It Was an Accident...

Ring my friend I said you'd call...

The painting was up, the mug was thrown away, and now all they had to do was take care of Paul's "dain bramage". Just as they were about to phone for a doctor, the phone rang.

"No, not the flamingos again!" Paul started to cover the top of his head with his hands. Everyone sighed as John answered the phone.

"This is a recording. Please leave a message after the-" He said his a high pitched voice jokingly.

"John, I'm in no mood for jokes. We're having to fix another flat, so we'll it'll take about another twenty minutes or so until we get back." John covered the mouth of the phone with his other hand.

"He says it'll take another twenty minutes 'til they get back. That gives us more time!" He whispered. Everyone sighed with relief (except for Paul, who was at that time saying something about yogurt leprechauns stealing mangoes)

"Well, let's hope we get back quicker than we expect, but if we don't, I don't want to come back to find the fire department had to come and take care of something."

"Everything will be just gear. Bye." John hung up the phone. "Isn't there a phone book or somethin'?" Cynthia handed him a large book opened to a page with a list of numbers of doctors. He turned away, placed his finger in a random spot, and started dialing the number. After about doing this thirty or so times, they finally found a doctor that would make house calls.

"He'll be here as soon as-" Suddenly the door bell rang and interrupted John.

"You get it." Ringo urged.

"Wha- why me?" George whispered.

"I'm not getting it!" John said, raising his hands over his head.

"Did someone at this address call for a doctor?" The man on the other side of the door asked. Ringo got up and tried to turn the doorknob. After a few turns and pushes, it finally opened.

"Come right in." John said invitingly. The doctor nodded his head gratuitously and walked in.

"Why thank- aren't you four The Be-"

"Yes, yes, we are." George said, eating (another) sandwich.

"Well, what seems to be the trouble?"

"Paul accidentally got his head squeezed into the floor and bashed into a wall and now-"

"No!!! Aad bardvark!!! Don't eat the bying flananas!!!" Paul shouted again. The doctor's eye widened and focused on Paul through his circular glasses.

"Yes, I- I see. Well now sir, how many fingers am I holding up?" He asked, holding up three fingers.

"You have fix singers!?! Ge's shot eight!" Paul said, pointing at Maureen. Jane started crying into Paul's shoulder again. The right side of his suit was now almost completely soaked with tears.

"What's 3+4?" The doctor asked.

"Um, don't tell me, I know this one! Uh, 2!" John tried to hold in a laugh at Paul's answer. Paul suddenly passed out, causing Jane to cry even more. The rest of the girl got close and tried to give her a reassuring hug.

"PAUL!!!!! OH PAUL!!!!!!" Jane screamed, crying.

"Don't worry, miss, he just has a minor concussion." The doctor got out a large, white piece of gauze and wrapped it around Paul's head. "He should be fine, as long as he gets some rest and doesn't play any instruments, sing, or any other things of that sort."

"Oh thank you, doctor, um..."

"Call me Doctor Robert. If there's anything else you need, call me day or night. I'll be there anytime." He said, writing out something on a note book, tearing the page out, and giving it to John, who handed it to George, who handed it to Ringo, who handed it back to John. The doctor quickly left, while leaving his business card. John laid down the paper on the table, read the business card, and picked up his guitar. He started to play a catchy tune.

"Ring my friend, I'd said you'd call, Doctor Robert. Day or night, he'll be there anytime at all, Doctor Robert, Doctor Robert. You're a new and better man, he helps you to understand, he does everything he can, Doctor Robert... What d'you think?" John asked, writing down the notes in his notebook. Everyone (except for Paul, who was now sleeping on the floor) murmured in agreement that it could be a great song.