I'm With the Beatles

I'm A Loser

"Hello?"

"Who the hell is this?" a raspy voice echoed on the other end. Hey, this man sounded familiar.

"I should ask the same thing."

"It's Murray the K. So, I guess you're with The Beatles now, huh?" he mentioned astonished.

"Yeah... So, why are you calling so early?"

"Well, since it is New York City and it is winter time, there is a great chance that there can be snowstorms," he babbled.

"What you're attempting to explain is that there is a big blizzard heading our way," I confirmed.

"Sure. Are the boys up yet?"

I squinted around the room. There was no sight of a standing shadow and a loud snore bounced off of the walls.

"Nope."

"Wake the idiots up, then! I called Brian and told him that the only way to get to the capitol was by train. All flights have been cancelled," he yelled into the mouthpiece. I had to pull the phone away from my ear to stop its buzzing.

"Fine, but don't be so rude about it. Geez," I cried.

"Sorry. Be at the station in about an hour and climb aboard the Congressman. I've arranged for the King George to be added on, so we will be in there."

"Okie dokie," I finished. The other end abruptly shut off.

I stretched my arms above my head and carefully lifted Paul's arm off of my waist. I tiptoed over to the clothes rack and chose the outfit that I was to wear: a dark blue, long-sleeved sweater dress with long, black boots. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and slipped on a rather large flower ring. After getting dressed in the bathroom, I got everything situated right next to the door. If I were to get all the things ready, the least the guys could do was carry it out. It took me an amazing fifteen minutes to do the feat. As I tried to make it back to the bed to wake Paul up with a sweet kiss, I tripped over a body and landed, face-first, into the pallet.

"Oww..." a monotonous voice groaned into a pillow.

"I'm so sorry, John," I whispered apologetically. I squatted down to mend any scrapes or cuts I might've given him. Maybe I came too close for comfort to his face.

"Why, hello babe," he slurred in his sleep. He must've been in a trance as I fell over him.

He replied to my regret by taking me into his arms. He slobbered all over my cheek as I attempted to free from him.

"Stop fighting it," he growled. Then, he began to chuckle with happiness.

"John, John, wake up," I begged, almost crying over the pain generating from his grasp.

All of a sudden, the lamp was turned on. I saw Paul's worried expression blend into the soft light.

"Lizzie?"

"Help me, Paul! John will not let go," I wailed, tears filling my eyes. The discomfort from his hands let me know I was going to bruise rather quickly.

"John Winston Lennon, stop hurting Lizzie," Paul yelled as he jumped over the side of the bed and landed next to me.

"I just wanted to hype," he cooed. He was still out of it.

Paul then scared me to death. He raised his left fist and smacked John's face with rage. John rapidly released his grip and found his aching head with his hands.

"Damn!"

"Paul, that was uncalled for! You could've been a little bit more civil about it," I sobbed, tears rolling down my cheeks. I was so confused. My sorrow was felt for John's pain, but my heart ached for Paul's affection. I squatted back down to John and caressed his beet-red cheek.

"Are you okay?" I asked with sympathy.

"Yeah, I'm fab," he answered, blood starting to trickle from his nostrils.

"Oh, fiddlesticks! You're bleeding, John," I exclaimed. I hopped up and ran out into the hall to grab a bag of ice.

The whole time while I was grabbing the first aid, I couldn't help but think of how the whole predicament played out. It seemed to go by so slow, but my memories kept it on fast-foward. I was still teary-eyed as I came back into the battle zone. John was now up and dressed, along with the other three. Paul was just sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down Lennon. Ringo and George were begging the two over what exactly happened, but to no avail.

"Lizzie, my love," Paul gasped as he ran up to me. He could still see that I was in shock.

"Here, John," I slightly whimpered as I handed over the bag of ice. I didn't want to ignore Paul, but my brain could not function right at the time.

"Why aren't you talking to me, love?" Paul inquired with hurt in his eyes. My heart began to break.

"I really don't feel like discussing much. Murray called earlier and said that we have to ride a train to get to DC now. We need to leave to catch it before it heads out."

"Want Ringo and I to start taking things downstairs?" George helped. I nodded and they both grabbed everything that there was and left the room.

"Okay, look. I was trying to get back to the bed when I somehow tripped over you, John. I'm guessing that you were having a dream and decided to try to kiss or something, since you wouldn't let go of me. Paul woke up and attempted to pull me away from you, but ended up socking you in the nose," I explained with as much breath as I could manage. John gazed at me and Paul shook his head in remorse.

"I'm truly sorry, Lizzie," John softly spoke. He engulfed me in a tight hug and kissed my hair.

"I should be the one begging for forgiveness," I counter-argued.

"Nope. You are not as sorry as I am," Paul confessed to his buddy.

Paul came over to John and they hugged, patting each other's backs. I couldn't help but awe at situation. They came back and squeezed me into a bear hug.

"You guys are so totally awesome," I managed to cry out. They both laughed and walked with me down to the lobby to turn in the room key.