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Post by Ashley on Mar 19, 2005 23:39:25 GMT -5
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Post by ibrake4whales on Mar 20, 2005 23:11:17 GMT -5
oh no!!!! drugs arent good for babies!!!!!
i like it alot!
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Post by lookingthroughyou on Mar 22, 2005 19:47:26 GMT -5
more.
George angrily paced Ringo’s living room, going stir-crazy and muttering to himself. Ringo watched him pace, looking sad and more than a little stir-crazy himself. George stopped abruptly.
“Why didn’t Paul invite us to that thing. We always tell each other everything. Did John go? I bet he did. Jesus, I hate them both.” He muttered angrily. Ringo burst out with,
“Do you ever think that they’re as bad as us with drugs and women n’ all that shit? Jesus, George, you’re really self absobed these days!” George sighed.
“I know, I know. But…” He trailed off unhappily. “I wonder what Pattie’s doin’. It’s so odd, these mood swings she’s bin ‘avin.” Ringo bit his lip.
“George…D’you think…d’you think she might be, y’know, pregnant?” George swung around to stare at him. Ringo looked down. “Mo was always like tha’ when she was…pregnant. You know. Like, all moody-like n’ all.” George rubbed his temples.
“You’re not kidding, righ’? She…she was neva…she…” He trailed off again. “I have to go see ‘er.” He whispered urgently. Ringo nodded.
“She might not know yet but… she probably does. Women always know these things.” George got up, dazed. He walked over to the door, almost in a trance, and waved to Ringo. He smiled grimly, and slammed the door behind him, then whispered to himself,
“How can I go to her, when I left her like that?” He smacked his head. “Shit. This is a mess.”
Three minutes later, he was on the road again, headed towards the local flower shop. He smiled. Pattie would like this. Especially if she was pregnant.
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Post by ibrake4whales on Mar 22, 2005 20:56:33 GMT -5
awwww
i want george to bring me flowers!
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Post by me on Mar 23, 2005 14:27:40 GMT -5
Pattie is pregnant!  |
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Post by LongTallCecilia on Mar 23, 2005 17:45:27 GMT -5
Go see her for pity's sake!!
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Post by ibrake4whales on Mar 23, 2005 20:19:25 GMT -5
yea george get your butt over there!
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Post by nothingisreal2 on Mar 23, 2005 21:26:03 GMT -5
Great story, Liv. I am LOVING it.
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Post by Ashley on Mar 23, 2005 23:30:54 GMT -5
It's fabulous!
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Post by lookingthroughyou on Mar 25, 2005 16:13:46 GMT -5
George screeched to a halt in front of the nearest flower shop, ignoring the “no parking” sign near it. He slammed the door and hurriedly went inside. The overpowerfing scent of flowers hit him, and he rubbed his nose and sneezed.
The two girls behind the counter stared at him and started whispering. “Damnit.” He muttered, facing a display of flowers. He glanced back at them, making them whisper even louder. They were actually quite pretty, for fangirls. You never saw them much anymore, since beatlemania was pretty much kaput.
He turned around again and glanced at them. He actually recognized them somehow, and tried to place them. They were probably Apple Scruffs, the oens who hung out outside the apple building. He had never really talked to the fans. Paul was the one who did that. He tried to place them. He definitely recognized the one with the red hair, but not so much the brown haired one. Still, they stuck in his mind.
He frowned, and turned around again. Pattie, Pattie. Flowers for her. He absentmindedly grabbed a big bunch of assorted flowers, and strode over to the cash. They stared up at him, big-eyed, and the brown haired one said, “Are you George?” He rolled his eyes. “Yep.”
The red haired one giggled nervously. “We’re..uh…Apple scruffs? We sort of know you. I’m…Julie, and this is…Angie. We..really like the Beatles.” She stuttered out. George snorted. “Doesn’t everyone.” He said, quietly. He addressed the brown-haired one, Angie.
“So, how much are these gonna be?” She smiled weakly as if she was about to burst into tears, and said softly, “Four pounds, please?” He dug in his pocket, fruitlessly. “Hmm…” He frowned, then dug in the other pocket, and came up with a tenner.
“Here,” He threw it on the counter. “And keep the change.” He grabbed the flowers and walked towards the exit.
A voice behind him said, “George?” He turned around again. “Wha’ is it.” He said, exhausted with the Beatle life. Angie had come out from behind the counter, and said, “Do you think you could, like sign something for me?” She said, a little louder than before. Julie grinned. “Me too.” He groaned loudly. The two laughed. “Sorry!” They said, in unison, as George came back to the counter.
“What should I sign, then?” He sighed. “Look, could you ‘urry it up? I ‘av to get back to Pattie. These are for ‘er.” He lifted the flowers under his arm. Julie’s eyes wided.
