Story~ A Joint Effort by Mimi (Of the Fremont variety) and Jena
[The scene opens with a small club in the late night. We come across four young men jamming on their instruments. John Lennon on a six stringed guitar, Paul McCartney on an oddly backwards bass made especially for left handed people, George Harrison on a rhythm guitar, and Keith Moon on a small drum kit. They play heartily, until Keith goes on a crazed, wild tangent off into some sort of drummer revelry. Unfortunately he loses grip on one of his drumsticks and in flies in the general direction of George, nearly smacking him. McCartney stops, utterly disgusted with Keith.]
Paul- What was THAT?!
Keith- Erm… Drumming? Hitting, putn’ down the rhythm?
John (L)- Listen, we’re in a band. We’ve got kind of… you know… whass the word I’m looking for… blend our souls together like the harmony of the universe. D’ye see what I mean?
[George stands by quietly, softly strumming his guitar, eyeing the drumming paraphernalia that almost hit him.]
Keith-… No. No I don’t.
Paul- [cutting off John (L)] Look, you’re testing me! Now just take this suit and put it on, right? It’s nice and gray; it’ll help you blend into the group. [He points to his nice, clean gray suit he was wearing, and then to an extra one crumpled up in the corner that was supposed to belong to Keith.]
Keith- ‘Ell no! I’m not wearing that shod! I’ll look like a git! A wanker or a tosser, or WORSE, like a little gray beetle! I’ll just wear my target shirt and jeans. [He smiles, brushing off his dirty shirt as if dignified.]
John (L)- There’s holes in those [He notices the holes in Keith’s jeans]. Big ones. In disgusting places. COVER THAT UP! GROSS! BLOODY HELL, YOU’RE SICK!
Keith- Wha-? [Looks down] Oh, that was there when I got them. See, they’ve got a sort of worn in look. Y’know, I can cut you a deal if you’re interested.
Paul- That’s it! First, you rival my cuteness! Everyone knows I’m the lady’s man! I’m the bloody cute one!
Keith- Really? Ya kid me, right? I thought you were the quiet one? Am I wrong?
George- Oh you’ve done it now. Nice knowing you. You were a decent drummer. [Shakes his head wearily, knowing the manic cute-obsession of Paul’s.]
Paul- NO! I’m the cute one!
Keith- Sorry… I just assumed all bass players were the quiet ones.
Paul- No! And THEN you try and play like a manic child given a drum set for Christmas but instead bangs pots and pans together!
Keith- That ’urt.
John (L)- Here now, he wasn’t that bad.
Paul- And NOW you won’t wear our bloody uniform? Our calling card? Our trademark? I need a moment.
[Keith looks on guiltily as John (L) frowns carefully at him and taps his chin. Paul fumes and starts pushing George around the room, ordering him to clean up his mess and play a harmonica while playing his guitar. John (L) sighs and grabs Paul away and drags him into a corner where they mutter conspiratorially. Meanwhile, George glances around, then sidles up to Keith.]
Keith- Sorry ‘bout the drumstick.
George- Don’t worry ‘bout it. [He then hands a pill to Keith, who accepts it unknowingly.]
Keith- What’s this then?
George- Er- candy. Tastes right good, eh? [Grins, then motions he should eat it.]
Keith- [pops it in his mouth] Tastes like a pill.
George- Imagine that. Wait for a few minutes, it’ll taste even better. [He nods to Keith and continues to clean as if he hadn’t done anything at all.]
[John (L) and Paul return, furious as ever.]
John (L)- Keith… what’s wrong with you? Is there something troubling you?
Paul- What my friend means is, YOU SUCK! GET OUT OF HERE! NOW! [Make dramatic ‘shooing’ motions with his hands.]
John (L)- Shut up, Paul. Keith, I think our paths in the cosmic future are diverging. I don’t see our auras turning into anything other than crazy mixed up pain and freaked out madness. [While saying this, he motions wildly with his arms and shakes his moptop around]
Keith-……… [Stares blankly]
Paul- WHAT’S THE MATTER? WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE? [Tries to lunge at Keith, but he holds his hand up as if signaling ‘stop’] Keith- [George’s special ‘candy’ has started to take effect. He points to the ceiling in amazement] Lucy! In the sky! And she’s up there with diamonds!
