Only a Northern Story
by Wuckster
General Martin walked into the top secret meeting room and took his place at the head of the gigantic table, which was surrounded by a wide assortment of military men. Well, mostly military men. One of them was actually a meter maid named Rita. She was wearing a cap, which made her look much older than she actually was. But really it was the bag across her shoulder that made her look enough like a military man to pass. Like I said, it was a top secret meeting and she wasn't supposed to be there. Truthfully nobody knew how she got inside, although I heard some rumors that she came in through the bathroom window. She actually thought she was attending a meeting of her local Lonely Hearts Club, but quickly realized her mistake when the topic of conversation turned to aliens. She quietly excused herself and went back to her job filling in tickets in her little white book.
She's not really important to the story at hand. I guess I only mention it because she wrote me a parking ticket the other day that was totally bullshit and I hope maybe she gets in some sort of trouble for crashing a top secret meeting. I had legally parked my white Volkswagen bug on Abbey Road while I was running some errands and I came back to find I'd been cited for parking too close to a crosswalk. Look, I'll admit I nearly ran over those four long-haired freaks who were walking across it, but I missed them by a few inches at least. There was plenty of space between my car and the crosswalk. I have photographic evidence to prove it.
She also wrote me a ticket on another occasion when I was double-parked outside the barber shop on Penny Lane. I was only there a moment, just had to wait in line for my fish and finger pie. Okay, I might have also stopped and flirted with this pretty nurse that was selling poppies from a tray. I was gone like five minutes, tops, and when I got back Rita was putting the ticket on my car right there beneath the blue suburban skies! Unbelievable! I argued with her and said "You can't do that!" She said she could do it anytime at all. Eight days a week, if she wanted to. I asked her to tell me why, but she just said I should have known better and walked off. So really the point is Rita is a bad meter maid and she should be fired.
But anyway, I had important information to give to General Martin about the aliens and I patiently waited until it was my turn to address him. Finally he looked at me.
"Yes? Colonel Mustard was it?" he asked.
"Actually, it's Sgt. Pepper, Sir," I replied.
"Oh yes, my mistake," General Martin said. "You look a lot like my old math teacher, Mr.
Mustard. Man he was mean. But the more I think about it, I think it was all an act to impress the school principal, Mr. Kite. Mr. Mustard seemed like a nice guy outside the classroom. Yes, upon further reflection, I'm sure of it all being for the benefit of Mr. Kite. Anyway, what do you have to report?"
"It's about the aliens, Sir."
"Yes, the aliens. Have we pinpointed where they came from?"
"Not yet, Sir. Somewhere across the universe. That's all we can be sure of as of now. We believe they followed a long and winding road through space before they arrived here and crashed into the ocean. It took awhile to locate their spaceship. We finally found it hidden in an octopus's garden."
"Have we attempted to make contact with them?" General Martin asked.
"Yes, Sir. First we sent our blue submarines in an effort to make peaceful contact. But the aliens opened fire and utterly destroyed them. So then we sent the red submarines, but they were utterly destroyed, too. Same with the purple submarines. The green submarines and the orange submarines seemed to fare a little bit better against their weapons, but they, too, were ultimately destroyed. That exhausted the military's supply of submarines. All that's left are privately owned submarines. We found some blokes who lived in a pink submarine and they were agreeable to trying to approach the aliens. Sadly, they were also destroyed. Same with the people we found living in white, black, silver, and brown submarines."
"Then it seems to me there's only one thing left to try," General Martin said. "Do we know anybody who lives in a yellow submarine?"
*
"John, someone keeps knocking on the hatch."
John looked over his glasses as he played with the tuning on his guitar. "Well what do you want me to do about it, Paul? I'm trying to write a song here. Just having trouble with the last word. All you need is... potatoes? No, that doesn't sound right. All you need is... differential equations? Hmm. That's kind of catchy. Might be a possible keeper. Write that one down, Ringo."
"I would, John, but I'm afraid I've got blisters on my fingers."