“Really? What’d you do?” She clapped her hands over her mouth, and whispered, “Sorry.” as Angie gave her a dirty look. He sighed again. He probably shold be going home, but there was something about the little flower shop girls that made him want to stay forever, and never go back to his wife. He let out his breath, and put his arm down on the counter, and leaned on it slowly.
“We’ve just been fightin’ a lot, and she…she’s um…I dunno.” Why was he telling them these things? They were only fangirls, after all. He looked up, to see Angie staring into his face, looking sad.
“But why are you fighting? She’s your wife, after all…” She said quietly. He ran his hands through his hair. “Dunno.” He said, sadly. Julie put a cup of something in front of him, and he laughed. Tea. They knew exactly what to do, he thought wistfully, unlike drug-addled Pattie. His mind jumped. What the hell was he thinking? It wasn’t beatlemania anymore, he couldn’t just…do what he liked. Although, lately, it seemed as though Pattie wouldn’t even care.
He set the teacup down heavily, splashing tea everywhere. “I really should go,” he muttered. Despite the protests of the two girls, he scribbled his name on some sheets of paper they had produced, and saluted as he left, still with the flowers under his arm. He shook his head angrily as he left, breathing in the fresh air. He glanced back at the girls one last time, unhappily, and drove away.
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Post by Beatlemon on Mar 25, 2005 20:09:06 GMT -5
eeeeeee!!!! I wish I was a flowergirl |
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judettestillcantlogin
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Post by judettestillcantlogin on Mar 25, 2005 20:23:08 GMT -5
oh wow. liv, this is fabulous stuff. i wonder what's going to happen. the suspense is killing me. write more. i've never actually liked fanfic but this is good. i think i'll check out the rest of them now.  |
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Post by me on Mar 26, 2005 17:31:00 GMT -5
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Post by lookingthroughyou on Mar 26, 2005 18:31:03 GMT -5
Pattie staggered out of the bed, feeling nauseous and disgusting. She sat at the window, watching for George’s car. One hour passed, and she began to weep. She stumbled back to the bed, feeling terrible. The bastard was probably halfway to France by now, for all she knew.
She grabbed the telephone, still crying, and called Cynthia.
“Hello?” the friendly voice responded.
“Is-is G-g-george there, C-cyn?” She wept into the phone.
“Pattie? Is that you?” Cynthia’s voice crackled over the reciever, and Pattie wiped her eyes and answered, “Yes.”
She heard Cynthia mutter something to someone else. Maureen, Ringo’s wife, suddenly picked up.
“Pattie? What’s wrong? Where are you?” Pattie sighed and mopped at her face with the sheets.
“N-nothing’s wrong, just, George and I- w-we had a fight, and he’s-he’s been gone for an hour and a half, and-and, I was just worried.” She stuttered out. Maureen sighed.
“You poor dear,” she murmured. “Me and Cyn will come over soon, but first I’ll call Ritchie. George might’ve gone there."
They exchanged goodbyes and Pattie put down the phone and lit a cigarette, a bitter smile on her face. At least she still had friends, even if her husband had abandoned her for some little Beatle fan. She rubbed her stomach. Why didn’t he come home?
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George drove around aimlessly, the flowers wilting on the seat beside him. He groaned. Why wasn’t he going home, to Pattie? His heart was telling him to go home, but his mind was telling him something was wrong with this last fight. Something was wrong with Pattie, whether it was just pregnancy, or something worse. His mind spun and he hummed to himself unhappily.
He passed the Abbey Road studios and screeched to a halt. He hurriedly parked his car and walked inside, throughly down. He walked down the halls, depressed with himself, and ready to kill something.
Bang! He crashed into someone, and muttered an angry, “Sorry” as he grabbed the person’s book that was lying on the ground. He looked up. Paul’s eager face stared back at him.
“Oh, it’s you.” He said, thrust the book back into Paul’s arms, and hastily sidestepped him and kept walking. Paul, shocked, ran after him.
“George! George, where are you going? I was just going to go call you. George!” He stopped, and turned, then gave Paul a dirty look. Paul frowned. “What are you doing. Is something wrong?”
George angrily shouted, “No! Nothing’s wrong! Apart from the fact that you and John are on dream worlds lately, and my wife might be pregnant and I still can’t figured out why I’m not going home to her and we’ve been fighting for weeks- and oh jesus, Paul, where the hell have you been?” He cried.
Paul, doubly shocked, stammered, “I didn’t know, George…D’you want to come get some tea with me?” George nodded mutely and let Paul lead him down the hall.
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Post by Judette on Mar 26, 2005 18:36:55 GMT -5
omg, jan. that. is. disturbing. |
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