John (L)- Hey, that sounds like a great song…. [He goes to his guitar and starts humming to himself]
George- Hey, man, you better run while Paul is still in denial about his anal retentiveness. [He sighs and reverts back to his silence]
Keith- …Got any more of those pills?
[Needless to say, those were the last few words Keith was able to get in before Paul grabbed him from his little stool behind the drum kit and threw him out the front door. Poor Keith didn’t fight back, seeing as he didn’t even know which end was up and that Paul to him looked like the Queen of England. George and his guitar wept gently at the thought of a grand chum being lost.]
[Elsewhere… in a little recording studio not to far away.]
John (E)- One! Two! Three! Four! [He starts playing a little solo tune on his trumpet into a microphone and stops when Ringo begins to speak his lines. John (E) is in his usual all-black jacket, black shirt, black tie, black pants, black socks and black shiny dress shoes. Ringo is wearing a gray suit]
Ringo- [In his regular voice] What’s for tea, mum?
[John (E) now plays while Pete strums a banjo. They play a few bars until it’s Pete’s turn to say his lines. Pete is wearing a jacket made out of the British flag with black pants, very stylish.]
Pete- What’s for tea, darling?
[Now John on trumpet, Pete on a low stringed guitar, and Ringo on drums, play a few more bars together. They stop at Pete’s next line.]
Pete- Darling, I said- what’s for tea?
[They continue until its John (E)’s turn]
John (E)- [In a low, scary voice] What’s for tea, daughter?
[They continue on till the very end.]
All- Heinze Baked Beans! [The recoding stops and everyone relaxes]
Ringo- I don’t know, you guys. I guess I don’t get it. Heinze Baked Beans? Wouldn’t you rather have a Savoy truffle?
Pete- Wot’s not to get? Beans, for tea- [He notices John (E)’s side wards glare in Ringo’s direction.] ‘Scuse me one moment please. [He walks over to John (E)] Problem John?
John (E)- … [Points in Ringo’s direction]
Pete- Oh, come on, John! We’ve been through enough drummers! There isn’t anything wrong wit’ ‘im! ‘Cept for that grin…. [he shudders involuntarily.] Nevertheless, we need a drummer, so ou’ drummer ‘e shall be.
[John (E) just shrugs and proceeds to clean out the freshly used trumpet. Ringo approaches him cheerfully.]
Ringo- Here, I’ve got this song I thought we could do together. ‘S called ‘Octopus’ Garden’! Right catchy. Will ye ‘ave a go with it, then?
[John (E) stares at him unabashedly, wondering how and WHY God would put such a creature near him. At all. He begins to question his religion. He suddenly no longer believes in God. WHY, DEAR JESUS, WHY DO YOU FORSAKE HIM?? Wait… no. Never mind. This is entirely untrue… save the whole ‘stares at him’ thing]
Roger- [Enters the recording room, He is wearing a dark blue sweater with white pants] ‘Ey, good news, I’ve got us a gig! [His enthusiasm slowly fades away as he notices the nicely dressed drummer behind the drum kit waving at him] Oh, Richard’s still ‘ere?
Ringo- That’s Ringo.
Roger- [Eyes him] Whot’eva… I got us a gig Pete.
Pete- Well its good to know your good for something now, isn’t it? Where?
Roger- This nice little club! It doesn’t matter that we’re not twenty one, ‘cause we’re the entertainment. That means free drinks!
John (E)- Wow. [Begins packing his bass and brass instruments.]
Ringo- This should do it! I new that if I wore me lucky ring, something would happen! Haircuts for everyone, on me!
Roger- [shouts absolutely terrifed] Don’t touch my hair, you wanker! I’ll kick your arse!
[The other two eye him wearily. John (E) reaches deep into his pocket and pulls out a card and hands in to Ringo.]
Ringo- For me? [He smiles.] Thanks, I was beginning to think you ‘an I would be buddies some day. Tell you wot, if I ever ‘ave an all-star band on stage, you can be my bass player!
