Okay, so here's a new story (Beatles again, of course :)! By the way, I most certainly do NOT hate Ringo! I love him, he's one of my favorites, so this story is not to bash him. Instead, it is to bash all the people who say that Ringo was not an important part of the Beatles. As always, please review! Constructive criticism, and support, are much appreciated =)
Chapter 1
It was spring in 1964. The Beatles were in the studio, and they had just finished recording a song. Paul, John, and George were joking around with the equipment. But Ringo sat in the corner, his usual sweet smile replaced with a gloomy look.
George was the first to notice him. He walked over and sat down beside him.
"Hey, Ringo! What's the problem?"
Ringo rested his chin in his hands and said nothing. By now John and Paul had become aware of what was going on in the corner,, and they walked over too.
"Come on, buddy, you can tell us! What's wrong?" asked John, kneeling next to the depressed drummer.
Ringo looked up. "Well, if you must know…nobody likes me!" he answered.
"What are you talking about?" cried Paul in astonishment.
"Been reading those cheap excuses for newspapers again?" asked John, "You gotta learn to pay no attention to those! They're made for idiots who haven't enough brain to understand real news."
"No! It's not the tabloids that are bothering me!" replied Ringo, "It's the truth that no one likes me! They make fun of everything from my height to my nose! And everybody hates my singing. They all want Pete Best back, and they make it quite obvious! And that's only if they even notice me! People are always forgetting about the drummer in the back of the stage!"
"Nonsense!" said George, "You're the best drummer in the world! You have every bit as many fans as the rest of us!"
"Yeah!" chimed in Paul, "Those people that poke fun at you are just jealous of your good looks!"
Ringo looked doubtful. Just then, the mail was brought in.
"Perfect!" crooned John, "Some fan mail ought to cheer you up!"
They dug into the huge bag of mail and began sorting the letters.
"One for Ringo, one for Paul, one for George, one for me…" said John,
"One for Ringo, one for Paul, one for George, and one for me. Uuuh…one for…hmm…wait…"
John dug deep into the bag. His search became more frantic.
"Hm…well…all of Ringo's must be at the bottom…" he conjectured weakly.
"Yeah!" continued Paul, "They were probably sent first!"
Ringo's face fell more with each letter added to the others' piles. By the time the mail bag was empty, John's, Paul's, and George's piles were spilling of the desk, while Ringo's held only six letters. Ringo looked like he might cry.
"Like I said, everybody hates me." he said, hanging his head and trudging out of the room. The other three watched him leave, and then turned to each other.
"Oh, poor chap!" said George.
"No wonder he feels bad!" agreed Paul.
"Our fans must be bloomin' idiots! Don't they realize what a marvelous fellow Ringo is?"
"What are we going to do?" asked George, "We can't let him go on feeling like that!"
The three Beatles looked at each other forlornly. They all felt terrible for their friend.