Paul: Yeah!
(Paul begins to snicker with a disgusting lovesick undertone.)
Siobhan(muttering to self): Please make him go away! I wish I had worn loose long sleeved clothing with a bag over my head now.
Conan: Oh, you mean the ones you chased earlier? Can we pan out for an audience shot?
(The camera zooms in on Sarah & Siobhan. Sarah lifts her middle finger. Siobhan makes a fool of herself by falling out of the chair.)
Siobhan: Ow!
Conan: We�ll just have to edit that lovely display of emotions out.
(Max Weinberg pulls out a .44 handgun & aims it at Conan. The audience thinks it is a joke.)
Max: No, we won�t Conan. It stays right there.
Conan: Okay, so maybe it stays.
(John gives the British middle finger to the camera.)
John: Let�s add to that statement! Good job girls!
(Ringo begins to look around stage, sees Max�s drums & becomes entranced.)
Conan: Okay, so, uh, how did you get your face, uh, so mangled George?
Paul: You see, Hannibal Lecter was in the guy�s room, & George went to barf, & he was rude, & then he got his face eaten off, &-
John: You�re done now. It�s over.
Ringo: I wanna play.
Conan: What?
George: I dunno. Play what Shorty? �Quality�?
Ringo: Ringo plays drums, dumbshit.
John: Ringo play, uh, �Strawberry Fields Forever� drum solo?
Ringo: Yeah! Yeah! Ringo play �Strawberry Fields� solo!
(Ringo throws Max off the drums.)
John: Paul, hum the end part to �Strawberry Fields�.
Paul: Uh, �kay. Do do do do do do do do dum, do do dum, do do dum, do do do dum. Do do do do do do�
Max: Hey, these are my drums!
Ringo(in a crazed frenzy): Mine now, asshole! Back off! Fuck, American gits these days!..
(Max tries to sneak up on Ringo to regain control of his drums.)
Ringo: Go screw your mother!
(Ringo begins to play the drum solo. He comes to the conclusive part & continues the solo.)
George: John, you forgot to calm �im down!
Paul: You forgot my cranberry sauce, you toilet!
Sarah: Whoa! Getting a little too �Jerry Springer� up there!
Siobhan: Play more, play-oh, damn, I�m being stared at.
Conan: Someone stop him, he�s ruining my show!
John: Calm DOWN, RINGO! It�s all over, & you embarrassed <ahem> Siobhan!
(Ringo suddenly stops, collapses, & falls into the drums from exhaustion. The audience �Aww�s.)
Ringo: Wha-I�m tired. Here y�go Max, I think I�m done with these crappy drums.
Max: Whaddya got? I don�t see anything on your undersized person!
Ringo: You aren�t the only one with a lethal weapon here!
George: If he means what I think he means�
Ringo: George! Bag of jellybeans please. The old one. NOW!
Paul: Don�t indulge his over-eating emotions!
Brian: We�d better go now; it�s getting ugly. Besides, we still need to find safety pins & duct tape for George.
(A jellybean is thrown at Max & hits him in the face.)
Max: Damn you, you English butthead!
(Max shoots at Ringo through a volley of lethal jellybeans, hitting him in the foot. The audience panics, minus Sarah, who is happy.)
Ringo: It would appear that one of my feet isn�t so big anymore�Let�s go with Brian now. Shit, that hurts.
Paul(singing quietly): He lay face down in the burning sand, with a six gun in his hand. He lay face down so I thought he was dead, & under his heart lay an ounce of lead. But inside there still burned a spark, so I took my knife & late that night�
George: That�s not a good thing to be singing. Ringo goes outlaw & became a dead pile of lead in the end!
Paul(smirking): Exactly.
John: Hey Conan, we gotta go, so uh, let that Gore guy on & we�ll see you later. Maybe. If we survive this crap�
(Beatles & Brian walk offstage & back to where they started.)
Conan: We�ll take a break-the Beatles & their manager Brian Epstein, everyone!
(The audience applauds, Conan steps out momentarily into the hall with the Beatles & Co.)
Conan: Thank you so much guys. Sorry about Max, he likes his gun.
Brian: Anytime. Do you know where we can get a hold of some duct tape & safety pins?
Conan: Uh, look around the building. None here, though. I�d love to chat & everything, but I�m afraid the audience will steal stuff from the set, because NBC is too cheap to let us have security in this studio, so I gotta go. See ya!
(The Beatles run off upstairs, Ringo limps.)
Sarah: Wait! I have safety pins & duct tape! <sigh>
Conan: Hello.
Sarah: Uh, hi. Er, Siobhan!
(The Beatles choose another studio door & realize they are on the set of Saturday Night Live.)
John: Well it�s not �ere.
Paul: Ah, yes, too bad.
George: Looks funny.
Ringo: Yeah. Brian, could we stay maybe? Just, you know, watch? Please?
Brian: No, we have to be at the photo shoot. We have to be there in 10 minutes!
(The Beatles, led by Brian, exit into the hall & start checking random doors again.)
John: But I�m tired!
Ringo: My foot hurts!
Paul: I�m hungry!
George: I gotta go to the bathroom!
Ringo: Are we there yet?
Paul: John�s poking me!
John: Am not!
(John continues to poke Paul. Brian whirls around angrily.)
Brian: STOP BUGGING ME! YOU�RE ALL OLD ENOUGH THAT YOU CAN BE MATURE!
(An awkward silence passes as they continue checking doors.)