John (E)- I can’t wait. [He says in his normal tone and begins to walk away, his instrument cases in hand, but he turns to face Ringo once again.] Just to let you know, I’m the one ‘olding the Tommy-gun. You’re the one nailed to the target. Okay. [He continues on his way.] Ringo- [Confused and opens the card. Sure enough, John (E) put his mad art skills to work and drew a picture of himself shooting a person with a very big nose. To Ringo’s dismay, the person is labeled ‘Not Pete’] Great, I’m in a band with a bloody loon!
[Roger and Pete walked ahead of the other the other two]
Pete- I don’t know about this guy, look at ‘em. He’s not a rock star… he looks like a bloody accountant.
Roger- You wanted ‘em you can ‘ave ‘em! I swear, if this band doesn’t get it’s stupid act together, I’m firing the lot of ya!
Pete- Well, we’ll save you the trouble and fire you… [Under his breath] bleed’n wanker. Short arse bastard.
Roger- Wot chu’ say?
Pete- Noffin.
Roger- And another thing! Wot in the bloody ‘Ell is up with John?
Pete- You don’t talk ‘bout John, Rog. John talks about you or not at all… which is very unlikely to ‘appen. [The entire band reached the beat up van. After placing all their equipment in the back, they pile in and drive off to the small club.]
[Inside the Club de British, Pete, Roger, John (E), and Ringo set up on stage and begun playing some music.]
Keith- [Now sober and feeling very down on his luck. He is sitting at the bar] …I wish I ‘ad more of those pills… [Sniffle]
Bartender- Hey kid! Wot you think you doing?! [He was fat and sweaty… didn’t smell too good either, but he was none the wiser.]
Keith- Sitten’ at the bar… May I ‘ave some brandy? [Smiles most innocently with his big, brown eyes filled with hope.]
Bartender- No! Underaged! Only the performers can ‘ave beverages! Now bugger off! Littul bastards think they can just… [continues to mutter to himself and the little mouse sitting in the peanut jar.]
[The bartender pushes Keith off of his stool and onto the floor.]
Keith- [From the ground] Prat… [Notices that the music had stopped playing.]
Pete- Now I’m REALLY hacked off! Our Drummer decides he has to use the loo in the middle of our set! Bugger all!
Roger- This is your fault, Pete!
Pete- Me?! You’re the one who wanted to drink during rehearsal!
Roger- I thought that was you!
[This went on a while. In truth, John was the one who wanted a drink during rehearsal, but he liked watching the arguing rather than speaking the truth. He stands content with his bass, waiting for the anti-Christ to return to his Satanic alter. Or drums as Pete called them.]
Keith- [Slinking his way behind the drum kit and onto the seat. The idea was this: he would be the drummer and the bartender would give him some brandy. Very foolproof.] Hey guys! I’m ya new drummer! [He drums a wild beat then gives an elfish grin.]
Pete- [Confused about the whole thing, wondering were this little child-like drummer came from.] Who are you?
Keith- I’m Keith Moon, your new drummer! [Does a rim shot.]
[Roger is also confused, but John has a good feeling. Everyone knows what happens when John gets a good feeling. And if you don’t, you should find out. Bloody wanker.]
[Meanwhile, John (L), Paul, and George are walking down the street, George and Paul taking turns jumping around giddily and kicking a can. John is smoking something coolly and occasionally smacking the can with his foot.]
John- Gross! Look at tha’ gross old man in the street.
Paul- What a dirty old man!
George- …. I think he’s got a ten pound mark up his nose… I think I’m going to be ill. [He makes a face then quickly kicks the can to John.]
John (L)- Thank you kindly, George me ol’ mate. [He aims carefully and shoots the can off of the half naked bum’s head.] Woops! Run!
[They run quickly, in black and white, in a very VERY familiar scene… Like something from a movie. Or something. As quickly as they began to run from the crazy, dirty, mean old man, they stopped and the bum passed out on the street again.]
George-…..
John (L)- Wow, that’d make a fab movie… Yeah… definitely a fab movie.
Paul- I dunno. I think if we DID make a movie, there’d have to be a scene where I shrunk down to the size of a cigarette and had to wear a gum wrapper because I was naked… Cose I look great naked.
[George and John (L) stop and stare at him. Paul walks on, oblivious. John (L) shakes his head sadly at the crazy McCartney disease of idiocy, and continues walking, but George hides cautiously behind his friend.]
