The Animalistic Misadventure of John Lennon

By Hoshi Nagaiki

A/N: I just found this on my old flash drive, and I really wanted to post something today for Paul's birthday so I thought what the heck. It's a silly little thing, just Beatles having fun. . . . No real plot. Happy Birthday, Paul! XD

Chapter One

This is the Only Chapter

"Are you cheating on me?"

Tears threatened to fall from her puffy, red eyes. She gasped to hold it in and bit her lip in almost a pout. John would think she was cute—with her pink cheeks and her frail little body—but right now, he merely thought her annoying.

Brian pounded on the hotel room door for the fiftieth time in one minute. "John, we have to go now! Unlock this door or I'm going to call the cops!"

"Shit," John reached for a ciggie and ran his hand through his bed hair. "I have to go, luv. I need to get ready."

He dropped to his knees and scoured the floor for his pants. He had just found them when she twisted him around to face her. Little rivers of tears ran down those once pretty cheeks.

"Answer me, John."

Grumbling, he stood up and pulled on his pants. "What do you think?" John growled. "Is Paul cheating on Jane? Is George cheating on Patti? Is Ritchie cheating on Mo? Am I not married?"

Her eyes widened and she grasped onto his arm even harder. "You're lying. Aren't you, John?"

"No, luv, I'm not," John frowned as she burst into tears. He always hated seeing birds cry—it made him feel like an animal—but honestly, Beatlemania had made him accustom to the situation. His hands went to her hair curly brown hair which he stroked, "It's okay, luv."

"I love you, John." She locked eyes with him and tiptoed to reach his mouth with hers—which John thought was adorable. However, at that second, the door slammed against the wall, and there was Paul wearing the traditional British police helmet.

"Put your back on your hands, you scoundrel!" Paul shouted and pretended to shoot a gun.

John laughed, "Having fun, are we?"

"This is not fun, Lennon. Not fun at all!" He shot his pretend gun and yelled, "I see we're going to have to this the hard day's night way!"

"Oh no, sir! Not that, sir. Anything but that, sir! I'll put my hands wherever you want, and I'm pretty sure I know where you want." He winked and glanced downwards.

Paul walked towards him slowly and dramatically, like a gunslinger from a western movie. He spit on the ground and moved his mouth in chewing motion. When he reached John, he grabbed his face and shifted it around violently. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Johnnyboy."

Before John could open his mouth, the forgotten girl dried her tears and spoke again, "You guys are odd. It's like you are too animalistic to have a serious relationship! I think I'm actually glad you're cheating on me so I don't have to deal with this madness everyday!"

She stomped out of the room, and as soon as the clacking of her high heels disappeared down the corridor, John and Paul cheered.

"Yeah, another one is gone!" They high-fived.

Paul took two cigars from his inside pocket and handed one to John. "The only woman we don't need to get rid of is that fat lady. She's got a lovely singing voice, doesn't she?"

"Only for us, Paulie!"

They both puffed out smoke and enjoyed a rare moment of silence and tranquility.

"How long had that broad been following you, John?"

"About three weeks," John stared out the window, reminiscing. He concluded with, "Too bad she was mental; the sex was great."

"The dilemma of life," Paul added, and they both laughed.

Then, the room fell silent, and John's mind became prey to thought. "Are we really like animals, Paul?"

Paul shrugged as he took another whiff of his cigar. "Dunno, mate. Sometimes, I feel like it though. 'Specially when they all stare at us, that's when I feel it."

John thought Paul shuddered, and he didn't blame him. He often felt like that, but more behind closed doors than on the open stage.

"Hullo, John. Hullo, Paul." George had appeared at the door. "I saw a scary woman get out of the lift, cursing and crying. She told me that The Beatles were a bunch of psychotic, cheating animals. That wouldn't have anything to do with you two would it?"

John and Paul both gasped in unison and exchanged astounded looks.

"Who do you think we are, my dearest George?" John asked in a valley girl accent. "Do you think we're animals?"

George leaned his head sideways and said after much thought, he said, "Sometimes I think that you're a dancing poodle and that you're Mister Ed."

"Exactly!" Paul said, "And would a dancing poodle and Mister Ed do that to an innocent young bird?"

"You never know," George replied, a smile cracking his face. "That Mister Ed is a stud."

John primped his collar and said, "I'm guessing I'm Mister Ed, then!"

In reply, Paul snorted. "I'm the cute one!"

George interjected, "C'mon, animals, the zookeeper is waiting for us in the car!"

"We're not animals; we're Beatles!" John and Paul shouted in unison. They exchanged glances. Could a whimsical yell really be the answer? Neither one stopped to ponder it.

The two men made crude, unidentifiable noises and tackled George to the ground. The youngest Beatle just lay on the plush carpeting waiting for the licking and barking to stop and hoping that John wouldn't hump his leg.

. . . crap.

A/N: Review please and tell me what you thought. Did it flow? Did have good characterizations? And so forth?

Also, make sure to look out for my new story, Magical Mystery Tour, a crossover between Harry Potter and The Beatles. Don't worry; it has a plot. A damn good one, if I do say so myself! XD