Beatles Horror Stories

Drugged

George was not feeling right.

Sure, this wasn't the first time that he had a bit too many drinks for one night, but something was making him feel sicker than usual.

George put his elbow on the bar's surface and rested his forehead in his hand, groaning, his half-eaten meal resting on the plate that sat in front of him.

The bartender, noticing that the guitarist was the only one who was currently sat at the bar, approached, raising an eyebrow.

"Everythin' alright?" He asked.

George raised his head to look at him.

"I... I f-feel a l-little..."

He paused, hiccuping.

"S-sick..."

The bartender leaned forward.

"And... Where are the others?"

"Ah... John and... And Paul left some m-minutes ago, along... Along with Ringo, I think?"

The bartender scanned over the crowds that sat at the tables for a moment before looking back at George.

"Oh... My name's Deryl, by the way."

George opened his mouth to respond, but a sudden, very sharp headache made him put his head down on his arms.

"You... You need help?"

"I... I t-think I'm going t-to... Throw up..."

Acting quickly, Deryl walked out from behind the bar and stood next to the ill Beatle.

"I'll help you. You don't look to good."

George blinked for a moment, his vision and self-awareness slowly fading.

He didn't protest when he felt Deryl keep a grip on him when they both had started walking.

Nor did he become suspicious when they began to head towards the back entrance instead of the bathrooms.

Once the two were out of sight of any customers, George leaned against Deryl, who was starting to grin as he saw the color drain from George's face.

George hiccuped and, taking a long moment to recognize where he was, opened his mouth.

"W-wh... Where a-are... We going?"

George began to faint, and Deryl chuckled in his ear as he carried him out the door.

"You should always check what's in your food, Harrison."

Those were the last words George heard before he fell unconscious.