"Well, that's no good. Sounds like you might need some help with that. I think we've got a first aid kit somewhere near the periscope. Let's see. All you need is... a comfy pair of knickers?"
"That's what my Granny always used to say," George said. "She also needed her cane to walk."
"Hmm. All you need is a walking cane? What do you think about that one, Paul?"
"A walking cane? Maybe when I'm sixty-four that might be true. Not right now though. Honestly, ever since we smoked that wacky tobacky half an hour ago I've been feeling like I'm flying. I dare say, I feel kind of like a blackbird."
"Great, that's real helpful, Paul. George? You got any other ideas? All you need is...?"
"Something," George said.
"Well, of course it's bloody something, isn't it George? That's the whole point! We're trying to figure out what that something is." John shook his head in disgust. "Something he says. Like anyone's ever going to want to listen to a song called 'Something.' That's it, I must really be dragging the bottom of the barrel here. Ringo? Any ideas? All you need is...?"
"Sorry to be a bother, John, but I appear to be stuck on the ceiling again."
"That's it! You're all cut off from the drugs for the next fifteen minutes. All you need is... Dang it! What's the word I'm thinking of? Will someone say the word so I can be free? Free of struggling to write this bloody song. I just need one word. Have you heard? The word is... asparagus? Arrgh!"
The pounding sounded on the submarine's hatch again causing them all to jump.
"Paul, I think someone's knocking on the hatch."
"I told you that already, John. You never listen to me. You never give me your money either, but I guess we can talk about that some other time."
"Do you think it's the blue meanies again?" George asked.
"Weren't they just here?" John scratched his head.
"No, that was yesterday," Paul said. "They said they were getting on a plane to Moscow. They should be back in the U.S.S.R. by now."
"Well, I suppose we'd better see who's there and what they want. Ringo? You want to see who's knocking on the hatch?"
"Still stuck on the ceiling, boys. Could one of you reach up here? If I could grab your hand maybe you could pull me down."
"Can't you climb down the wall, Ringo?"
"What's the big deal? I'm not a ponce. I want to hold your hand so I can get myself down. Just watch out for my fingers. They've got blisters on them, remember?"
"Oh for crying out loud, I'll answer the bloody hatch," John said as he tossed his guitar aside.
"Oh wait, this isn't the ceiling," Ringo said. "Guess what? I'm down! Well, actually I guess I was on the ground all along. Or was I? I'm not sure anymore. It's been a hard day's night, I'll tell you what."
"I'm about to open the hatch, fellows. Shield your eyes because here comes the sun."
"Good day, sunshine," Paul said as the sun rays pierced the interior of the submarine.
*
"Good morning, good morning!" I said to the long-haired man with glasses who finally opened the submarine hatch I'd been knocking on for the better part of an hour.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Sgt. Pepper at your service," I said.
"You look familiar. Didn't you almost run us over awhile back while we were crossing the street?"
"Um, no," I said. "Look, I'm here on official government business. Am I to understand that you gentlemen live in this yellow submarine?"
"Yes. We all do."
"Excellent. You see, this is top secret info here, so keep this under your hat. Under no circumstances are you to repeat the things we said today."
"Gotcha. Don't worry. It'll go nowhere, man."
"Great. Are you ready? Do you want to know a secret? So there's this hostile alien spacecraft that's under the sea in an octopus's garden. We've sent every color of submarine after it and they've all been destroyed. Every color except yellow, that is."
"Say no more. You're saying there's a threat to the entire human race and you need our help. Don't worry. We can't hear about something like that and just let it be. We're men of action. I'm John, by the way. The barefoot one is Paul. George is the guy playing the sitar in the corner over there. And... hey, where's Ringo?"
"Uh, I think I got stuck on the ceiling again."
"Anyway, that's Ringo. He's stuck on the ceiling."
"Hey, Paul, remember how you thought there was a leak? I think I might have just found it."
"Oooh. Let me grab my hammer and a ladder."
