Escape of the Nerk Twins

Chapter VI

*Shouting* I DON'T OWN THE BEATLES! *whispering* You say you own the Beatles, do ya? Lemme see . . . can I make an offer to ya, bub?

A/N: This is one of my personal favourite chapters in this story. Enjoy! Lotsa thanks to my review buddies: On WattPad, InmylifeIloveLennon, Macca40, and MasterofFire; on FanFiction, omgringo, the Mysterious Guest (now known as ThisBirdHasFlownToRhye), and leah9712. A special thank-you to Macca's Little Teddy Bear for reviewing and helping me edit another story I'm working on!

Just as John and Paul were stepping into a cozy pub in the Highlands, George and Ringo strolled into a rather bland waiting room in the Glasgow Police Station, closely following Mal, Neil, and Brian.

"Is Scotland Yard here?" Ringo asked George in a hushed voice as the pair of Beatles sat down.

George frowned. "No, it's in London, Ringo."

"Well, that doesn't make any sense," commented Ringo. "Why would Scotland Yard be in London? It should at least be in Edinburgh."

Brian paced over to the reception desk, fretfully twisting a bit of his sleeve between his thumb and forefinger.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

The receptionist, a young woman with large blue eyes and smooth dark hair, looked up from her work. She slowly twirled her pen between her long, pale fingers with red-painted nails.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I've got an appointment with Detective Inspector MacGregor," said Brian.

"Certainly," replied the receptionist. "But only one of you may go in."

Brian opened his mouth to argue, gave up, closed it, and started over: "Neil, would you find a payphone and cancel the concert tonight, please?"

Neil nodded. "Divide and conquer, eh?" he mused as he got up and left the room.

"Mal, look after the boys," ordered Brian before straightening his jacket and stepping into Detective Inspector MacGregor's office.

George snickered. "I can't wait to hear what John and Paul have to say when they get back."

"Probably nothing," replied Ringo. "They'll be too busy dodging Brian."

"Too bad we don't get to have any of the fun," said George, staring pointedly at Ringo. Ringo's eyes widened.

"Hey, Mal," continued George, turning to the roadie.

Mal turned to look at George. "Yeah? What's up?"

George looked around conspiratorially and leaned toward Mal, lowering his voice to a whisper. Ringo shifted over a seat to be able to hear.

"That receptionist's watching you," murmured George.

Mal frowned and looked up at the receptionist. Her wide blue eyes were looking in his general direction.

"Isn't it more likely she's looking at you and Ringo?" inquired Mal in a low voice. "I mean, you're the Beatles!"

George shrugged. "I'm just telling you what I see."

Ringo looked from the receptionist to Mal. "Yeah, she thinks you're sexy!" he said.

George put a finger to his lips and glared at Ringo before turning back to Mal. "You should go up and say hello."

"But what if you're wrong?" asked Mal.

"You might miss a once in a lifetime opportunity, Mal!" coaxed Ringo.

"Go on, look at her!" whispered George.

Mal turned away from George to look at the receptionist. Behind the roadie's back, George blew her a kiss. She returned with a slight puckering of her bright red lips.

Mal whipped his head back around to stare at George. Ringo's mouth twitched as he valiantly attempted not to smile.

"Told you," murmured George. "Now go over there!"

Mal took a deep breath and straightened his posture before standing up. He put on a smile and strode over to the receptionist.

The receptionist raised one eyebrow as he rested an elbow casually on her desk. She peered under Mal's arm just in time to see George grab Ringo's wrist and yank the drummer out the door after him. It fell shut behind the two Beatles with a loud slam.

Mal turned to face an empty waiting room. "George? Ringo?"

George and Ringo raced down the beige-carpeted hallway with a high-five.

"We have to get out of the hallway! It's too exposed, he'll see us!" exclaimed Ringo.

"In here!" replied George, throwing open a random door and dragging Ringo in after him.

Neither noticed the small piece of paper taped to the door, which read, "Self-defense seminar."

The two Beatles found themselves in a rather large auditorium filled with mostly mousy-haired, quivering, middle-aged women. On the stage opposite the door stood a blustering man with a mustard-coloured military uniform and an impressive grey moustache. George and Ringo slipped into a pair of fold-up chairs near the back.

The man was shouting at his audience, spit flying out of his mouth past his moustache. "Always be aware, always be PREPARED!" he yelled, slamming his fist down on his podium. Several women in the audience gasped apprehensively.

"What do we do if we aren't prepared?" asked Ringo curiously.

"But . . . wha – I never! Insolence!" sputtered the man.

"That your answer?" asked George nonchalantly, kicking up his feet on the back of the empty chair in front of his.

"You're missing the point, my dear boy! The point is that you're always prepared!" the man shouted.

Ringo frowned. "But what if you aren't?"

"Out!" yelled the man furiously, his large moustache trembling. "Get these hooligans out of here!"

George reluctantly put down his feet. "Fine, we're going. Keep your trousers on, Colonel."

Ringo and George stood up and strolled out of the room. The women behind them cringed as the man continued to yell.

Ringo opened the door and, with George right on his tail, walked straight into someone. He craned his neck up to see Mal glaring down at him.

"Not you two, too!" exclaimed Mal.

"So this is what happens when you aren't prepared," mused Ringo.

A/N: *ring ring ring* Please, leave a review or two! Help feed the writer, starving for praise as she is! *straightens Santa costume* *ring ring ring*