Chaos. Who knew haircuts could induce a riot.
“Neil!” John puttered, while whipping at his bleeding face with his sleeve and holding up a half unconscious George.
Pete fumed, his eyes going wide “If he fucking leaves us Lennon...”
John rounded on the drummer “Fuck off Best! It wasn’t my fucking fault”
George groaned, his dark head dropping on John’s white working shirt, a fresh stain of crimson blood spreading across the material. John cringed and shoved his friend rather carefully at Paul. Paul hurriedly whipped at George bleeding nose while helping the disoriented guitarist to stand.
“That’s the last time you kiss him” Paul said, his tone joking but his voice quavering.
“It wasn’t my fault he kissed back!” John shouted
“Fucking queers” Pete shook his head “Those bloody teds were right, yer all queer as fairies”
“Fuck off!” Paul snapped
As it would happen they were performing at a small club pub in Glasgow. Brian arranged a few out-of-liverpool gigs for them saying they needed more ‘exposure’.
Decked out in their new suits, they played the first few gigs and slept in Neil’s van. Neil was driving. It had all been good up to Glasgow, when a few teddy boys sat in the first row and yelled about the ‘fairy’ haircuts.
John, being quite the rebel himself made a few cracks about his ‘beautiful’ bandmates, limp wristed and lisping, he draped an arm around Paul and fluffed his hair. Pete had been uneasy about the long hair to begin with, and disliked the heckling from the teds to a point of nearly walking off. Paul convinced him to stay for the first half of the set.
But then the heckling started up again and John, being john, did something a bit unnecessary
“Look at this boy!” he lisped strutting over to George. George shook his head no and backed up a few paces. “Isn’t he beautiful, you know, in Germany they called him the Beautiful Baby. Aren’t you George!”
“Fuck. Off” George gritted out, a smile tugging at his lips none the less at the horrified looks on the teds’ faces as the got riled up and quieted down. John giggled girlishly “Ooh!!” He squealed and the grabbed George roughly by the collar and smacked a kiss on George’s lips.
George kissed back.
Paul busted up laughing and the teddy boys hopped to their feet, ready to fight.
John and George broke apart with George saying “Blech, what have you been eating Lennon” just before having a chair thrown at his head.
A fight followed, in which George received most of the beating. John got his nose busted in while Paul moaned about the new equipment being ruined and rounding it up with the help of Pete. When it became less of a fight, and more of a John yelling and threw things wildly while George was kicked senseless on the floor type of situation, Neil and Pete threw themselves into it as well.
Paul pulled his sleeve away from George’s nose, the cuff now completely drenched in red and doing absolutely no good to stanch the bleeding. “Ah, come ‘ead George” he mumbled as George head flopped backwards.
Pete and John were still arguing, and bleeding as well as Neil (now sporting a black eye) pulled the van back up and ushered them in before peeling out.
The van had three rows of seats; an odd dark green velour material that was stained with various things and gritty with dirt covered the seats... Pete sat in the front with Neil. John sat in the last row with the amps and drums piled up around him. The guitars were spread out all over the place.
“You know what John!” Pete complained while he shoved his snare drum carelessly into the back. “I’m so sick of you’re antics. Why can’t you be normal?”
“Oh fuck off you silly…” John clambered over the middle seat to get to the back, kicking Paul in the back of the head as he went “You silly… silly… cunt fucker”
“John watch the ceiling” Neil muttered as John’s thick soled shoes created black marks on the van’s ceiling.
Pete rambled on as he hopped into the passenger seat and slammed the door. Neil made an enraged sound “She’s delicate Pete!”
“OH shut up Neil”
“Look, why don’t you all shut up!” Paul snapped. George’s head rested in his lap, Paul held a dirty hankerchef on his nose. “Bloody Christ, John, he’s completely out of it. George’s head lolled to the side, Paul fussed and hovered, trying not to get blood on his new pants.
John got up on his knees, frowning. A rare look of concern passed over his face and he poked George in the chest. “Harri… oy, Harrison. George…”
George just groaned and fought against Paul’s hands.
“Fuck...”Paul mumbled “I think his nose is broken”
“No it isn’t” John took the handkerchief from Paul and whipped quickly at George’s nose. See… probably… look that’s no broken nose. We’ve seen tons. He’s a right lucky bastard he is.”
“Wouldn’t want to obscure his *beautiful* face, would you…” Pete muttered
John looked up and flicked Pete off with out a word.
