HOWDY! Okay, I noticed a severe lack of Beatles fics on this otherwise fantastic site. Soooooo here I am to the rescue. Please review if you think I should continue, and I'll love you forever. Truly. Love. I'll bear your children. Just review. Thanks.

Now, on the story! Plot, basically: Our Liverpool Lads are out looking for food and birds and gigs and birds and food. And birds. Chapter One: The evil hamburger of death.


John, Paul, George, and (guess who!) Ringo, are jaunting around Liverpool on an absolutely perfect (meaning less rainy then usual) English day.

George: What a lovely day, mates!

Paul: Och aye, George, right you are. It's dandy.

Ringo: It'd be even more dandy if I could get me some fish and chips. I'm awful hungry, fellows.

John: Oh, Rings, yer always stuffin' yer bloody gob. I'd be chuffed if you weren't.

Ringo: (With dignity) Me gob likes to stuff. Can I help that?

John: (sighing) I suppose not. All right, chums, let's find a place for Ringo to eat.

Paul: Come on, John! We've got places to see, people to do -

John: That's all you can think about at a time like this?! Birds?! When poor, poor, helpless, defenseless, wee little Ringo's bellies grumblin' to high heavens? I should leave you, I should.

Paul: Ah, John, don't do that. I'm sorry, Ringo.

Ringo: Right you should be.

(The boys stop in front of a dubious looking diner)

George: (Sarcastic) Ah, just the place to get some eats! I bet they catch the rats themselves and cook 'em right there for ye, with a side o' cockroaches.

John: Oh, off with it, George. Maybe the grub's decent.

George: Maybe it ain't.

John: Maybe it is.

George: Maybe it ain't.

John: Maybe I shove one o' yer rats and cockroach specials down yer bloody gob, Mr. George.

George: To the diner.

Ringo: Tally ho!

(Our hunky heroes enter the diner)

John: See, not bad at all, is it.

(A rat scurries across the floor in front of them.)

Paul: Oh dear.

Ringo: I don't know if I be this hungry, lads. Perhaps -

John: (Irritated) Are ye bloody hungry or not, Ringo?!

Ringo: I am.

John: Do you want to eat yer fish and chips?!

Ringo: I do.

John: You what?!

Ringo: I do.

John: With feeling!

Ringo: I DO!

George: I now pronounce you man and wife, now let's get us some grub.

John: Right on. That's the spirit, George.

(The fellows saunter over to the counter, where a butch waitress is smoking dully)

Waitress: Hello.

Paul: Hello, luv! Be a dear and get us some fish and chips, then!

Waitress: We don't have fish and chips.

Ringo: (Alarmed) No fish and chips? WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO, I ASK YOU? I NEED ME LUNCH, JOHN!

John: No, all ye need is love. Lunch is just a perky little benefit, chum.

George: What do ye have?

Waitress: Hamburgers.

George: Hamburgers? Ham? As in wee little piggies? That you kill?

John: (Humming) See how they run like pigs from a gun see how they fly.

Waitress: Here are some menus. (She forks 'em over)

Ringo: (Reading them) Ooo! I'd like the number three!

Waitress: With cheese?

Ringo: Please, cheese three, oh yeah, my darlin'.

John: I need me bloody harmonica, I do.

Paul: Get it after we eat.

(The waitress goes back to the kitchen, returning with four evil looking little burgers)

Waitress: Eat up.

Paul: It doesn't look edible.

John: Ringo?

Ringo: George, pass me the salt. It'll get down with a little help from my salt.

(Rim shot!)

(The others watch while Ringo salts his burger, and prepares to take a bite)

George: (Tearfully) He's such a brave little soldier.

John: I'll give him that, the little bugger's got guts.

(Ringo bites, swished the mouthful around, and tries to swallow. Emphasis on 'tires'.)

Ringo: Hack hack hack! COUGH! COUGH! GAG!

Paul: Oh no! Ringo's choking! Oh, why did we make him eat that burger?! I feel like a fool by the grill!

(I really need to get a new hobby)

John: We have to save him! Imagine a world with no Ringo!

Paul: With a little luck, perhaps we can save him!

George: (Sighing in disgust at the author's campiness) My sweet lord.

(George grabs Ringo around the middle and gives a mighty jolt. The offending meat pops out of Ringo's mouth and onto the floor.)

Ringo: Heave off, George! I love ye too, but there are things I can not do.

Paul: Hooray! Ringo lives!

Ringo: Thank ye, George, fer savin' me from that evil hamburger. I'll stick to me fish and chips from now on, they're far more digestable.

John: Good thing ye don't depend on yer pipes for a livin' mate. Let's abandon these burgers and find us some real food.

(The fellows head off)


THANKS FOR READING, HOMESLICES! Heh, heh. please review! You'll make my day. And then I'll come and read all of YOUR stories. Thanks oodles, you foxy people.