The Beatles Short Stories

"Are You Feeling Okay, Macca?" (1)

Okay, this one was requested by Sam-a-lama-ding-dong and I really appreciate it. I hope this will suit your fancy! And the reason it says '1' out beside the title is because I've decided to make a series out of Paul being sick since you all tend to like those kind of stories. Anyway, enough of me talking! Enjoy!
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"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Magical Mystery Tour, I hope you're all having a lovely time. It is our duty to make sure you all enjoy yourselves quite thoroughly and I do hope we're succeeding," Wendy Winters exclaimed cheerfully through the intercom to which the passengers cheered and clapped in response.

"I sure am having a lovely time!" John giggled wildly.

"Me too!" Ringo's voice sounded from beside his relatively large aunt.

"Yeah, I'm with you all," George agreed, somewhat half-heartedly, as the other two laughed at Ringo, for the poor drummer was basically scrunched up in his seat due to you know who.

"Mmhm, and what about Paulie?" John asked in his 'Betty accent' once he had recovered from his laughter.

"Meh," Paul responded plainly, never removing his gaze from the window as he tried to ignore the throbbing in his head.

"Meh?" John questioned concernedly. "How could you only feel 'meh' when you're on a Magical Mystery Tour? It was your idea anyway!"

"I don't know, I just do. Isn't that okay, John?" the bassist asked, irritated, as he played with the threads of his multi-colored sweater vest.

"Yeah, but that's not like you. Are you feeling okay, Macca?" John inquired as he reached a hand out to feel Paul's forehead.

Paul tried to jerk away, but he was too late, John had already felt it.

"Hmm, you're warm, Paulie. I think you've got something."

"What's that?" George spoke up as he lifted his head out of his book.

"Paul's sick," John replied as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Is he now?" George sighed as he stole a glance at Paul, whose cheeks were turning redder by the minute, due to fever and embarrassment.

"No, I'm fine," Paul stated, but, as soon as he had, he began to cough violently, causing his sickly dull, hazel eyes to tear up.

"Right..." John and George responded incredulously in unison.

"Umm, is anyone on this bus a doctor?" John suddenly called out, Paul now thinking he was going to die from the embarrassment.

At first, no one said anything. They just sat in a thick, awkward silence, which only made Paul want to crawl into his shell even more. Eventually, though, a man's voice spoke up from the back of the bus.

"I am. I'm the one you hired, anyway," he added simply.

"Ahh, good! Could you take a look at Paul here? We think he's gone and gotten ill," the rhythm guitarist said in an almost comical tone, but maybe it was just to hide his true emotion of worry.

"Yes, I suppose I could do that," the doctor replied as he made his way to the middle of the bus where John, Paul, and George were sitting.

"Oh, dear gosh," Paul mumbled as he pressed on his temples as an attempt to relieve the terrible sinus headache.

"Okay, Paul," the doctor started, everyone's eyes now on him and Paul, "what seems to be the problem?"

"Nothing's the matter. I'm perfectly fine, thank you!" Paul rebelled.