George- I want a drink… badly [He stops and opens a bar door next to him.] C’mon, let’s get one.
Paul- Fine. But only if you refuse any winks any girls give you… Al I need is anotha’ one of you gits to rival my cuteness.
John (L)- C’mon lads! Let’s get pissed!
Paul & George- PISSED!!!
[As the (ex)Mootles enter the bar, Who? is on stage. Ringo has returned from the loo, and is trying to make Keith get out of his seat behind the alter of Satan… I mean the drums.]
George- Oi, that’s our drummer. KEITH! HEY KEITH! [He stands up and waves his arms wildly. John (L) and Paul, both shocked by this, gasp in unison.]
Ringo- Now c’mon, get outta here! [ he slaps Keith, and the huge ring smacks the poor boy, sending him flying off the stage.]
Keith- [from the floor] You slapped me! I flew…
Paul- Damn, it’s him again.
John (E)- Hey now… Fuck off, you. The kid’s alright. [He glares ferociously at Ringo, because he had liked that Keith kid, even if he was dressed like a hobo with that nasty, nasty hole in his pants….]
[George gets up from his chair and helps Keith to his feet. He brings him over to the table, and motions for the bar tender to set up a glass of brandy. He didn’t have to say brandy… the barman just knew. He’s that good. (George, not the bartender)]
George- Have a drink on me.
Keith- [rather urgently] How now?! Right then, if you’re forcing me!…Candy! Do you have that candy? I need… WANT some.
[George pats him on the back with a mysterious smile while Who? starts to play again. Paul’s face slowly turns purple with rage as he gazes at the drummer of doom.]
Keith- [Suddenly noticing Paul is RIGHT there] You! I know you! You’re in me band!
Paul- Plonker! We kicked your arse out! You’re dead to me! I HATE you! Bloody little… [mutters bitterly]
Keith- Hate now, does he? This bloke told me that all you need is love. [Points to John L, who nods all knowingly]
John (L)- It is true, thus says the Mother Nature.
Paul- Bloody hell, that’s MY song, John! You said you wouldn’t steal!
Keith- I got some of that! [Searches pockets for "mother nature"]
[Meanwhile Pete addresses the audience]
Pete- Sorry… we are undergoing some technical difficulties…
[John (E) is in the middle of refusing to continue on in protest to the rather large nosed (Satanic) drummer who smacked the other, much cooler, and far more holy, drummer]
Roger- Look what you did, you waster! When John decides to stop it’s VERY hard to make him start on up again! We’ll never get paid!!!! [he was all up on Ringo’s drum kit. He rips his shirt open in frustration and Ringo stares nervously.]
Ringo- You ought to do that on stage. Just walk around with no shirt.
Pete- One second…. [Walks to John (E), who managed to stand in such a creative way that his back was towards both the audience and Ringo] Come now John, we need to play this gig if we eva’ gonna make it.
John (E)- …
Ringo- If it’ll help any, I’ll play the old boy one of my amusing riffs. Cheer anyone up, I tell ya.
Pete and Roger- [in unison] NO!
Ringo- Well you don’t have to yell about it. [sniffles]
Roger- Pete! Hurry, do something!
Pete- [Thinks with his most genius of brains and glances around the room… suddenly he notices the ever mysterious "Keith" at the bar with a band of merry men… one of which looked like he might implode any moment with a sort of flamboyant-modest anger… with a smooth move, Pete threw down his guitar and made his way over to the bar] Hey gits! We need your drummer! Right quick, lest our bass player decapitate something!
Paul- Who are you? And why the hell would a bass player do something like that?
Pete- Let it be! [Grabs Keith and basically drags him onto the stage as inspiration suddenly hits Paul] Look, sit in for us!
Keith- Alright! [Walks over to the drum kit] You smacked me you arse! It ‘urt! Like a motha’! [he studies Ringo and decides there’s only one sure way to destroy him] Those guys at the bar were talking about replacing me. Talk to them! Watch out for the mean un though, ‘es been talken ‘bout getting naked and shrinking…
Ringo- [pauses, glances over at the ex-Mootles and considers them. Turns back to Who?] Pete! Does this mean I’m fired?
