George: Why? OH, the shoe & prune juice...
(Trails off in terror. Just then, Brian comes to the door, waiting...John struggles to his feet, gestures to Paul, & they sneak up to Ringo, hiding stupidly in a corner.)
John: You said we'd resume after lunch!
Ringo: But you didn't eat yours!
Paul: Eh, best outta 3! Here, I'll hold 'im, & you take you time hurting him! & don't explode!
Ringo: AAAHHH! NO! I'M TOO SHORT TO DIE NOW!
(Brian decides now's a good time to come in.)
Brian: What's this, an orgy?
John: Oh no! It is Brian, the homosexual!
Paul: We must leave this place as rapidly as we can!
George: I agree with this plan of affirmative action. RUN!
(Beatles run like hell into bedroom & lock Brian out.)
Ringo: John, Paul, George-don't use American terminology & an English accent. The results could be nonsensically disastrous.
Paul: Weren't we just going to hurt you?
John: Yes, that's right...
Ringo: Gee, I think I hear Brian calling. I'll go & see, out the door, this way...
Paul: Oh no you don't! DO NOT let Brian in!
John: Don't let Ringo out!
George: Don't stop now! I want to see blood!
Ringo: Shut up, George! AAAH!
(Ringo, who only manages to unlock the door quietly, is dragged backward by Paul & John,kicking screaming until...)
John: Stop wiggling, you worm! OOOFF! Aw-ow-oo...
Paul: Huh? Wot's that sound?
George: Sounds like a quiet chainsaw. Hey, an oxymo...mor...uh...
Paul: MORON! OXYMORON! What a moron...
Rigno: I accidentally punched John in the gut. Could that explain the growling noise?
Paul: That could also explain our impending doom...
Brian: Wot's going on in there, eh?
George: Oh crap! What do we do?
Paul: & we can't just hang around John!
John: Shurrup-<groan>!
Ringo: The window! It's the only way!
(Reaches under bed & pulls out bat.)
Paul(thought): I would say, "oh no, not again", but then I would be psychic.
(Breaks through window and jumps out.)
George: But we're on the second story! Ringo! Ouch, that must smart like a mother.
Paul: Better straight than sorry! GERONIMO!
John: Don't...just...leave...me...here!..BASTARDS!
Brian(who finally figures out that the door is not locked): Hey, John. Oh, you don't look so good. Wanna lie down?
John: NOT...ON...MY...GRAVE!
(Waddles toward window and falls out.)
John: AAAAAAAAA-<FTOO-PPPPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!>
(John, in falling out the window, is in so much pain he can't control which way he falls, therefore landing on his stomach, releasing enough pressure to shoot the shoe out into the sky, where it dissapears. However, John, as a result of the prune juice, well, you can figure that out for yourself.)
George: AAAAH! MY EARS!
Ringo: WHAT?
Paul: CAN YOU HEAR YOURSELF THINK?
George: WHAT? NO!
Ringo: NEITHER CAN I!
George: WOT?!
(That night, on the BBC news.)
Reporter: & in another story, an extremely loud sound resembling supersonic flatulence was heard in Liverpool. It has been dubbed as "The Fart Heard Round the World", & it's origin is still yet unknown. More on this with Jack Ass. Jack?
Jack: Thank you, Rod Shaft. For about 5 hours today, the town of Old Harlow smelled of methane, prunes & slightly of leather. This could be related to the last story, some researchers say. About 29 people were hospitalized from overexposure to noxious gases, of which the methane content was 63%. Back to you Rod.
Rod: In America, a falling object crashed into a California home onto the head of a 13 year old boy. After the meteor-like object's fire had been put out, it was discovered to be a shoe. More on this at 11.
Brian: Wow. We're lucky we weren't in the middle of that.
(Chugging sounds & the clink of bottles in the background.)
John: Brian, if anyone asks, it was the Rolling stones who let off that fart.
Ringo: & we live in France, not England. No, actually, only John lives there & we all live wherever the journalists won't go.
George: I question I had a leather jacket with yellow feathers pissing in it so I could be a deformed elephant! <hiccup!>
Brian: George is drunk.
All: DUH!
Ringo: Actually, that's not a half bad idea...
Paul: Gimme that bottle! Git!
John(thought): I wonder what they're all fighting about now. Oh well, I'm fine, because I've got LSD. To the bathroom & privacy for me & my friend, Mr. Drugs.
(John goes into bathroom.)
John: What the-PAUL! There's about 12 girls tied up back here, & not one of them is older than 20!
Paul: The problem would be?
John: Write it out, I still can't hear!
(Paul writes it out on a piece of poster board.)
Ringo: What are you talking about? Whaddya mean, "get yer own"? No, I don't wanna know.
George: I do! I want my own, uh, whatever!
Ringo: George, before you say you want one of whatever, & I think I know what it is, tell me what 1+1 equals.
George: Hmm...uh...um...er...
Paul: Septuplets! Babies in general! A very happy Paul!
John: I don't read lips! Write it down!