AN: There are no excuses for how long I have not uploaded, but I can tell you that it will not be happening again, because I have huge news! This fanfiction has just become a collaboration! Yes that's right, my new friend HappyPlatypus will be helping me write this story every-other week! She has a fanfiction called With the Beatles, that is absolutely amazing, so go check it out! I also owe her credit for revising this chapter, so thank you again Happy Platypus. Again I'm so sorry for the long wait, and hopefully this chapter's worth it!

Monday September 25, Year: ?

10:00 A.M

Third Person POV:

"Well lads, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," John said. The other three ignored him, taking in this obscure room. The bright purple walls were almost completely covered in Beatles posters, specifically in the mop top era. A large zebra-printed sofa sat in front of two very large flat screen televisions, which were completely foreign to The Fabs. They stared at the TVs in awe. "Holy shit," George said under his breath. "More like The Holy Grail." Ringo noted adoringly.

John ran up to the sofa. "Isn't this just gear," he motioned around, "it's like we have a private cinema!" Paul shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not sure about this," he said, gingerly stepping towards the door. "Don't be a silly sausage." John smiled good-naturedly. Paul shook his head, "John, I'm serious. This is just too bizarre." John sighed, "Oh, all right, Macca, we'll only stay for a bit. I just want to see what these almighty teles will do." "Whatever, just be quick." Paul reminded, and then went to stand next to the door.

"Ok, so how do we turn them on?" Ringo asked no one in particular. "Simple, Rings, just blow in their ear," John chided, earning a laugh from Ringo and George. Paul just rolled his eyes, "Will you guys hurry up?" he asked impatiently. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Paulie; we're going as fast as we can," John replied.

For the next ten minutes, John, George, and Ringo tried everything they could think of to turn the TVs on: they touched the screen, waved their hands, and even said some magic words. "Well, it looks like they're just for show," Ringo sighed, flopping on the couch, triggering a loud beep from the televisions. "Ringo, you're a genius!" John exclaimed. "I never would have thought of that!" "Yeah, good thinking, Rings," George chimed in. Ringo straightened up and smiled, feeling a bit more appreciated.

The TV to the right flickered on to a shot of a pretty redheaded girl, about 15 or 16. This sparked Paul's interest, so he joined the other three Beatles on the couch. She sat at what they inferred to be a school desk, and she was totally enthralled in a book. "Oh my god, look at the picture on this, and in color too!" Paul gasped. "Yeah, sure, that's what you're looking at. We all know what you do with those redheads you steal from the cradle," John teased. George and Ringo laughed, causing Paul's cheeks to turn red, which only made them laugh harder.

When they all calmed down, they refocused on the TVs again. "Wait a minute, isn't that you, John?" George asked, pointing to the front of her book. John squinted, due to leaving his glasses at home. "Holy shit! It is! How in the hell could she have a book about me? I mean I guess we're pretty famous, but not famous enough to have biographies written or anything." The other three could only shrug; there was no logic that could sort out all the shit that happened today.

"Who's John Lennon?" Someone finally spoke; it turned out to be a blonde bird, who sat across from the girl reading the John Lennon book. She wore too much eyeliner, but had a big pair of boobs. The redhead let out a puff of breath, and replied, "You know who The Beatles are right?" The blonde girl nodded stupidly. "Yeah, aren't they that band from the 50s?" She let out a snobby laugh.

This puzzled the four deeply. The girls sounded American. Didn't The Beatles just finish a huge tour there? Weren't they interviewed dozens of times? Hadn't they attended the press conferences that Brian had to drag them to? And not to mention performing on Ed Sullivan. Why would this girl think they were a 50s band? It's 1964. Unless…

"You don't think we could have possibly traveled to the future, right?" Ringo asked what was on each of their minds. They looked around at some of the teenagers. The girls wore decorated t-shirts, and tight trousers. (Not that they were complaining.) And the boys weren't dressed much different.

"Yeah." The redhead was starting to look pissed. "60s, actually. John Lennon started it; he's the rhythm guitarist," she corrected, returning to her book. "Why do you listen to them? They're so old!" The blonde broad laughed at her own rude comment. "Oh, hell no!" Paul gasped, touching his smooth, unwrinkled face.

And if the redhead looked pissed before, now she was furious.

"Excuse me?" she snapped. "They only have like two good songs, and they're so ugly too!" The blonde said, making a face. "What a bitch!" George exclaimed. "Of course, why would a girl listen to anything different then you do?" The redhead looked like she was about to explode. "And let me guess who, like, One Direction right?" the redhead asked. "Yeah! They're so sexy, and they have great voices too!" Blondie giggled stupidly. "Well, last time I checked it doesn't take five guys to sing one song, and yeah they're a master of auto-tune, and inserting in instruments, instead of playing their own, they will be a memorable five minute fad!" the redhead finished bitterly.

The blonde whore opened her mouth to say something, but it just hung in defeat. "Careful now, don't want to catch flies." The redhead smirked. "Yeah! You go, mystery bird!" John called out, while the other three clapped. "Stupid bitch." the girl mumbled, looking back down at her book. "Kassandra Peterson, what did you just say?!" an older woman, most likely the teacher, yelled.