John: Who wants to play a book game?

Paul: I don't really enjoy reading that much . . .

John: *yells.* You're going to read and you're going to like it!

Ringo: The game is called "The Book"?

John: Yes. So everyone has their books?

George: Yep.

Paul: How does this work?

Ringo: We each have a book.

Paul: Yeah, I got that part.

Ringo: We read the title, author, and the summary of one of our books. Then the player with the chosen book reads the first sentence and writes it down. The other players don't know what the sentence is, and they're supposed to guess what it would be.

Paul: How is this fair? What if I've already read the book?

John: I bet no one's read my book! *starts cackling wildly.*

George: We all know you haven't read any of our books, Paul, because you despise reading.

Paul: Oh, right.

Ringo: So then the players turn in their sentences to the player who knows the real first sentence. The player who knows the sentence then reads off the other players' sentences. The other players guess which is the real sentence and whoever guesses the right one gets a point. Also, the player with the sentence that a majority of players thought was the right one gets a point.

Paul: This sounds complicated.

John: We're all going to smoke you, Paul! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

George: *sighs.*

Paul: Ringo, let's see your book.

Ringo: I've brought "Stalking Jack the Ripper" by Kerri Maniscalco and-

John: What in God's name?!?

George: Ringo . . . you do realize that's a book for teenage girls, right?

Ringo: No, it isn't!

Paul: Let me see it.

Ringo: *hands it to him.*

Paul: *flips it over.* "He murder women in cold blood. He terrorized an entire city. He taunted those of us who hunted him down. But despite all these horrors, in the end, I could deny it . . . I was the girl who loved THE RIPPER."

George: *suppresses laughter.*

John: WOT.

Paul: Ringo, everything about this screams, "Teenage Girl Fiction."

Ringo: *snatches it away.* It's a good book!

George: Also, what kind of sicko writes a book about some girl falling in love with Jack the Ripper? That's disgusting!

Ringo: It's not like that. You see-

John: Enough! Let's just get on with it! *whips out a piece of paper and starts writing.*

George: *rolls his eyes and starts scribbling.*

Paul: *in deep thought.*

John: Finished! *slams the pencil down on the table.*

George: *still scribbling.*

Paul: *still in deep thought.*

John:

Ringo:

John:

Ringo:

John: Are you done yet?

George: *scribbling.*

Paul: *thinking.*

Ringo: George, what are you doing? Are you writing the entire first page?

George: I've got the creative juices flowing! I can't stop writing!

Ringo: You do realize that all you need to write is the first sentence, right?

George: *stops.* Oh. Well, it's done then. Ignore all the other sentences. *slides it over in an embarrassed manner.*

Paul: *still thinking.*

John: Come on, Paul!

Paul: I can't think of anything!

John: Just write down something!

Paul: Okay. *scribbles.*

John:

George:

Ringo:

Paul: *slides it over to Ringo.*

Ringo: *mixes them up.*

John: I can't wait to hear what these are like.

Ringo: Okay, we go. *clears throat.* "I like Jack the Ripper."

George: That's one of them?!?

John: *coughs.* Paul.

George: Did you write that, Paul?

Paul: No!

George: That's obviously not the real first sentence.

John: *coughs again.* Paul.

Ringo: Enough! We're not supposed to be guessing who wrote what! Next. "Jeremiah was a bullfrog and a good friend of mine." What the . . . ?

George: *face palm.* Oh, my Krishna.

Paul: *coughs.* John.

John: I think that's a wonderful first sentence, if I do say so myself.

Ringo: John, you're supposed to write what's most practical.

John: How isn't that practical? Jeremiah might be the Ripper's real name!

George: Wow.

Paul: My sentence looks pretty good compared to that.

George: So you did write that!

Paul: No, I didn't!

George: What other sentence was there, then?

Paul: *nervous.* Mine hasn't come yet.

John: *rolls his eyes.*

Ringo: This is going terribly. Next. "I placed my thumb and forefinger on the icy flesh, spreading it taut above the breastbone as Uncle had showed me."

Paul: Gross!

John: That has to be the real sentence because there's no way George can write that good.

George: *gasps dramatically.*

Paul: I think that's the real sentence too.

George: Yep.

Ringo: Okay, you all get points, because that is the real sentence.

John: Wait, wait, wait! Let's hear George's.

George: *quickly.* We don't need to do that! We've already figured out the real sentence!

Paul: I want to hear it.

Ringo: Here it is. " "Jack, don't go!" I begged desperately. "Please don't do this!" Jack looked down at me with his deep brown eyes and said, "Georgina, I have to do this." I started sobbing hysterically- "

George: *yells.* Stop!!!

