Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me. All references to The Beatles and their songs also don't belong to me either.

A/N: So, here's another "weird" humorous fanfic that won't make sense to anyone but my friends and I. But, I figured if someone can get a laugh out of it, then I might as well write it. Now, a large part of this fic deals with an urban legend, which I hope many of you are at least familiar with, dealing with The Beatles. The legend is, for the most part, explained in the story so fear not; I also recommend researching for about it online, it's a lot of fun. My friends and I went through the events in this story, so if they sound comical and unrealistic, it's not so. Anyway, enough of this, I hope everyone enjoys this story, please review and let me know.

Seth Cohen just couldn't understand why Summer Roberts didn't understand the glory of The Beatles. Not only were they the greatest British band of all time, but one of the greatest bands period; it was just that simple.

Though, apparently not to her, seeing as Summer was sitting cross-legged on his floor, rolling her eyes and studying her newly manicured fingernails. "I don't get it." Summer stated simply, looking away from her nails and up to her boyfriend. "How writes a song about walruses?"

It was Seth's turn to roll his eyes now as he hit the repeat button on his stereo system, sending "I Am the Walrus" by the Beatles blaring back through the speakers. He didn't have to worry about the volume, even though it was nearly three in the morning, seeing as his parents were out at some socialite party. Which was the reason some had come over in the first place, to keep him company until his parents returned.

"It's not about walruses, Summer." Seth told her as patiently as he could. "The only part of this song that has any effect on you is the word walrus?"

Summer got to her feet, stretching her arms over her head and giving Seth a view of her mid-drift and narrowed her eyes at him. "Well, walrus is such a weird word to have in a song." She defended. "Nothing else really makes sense."

Seth wanted to ask how 'walrus' made any sense to her but he decided not to. Instead, he said, "Just listen to the words." He turned the volume up a bit.

Summer rolled her eyes again and pulled a chair out from beneath Seth's desk, flopping down in it. "I don't understand why you're making me listen to these stupid songs, Cohen." She mumbled. "It's two in the morning, I just want to go to sleep." She tried to make her words sound suggestive, but she was too tired for that.

Seth seemed not to have heard her. "If you listen to the words," he continued oblivious, "they really are strange." Summer yawned for effect. "They mention pigs about to be slaughtered and dead dogs."

Summer wrinkled her nose. "That's not weird Cohen." She corrected. "That's just plain creepy, those guys need some sort of therapy."

Seth shrugged, not necessarily disagreeing with her. "I Am the Walrus" was winding to an end and Seth lay down on his bed, leaning against the headboard and listening to the music for a moment before speaking again. "That is what a lot of people say." He told his girlfriend, who had gone back to studying her nails. "All their songs are weird, people say they have hidden meanings."

Summer looked up at him. "That sounds boring, Cohen." She told him frankly. "Let's do something else. Or at least put in some good music."

Seth rolled his eyes once more. "The Beatles are good music." He retorted. "You can spend hours trying to figure out what all the songs really mean, thinking about all the rumors that went around about them."

"I don't want to spend hours listening to songs about dead walruses." Summer pointed out, her voice picking up the slight hint of a whine as she spoke. "I'm tired. I want to spend hours sleeping."

Seth was silent, wondering why he wasn't the least bit tired; it was five minutes to three A.M., much later then he was used to staying up during the week but he seemed to be full of energy. Maybe it was just Summer's presence that had the effect on him.

"I Am the Walrus" had ended, being replaced by "Strawberry Fields Forever" one of his favorites, though he wasn't sure why. It was eerie, and a total stoner song, but he loved it anyway.

Summer was nodding off in her seat, yawning and closing her eyes, resting her cheek in the palm of her hand. Seth didn't want to loose her company, not until his parents got home, to he started talking again, hoping to rouse her. "You know this song," he started and Summer's eyes snapped open. She glared at him. "There are a lot of rumors about it."

"I don't care, Cohen." Summer whined. She had never heard this song before, and wasn't quite sure why anyone would write an entire song dedicated to strawberry fields. Did strawberries even grow in fields? Maybe that was were the walruses hung out. "Can't you just turn it off and we can go to bed."

Seth shook his head; if they fell asleep in bed together, innocently or not, and his parents came home, it was no going to be pleasant. "You're not even the least bit curious about what those rumors are?" Summer didn't look too curious. "I thought you loved that sort of stuff."

"Yeah." Summer agreed. "When they're about people, not songs."

