The crowd was absolutely furious.
Here was their favorite band, the Quarrymen playing without the one and only drummer Pete Best. I mean the guy had "best" in his name! Who gave the Quarrymen the right to take that from their band?
There on Pete's drum set stood a new, scary looking rag by the name of Richard Starkey.
The poor teenage drummer was just there on the worn down drum set, trying to figure out why everyone disagreed with him on the set.
"Is everyone in Liverpool this obnoxious?" Richard, "Ringo" asks to anyone of his band members.
"I don't recall it being so bad before we went to Hamburg." Paul responds in a bit of a worry.
"You don't? This is exactly how I remember it being." John laughs.
Paul gives John a glance and pushes him on his shoulder harshly, but in a playful manner.
"Hey, it'll be alright." The youngest member, George, says to the older drummer.
Ringo looks at the talented little lad.
"Thanks man." He says.
"Yeah, just give it your best tonight." George smiles.
Ringo looks at the boy in warmth. He was always there to comfort the others, and he especially was there to comfort the band's newest member.
Nevertheless, the band had to carry on their Liverpool, welcome back home show, and so they did.
"Alright, alright!" John shouts into the microphone to calm the audience.
"Shut up already and just listen."
Surprising, the audience stops their complaining and gives the band a chance.
The band gets done with playing for the night, packs up, and exits the stage.
"Well." John speaks while in the small ran down dressing room.
"Well?" Paul ask while packing up his instrument.
"It wasn't all bad, I mean I saw the cute little ladies over there in a phase!"
"Oh, John." Paul sighs.
"Hey, Ringo." George says while watching Ringo take off his coat.
"Oh hey there George." Ringo responds quite calmly.
"So, how did you like it?" The young guitarist ask.
"Apart from the dirty stares, it really felt different from playing there in Germany with the Hurricanes." Ringo says.
"Good to hear!" George cheers.
Ringo smiles and thinks of how the show really went.
Everyone was looking at him. All he felt was dirty looks instead of the drum's bangs or the sound of music. It was horrible. A little piece of him missed playing with the hurricanes, where he wasn't getting such awful stares, but joyous ones.
While Ringo was lost in his own little imagination, the room's broken down wooden door comes down with a huge bang.
"YOU!" A slim but muscular man with a messy side parted stringy brown hair screams in the middle of the door frame.
YOU ARE READING
Starrison for Mazza ⭐️Fanfiction
I don't really support shipping of band members, but here's some Starrison for Mazza!