Short Stories~ Bytes & Peaces

Rae Sunshine

And the days and years roll on. And the dream hangs onto all my nights.

George pushes me through the corridors. Home, but it isn't. Well not anymore. So many hours we all spent in here. Dreaming, laughing, yelling. I love Paul but the man needs to be off on his own a while, Georgey too. Yes, we all need to go blow smoke up our own arses to get the solo stuff out and then come back and be a band again.

Look at the poor dear. George has been the little brat brother forever and a day. He needs space because I certainly haven't given any to him. Paul hasn't either. But what can you do... the lyrics fall, the music swallows and combines with them and a hit is made. Paul and I, together, were- are; I don't know... A yank term could be peanut butter and jelly, English? - maybe egg and chips.

We were a machine, unstoppable, incapable of slowing... til now. What we wrote, how much we wrote, smothered George and swallowed him whole. Yeah Geo needs time out to breath and weave his own style. And he will, no doubt he will.

Lah Lah Lah's have been in me head for weeks, years, eons. Eating up quality sleep. If I could tell it to leave I would. Cyn said I should get a hobby. I said that was the Beatles. Yoko said the vision will leave when ready. I said nothing because I want the vision like the night needs the day. It's comforting, the length of time this vision has been mine, has been years now. I want the vision to come true and tell me what she or it wants with me.

Anything, nothing, love, hate, wisdom, money.

I hear it, the music in my head. Here, now, in my own studios.

"What's that?"

"Oh, that's just a new singer one of the executives is trialing. Got a good arse that one, might make it"

"That's very sexist of you George"

"When did you start thinking in terms of females and not sex"

"Never"

"Ha. I knew it"

"Give us a gander  then we'll go look at that song of yours yeah?"

"Righteo, but don't be long, Erics popping by tonight"

"Eric pops by often"

"Yeah well if you had a Pattie he'd pop by yours often too, I suppose"

"Suppose so" I stalled in the hallway, the recording light flickered off above the door and George meandered off humming to himself.

When you're a Beatle or nearly ex- Beatle doors open.

Easily.

This next door opened to an executive trying to rub up against a blonde while she whipped her lips away from his mouth. I usually wouldn't intervene, the Neanderthal male in me would see another male swinging his todger about and close the door. But the dream has been eating my insides and the lah lah lah's have been flogging my thoughts. And the sounds I heard moments ago came so close to the ones I hear nightly I think I will lose my mind if I let this blonde continue on that collision course with this handsy dick waver.

"Oh hey there, got change for a fiver?"

That got the fella off the bird.

My voice seems to do that. I can sing a female into hysteria but my talking voice... grating the chalkboards of audio it does.

Does the trick though. Woodburn should know better. He's top brass and shining his appendages in public is a no-no. Wouldn't the boys like to see this bloke thrown under a bus for all the asinine orders that have filtered down over the last few years. Oh yes mister Woodburn let his knickers down, the naughty hound.