"Well," Seth began, deciding to tell her whether she wanted to hear it or not, "when this song came out, a lot of people said that they heard the words 'I buried Paul' at the end of the song." Summer didn't look impressed. "Paul is the name of one of The Beatles." He explained. Summer was silent for a moment.

"Uh-huh." She said, deadpan. "That doesn't make since, because I know Paul is still alive. Didn't he marry some woman with one leg?"

Seth waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, but that's not the point. What is the point is that's where the rumors started. People said that The Beatles got in a car accident and Paul died and they covered the whole thing up and just replaced him. The words at the end are supposed to be proof, like a confession or..." he added this last part of the campfire spook effect, "words beyond the grave."

Summer seemed to tense slightly; ever since she'd been convinced that she saw a ghost in her father's house in the first grade, she wasn't too pleased whenever such words were brought up in conversation. "You're just trying to scare me." She snapped and tried to relax. "Have you ever heard those words?"

Seth shook his head. "No, but I've always listened for them." He told her. He'd always wanted to hear the mysterious words, but he'd never had any luck.

Summer narrowed her eyes. "Then how do you even know it's true?" She questioned. "I don't like being scared, Cohen, so don't be an ass."

Seth smiled and laughed slightly. "Sorry, just making conversation." He apologized. "It's just a rumor anyway. Most people say that he says 'Cranberry sauce', so I think you're safe."

Summer stared at him for a moment, not quite convinced, before regarding the stereo with distaste, as though it was an animal waiting to pounce. The song itself was over and "Strawberry Fields" was reaching its drum solo, where Seth knew the hidden words were rumored to reside. He'd listened time and time again, but all he could hear was drumming.

In silence, Summer and Seth listened to the song, with Seth lounging on his bed and Summer trying not to look so tense in her chair. It was just a stupid song, she tried to tell herself, with a whole lot of spastic drumming; it wasn't like she was looking in the mirror and expecting a spirit to appear.

Inaudible grunts could now be heard over the drumming and Summer tried to ignore them; that was what happened when you had a little bit too much weed before stepping into the recording studio. She felt a chill run up her spine and she made a mental note to teach Cohen not to scare her when she wasn't so tired.

Then, in the middle of the drum solo, it became possible to hear speaking, full-formed words. For the first time since he had begun listening to the song, Seth heard the words that had everyone talking for years. Plain as day, an unidentifiable man grumbled, "I buried Paul."

Summer's eyes shot open, growing so wide Seth thought they might fall out of her head and she leaped out of her chair and onto his bed, scrambling across the mattress until she had her arms wrapped around him and her head pressed in his chest. "I heard it." She mumbled.

Seth nodded, patting her comfortingly; he'd heard the words too and he wasn't ashamed to admit that it had been a little on the creepy side. It was almost as though he had been messing with an Oujia board and the pointer had actually moved.

However, the sight of Summer bounding across his room and onto his bed was enough to make light of the situation. Summer began to relax, lifting her head and taking a deep breath; however, before she could sit up, the eerie words were repeated. With a shriek, she grabbed onto Seth again and held him tightly.

"It's okay, Summer." Seth told her. "It's just a song." Even so, he couldn't help but start paying better attention to the shadows in his room; it was just strange, hearing something like that in a song, even if you were sort of expecting it. How come he'd never heard them before?

Summer lifted her head again when she was certain the song had ended. "You said that it was a message from the dead!" She accused, her eyes still unnaturally wide. "It was a ghost, it's true!" She grabbed him again.

"No, Summer," Seth denied, "it was just one of the guys messing around after having a bit too much to drink." He attempted to pry Summer off of him but it was no good, she was wielded tightly to him.

Summer shook her head. "No, it was Paul." She mumbled. "I heard it." Seth managed to get her to release her grip under his arms, which had begun to go numb.

"No, Paul is still alive, remember?" He pointed out. "His wife only has one leg."

"It's a fake Paul." Summer wailed, unconvinced. "We're going to die, Paul's ghost is going to haunt us forever." Seth had no idea where she was coming up with this stuff. "You shouldn't have made me listen to that song." She grabbed onto him again.

Seth was starting to feel the same way. "Summer, for the last time," he said, forcing her into a sitting position. "Paul is not dead, we just heard that because we wanted to. End of story."

Summer shook her head but remained silent this time, as though trying to believe what Seth had said was true. She seemed to relax a little. "Yeah," she agreed, "we just thought we heard it." She nodded. "Isn't his daughter a fashion designer?"

