The Blue Danube [OLD]

- 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢. ﾐ

"Yeah! Nicked 'em from th' palace. Right off th' lounge room table! They never bloody notice, been doin' it fer years. It's hilarious!" George chuckled, now letting Mike take an apple before digging his fanged teeth into the juicy apple. The four continued to chat happily, munching away on the delicious fruits they couldn't get enough of. 

"Paulie." George started when Mike had been called away to do other jobs for Jim, knowing he would become annoying and probing if he brought this up within his friend's brother's vicinity. "Paul." 

"What."
Paul huffed shortly, toying with the orange peel and not looking at George, knowing what he was going to say. 

"C'mon, why can't ye meet 'im? I've been tellin' ya fer weeks, he really isn't bad! Jus' because 'e's the prince o' bloody liddypool doesn't mean 'e's a bad guy."

"Because! They're all th' fookin' same, anyroad. Rich bastards who don' care fer th' poor like us. I can't understand how ye like 'im!" Paul spat the words out with a look of fury on his face, flinging the orange peel into the distance, which unfortunately did not go far and hit his father on the back of the head, causing him to whip around and roll his eyes, sighing at Paul who mouthed an apology, shrinking in his seat slightly. 

"No, they aren't! I know I can't change yer mind but ye have ta see reason, Paul! John really is a great guy once ye get ta know 'im, an' he does care about us, if he didn't 'e wouldn't be friends with me, aye?" 

"I-I don' care wha' ye think! Rich people are scumbags, sitting on their velvet sofas and eating 'caviar' and grapes while people wait on their every command and us 'common' people slave away an' earn little ta none! Yer not gonna convince me otherwise." Paul grew more and more heated as he went along, throwing up his hands as he stood up and paced. "Now stop tryin'. In fact, go 'ang out with 'im now. 'm mad at ye." The fourteen year old crossed his arms in irritation and stomped off, leaving a confused and sad George behind. 

✧✧✧✧✧ 

'From the very beginning— from the first moment, I may almost say— of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of disapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immovable a dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.'

These were the words that John Lennon mumbled to himself, a lit pipe dangling carelessly from his fingers as his eyes (framed by round glasses) scanned the page of Pride and Prejudice, a much beloved (you could tell it was by the amount of creases) book of his that he had owned for a while, a gift from Ringo to him on his birthday last year. It was an old book, published long ago back in 1813, but Jane Austen was one of his favourite authors and he had read Sense and Sensibility and Emma many times over. She was quite a rare one, as not many female authors existed and he was amazed at how wonderfully she wrote. He hoped that Elizabeth and Mr Darcy would get together soon, though. The anticipation was killing him. 

Interrupting his reading, there was a soft, but urgent knock on his door and he jumped in fright, almost dropping his book to the floor as he gently set it upside down on the table in front of him and stood up. He knew who it was.