Drummers Against Guitarists

Final Chapter

It was quiet inside the Beatles' house. It was dimly lit, and the only source of light was coming from the kitchen, where George was picking up the fallen materials that were out of place days before. In the living room was John, standing on his knees as he was scrubbing off the bloodstains... only he was doing it with one arm; the other arm was in a sling wrapped around John's neck. The wound from the gunshot Ringo drew at him was still very painful. John knew he wouldn't be playing guitar for a while. 

When the last bloodstain was finally removed, John carefully stood himself up on his two feet. 

''I'm done cleaning the last bloodstain,'' John called out to George.

''Good,'' George said, firmly.

John frowned. ''If this is about Ringo, I don't want to hear another lecture!''

''You really hurt Ringo,'' George said to John. ''Because of you, he's stuck in the asylum, and who knows when he might be released; in case yeh' forgot, you're under house arrest for two months. Not only that, you caused him to hurt the rest of us; Ringo stabbed Paul, who is still recovering in the hospital, he shot yeh' in the shoulder, and lastly... he lashed my face,'' George said, showing a small line that was still imprinted on his cheekbone. ''Which hurt a lot.'' 

John was still frowning. It was still silent after John turned away from George. When George finished putting the last piece of out-of-place furniture back into its place, he grabbed his coat, the keys, and walked straight to the door.

''Where yeh' goin' now?'' John asked George, firmly. 

''I'm gonna visit Ringo.''

''Really?'' 

''Yes, really. I bet he only wants to see me.'' George stepped out. 

Since Ringo was in the asylum, he wanted no part of anyone he knew to see him, not even his mother. From what Brian told George what he heard from the asylum, Ringo spent most of his time sitting at the corner like a child after getting in trouble. Ringo never spent time socializing with the other asylum inmates; in fact, he was forbidden from leaving his cell. Food and other sources of entertainment were delivered to him; no eating utensils such as forks or knives were given to him, nurses believed Ringo might try to use them to break free or hurt himself. 

Doctors reported while taking notes that Ringo acted very strangely. They said that Ringo laughed very strange-like, he sometimes chanted a strange sound, which sounded like, 'Die, die, die, die, die, die...' 

''Now, Mr. Harrison, be very careful with Richard...'' said the doctor at the asylum, walking next to George. ''...once he tried to break free by breaking the door with a pipe, but we've managed to stop him.''

''I'll try to be careful with him,'' George said. 

''You only have an hour, the therapist and a pastor will come by to see him.'' the doctor said. 

The doctor stopped George in next to a cell on the left; a worn-out gold plaque was plastered on the left of the steel door. 

Richard Starkey Jr. 

''This is his, right?'' George said. 

''Yes. But once you enter, please proceed with caution, we haven't done a full search of him.'' 

''Will do, doctor. Good day.'' George bid.

''Good day.'' the doctor bid also. 

George carefully opened the door, stepped inside, and closed the door behind him. 

The room was dark, and as George could see (or feel), there was light padding on the floor. 

''Ritchie?'' George called out quietly. ''Are you there?''

Utter silence. ''Hm, I must have the wrong cell or Ringo might be taking a walk.'' George quipped. 

As soon as George was going to walk back to the door in the dark, he was immediately pulled back by a strange force. 

''Why hello, Georgie.'' cooed a dark, deep voice. 

''What?'' George gasped. 

SLAM!

George slid down the padded wall on his back. 

''Ow...'' George groaned as he lightly touched the ground. 

Deep chuckling. ''Oh, Georgie...'' 

''Ritchie?'' George whimpered. ''Is that you?'' 

''Don't call me 'Ritchie', you sick son of a bitch.'' 

Out of the darkness, came out Ringo... only he was more different; his skin was paler, his brown hair was frizzled, he was wearing asylum clothing that was a bit too large for him.

''Ringo?'' George fret as he raised his eyebrows. ''What happened to you?''

''This asylum is what happened to me.'' Ringo hissed at him. ''Because of you and what's his face, I'm stuck in here!''

George grunted. ''Ringo, putting you in here was for your--.'' 

''Own good, I know!'' Ringo hissed at him, grabbing much of George's shirt in his right fist. 

''I've had enough of that!'' Ringo shouted in his face. 

George tried to lift a finger and touch Ringo's shirt. ''Ringo...please...''

''Fucking touch me and I'll rip you apart!'' Ringo admonished him. 

Ringo released George, the drummer walking away with his back to him.

It was quiet for a moment, until...

''Why is there a pastor coming to see you?'' George asked.

''Tch. When the therapist came to see me, I when insane... so he called a pastor to 'cleanse' me.'' 

George narrowed his eyes. ''I know you're not insane Ringo...'' 

''What did you say?'' Ringo said as he turned around. 

''You're not insane...''

''AGAIN!'' 

''YOU'RE NOT INSANE!''

''AGAIN!'' 

''YOU'RE NOT INSANE!'' 

''AGAIN!''

''YOU'RE NOT INSANE!''

Throughout the remaining hour, George kept on shouting that Ringo was not insane; he kept on screaming like crazy until the hour was up. 

''Goodbye, Ritchie.'' George bid, walking out of the cell. 

''Piss off.'' 

The therapist and the pastor walked in as George left...

End.