"Yeah a ladder would be good. Maybe I could get back down again with it. After all, if I fell, I might hurt myself."
"Wait, what's going on?" I asked. "Is this submarine shipshape? Excuse me, what are you doing?"
"Me?" Paul asked. "I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in. Nothing to get your knickers in a bunch about."
"If the rain gets in, don't you think the ocean's going to get in?" I asked.
"No. Didn't you hear me? I'm fixing it. It'll be okay, man. We can work it out. Wait a minute, mister postman. This isn't my hammer."
"How do you know it's not your hammer, Paul?" Ringo asked.
"Well, for one thing my hammer's red and this one's silver. Also there's a sticker on it that says 'Property of Maxwell.' I think this is Maxwell's Silver Hammer. Watch your heads everyone, it's coming down!" He dropped the hammer with a thunk.
"Why couldn't you just use that hammer to fix the hole?" I asked.
"It's not my hammer, is it? How would you like it if you ate your supper with my fork? You wouldn't like it, because it has my slobber on it and that's gross."
"Yeah, but it's hardly the same thing, is it?" I asked.
"Isn't it? Nothing to worry about. My hammer's right here on this shelf next to this glass onion that John bought at an estate sale."
"Careful!" I shouted, but it was too late. Paul bumped the glass onion and it fell to the ground and shattered, sending shards of broken glass everywhere.
"You broke my glass onion, Paul!" John shouted.
""Yeah, I know, John. I'm barefoot, remember? I tend to pay attention to when there's sharp stuff on the floor that could cut up my tootsies. Someone better sweep that up."
"They'd better, indeed, but that's beside the point! You owe me fifty quid, Paul!"
"I'm afraid I don't have any cash on me, John."
"How can you not have any cash? Because last time I checked, baby, you're a rich man."
"Don't carry the stuff around with me. It's not good for everything, you know. Can't buy me love, can it?" Paul rummaged around in his pockets. "Could I interest you in some nice Norwegian Wood? I've got a stick I found on the ground in Oslo."
"You'd better run for your life if you can, Paul."
"Kind of hard when there's broken glass all over the floor, John."
"Excuse me, gentlemen?" I said. "Could we focus on the matter at hand?"
"Really," George said. "You all are behaving like a bunch of piggies. Don't worry, Lt. Salt. I can handle this. What they need's a damn good whacking."
"I'm sorry, are you sure you guys are up to this task? It's really quite dangerous, after all. There's an unfriendly alien spacecraft at the bottom of the ocean that seems to have weapons technology that far exceeds our own. The fate of the world is at stake here."
"Do you think I'm a loser or something?" John asked.
I gave him no reply.
"None of us here are losers."
"Help! I'm still stuck on the ceiling!" Ringo called out.
"Okay, most of us are probably not losers. At least two of us for sure aren't. Maybe even three. The point is, we're bigger than Jesus, bitch! You think we can't hold our own against some two-bit extraterrestrials that couldn't even keep their flying saucer out of the water? We're the Beatles! We can do anything! We even let Ringo sing lead on some of our songs. I know he looks a bit 'special,' but he gets by with a little help from his friends. We understand what's at stake here. We're not doing this for no one. We're going to save everybody. And we're going to look good doing it."
"All right then," I said. "I'm counting on you. The world is counting on you. Don't let me down."
"Okay then, what do you fellows say? You ready to take a magical mystery tour of the ocean and defeat some nasty aliens?"
"I've got a ticket to ride the submarine right here," Ringo said.
"You don't need a ticket to ride. This is our submarine. We live on it. Remember?"
"Yeah yeah yeah, I remember."
"Well, I'll let you boys be on your way," I said.
"Okay. Say, Corporal Ketchup? Maybe you can help me out here. What's the word I'm thinking of? All you need is...?"
"Someone who can stop the bloody aliens!"
"Right you are. Don't worry. We've got this. But just in case, how can we contact you if we need to get in touch?"