Pete- … No…
Ringo- Ok. [Gets up off the little stool and allows Keith to take a seat]
John (E)- [Unnoticed by anyone else had turned around, once again facing the audience, who sadly dwindled to a few drunks… and the crazy looken group at the bar] Better. [the alter having been taken over, by someone who was not Ringo (aka Satan), seemed to have lost its evil vibe and slowly became an alter to music, friends, and complete and utter mayhem. John smiles. Inside. So no one can see.]
Pete- John, you good? Rog, you good? Everyone good?! Not-Ringo, you good?!
Paul- I’M NOT GOOD!!!! [Paul storms the stage, luckily the very few drunks who remained passed out, including the bar tender] Where you come off stealing our drummer?! I may hate his stinky lit’l arse, but he’s ours!
Roger- Piss off you!
John (L)- Paul, we preach the word of love, not hate.
Pete- [laughs… until he notices the expression on John (L)’s face] Oh… you’re serious.
John (E)- (gently sets his bass down on a nearby table, stands back and watches the action… when it comes right down to it the whole thing was his fault, this made it all the more enjoyable for him… soon he was joined by Keith, who definitely detected some "best friend" vibes from the black haired John (E).]
Keith- I’ve ‘eard of you guys. You break things!
John (E)- They break things. Not the drummer though. I just want to kill him. Want to break stuff with us?
[meanwhile, Pete, John (L), Roger, and Paul were arguing while Ringo smiled at his reflection in a bottle, making silly faces at it.]
[The arguing stops when someone suddenly walks into the club. We recognize this person as Mick Jagger from the Rolling Stones]
Mick Jagger- Stop! The lot of you clear out! Me and me boys are playen’ here in a half an hour!
Roger- What are you doing here, Jagger?!
Paul- Oh that’s it. I can take Who?, I can take the fact that they stole our drummer, but Mick? Him and his w-hoary old face? No.
Pete- Yeah, fuck off, Jagger! This is our crossover story!
Mick Jagger- You best piss off, the best band in England are about to play!
John (L)- Your ora is black. I see a growing sense of evil feeding on your inner light… which was dim to begin with. I think we’ll have to put this one to sleep.
George- [Nods to himself as if some kind of crazy tune was playing in his head]
Mick Jagger- Bugger off Lennon. [He walks in a little more and notices the very shinny, scratch less bass on the table] ‘Ello, ‘ello, wot we have here? [picks up the bass. John (E) just gives the infamous glare.]
Pete- You best not touch that. John’ll have your bollocks on the floor before you have time to know ya had any.
Mick Jagger- Really… [Jagger picks up an empty bottle of beer, breaks it on the table, then proceeds to scratch the black body of the bass, leaving a very noticeable white mark] What’s the mute think ‘bout that then? [he turns to John (E), whose expression turns from being wide eyed to homicidal]
Pete- Shite…
Roger- Oy…
[Keith runs to hide behind George, who knew more then he wanted to about what was going to happen… John (L), Paul, George, Ringo, Pete, Roger and Keith turn simultaneously, all not wanting to witness the carnage that ensued. Ringo lets out a small whimper as the sound of a breaking bone echos through the half-empty bar.]
[Time passes… very bloodily… and with a lot of cussing…]
[Roger and Paul haul a black bag full of a well-known substance, and throw it in the dumpster in back of the club, then reluctantly shake hands and warily examine each other as they make their way back to the bar… John (E) polishes the removable scratch out of his bass. He is perfectly clean, not a stain anywhere on his black shirt or pants… as for the rest of them, Ringo sweeps some glass and bone under a rug, John uses a rag to mop up some red oozings on a table, Pete picks up the tables, and George covers up evidence… The Rolling Stones play that night, not noticing that Mick Jagger isn’t among them.]
[It is after hours and the two bands (Who? and the ex-Mootles) have decided to put evil-doings aside for one evening and talk things out (it was with a heavy heart that the quiet one they called John Entwistle, would do little to no talking). Or beat them out with broken guitars and blood. We open to both bands sitting in a non-descript room, with one band on one side of the room, the other on their side. Except for three figures that are sitting in a corner.]
Keith- This ‘ere’s George. George, meet John (E.). He’s funny, he is!
