Situation: Becoming angered with the fact that George does nothing but bitch, complain & eat too many jellybeans, John, Paul & Ringo decide upon revenge with an April fool�s joke. George is drunk off his ass in the kitchen of George & Ringo�s flat. Paul, John & Ringo are preparing the final steps in their prank�
Paul: The old match in the boot trick, eh?
John: Yup.
(Ringo walks up to George, nearly tripping over a pile of empty beer cans.)
Ringo: I�ll be practicing with the rest of the guys at Paul�s place, so you�ll either have to eat dinner alone or call your mum to make you something.
George (in a slurred, demented tone): I�ll kill you for the death of my grandmother! <sniff!> Her hair is on fire, along with all the horses and dirt piles in my fucking soup�
Ringo: Oh-kay then; goodbye.
(A few hours later, George has passed out. John lifts up the window & shoves Ringo through. After Ringo unlocks the door, Paul pulls out a match & smiles deviously.)
John: Ooh! Fire!
Paul (in the same tone one uses on a stupid dog.): No, not for you, John!
(Realizes John has gone temporarily psycho, Paul throws the match to Ringo.
Ringo: Not smart to throw a burning match, really. John, get a hold of yourself!
<SLAP!!>
John: Wha- oh, sorry �bout that. I guess I�m pyro.
(The three creep out of the bedroom where they were hiding and get safely into the front room as quietly as they can.)
John: Put Ringo in charge of the matches. Don�t wanta freak out again. Phew, what would me Aunt Mimi say to that?
Ringo (thought): She�d probably start yelling at you for getting into that kind of a situation and then tell me that I�m too short. Duh.
(Ringo begins to mutter about being short, then crawls to table, now littered with booze, empty and half-drained bottles and cans, and George�s unconscious body.)
Paul: Shh! Do it quietly!
(Lighted match goes into George�s removed shoe, and another match is lit.)
Ringo: Damn!! Burnt me finger, and that shoe smells something terrible!
John: Shut up!
<Shhztt> (Sound of other match being relit.)
All (not including George): hmmph-hm! Heh! Hee hee hee! (muffled laughter)
George: Uughhh! <Clank!>
(One of the half-empty bottles of liquor is knocked over by George, causing both a chain reaction bottle-collapse and George�s pants to be covered in alcohol.)
<Fshh! VWHOOOM!> (booze igniting George�s pant�s from the flames in his shoes.)
George: Huh? AAAHHHH! I�m on bloody fucking FIRE! Shit! Shit! Shit!
(Ringo, Paul, and John crawl out from under the table>)
All (in fragmented, interrupted sentences): Just listen to-!: Stop, drop and roll!: Not on me mum�s-(etc.)
(George takes the advice)
Paul: No, you turd-brain! Not that far over!
(Curtains, carpet, and eventually the door catch fire as well.)
Ringo: John, what are you doing just standing there?
John: Fire, fire, fire, fire, fire, fire, fire�
<SMACK! >
Paul: Oh-kay�Oh my GOD! What are we gonna do?
John-: Well, the door is burning, we jammed up the window, and the air is filling <cough> with <cough cough> with smoke! I dunno�
Paul (shoving John in the back): Get down on your knees John. Actually, no wait.
(Paul turns around in a crazed manner, stares at the flames, and then whirls violently and grabs Ringo by the shoulders.)
Paul (shaking his captive): WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE! I JUST KNOW IT!
George: Let�s ju-just ca-rawl inta the- the nex room!
Ringo: George, you�re a dumbass!!!
George- Wull which one a ya� genyusses set me alight, hmm?
John: Fire, fire- I mean, uh, let�s just get to the bedroom, no time to fight.
Paul-: We are all gonna die, we are all gonna die, we are all gonna die, we are all gonna-
<Smack, smack, smack!>
Ringo: Get a hold on y�self Paul! You act like- well, let�s not go there now.
Paul: Thank you Ringo. Even if you are short beyond all belief, you seem to be the only sane one here.
John (snidely): See, when you go to the hospital for major surgery every two years and then have a recovery and therapy session, you get something in the package called �mental health.�
Ringo: Shurrup! Okay, instead of acting like Bob Dylan on an acid trip, can we figure something out here?
George (holding his head like a thousand-pound deadweight): Maybe we could call the fire department.
John: By the time they arrive we�ll be over-cooked pork chops!
Paul: Make that Beatle hams!
(Smoke climbs up from under door and flames start licking at the framework.)
Ringo: Fine then, my last resort. I wonder how much a new window costs�
(Reaches under bead and pulls out steel baseball bat used for fending off both burglars and the occasional horny Brian.)
John: Look! Fire, fire, fire! We must feed the flames! Fire, fire�
Ringo: Gerroutta my way John!
(Slams full force into John, throwing him violently to the side, then starts to smash the window.)
<Shccrrraaak! Shrack shiringle!>
Ringo: C�mon guys! Crawl through!
Paul: You guys live on the second story though!
Ringo: Let me rephrase that for you, Paul. BEATLE STEAKS!
Paul: Good point. Ladies first, George.
(George climbs out window, falls down onto innocent passerby, and nearly kills the man with his fears of insanity.)
Passerby: AHH! It�s raining drunken devils from the Holy Gates of Heaven! God preserve us�
(Runs off into horizon)
Ringo: John, why are you just STANDING THERE?!
John: Fire! Must burn more things, make more fire�
Paul: You an� me gotta get �im outta here!
Ringo: But he weighs like 160 pounds!