"You know my name," I said. "Look up the number."
*
"All right, John, first thing we need to do is turn this bad boy around," Paul said.
"You say you want a revolution?"
"Well, more of a rotation, I'd say. We're facing the wrong direction."
"I want to tell you..." George said. "We're picking up something on the sonar directly below us."
"Steer her that way then," Paul said.
"I'm trying," John said as he wiped sweat from his brow. "It's hard to get her to turn. She's so heavy. I want you... to turn, damn it!"
"Would you like if I helped you steer, John? If you want me to I will."
"I'd love you to. Maneuvering this thing is misery. Baby you can drive my sub anytime."
"There's definitely something showing up on our sensors," George said. "It's still a long, long, long ways away, but we're making progress."
"How far away is it?" Paul asked. "Is this journey going to be a daytripper or is it going to take awhile?"
"Hard to say. It's in a section of the ocean known as Strawberry Fields. If our engines hold up we might make it in a few hours.
"Can we get a visual on our screens?"
"Roger that. It's pretty dark down that deep. This baby's in black. But if we can shine our inner light on it... There we go! The image is blurry, but it's getting better all the time. You should all come together by the screen and take a look. It's big, boys. Really big. It might be the biggest thing I've ever seen in my life."
"That's what she said she said," Ringo called out from where he was still stuck on the ceiling.
"We're still too shallow," George shouted. "We need to go deeper!"
"Well, let me take you down 'cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields," John said.
"You know, I've been thinking," Paul said. "Since we're on a top secret mission we should all choose codenames. Come on, call out some ideas. All together now!"
"I'll be Bungalow Bill," John said.
"I'm Rocky Racoon!" George said.
"I wanted to be Rocky Racoon," Ringo whined.
"Too late," George said. "Already called it. I me mine!"
"Oh!" Ringo shouted. "I know! I am the Walrus!"
"Don't be silly, Ringo. Obviously the Walrus is Paul. You can be the Fool on the Hill."
"I don't want to be the fool on the hill," Ringo pouted. "I want to be something cool, like Bulldog. Hey Bulldog! What's happening?"
"Nah, you're not a Bulldog. I got it! Your codename's Polythene Pam."
"Pam? Really, John?"
"Would you rather be Michelle? Or maybe Julia? Dear Prudence perhaps?"
"I just don't understand why I have to have a lass's name. How about Sun King? That sounds cool."
"No, you're definitely not a king either. I think the girl codename really fits you. I mean, we're all a bunch of boys, so having someone with a bird's name would really throw the bad guys off, you know what I mean? How about Sexy Sadie?"
"Okay," Ringo said. "At least I get to be sexy. Now can someone help get me off this ceiling or should I stay up here and cry instead?"
"Cry baby cry," John muttered.
"Hey Rocky Raccoon, this is the Walrus!" Paul said. "Are we getting any closer to that alien ship?"
"Don't bother me!" George shouted. "I need to focus. It won't be long now. All I've got to do is get us a little closer. Wait, where'd she go? I swear I saw her standing there."
"Where?"
"I don't know! Here, there and everywhere! Spin us around again. There she is! Oh darling! I can see her clearly on the viewscreen now. Just keep the submarine steady or you're going to lose that girl."
"Bungalow Bill to Walrus. I don't know what you're doing, but can you hail them?"
"I'm trying every little thing but they're not responding."
"Guys, I don't want to spoil the party, but they've just opened fire on us."
"Oh is that how they want to play this?" Paul asked. "Two of us can play that game. You want to dance? Well, I'm happy just to dance with you. Fire back when ready, Bungalow Bill. I'm going to try sending them another message. Hello. Goodbye!"
"I think I hit something!" John shouted.
"Hey Bungalow Bill, what did you kill?"
"Your mother should know, Walrus."
"Is this really the time for yo' mama jokes?" George asked. "And for Krishna's sake, someone get Sexy Sadie there off the ceiling? We're going to need all the help we can get. They're still firing at us. The way things are going they're going to crucify me. All of us, really."
