With The Beatles

Take 8

Jude wouldn't hire a maid to do these, y'know. She's afraid enough to let anyone see us and just mentioned last night that she's broke.

Didn't she had a sprain? How could she manage to do these stuff alone with a miserable condition?

Sitting around the table, eating pancakes. We can't help but turn our eyes at the seat on the center where the owner of the house used to sit along with us every meals.

"Y'know, we need to talk about it."

"There's nothing to talk about." George immediately spatted at my declaration. "Yes we do. We just abused the kindness of the young lady."

"After she called us arrogant, I doubt she's the only one being abused." John says after biting on the pancake. Ringo spoke with his gaze low, "It's my fault. I stole her money for my rings, she wouldn't burst her bubble if we only had money to pay her bills."

"You wouldn't loose your rings if we didn't land here in the first place." John points out. "My suspicion could still be proven that she's guilty on why we're here."

"Oh yeah, then why would she call us fake, then?" I said. "We know to ourselves that we're that band. We're the Beatles. But why on earth would she thought of us that way? Just to spite us? I don't think so."

George pushes his plate forward, "So what are you trying to point out, Paul? That we're wrong and we should apologize to her and admit we're the great pretenders?"

"Because that's the right thing to do!"

"Pretend to be a pretender? Goodness, Paul. I thought you're smarter than that." John slow claps at my statement.

I gritted my teeth in anger as I stood up from my seat, "At least I admit my mistakes. You think too high of yourself to even care about the people around you! You see yourself as someone everyone must look up to when you're really just a big, fat Beatle so full of himself!"

PUNCH!

"John! Stop right there, mate!" Ringo holds our vocalist by his arms to prevent him from any more movement. George quickly came to my side, ready to intervene when he needs to.

The man before me, who was my dearest songwriting partner, my best friend, looks at me with a sharp look in his eyes. "Don't talk as if you're not part of this freakin' band. You wouldn't be here if it weren't for me. I can replace you if I want to."

At the mention of his words, I felt my heart drop. Trying hard not to look tormented, I looked at him straight in the eye until he wore his glasses and walked straight out the door.

* * * * *

After all the recent events, I couldn't bring myself to watch television like I used to do all week. What's insane is that I don't have the urge to make music. Even when I held George's guitar, I couldn't bring myself to write anything down.

How can I sing about love when I'm not even feeling it?

So I brought out a fake mustache and a hat then went outside to see what can help the situation. George and Ringo stayed at home while John probably went to his errand boy duty after walking out in our confrontation.

I went in a sweets shop called Glucosey. Earlier I noticed I still had a little money from the suit that I came with. It's a good thing the money didn't change here, just the prices and values.

Back in Liverpool, George and I would hang out at some candy store after school. Eating is his stress reliever and right now I'm about to try his strategy.