paper crown (been rewritten better under the name "Wonderwall - mclennon")

chapter 4

"What's wrong with sleeping with me macca? I haven't got any bugs."

  John attempted a gag was the two beatles either side of me pushed open the car doors and slipped out. Letting the cold night air rush into the car as a struggled to undo my seat belt so I could follow them.

  "You used to cuddle with Johnny all the time paulie. What's wrong? You're not as queer for him anymore? Is it because he ditched the leather trousers?"

  The three boys burst out laughing at Ringo's comment. I let out a forced laugh aswell. Not because I didn't find it funny, it was just because the realness of sharing a bed with John was sinking in and was admittingly making me a bit on edge. Which is obviously resulting in me not being able to take off my seat belt.

  "I can always bring them back for you princess."

John slurred seductively. Wiggling his eye brows enthusiastically to prove it was a joke as he ducked his head back into the car to undo my seat belt for me. Seeing as he obviously knew I was struggling to do it.

  Just before his large hands reached my seat belt I managed to breathe in as much as possible. Trying my very hardest to make sure he felt as little of the disgusting fat that was on my tummy.

  A shame I couldn't 'breathe in' with my thighs. Honestly they're the size of tree trunks.

  "I'd rather you didn't."

  I tried go continue the joke aster I was tree from the belt and the car. The taxi drove off quickly behind us. Most likely glad go finally have me out of his car. We jogged together closers to the other two who by now had made their way into rather warm receotion. Thank god.
  The cold was really getting to me recently. Apparently it's a side effect of getting skinner. Though if that where true why am I feeling cold? I'm not fucking skinny!

  "Hear that lads? Paul says he hates my leather trousers!"

  John announced as goerge and Ringo came into view. The four of us, Brian and George Martin were the only people in the reception at this time. Save for the night shift receptionist who barely looked alive.

  "Here you go gentle men. Room 456, for Mr Harrison and star. Room 457 for Mr Lennon and McCartney and room number 458 for Mr epstien and Martin."

  The receptionist rattled off the details of our rooms as she slid three keys over the counter to us. Not even bothering to place them in our hands.

  Not that I blame her. If I was working the night shift in a shifty hotel and probably  had to deal with countless annoying guests I'd be a bit pissed aswell.

  "Thank you ma'am!"

  John said as he grabbed his keys. The receptionist made no acknowledgement to the lead singer. Not even when he tipped his imaginary hat at her.
  She wasn't taking any bullshit.

  "John she's not having it."

  I giggled as I started walking towards the door labeled "stairs" none of the boys following me.

  "There is a lift ya know paulie? No need to use the stiars!"

  Ringo stated as I reached the stairs door. I know full well there was a door if I'm hondst. But fatasses like me don't loose wieght taking the fucking lift do they?

  "Race you?"

  I challenged. Though it came out more as a question. None of the boys said anything at first. Not until George broke out into a wife grin and made a quick dash for the lift. Sending me on my way up the stairs and out of view.
  I flew up the stairs as fast as my weak legs could carry me. My stomach was straining more and more with each step and I could slowly see my vision being impaired as I scaled the stairs.

  What was happening?

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  Hey guys thanks for reading! I'll try and upload more often when I actually find out what the fuck I'm doing with my other story.