Seth sighed, amused. "That's right, Sum-" He started but before he could finish, there was a sound from downstairs, something falling against the floor.

Summer cried out again and slammed her head against Seth's chest again, catching the bottom of his chin and making him bite his tongue. "What was that?" She whispered. "It's Paul."

"What?" Seth questioned, looking down at her. "Summer, don't you think you're taking this Paul thing a bit too far?" But he had heard the sound too and all his mind kept repeating were those three little words that had managed to begin sending chills down his spine. "It was just probably just Ryan." He knew it wasn't.

"No." Summer shook her head. "He's at Marissa's, you know that." She accused. "They're working on a project."

Seth did know that and he changed gears. "It's probably my parents, then, they must have just gotten in." He proposed.

"I didn't hear the door open." Summer told him and Seth realized he hadn't either. Perhaps in all the Paul madness they had missed it.

She released him and turned around, casting a cautious glance over her shoulder, half expecting to see a dead and buried Paul standing in the hallway. Before Seth could say anything more, there was another crash and Summer wailed again about how Paul was coming to kill them. He sighed; he was never going to let her watch "The Ring" again.

"Come on," he said, slipping off his bed.

Summer grabbed onto his arm. "Where are you going?" She questioned, eyes even wider with fear. "Not downstairs. We should lock your door and call the police."

Seth untangled himself and started toward his bedroom door. "I have to go see what that was." He told her. "You can come if you want."

Summer glared at him. "You're crazy." She snapped. "I'm not going down there, not with Paul."

Seth couldn't resist. "Fine, you can stay up here with Paul, then." He gestured toward the stereo, which was still playing The Beatles.

Summer flung herself off the bed again and hurried to catch up with him, clutching at Seth's hand and pressing against him. Seth rolled his eyes and they started down the hallway, toward the staircase. Seth peered through the darkness, trying to see if there was anything down there, Paul or otherwise.

Seeing nothing, Seth and Summer started down the stairs, which was a difficult task since Summer wouldn't release her boyfriend, leaving them to squeeze alongside the banister, side by side.

The living room was empty and Summer picked up an umbrella, as though such a device would protect them for the ghostly Paul, though Seth didn't have the heart to tell her to put it back. Summer brandished the umbrella in front of them as they headed through the darkness and toward the kitchen, pressed close together.

Something crashed from inside the kitchen and Seth stopped in his tracks; Summer waved the umbrella in front of them and knocked Seth in the face. "It's Paul!" She cried, as though the world was opening in front of them and they were about to be swallowed into Hell. "We're going to die."

Seth couldn't think of anything to say because, whether it was Paul or not -though he refused to believe that he was beginning to think like Summer, of course Paul wasn't in his house-, there was something in the kitchen. With as much courage as he could muster, he stepped forward and snapped on the kitchen light.

Even though the noises had originated from that room, neither Seth nor Summer had been expecting to see anyone standing in the kitchen when the light came out. So when the kitchen light illuminated two figures, they both shouted in surprise. Summer tried to stumble backward, attempting to make a hasty retreat and take Seth with her but she just tripped over her boyfriend and fell backward; the umbrella popped open, which only startled her more and she fell onto the tile floor. The side of the umbrella poked Seth in the side and, therefore, managed to snap him out of his startled state and back to the world of thinking.

It didn't take him long to see that the 'ghostly figures' weren't that at all, but his parents, having returned from their party. Both Sandy and Kirsten Cohen looked just as surprised, especially by Summer's ungraceful crash to the ground and the umbrella, lying open on the ground.

For a moment, there was complete silence in the kitchen, aside from Summer's whimpering about Paul and strawberry fields from her spot on the ground. Then, Kirsten narrowed her eyes and questioned, "Seth?" Her son managed to nod, trying to get his heart to beat normally again. "What on Earth is going on?"

Before Seth could answer, Sandy spotted Summer clearly for the first time and looked at his son with a semi-accusing glance. "What is Summer doing at our house at," he checked the clock, "three in the morning?"

Summer lifted her head. "Mr. Cohen?" She questioned and jumped to her feet and Seth half-expected her to throw her arms around his father. "Thank God!" She cried, looking at Kirsten as well.

Kirsten looked at the girl quizzically. "What is going on here?" She questioned, figuring that the actual story was going to be something much more interesting then what Sandy had tried to insinuate.

