Disclaimer: I own the Beatles! Lol, jk, nope. Not that lucky.
The next day...
[still Third Person POV]
Ringo was sitting in his bed. It was 6:00 in the morning, just about, and no one else was awake. Looking around the room he shared with George, seeing that the other Beatle was snoring away quietly, he reached over, opened the drawer in his bedside table, and pulled out that letter from before. Not the one about his bleedin' nose, but the one that came in the red envelope. Now, Ringo had two very strong arguments going on inside his head. The first one said that this was ridiculous, how did he know it would even work, and also, it doesn't really matter if the other boys have more fans than you. The second argument, however, kept using Ringo's little insecurities and doubts to push him towards calling that number, because he really did want to have fans and he really did want to be liked more than he currently was. These two sides flopped around in Ringo's head, neither one overpowering the other, leaving him in gridlock over the decision.
Paul had just woken up. He was still lying sprawled out in his sleep-position, but his eyes were awake. His head happened to be pointed towards John's bed, and he watched the other man sleep for a bit; his mind was still half-asleep. After about 5 minutes – he though, he couldn't really tell – Ringo's letter from before came into his mind. He honestly didn't really care all that much if some Paul fans were switched to Ringo fans, but he was concerned about whether or not it would be harmful to those poor young girls. 'I mean, who knows if this technology works, if it's safe, or if it even exists? All we know is that Ringo got a letter from "A Friend" saying that he could be more popular if he calls the number. It could be a trap to lure poor little Ritchie astray to hurt him or even-' No, Paul was not going to think about that. Ringo was probably going to be fine. He was older than Paul, after all, by two years. He wouldn't do anything stupid...would he?
Later, at breakfast...
George, who had gotten out of his bed first, leaving Ringo still deep in though, had called room service and ordered just about a three-course meal. He had on his plate a pile of bacon, a pile of sausage, some eggs, toast, a muffin, two pancakes, a waffle, and a chocolate-chip cookie. Basically, he took about half the food. Paul came out of his room, fully dressed and alert looking, and started to take some food.
"Mornin', George"
George, who had his mouth full, made some weird gargling noise that Paul took to mean 'morning'.
The bathroom door could be heard opening, slamming, then a loud bang and some choice curse words that sounded like they were from John. Paul and George looked at each other with raised brows. The noise seemed to have woken Ringo up from his deep thoughts because his head was stuck out the door into the hallway, looking around for the cause of the yelling.
"John, eh?"
"Yup," Paul said.
Ringo then emerged fully from the bedroom and came over to the table, filling up a plate for himself as he went. He then poured himself a glass of water, brought it up to drink it, got it caught on his nose somehow, and spilled it all over himself. He blinked. He sighed. Paul chuckled.
"Got a drinkin' problem, Rich?"
Ringo just looked at him and started to wipe up the water.
"No wonder me fans don't shut up about me nose, I can't even drink cause of it!" Ringo said with amusement.
"Aw, Rings, your fans don't really care that much."
"But Paul, it's not that I care that they notice me nose, it's that that's all they notice about me! I mean, I'm more than just a nose, aren't I?"
"Sure you are! And I'm more than just me lashes but birds still don't stop asking me for tips on 'em. I mean, Georgie here gets lots of comments on his eyebrows and he's more than just brow. Well, kind of."
George looked up from his food to scowl lightly at Paul.
"Thanks, Paul," Ringo said. "I guess you're right. Doesn't really matter, does it?"
John then came stumbling and grumbling out of the bathroom.
"Stupid, damn door with the fast little 'inges gonna take me damn toes off."
He then plopped down between George and Paul, muttering still while getting some food.
Paul looked over to Ringo. They met eyes briefly.
"So..."
"So."
"Have you thought about that weird letter you got yesterday, Rings?"
"A bit, not really," he lied through his teeth, not wanting Paul to get any ideas.
"Bit strange, if you ask me. Convertin' fans, eh?" Paul said this with a hint of suspicion.
"Yeah. Strange."
"I think Ritchie should do it," George piped up.
"Why?" Ringo asked.
"Well, I mean, it'd balance the scales and all that, and it really would be better for merchandisin'. After all, think of all the 'I Love Ringo' shirts going to waste while they can't keep up for the amount of 'I Love Paul' shirts that are bein' bought up. It'd make things easier on 'em, I bet."
"Honestly," John added, grinning. "I think all the George, Ringo, and Paul fans should be converted into John fans. Then, they wouldn't have to make 'I Love George', 'I Love Ringo', or 'I Love Paul' shirts 't all! They could have only 'I Love John' shirts. Wouldn't that be nice?"
All the Beatles laughed at this.
"Naw," Paul chuckled. "They should all of 'em be converted into Paul fans. I mean, most of 'em are already, aren't they?"
"But Paulie, the mothers like me," Ringo grinned. "So everybody'd be 'appier if the fans were all Ringo fans, then they're mums wouldn't 'ave to yell at 'em for gazin' too long at a picture of John or you or George."
"You do have a point there, son," John said. "But then their mothers would be gazin' too long at a picture o' you!"
They all laughed again.
At rehearsal...
They had just finished up the closing bit to 'I Want To Hold Your Hand'.
"Alrighty, boys," Brian Epstein emerged from the recording booth. "That should be enough for right now, you can take a break."
George set his guitar down in its stand and stumbled over to the couch, where he collapsed and went 'oof' as he hit the cushions.
John came over to the couch and sat on his legs.
"You know, son, you shouldn't take up the whole of this couch or people'll sit on you."
"He's right, Georgie," Paul came over and sat on George's back. "I mean, we could fart on you and you'd be trapped!"
George grumbled and flipped over, causing Paul and John to fall unceremoniously onto their behinds.
"Ouch!"
Paul got up and rubbed his butt. John slid like butter down to the floor where he wiggled around aimlessly.
"Paulie, mate, you gotta help me! I think I'm drownin'!"
Paul reached down and grabbed his arm, yanking him upright.
"Christ, a little gentler wouldn't kill ya!"
John rubbed his shoulder where Paul had yanked.
"You two are like a bleedin' married couple, you are."
Ringo stood up from his seat behind the drums, coming over and sitting down in a chair near the couch.
"Oh," George's voice came muffled from the couch. "Just you wait, Ritchie, just you wait. You haven't seen 'em when they're separated for a long time, then they get worse. Whinin' and carryin' on like it's the end o' the world."
"It would be the end of the world without my Paulie!" John fluttered his eyelashes and pretended to faint.
They all laughed.
So. Terrible? Great? Mediocre? Worth continuing? Sorry that nothing really happens, I suffered from some writer's block so the plot kinda didn't develop in this chapter. That's why it's labeled as part A of a chapter. Part B will come pretty soon, I hope, so don't get your knickers in a twist. Thanks for reading!
~ Mo