- 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓕𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓵𝔂 -

Chapter 6: A Hard Day's Night

Now that his eldest son had disappeared, Paul couldn't seem to perform his daily duties as well as he used to. He was getting clumsy, knocking over ceramics and smashing glassware, burning Ringo's breakfast, spilling orange juice all over the kitchen counter, setting John's favorite tie on fire, dropping Ringo's medicines down the toilet bowl. It was all chaos in their household! Paul just couldn't handle the thought of his son George, his dear son George, living in a remote area near the woods with an innocent blonde girl, getting high on weed and stuffing himself with endless bags of greasy fast food from McDonald's or Kentucky Fried Chicken. 

"It just worries me so much!" Paul grumbled one night. He was laying in bed next to John, who was reading The Psychedelic Experience: A Manual Based on the Tibetan Book of the Dead. "Don't you feel the same way?"

"Oh, Paulie, why can't you relax for once? You know George, he's a tough kid, very street-smart, very clever. Although, he can be a handful at times..."

Paul pursed his lips. "Yeah... yeah, maybe you're right. Maybe I should stop worrying and just.. just focus on Ringo. I mean, George did say he'd come back after a few days. He'll survive, I know he will."

To take his mind off of things, he carefully examined John's features, which were illuminated under the soft yellow glow of a bedside lamp. He remembered those times when they were still in college, young and naive, when they'd snog in the backseat of his father's Oldsmobile, when they'd go over to the drive-in and watch a movie, when they'd make love to songs on the radio...

Paul immediately sat up. "Er, John?"

"Yes, Macca?"

"When was the last time we, er... you know, did it?"

John shrugged. "Maybe about two months ago."

Paul smirked and snuggled closer to him. "Have you been counting the days?"

John set aside The Psychedelic Experience, turned off the lamp, and um... well, you know what happened next!

Unfortunately, Ringo woke up to the sounds of their squeaking bed, and he barged in at the most inappropriate time.

"Mummy, Daddy, please!" he exclaimed. "If you're in the mood for jumping, use a trampoline instead!"

Paul nearly had a heart attack. He covered up his body with a blanket and shrieked, "RINGO!"

"Maybe our son's right." John wiggled his eyebrows. "Maybe we should get a trampoline. What do you think, Macca?" 

Paul shot him a dirty look.