"I got Sexy Sadie," Paul said. "Can you take evasive action, Bungalow Bill?"
"I'm trying, but Christ, you know it ain't easy. You know how hard it can be."
"I think you did hit something," George said. "I see an old brown shoe floating in the water."
"Anything else, Rocky Racoon?" Paul asked. "Tell me what you see."
"It's still dark, but I can make out the spaceship. They're still firing at us. We've taken several direct hits, but our submarine seems to be holding. Something about the yellow color appears to be absorbing the worst of the damage."
"That's crazy," Ringo said. "That's the kind of thing a paperback writer would come up with. I can't believe we're getting our skins saved because our submarine is yellow."
"Nonetheless that appears to be the case. They seem to be getting frustrated that they haven't been able to blow us up. Hold on, I think they're hailing us now. Yes, something's coming up on the screen. I've just seen a face. I think we might be about to make first contact with the aliens. Okay, everyone, just act naturally."
The screen flickered a few times and then a man appeared on it. "Hello boys. Remember me?"
"No," John said. "Who are you?"
"It's me, Pete. Pete Best?"
"Who?"
"Come on! Your old drummer! The guy you kicked out of the band in favor of Ringo?"
"Doesn't ring a bell. Any of you lads remember this guy?"
"Not a clue," Paul said.
"Never seen him in my life," George said.
"Wait, you guys had a band before me?" Ringo asked.
"How could you forget me? I'm the best! It's literally my name! Well, never mind, once you lot gave me the boot, I decided I'd get my revenge! So I hopped on a rocket ship, sailed across the universe, and recruited some evil bloodthirsty aliens to destroy the world! This is their ship, the S.S. Honey Pie. Unfortunately, we crashed into the ocean, but that's merely a minor setback on my path to total domination! I'm going to set the world on fire and everyone will die!"
"Listen, mister. You don't want to kill everyone," Paul said. "How will you live with yourself if you're responsible for the death of everyone? Boy, you're going to carry that weight a long time."
"I don't think so, because I'm going to have the love and admiration of my alien friends. Here, allow me to introduce you to some of them. This is their captain, Jude." A slimy bug-eyed tentacle creature stepped into view.
"Hey Jude," Paul said.
"And let's see, I saw the first mate around here a minute ago. Ah, there she is. Martha, my dear? Would you care to step over and say hello to the Beatles? Nice choice of a band name, by the way, because I'm going to crush you like insects. Anyway, this is Martha."
Another tentacle creature appeared on the screen and waved.
"Nice to meet you, lass," Paul said.
"I'd introduce you to the navigator, Mary Jane, but we were celebrating my birthday last night and she took ill."
"What a shame Mary Jane had a pain at the party," John said.
"Wait, you say it's your birthday?" Paul asked. "It's my birthday, too!"
"What are you talking about, Paul?" Ringo asked. "Your birthday was in June. Remember? You guys went out partying on Blue Jay Way and didn't invite me?"
"Shut up, Sexy Sadie. I'm trying to build a rapport here. And call me Walrus, remember?"
"I think our cover's already blown, Paul."
"Are you trying to start a fight, Ringo? I'll take you on anytime any place. Why don't we do it in the road?"
"We'll settle this when I get home," Ringo said. "Don't forget we've still got to deal with the bad guys."
"Yes, don't you want to hear our evil plan?" Pete Best said. "Our spaceship may be under water, but that doesn't mean we can't wreak havoc on the land. We've already got our death ray in position. We call it Lucy. It's up in the sky along with a bunch of diamonds, which, little known fact, are quite useful in amplifying the effects of death rays. It's all charged up and I'm just about ready to atomize the Queen of England. She's protected right now inside Buckingham Palace, but once she steps outside she's toast. We'll get her when she's leaving home. Her Majesty's a pretty nice girl, but I'm still going to blow her away. Anyway, that's my plan for today. As for tomorrow? Well tomorrow never knows."
