Lonely People

Hey One Question: What The Hell

America was a beautiful country filled with places to explore and opportunities to grow. There were so many things to see, places to be, and people to meet. I yearned to go out and explore the country I had read about since birth, but that was impossible for a groupie of The Beatles.

Beatlemania had taken over the youth of America, just as it did back in England. Only a rare few of us were immune, and those who had it were left without a chance. There is no cure, no vaccine, Beatlemania was a disease brought on by an intense love of four seemingly ordinary lads from a less than exciting city in England. Those of us who were immune were subject to the symptoms of those who have contracted the mania. From fainting, screaming, and crying to doing your best to break into a hotel and swipe the trousers of one of your idols, the symptoms are insane.

Beatlemania didn't touch me, I was immune due to my closeness to the lads, but it did affect me. The mania kept me locked inside a dingy hotel in a country I wanted to explore. Had I gone out, I may have ended up in the hospital.

The cabin fever was getting to us all. The lads had vanished into their rooms as soon as we arrived back at the hotel that night. All looked pissed off, but something told me that wasn't the case. The way John snuck mischievous grins at each of his friends, including me, told me something was up. I just didn't know what.

It was nearly midnight, and I was sitting cross-legged on my bed with a notepad open in front of me. It was blank save for a few doodles in the corners. Insomnia had followed me across the world, leaving me wide awake in the city that never sleeps.

A knock on the door startled me, making me jump slightly on the mattress. I shuffled towards the door and flung it open, completely ignoring the fact that I looked as if I had just woken up. There stood four lads with fake beards and lensless glasses on their faces. John was the only one who wore actual glasses. 

"Well, if it isn't the return of McBeardy," I smirked at my brother, "And he brought his friends; Beardo, Johnny Beard, and George Hairyson."

George rolled his eyes as Ringo laughed. Paul lifted his hand to reveal another fake beard hidden behind his trench coat, "You laugh now, but we brought you one as well."

"I'm not wearing that thing," I replied.

John laughed, "Toldja it wouldn't work, Macca, birds can't grow beards."

"Ever heard of The Bearded Lady?"

"That's a myth," George replied.

I pointed at him, "You need to go to a circus, my friend. What the bloody fuck are you lads doing here? It's nearly midnight."

"We're sick of being cooped up," Paul replied, "Thought we'd go out and explore, in disguise, of course."

"Don't want the fans falling all over us," John wiggled his eyebrows.

I glared at them, "You lads have had terrible ideas in the past, but this is by far the worst."

"Come off it, Melly, you can't tell me you don't want to get out," John replied.

I frowned, "It's nearly midnight, I, like normal people, was sleeping."

The lads all exchanged looks before bursting into laughter. I glared at them each individually. Paul itched his beard, still laughing, "Stop kidding with us, Lia, we all know you weren't sleeping."

"There's a reason you're The Bird The Never Sleeps," John commented.

"Nobody calls me that."

"I just did."

I glared at John, earning a cheeky grin. Paul stuffed the beard into my hands. George handed me a trench coat while Ringo pulled a pair of lensless glasses out of his pocket. All grinned at me.