George- (nods)
John (E)- (nods back)
Keith- I can already see we’re goin’ to be great friends. [he pats them both on the back then offers them Zippos. With great stuff printed on them. An understand passes between them.] So, you two like Zippos?
[Meanwhile, Paul and John are glaring at Pete and Roger. They are not, however, glaring at Ringo, as he is nervously twiddling his fingers on the Who? side of the table.]
John (L)- I sense the tension in the room. I think we should all do some deep breathing and relax. Bad vibes, men, bad vibes. They seem to be attracted to that one [he points to Roger who happens to be sitting next to Pete]
Roger- [looks around and points to himself questioningly… John (L) nods in agreement with the bad vibes] What, I ask wouldn’t be?
Paul- [In as bad a mood as ever] Girls who just took a gander at this! [points to himself]
Roger- [lightly laughs] Only if they want a little boy. They come to me when they want a man.
Pete- [laughs] You guys both suck, if do anything at all.
John (L)- Now this was not the kind of relaxing I had in mind. Now everyone breath all together-
Paul- Shut up, John. There’s only one way to settle this. You want our drummer.
Pete- E’s not your drummer.
Paul- Yes he is!
Roger- You fired im! You bloody sod you!
John (L)- The bare-chested fellow has a point.
Pete- [to Roger] You wanna cover that up? Please, just cover it up.
[Roger grabs his shirt and covers himself, blushing modestly. But not really.]
Paul- No point! He’s ours!
John (L)- You hate him! You can stand him less than I can stand war-loving politicians! Let them have im!
Paul- [quietly] Listen, if we lose him, we have no drummer, and they have two. We can talk them into giving us a good deal for him.
Pete- I heard that. We’re only two feet from each other, McCartney. God, you’d think you could take a bag of grass to Japan or something.
Paul- I will kill you! I will kill you five times before you hit the bloody ground! You wanka!
Roger- Lissen, how about we do a fair trade? You all can ‘ave this un (points to Ringo), and we’ll take your cast off.
Paul- [looks at them distrustfully]
Pete- Look, e’s even got your bloody moptop! Just take the bugger! Besides… he won’t even smash a kit. He tried once, but five people got hospitalized.
John (L)- He hit ‘em with the kits?
Pete- Naw, John Entwistle aw’ways leaves the stage when we smash up the joint. Pity that was the day when he left his bass behind. Ringo got a bit of a scratch on it. Yeah. Was quite ugly when John came back. Poor Ox, he. He loves his bass… We escaped with only two lawsuits that night. Remember Rog?
Roger- Yeah I do! Oi! The Ox!
John (L)- We can only ask ourselves, what would Dylan do?
[Everyone stares at him. He quickly spits out George’s candy and smiles embarrassedly]
Paul- What he means to say is, we want to hear this bloke’s drumming before we accept him.
Ringo- [brightening up] Oh no problem! [he runs out of the room only to return two long and awkward minutes later with a whole drum set. He sets them down on the ground and begins with a simple beat, then goes on to play "Wipe Out", humming the other parts of the song.] There you go!
John (L)- That’s good. But can you play this? [He pulls out a pocket record player and plays a record of drumming.] I need someone who can play this.
Pete- [warily, because this guy’s a looney] Erm… That’s two drummers. Not one.
John (L)- [narrows his eyes] DO IT.
[Ringo yelps then quickly learns to play the drums like two people. When he is finished, Keith and George stand up, applaud briefly, then sit back down to their small group of three. John (E) just sits there.]
Paul- [whining] Do we HAFTA take im? [Ringo is very hurt by this whining, especially after his demonstration, and hangs his head.] Oi, hey, I didn’t mean it like that… it’s just…. [John (L) gives him the rare yet deadly John-Lennon-Evil-Eye.] Ah, we’ll do it. We’ll take him.
Roger- Brilliant!
Pete- [mutters] Unlike you.
Roger- Eh?
Pete- Nuffin’. Good deal. We’ll take Moon, and you take Starr. [Realizes what he just said and starts to laugh. Roger starts to chuckle, Ringo giggles softly, The rest of the ex-mootles and Who? start guffawing loudly and everyone shares in a moment of loud, cheerful, and very odd laughing. They abruptly stop and clear their throats, avoiding each others eyes and pretending to brush lint of off their jackets.]
~The End Then~