"Why are you doing this?" George asked.
"Because."
"Because why?"
"Because the sky is blue! What does it matter? It's all too much. You guys kicked me out of the band and I got pissed off. Is that not a good enough reason?"
"Actually, that's a crap reason," John said. "And guess what? We're going to come over there and kick your arse because your silly alien weaponry can't hurt our yellow submarine! Because it's yellow!"
The alien known as Jude made a sound like wet spaghetti hitting a wall.
"Aha!" Pete Best. "That's why we couldn't blow you up. Yellow is impervious to our weapons system... at the setting they're on now. All we have to do is adjust it slightly and you'll be completely vulnerable!"
"Well, in that case, I'm just going to have to activate our cloaking device and then you won't see me," John said. "Can't hit what you can't see."
"What the-?" Pete Best sputtered. "I'm looking through you. Where did you go? What's the meaning of this? Do you have something to hide?"
"Everybody has something to hide except for me and my monkey," John said. "Now cut the transmission! All right boys, now that we're effectively invisible let's move in and board their ship."
"On it," Paul said. "George keep an eye on the screen and make sure we're staying on target."
"Um, George?" Ringo said. "I don't want to alarm you, but your guitar is crying."
"What?" Paul asked.
"Uh, yeah. There's tears dripping down it. I think it's sad."
"It does that sometimes when it gets scared," George said. "Nothing to worry about. Let's go board that alien spaceship."
"Maybe you guys should go ahead and I should stay here while your guitar gently weeps. You know, to keep an eye on it."
"Don't be a git, Ringo. If I needed someone to watch my guitar, I'd do it myself. In the meantime, we've got to take down some aliens. And also some random guy I've never heard of."
*
"And so, General Martin, it's my pleasure to report that the Beatles saved the day," I said. "They vanquished the aliens and captured the evil Pete Best. They asked him to give peace a chance, but he refused, so they took him into custody. Unfortunately he managed to escape, but our agents surrounded him and he took his own life. He blew his mind out in a car and that was that. Also there was a suspicious meter maid on the scene by the name of Rita. I'm pretty sure she was involved somehow. I think she should be arrested. Or, at the very least fired."
General Martin snored in response.
"Sir?" I asked as I shook him gently.
"Huh? What's that? Sorry about that. I'm only sleeping. Enjoying some golden slumbers, if you will. Anyway you were saying this Pete Best fellow took himself out?"
"I'm afraid so, Sir."
"Oh well. Ob-la-di-ob-la-da. Life goes on. Just not for Pete Best, am I right?"
"Well, it's my sad duty to report there were some casualties on our side, too. Paul is dead. He took an alien blaster to the face. Never stood a chance. We sent in our best medical examiner, Doctor Robert, and he pronounced Paul dead on the spot. But not to worry. This whole escapade will stay secret. We found this fellow by the name of Billy Shears. He's the spitting image of Paul. We're going to insert him into the Beatles on the downlow and nobody's ever going to know the difference. And if anyone tries to spill the beans, we'll shoot them dead."
"Excellent. Happiness is a warm gun," General Martin said. "Now good night. Sleep tight." He resumed snoring.
"I guess that's true," I shrugged. I covered him with a blanket and tiptoed out of the secret meeting room and closed the door gently behind me. The surviving Beatles were waiting outside for me along with the new replacement for Paul. "Well lads, you did it. You saved the world. Sorry about Paul, but here's some medals for you. Just remember, as far as the public is concerned, none of this ever happened. You can all go home now to your yellow submarine."
"Sounds good," John said. "Say Billy, perhaps you could help me out here. I'm looking for a word for a song. All you need is...? Any ideas?"
"Gosh, I have no idea," Billy Shears said. "Sorry I can't help you out. But I'll tell you what I could really go for right now is some love."
"Love," John said thoughtfully. "I suppose in the end the love you take is equal to the love you make. Let's go get us some love and maybe something will come to me on this song lyric."