T U R N M E O N, D E A D M A N

one

1

James Paul McCartney woke up on November 1st, 1966, at 7:30 am.

Of course, this was normal. Most everyone wakes up on a general Tuesday morning. He just slept in a little later than usual, was all. 

He stretched, a light yawn coming from his feminine lips, hazel eyes watering slightly, before turning to the edge of his bed and stepping off, his feet making a soft thud as the floor collided with them. He, of course, was allowed to sleep in if he wanted to. But the young man was an early bird and liked to spend the early hours of the morning playing music (much to Jane's disappointment and protest.)

After relieving himself in the bathroom, like his routine often led him to, Paul turned to the mirror to straighten his appearance out. Giving an unwavering look to his reflection, he proceeded to comb his raven hair out straight.

 It is important to specify, for later events, that at this moment he had a healthy look to him. There was a sparkle in his hazel orbs, his hair looked well taken care of, and his porcelain-like skin was soft and smooth. No dots or blemishes to even speak of. 

He gave a small smile to his reflection, before walking into his kitchen in his fairly large flat. Starting to make scrambled eggs, he thought about the sometimes random things that popped into his head but then noticed that the white and grey blob wasn't on the sofa as usual. 
"I guess she doesn't always sleep on the sofa then?" Paul mused quietly, slightly biting the inside of his lower lip, before making sure he wasn't over-beating the eggs. 

He liked his eggs soft and fluffy.

He was lost within another thought when he heard the soft footsteps of his girlfriend Jane. "Good mornin' beautiful!" Paul chirped in his general cheerful fashion, in which the actress only groaned in response to. The young man turned to the disheveled and tired looking girl, "M. Wake up on the wrong side of th' bed, Janey?" "Paul, as much as I love you, I'm tired and would like to sleep in a little in the mornings, even if it is just by an hour or two," she yawned, ginger hair shifting awkwardly about her shoulders. "Well, 'mean yew could go back to sleep righ' now if yew wanted," the raven-haired lad muttered, to which Jane shrugged "Well now I'm up, so thanks mister early bird,"  "Anythin' for my Janey, madam!" he cheered, smile unwavering, making Jane giggle with contentment.

2

John Winston Lennon groggily woke up on November 1st, 1966, at 9:01 am.

To emphasize how groggy his awakening was, I do have to mention that when his wife (Cynthia) asked if he was okay, Lennon only replied the following:

"Me heads all fuckin' mush an' drink an' drug an' whatnot,"

This brief answer was then interrupted by Lennon buckling over the toilet and throwing up the remainder of whatever they had last night. Cynthia only shook her head and sighed, setting his glasses on the bathroom counter before going to check on their three-year-old, Julian.

John flung his head up, gasping for air, his throat raw from the stomach acid. He shook his head silently, muttering a variety of colorful wording, before retching back into the white bowl. The Beatle looked up, unable to tell if he was done yet, but assumed he was. Groaning loudly, he brought himself up with a little help of his friends, the toilet seat, the counter surface, and the small amount of force that his body could muster being his friends. Lennon made eye contact with his reflection. Almond eyes narrowing slightly, he blew his nose for the remnants of his little reverse 'see a man about a horse' moment that he recently had. You could theoretically call it a 'see a horse about a man' moment.