Classic Rock Bands One-shots

McLennon: Peekaboo Bitch

Paul inherited his grandfather’s home; it took a year of renovations before it’s in livable condition. Once Paul was all settled in and he was in his brand new Ikea bed the grand piano that was left in the dining room began to play. Paul was confused it was just him inside the grand home he creeps down there where he sees a older man a year or two older than Paul playing the piano. He screams and the man whirls around making Paul scream more the man has a gaping hole on the left side of his face where his eye should be, “You can see me?” was the only thing the man asks.

The only thing that crosses Paul’s mind is, maybe Grandpa Joe wasn’t crazy after all, “You must be Paul.” the faded boy says softly his words graced with eloquents.

“H-How?”

The ghost just smiles and gestures around the room, “The old man would talk about his grandson, Paul to me before his nurse locked him up for talking to himself.”

“Yes that is correct she said he was suffering from dementia but his heart killed him first.” Paul says backing up, “What happened to your eye?” 

“Oh, that? I forgot all about that!” the boy’s hand flies to his face, “If I remember correctly it was a farming accident.”

“... What year are you from?” 

“Uh.. let’s see uh… 1909? I remember seeing it in the paper before everything gets all murky.” 

Paul rubs his head, “And your name would be nice too.”

“John Winston… I can’t remember my last name.” John admits sheepishly.

Paul sighs, “Well quit playing the piano at midnight.”  And with that Paul goes upstairs leaving his new roommate floating downstairs.

It was hard to get use to John living with him, he thought he would be alone. Still it was annoying when the room got too cold, or a pillow would come smacking into him, or the bed would dip and icy arms would wrap around him. But Paul dealt with it much to the annoyance of his life.

As he was cleaning out the basement relocating some of Grandpa Joe’s things to a nice storage unit downtown a book comes crashing onto his head nearly knocking him out, “What the bloody fuck?” Paul rubs the goose egg bump the stupid book gave him on his head.

He reads the cover, “Bringing Back the Dead by H.C Mutton”, Paul flips it open and flips through the pages he stops when he lands on something a thought crosses his hurting head, “I know how to bring John back.” he races upstairs laughing.

Once the thunder storm started Paul turned off all the lights and shut all the curtains. He drew the symbol and places some of his hair into the center, John floats worriedly next to him, “Do you think this is going to work?”

“If it helps make you less annoying then yes.” 

John whimpers and floats around watching the flames on the candles, “Hoc animal a mortuis et in carne et osse semel corium sol sentiat, audiat etiam saporem. Huius bring creatura retro. Huius bring creatura retro. Quis posuit in eo vita est sentiat!” Paul chants six times like the book says he sliced his hand open and let the blood pour onto the candle’s flame the clock stops ticking it freezes at eleven.

The whole house goes silent and Paul whirls around he gasps John was on his back on his back on the floor rubbing his head groaning but he was solid, “C-Cold floor.”

“Good, you can feel let's get you cleaned up.” Paul says helping him up, John was an inch or two taller than him and wobbly as he tried to walk. It didn’t help that he’ll try and go through walls or float up the stairs nearly breaking his ankles and bruising his shins.

Paul managed to get his eye cleaned up, no more blood or weird crust packed onto it, he managed to find an old eye patch from a pirate costume and put it on John’s eye. It took John a full year to adjust to modern life and no matter what Paul did he wouldn’t stop messing with the light switch. 

One fall day Paul grabs John by the elbow and drags him to the door, “Now come on we’re going to the library.” Paul informs him,

“Why?” John asks following after him, 

“Come on you’ll know soon.”

They go to the library and Paul scours through the newspaper archives the library has he stops at one issued August the 19th 1909 he see’s John’s face before the accident or at least it looks like him the picture is very grainy and hard to make out.

“John Winston Lennon, only 17 found murdered on family farm.” Paul reads out, “Mr. Lennon’s eye was scraped out and he was found with a rag stuffed down his throat. Cause of death is suffocation and blood loss the killer is still at large.”

John touches his throat, his dark brown eye closed shut, “My sister’s husband killed me. He wanted the land once my parents died.”

Paul winces, “Ouch… it also says your from Liverpool as well.”

“Well then.” John reads over his shoulder, “Print out a copy and lets go home. I’m cold.”

“You’re always cold.” Paul jokes paying the 2£ to print out the ancient newspaper copy and the two head back home.

Paul turns the heater on and John messes with the light switch once again, “You’re the reason my power and heat is so high.”

John leaves the light off, “Sorry, Paulie.”

Paul gets ready for bed and he showers, which John scares the shit out of him by pulling the curtain back and yelling, “Peekaboo bitch!”

Both boys change into night clothes after that and Paul has to force John to brush his teeth. He climbs on the technicality older man wrapping his legs around his torso and pride open his mouth forcing the toothpaste filled brush into his mouth and aggressively scrubbing at the teeth. He also has to force John to floss and use mouthwash too which wasn’t fun.

Paul climbs into bed and scoots over for John to join him, John immediately clings to Paul shoving his feet down Paul’s pants, his cold feet pressed in Paul’s bare bottom. Paul reminds himself to get his revenge later on. But for now he’s tired and worn trying to teach a person from the 1900’s how to be modern isn’t easy but at least chores have gotten easier now that he has a roommate that doesn’t know what personal space is or hardly remembers his past life, but Paul wouldn’t trade John I’m for anything, he’s just happy that John’s here.