The Great Misadventures of Classic Rock's Finest

Inktober

George scribbles furiously on a piece of paper, his eye twitching and knee bouncing up down with anxiousness.

Have to get it done have to get it done have to get it done have to get it done...

His breathing is hard and the pencil is about to snap almost giving into the grip of his hand. The light flickers for a moment, then resumes it's orange dull glow over the quiet one. Hundreds of papers dance behind him in the wind pouring through the open window letting moonlight cover the red carpet in a white glow.

Have to get it done have to get it done have to get it done have to get it done...

"George?"

A single voice filled with worry and unease ripped Harrison from his work.

"What?" He growled.

"Um...I know inktober is important but could you at least come down for dinner? We haven't seen you all day." Paul rested his head against the door hoping he would give in.

"It'll interrupt my concentration. I can't draw without concentrating!" Harrison had said the same thing several times.

"Um...alright..." Paul was hesitant to close the door, he was worried about his friend, he always got like this during inktober.

"Is he coming?" John asked tiredly as he sat down at the dinner table.

Paul shook his head solemnly, "doesn't seem like he'll be coming out anytime soon."

Ringo slammed his hands on the table and quickly apologized to the table then said, "we gotta get him outta there!"

"No use Rings, remember what happened last year? He almost killed Paulie with a blow dryer because he took his pencils away." John pointed out and then took a bite of meatloaf.

"What if we just try to negotiate calmly..."

"Paul, that didn't work either. George almost killed you with the hairdryer that time too."

"Why am I the one that has to almost get killed with a hairdryer?"

"Because Ringo always almost dies of sadness and I always almost die from eating too many cucumbers." Lennon pointed out.

Ringo suddenly stood up and made a way for George's room.

"RinG0 n0."

"RinG0 yES." The drummer roundhouse kicked the door and it flew across the room and hit George who was currently making his hundred and twentieth attempt at drawing eyes.

"George! You better come out and eat dinner or I'll.....I'll....hug you to death!"

"How is that in any way threatening?!" John exclaimed.

"Because he's intending that he's willing to give so much physical affection that it would kill someone. That's the scary part..." Paul whispered.

"Why can't you guys just leave me be?!" George screamed as he chucked several watercolor brushes at them, "the month's almost over!"

"Wait, really? I thought it was still the seventh."

"No no no, that was when the author started writing this story but she was too lazy and put it off for the entire month."

"Oh that makes sense."

"Are you done yet?"

"No we don't happen to be, George. You know better than to talk to your Aunt Mimi that way!" John used his high pitched Mimi voice but it wasn't working. If anything it seemed to make George even more pissed off.