John:

Paul:

Ringo:

John: What the bloody heck, George?

Paul: You named the character Georgina?!?

George: *wrings his hands.* That must be the actual sentence because I didn't write that.

Ringo: We already figured out the real sentence, George.

George: I still didn't write that.

John: Then who wrote it?

George: Not me.

Paul: I think you should take up the writing business, George. That would fit in with all the other books.

John: *nods sarcastically.* I'd shelf that with "Twilight."

Ringo: This is awkward . . . John, it's your turn.

John: Yes! I brought "The Gunslinger" by Stephen King.

Paul: Isn't that scary?

John: No.

Paul: Isn't Stephen King scary?

John: Yes. Want to see his picture?

Paul: No! I don't want to have nightmares!

George: Everyone has read that book, John.

John: Have you?

George: . . . Well, everyone except me.

Ringo: And me.

Paul: And me.

John: Stop trying to rain on my parade, GEORGINA.

George: Don't ever call me that again.

John: Georgina, Georgina, Georgina.

George: *yells.* Stop it!

Ringo: *sighs.* Just read the summary, John.

John: Okay. "In "The Gunslinger" (originally published in 1982), King introduces his most enigmatic hero, Roland Deschain of Gilead, the Last Gunslinger. He is a haunting, solitary figure at first, on a mysterious quest through a desolate world that eerily mirrors our own. Pursuing the man in black, an evil being who can bring the dead back to life, Roland is a good man who seems to leave nothing but death in his wake."

Paul: Whoa.

George: This is a lot deeper than that other book.

Ringo: Hey!

John: All right, maggots. Chop, chop. Write-y, write-y.

George: *scribbles and slides it to John.*

Ringo: *scribbles.*

Paul: *thinking.*

Ringo: *slides it to John.*

Paul: *starts scribbling.*

John: *sighs.* Paul, whatever you do, don't write down, "I like the man in black."

Paul: *pauses before scratching it out and starting again.*

George: That's what you were going to write?!?

Paul: No, I just got a better idea.

Ringo: I think that's what he was going to write.

Paul: *slides it to John.*

John: *mixes them up.*

George: This is going to be worse than the first one.

John: "The man in black fled across the desert and the gunslinger followed."

Paul: That's a pretty weird first sentence.

George: Hmm. It sounds pretty good to have come out of one of these two. I think that's the sentence.

Ringo: *hesitant.* Next.

John: "The gunslinger hated the man in black."

George and Ringo: Paul!

Paul: What?

George: We know you wrote that.

Paul: You said don't write "I like the man in black," so I didn't! The gunslinger HATES the man in black.

John: *shakes his head.* You are a disappointment, son.

Paul: I don't see anything wrong with that sentence!

Ringo: There's a lot of things wrong with that sentence.

Paul: *crosses his arms.* Humph!

George: Next.

John: "I might have been on the hunt for the man in black, but that didn't mean I couldn't have any fun along the way."

George: Fake!

Paul: I don't know. That's pretty good. I'll say that's the sentence.

Ringo: *smug.*

John: Okay. The real sentence was, "The man in black fled across the desert and the gunslinger followed."

Paul: What?!?

George: *fist pump.* I knew it!

Ringo: I get a point because Paul thought my wonderful sentence was the real one!

George: And I get a point for picking the right one!

Paul: And I don't get anything but feeling like a loser.

John: *sings.* You're a loser and you're not what you appear to be.

Paul: Shut up!

John: *snickers.*

Paul: It's my turn. I've brought "A Dog's Purpose" by W. Bruce Cameron.

John:

George:

Ringo: Sounds interesting!

Paul: It's a tearjerker.

John: *sarcastic.* Oh, yes. Those are always my favorites.

George: Is it in the point of view of the dog? Because if it is, that's corny.

Paul: Shut up, George. I was thinking of Martha when I read this.

Ringo: Aww.

John: Since George and I are cat people, we won't like this.

Paul: Well, since Ringo and I are dog people we WILL like this.

John: *glares.*

Paul: *glares back.*

George:

Ringo:

George: Break it up, you two! Can we hear the summary?

Paul: "Surprised to find himself reborn as a rambunctious golden haired puppy after a tragically short life as a stray mutt, Bailey's search for his new life's meaning leads him into the loving arms of 8 year old Ethan. During their countless adventures Bailey joyously discovers how to be a good dog. But this life as a beloved family pet is not the end of Bailey's journey. Reborn as a puppy yet again, Bailey wonders, will he ever find his purpose?"