"Seth didn't want to be alone tonight, so I came over to keep him company." Summer gushed. "He made me listen to the Beatles, a stupid song about dead walruses and egg men." Sandy and Kirsten were both staring at her. "And then a song started about strawberries and then Paul got buried and then Paul was here but it wasn't really Paul it was just you." She took a deep breath. "Thank God." She repeated.

"Right." Sandy said, deadpan. "Summer, are you taking drugs? You doing pot, taking X? Falling down the K-hole?" The rest of his family members started at him. "Never mind."

Seth shook his head, taking a deep breath and letting it out, relieved that the whole business with Paul was over and done with. He headed toward the refrigerator, suddenly in need of some water, or perhaps some pudding. On the good side, he was suddenly exhausted, Summer had tired him out.

Summer, however, hadn't seemed to have finished her rant. "Cohen was just trying to scare me, making me listen to that stupid Beatles crap." She snapped. "I'm never listening to that again."

Seth rolled his eyes and took out a bottle of water; Summer had best stop insulting the Beatles, though he was pretty sure he was going to skip "Strawberry Fields" next time he happened to listen to that CD.

Sandy sighed, way past trying to figure out just what Summer was talking about. "Okay," he mumbled wearily, "C'mon Summer, I'll take you home."

Seth looked at his girlfriend and, in a moment of joking wickedness, mouthed out the words, "I buried Paul." Summer's eyes grew wide and she jumped forward, clinging onto Kirsten, who was shocked by her actions and whimpered, "Can I stay with you guys tonight?"

Sandy looked back at his son, who shrugged as though he had no idea what was going on. However, when Summer looked up again, he mouthed the words out again and she buried her face against Kirsten's shoulder. "Please?"

Kirsten, in her surprise, managed to pat Summer on the head with her free hand. "Sure," she agreed, "you can sleep on Seth's floor." Sandy looked surprised for a moment, even though he figured that his son wouldn't try anything and Summer was too whacked out to even want to try anything.

After Summer managed to release Kirsten, they all went upstairs and Seth helped Summer spread blankets out on the floor at the foot of his bed. Summer, however, couldn't even imagine sleeping, too busy mentally repeating "I buried Paul" over and over again in her mind. Making Seth set all his Beatles CDs in the hallway helped a little, but she still remained awake, staring up at the ceiling through the darkness. "Cohen," Summer said after all a while. "Do you think Paul's really dead?"

Seth sighed, half-asleep. "No, Summer." He mumbled wearily. "He's not, it's just a stupid song." He told her. "Most people say that they don't say 'I buried Paul' at all, but 'cranberry sauce.'" He thought he'd mentioned that before but in his exhaustion, he couldn't be quite sure.

"Cranberry sauce?" Summer repeated, not convinced. "I didn't hear cranberry sauce."

Seth sighed again, wishing his mother had kicked Summer out after all. "Sure, it's possible." He told her. "Cran-berr-y sauce." He drew the first word out in a low voice so that it sounded close to 'I buried Paul.'

Summer nodded in the darkness. "Yeah." She agreed, suddenly feeling much better. "I guess that's true." Cranberry sauce wasn't so bad. "Night Cohen."

Seth muttered likewise and rolled over; he was certain that he hadn't heard 'cranberry sauce' in that song, but he wasn't going to tell Summer that. Whatever would get her to sleep.

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In the morning, Kirsten decided to make a light breakfast for the two teenagers in the house, which consisted of sausage and biscuits. Seth figured that was the only thing she could make that didn't run the risk of burning the house down.

By some unknown force, Summer had regained her fear of Paul and strawberry fields and was telling Seth of the nightmare she'd had in the hours they had managed to sleep as they sat at the dinner table. Seth was still too exhausted to be paying much attention to what she was saying, wishing that the whole stupid business was over and done with and managed to nod in all the right places.

Kirsten fixed Seth and Summer their plates, applying the biscuits with their respected jams and carried them over to the table. "Here Summer," she said as she set the plate in front of the girl, "you still like strawberry jam, right?"

Summer's eyes grew wide and she suddenly stood up, nearly knocking her chair over. With a quick glance at the biscuit and its evil strawberry topping, she bolted out of the kitchen via the patio door and headed around the house for the driveway.

Kirsten looked at Seth, who was trying to hide a smile behind his hand. "What's wrong with her?" She questioned, looking at the strawberry covered biscuit. "It looks alright to me."

When he managed to stop smiling, Seth looked at his mother. "I have no idea what's gotten into her."