the other hundreds of things we do, when was the last time we got out and had some fun, hmm?"

George opened his mouth to speak, but paused before he could say anything. I could tell he was thinking hard about what I'd just asked him. Nothing appeared to spring to mind, so he just lay there with his feet on the wall and his mouth slightly askew. 

I nodded. "Exactly. It's been a really long time."

"I guess so..." George muttered, staring back up at the grimy ceiling.

"May I ask a personal question, Geo?"

George didn't even look at me. "Sure."

"When was the last time you..." I made an alarmingly dirty gesture with my fingers.

George's cheeks flushed pink. His gaze shifted from the ceiling to me. His big brown eyes suddenly widened, and they looked a little frightened. I waited for an answer.

"Well," George cleared his throat. "Not since we were in Hamburg."

"Hamburg?" said Ringo, blinking in astonishment. "That was nearly four years ago!"

George hung his head in shame. (Well, sort of. He was still lying on his back, but he looked pretty sheepish.) We all stood by for George to say something further. He didn't reply and kept staring at a spot on the ceiling with sudden interest. I was pretty sure he was just trying to avoid any awkward questions. I cleared my throat.

"I think we're just a bit down because there aren't any birds around."

"Oh, there's plenty of birds." said Paul, smiling crookedly. "They just want to tear our clothes off and suck our elbows until their tongues callus over."

"Thanks for that image, Paul." I said, shuddering. "But you're right. We need to find some genuine girls who want us for us. Not just because we're famous."

"Where are we going to find girls like that?" Paul asked.

"That I don't know. But we will, don't worry your pretty little head."

"Sure, I'm pretty," Paul said, tossing his long, brown hair out his eyes. "But I'm definitely going to worry. What are you planning in that devious little mind of yours?"

"Nothing yet." I replied airily. "But I will." 

I glanced down at George. He had drifted off to sleep during my and Paul's conversation. His mouth was still hanging open and a little stream of drool was dribbling down his chin. It looked comical but none of us laughed. We were too worried to even chuckle. Paul was nibbling anxiously on his lip.

"Paul?"

"Mmm?"

"Stop chewing your lip like that."

"It's my lip. I can do what I like with it."

"No, I mean, stop being such a worry-pot." I sidled up beside him and plopped on the couch. My arm stretched out and wound its way around his tense shoulders. I gave them a quick rub, trying to soothe him. Paul always got very worried whenever I was planning something, especially when that something involved him as well as me.

"Are you sure this will work, Johnny?" Paul whispered.

"I know it will, don't worry." I said, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze.

"I hope you know what you're doing."

"I already told you I know what I'm getting us into!" I said fiercely.

In truth I actually had no idea what to do. How was I going to find us a kind, loving girl each that wouldn't tear our clothes off? At that point it seemed easier said than done.