George: Wait. The dog reincarnated? I like this already.

Ringo: *starts sobbing.* That's so sad!

Paul: I know! *grabs a tissue box and starts bawling with him.*

George: That . . . does sound pretty sad.

John: Meh. Let's just write the sentences.

George: *scribbles.*

John: *scribbles.*

Ringo: *sobbing.*

Paul: *noisily blowing his nose.*

George: *slides his paper over to Paul where it gets covered in tears.*

John: *slides his over as well.*

Ringo: *still sobbing.*

John: Ringo, come on! Write the sentence!

Ringo: *sniffles and begins to write.*

Paul:


John:

George:

Ringo: *slides it over.*

Paul: *mixes them up.* Here's the first one. "I reincarnated into dog. Yippee."

John and Ringo: *look at George.*

George: Why are you looking at me? I didn't write that.

John: It sounds like you.

Ringo: Uh-huh.

John: Go to the next one, Paul.

Paul: "I opened my eyes and realized that my fur was a different color and my limbs were a lot clumsier."

George: Oh-ho! That sounds authentic! I'll say it's real.

Ringo: Me too.

John: *smug.*

Paul: Here's the last one, "One day it occurred to me that the warm, squeaky, smelly things squirming around next to me were my brothers and sister."

George: Hmm. That one sounds pretty good, too.

Ringo: I'll stay with the other one.

George: Yeah . . . I will too.

John: I'll go with this one.

Paul: This is the real one.

George and Ringo: What?!?

John: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Ringo: But . . . that means that the one we picked was John's!

John: I'm a talented writer. What can I say?

George: *annoyed.* So he gets two points.

John: *does a victory dance.*

George: My turn! Finally! I've got "The Language of Flowers" by Vanessa Diffenbaugh.

Paul: What?

John: This sounds worse than Ringo's.

Ringo: It involves flowers. Of course George would like it.

George: It's pretty good, actually.

John: *snaps his fingers impatiently.* Summary, please!

George: "The Victorian language of flowers was used to convey romantic expressions: honeysuckle for devotion, asters for patience, and red roses for love. But for Victoria Jones, it's been more useful in communicating grief, mistrust, and solitude. After a childhood spent in a foster-care system, she is unable to get close to anybody, and her only connection to the world is through flowers and their meanings."

Paul: Ooh, that does sound interesting. Give me that. I want to read it.

George: Hey! You can't read it! You're supposed to be writing the first sentence.

Paul: After I write the first sentence, can I read it?

George: Sure, but don't get chocolate on the pages. Every time I loan someone a book they get chocolate on the pages.

Ringo: *suspicious.* Are you sure it wasn't you getting chocolate on the pages?

George: It wasn't me!

John: *snickers and starts writing.*

Paul: *writing.*

Ringo: *writing.*

George: *reading Ringo's book.*

John: *writing.*

Paul: *writing.*

Ringo: *writing.*

George: Hey, this book is pretty good. I'm hooked already!

Ringo: *smirks.* And you said it would be sick.

George: It's pretty gory.

Ringo: It's not for people with a weak stomach.

John: Done!

Paul: Done.

Ringo: Finished.

George: *mixes them up.* Here's the first one. "Roses are red, violets are blue, the Beatles are better than you."

Ringo: Ha!

Paul: John wrote that.

John: And it's true.


George: *sighs.* Next. "I pranced down the street throwing flowers at every passerby singing "Sweet Caroline." "

Ringo: *suppresses laughter.*

John: Hmm. I'll go with that one.

Paul: Really? I mean, yeah, that's a good choice. *tries to act cool.*

George: Next. "Flowers smell funny."

John: Whoever wrote that exerted themselves.

Paul: So you're saying yours was a work of art?

John: It is!

George: I honestly think this one is better than John's.

John: No one asked for your opinion, GEORGINA.

George: *through gritted teeth.* Call me that again, and so help me, I will rip out your fingernails.

Ringo: I think this is one is pretty good.

Paul: I'm sticking with my previous choice.

George: Here's the last one. "For eight years I dreamed of fire."

John: What does that have to do with anything?

Ringo: I'll go with this one.

George: Okay, Paul gets a point because John thought his was the real one and Ringo gets a point for picking the real one.

John: What?!?

Paul: Yay!

Ringo: But that means John and I are tied.

George: *sighs.*

John: I'm not sharing my victory with Richard!

Paul: You'll have to because we're out of time.

John: *falls to his knees dramatically.* NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!