George began to fight Paul again. He moaned “Fuck off…. God, gerroff me… gerrroff me face wanker”
Paul rolled his eyes and drew his bloody hands away. George sat up and groaned. “What the fuck happened to my face”
“You were hit with a chair” John said happily “And then you got punched by a bloke with rings on and then they kicked at yer head”
“There was lots of blood” Paul said helpfully
George sneered and held his head as he fell against the cool glass of the window. He leaned against it silent for a moment and then announced he was going to be sick.
“Pull over!” Paul demanded of Neil
“Where? We’re on the fucking free way”
“God just stick his fucking head out the window” Pete was yelling “Out the window! The fucking window you gits!”
John did the most unhelpful think of laughing and giving George a whack on the back.
“Pull over you cunt! If he gets sick in here it’ll smell like shite on a bike. Pull over” Paul thwapped Neil on the back of the head “IF he does it on me I’ll smell like a shite! Do not get sick”
“I’m gonna be sick” George moaned, one hand around his waist the other around his head
“I’m on the fucking motorway Paul!” Neil shouted “Just gerhim out the window”
Paul fumbled across George to get the window open. George was subsequently pinned down moaning and whining and dry heaving threateningly close to Paul.
John laughed harder.
“If you get sick on me you bastard I will cut your head off” Paul threatened whilst fumbling with the latch on the window. George dry heaved and tried to get Paul off of his body in response.
“That window doesn’t open remember!” Neil exploded, how very frightened of cleaning vomit you of his van tomorrow. And having to sleep with the smell tonight. He kept turning around to look at Paul and George, they appeared to be wrestling more then doing anything productive. George fighting and wheezing.
“Other window!”
Paul pulled away from George and threw himself at the other window, feeling desperate. The cold night air came rushing in and George flung himself across Paul just in time to get his head out the window and spew the contents of his stomach.
John stopped laughing when the after spray hit his window with a sickening splat sound and dripped ominously on the other side of the glass. He made n “Euh…” sound at this.
George gripped the edge of the window, the smooth cold glass biting into his fingers. The wind felt good and he leaned his head out a bit further, hoping they wouldn’t go careening into anything large and he would be decapitated. Paul, being a mother at heart warned him about this immediately. George managed to get enough energy to lift his right hand and press his palm into Paul’s eye. As good as a punch was going to get. Good enough.
Paul settled back in his seat comfortably and let George lean across him for a few mutes while he caught his breath. “How long till we stop?” he asked, noticing Neil popping something that looked suspiciously like prellium.
Neil caught his eye in the rear view mirror “Hours. Go to sleep while you can. It’ll be morning before we even get to the next town.
Paul nodded and tugged George back in the car by his lapel. Poor kid. First he gets kissed by a bloke. Then he gets beat up. Then he gets sick, Paul thought piteously. He rummaged around in his pocket and offered George a piece of Gum. George put the stick of gum on his tongue and then chewed slowly, like it was poisoned. He then leaned his head across Paul, catching some of the breeze. His eyes were glazed over and he didn’t look very well, Paul noted but didn’t say anything.
“Mmmm” George mumbled “I miss…” he said and then clamped his mouth shut. He’d received enough flack about his female best mate already in life. Why being more on.
Paul caught his eye “Gabby?” he asked
George pressed his lips together and then nodded. Very apprehensively then, he pulled back from the window, chewing his gum quietly he lay his head on Paul’s shoulder. Paul raised his eyebrows and restrained himself from saying anything offensive.
“IS John asleep?” George whispered after a long period of silence. Paul startled, forgetting his sick band mate.
“Oh… yes” he muttered, hearing Jon’s ragged breathing as he slept. John didn’t snore. Pete did though. And Neil as well. Obviously Neil wasn’t asleep though, being that he was driving.
“Can i….”George began to ask, Paul looked down at him, surprised.
“Can you what?”
“I…” George made an aggravated sound. “Do you think I’m silly?”
“Sometimes” Paul joked. George looked up at him sternly “Sorry” he said “No… well… no. Why. You’re always quite moody recently I guessed…” he slowed down carefully choosing his words “I guessed… it was Gabby”
George made an aggrieved sound “What’s wrong with me!” he hissed “I mean…. Honestly Paul what the fuck is wrong with me. I think about her *every day* Every hour… nearly every minute. Everything reminds me of her. Argh… I’m going mad. It wasn’t like this when she was here”
Paul pressed his lips into a thin line “What do you think she’s doing right now?”
“I don’t know” George whined “But you know… I’m calling her as soon as we get to the next city” he sighed “I’m such a sad sack”
