Hello lovely people! For those who have known me for a while and have been reading my books for a long time, you'll know that a while ago my account was deleted as were all my books. My Beatles book had a lot of stories in it! Working with my friend GorgingGeorge , we managed to come up with a short list of stories that were deleted. I wanted to rewrite some of them :)
A rewritten story will pop up in the book here and there, I'm hoping they'll be good. Haha

-Pretz
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"Vote for me or I'll kill your entire family!" Ringo smiled and handed out a pin that said "Ringo 4 president" on it to a passerby.

Paul had taken the liberty of sneaking the pins into people's pockets without them noticing.

"Vote for me so I can ruin this country's economy and collapse society!" The drummer proudly exclaimed.

No one was taking the pins that The Beatles had lovingly ordered from Amazon at the price of $6,344 USD per pin. An absolute steal.

"I don't think you should tell them the truth Ringo. Lie and tell them you'll be a great president." John held out a pin to a dog. It sniffed the item and peed on John's leg. John frowned as the bitter smell violated his precious nose holes.

"I think we should be more concerned that we have a SLACKER over here." Paul pointed to George who had fallen asleep on the table. A thin puddle of drool had stretched down from his mouth and had soaked into the stickers.

John pushed Paul aside, "Let me show you how it's done, Macca." The guitarist took a roll of tape from his pocket which was amazing because they were fake pockets, tore a piece off, and stuck it on George's nose holes. He did not wake up.

"Try the mouth." Paul suggested.

John put tape over George's mouth. He did not wake up.

"Jesus! Is he breathing out of his ears?!"

They looked at each other, Paul shrugged, "....worth a try."

John taped both of Harrison's ears as well as his eyes and and fingers. If he was a superhero, his name would be Tape Man.

"Oh God he can't be breathing out of his-"

"I AM NOT TAPING GEORGE'S BUTT HOLE, POL."

Everyone around them had stopped walking, talking, or even breathing. John's outburst had awoke George, "what about me butt hole? " His eyes were covered with tape but John could feel Harrison vibrating with such fear and curiosity that John almost felt sorry that he talked about the lad's behind in such a rude way. But then he remembered that he was John Lennon and he doesn't care about anybody so his face quickly transitioned to a smirk.

"Nothing, it's very nice." Paul buried his head in his hand as if nobody knew they were the Beatles.

People were moving again but avoiding the table at all costs. Paul didn't blame them.

"Well, I'm off to have my lunch break." Lennon tossed the rest of the pins on the table and sighed as if he had been working for hours. He had been there for 3 minutes.

"Yeah, me too." George jumped up, his voice muffled by the duck tape still on his mouth. He winced when his hair got caught in the tape that was stuck to his ears.

Before Paul could object, the two had run off giggling to themselves like absolute clowns. Their out-of-breath bickering over where to eat was interrupted when John had run right into a grumpy Epstein. "There you are! You have an interview today at 4:20 pm! You're twenty minutes late!" John had never seen his face so red, it made him purse his lips to keep from dying of asphyxiation from previously running and currently laughing.

"Nice."

"What?"

"Nothing." George turned away.

Their manager looked at George's fingers which were currently still covered in tape, "You better stay here, I will go get Paul and Ringo. DON'T MOVE!"

"YES EPPY, SIR. WE WILL STAY HERE AND NOT LEAVE THIS SPOT." John saluted.

As soon as Epstein turned his back, John picked up George and carried him romantically to a fancy restaurant. They sat down each admiring their folded napkin cranes as if they've never been to a fancy restaurant before in their oddly long-lived lives of fame and fortune. George took a sip of water and spat it out, "THIS IS THE WORST WATER I HAVE EVER TASTED."

"Listen Georgie, you just gotta add a little seasoning." John pulled out his wallet, he fished around for a good 3 minutes before pulling out a silver packet, Ramen flavoring. He snickered as he tore off the top and held it over George's water glass. A condom slid out and plopped in the glass with a anticlimactic 'plink'. John blinked a couple times before saying "ope" and immediately being forced out the restaurant.

Epstein stormed in, eyes blazing and hair astray, "JOHN WINSTON LENNON!!!!!"

"Yeah, that's my name. I'm glad you learned it." Lennon quipped.

"YOU'RE IN HUGE TROUBLE!!!!!"

The waitresses that were holding John were blown so far back by Epstein's immense anger and power, they landed in the next building. John remained unscathed.

"Listen Eppy, I have a great reason why George and I ran from you." John was slowly walking towards the manager, his hand suspiciously shoved in his back pocket as if reaching for something. For a single moment, the world stood still. John Lennon at the mercy of Brian Epstein's rage. The manager was a bull and John was an egotistical ant that could be trampled on in milliseconds. He had to play his cards right.

"Epps, you are...just the greatest manager...and we think that...", with each pause of the sentence, John took one step closer to his unmoving manager, "you deserve a little....GLITTER!!!!" John pulled the glitter from his pocket and threw it in Epstein's face, temporarily (or permanently) blinding him. John and George made a run for it out of the restaurant and into a huge crowd that was gathered in front a huge outdoor stage.
Ringo was in center, his pink Ren & Stimpy button-up shirt covered in ketchup stains, most of the Ren & Stimpy pattern had worn off so it just appeared like Ringo had more stains on his shirt. He was waving to the crowd, his rings temporarily blinding half the audience when they caught the light just right.

"Hi, I'm Ringo Starr. I'm president now and....I'm gonna blow up the moon. Have a horrible day!" Then he stepped off the podium and that was his speech.

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3 months later...

"Weather report today, McCartney?"

"Cloudy, dark, cold, empty..."

"I meant outside, not in your mind." John tiredly mumbled.

"Oh! Uhhh...same thing." Paul sighed. He plopped down on the dirty couch that smelled like pickles. The lights flickered and went out.

"Fourth time this week and cou-"

A cacophony of noises filled the room, it deafened the song writing duo. Like a train engine colliding with a tornado siren in the middle of a Frank Zappa concert. John groaned as he covered his ears and sank to the floor, shutting his eyes tight. Paul winced and gritted his teeth.
The light's flickered back on, the bassist averted his eyes to George who was hiding under the table. They made eye contact.

"Sorry...I get scared."

"YOU DON'T DO THAT WHEN YOU BLOODY BLINK AND IT'S JUST AS DARK!" John exploded. Ever since the power had been going out about four or five times a week, George screams (more like wails) until it comes back on. His teeth ache from all the times he's gritted them to partially relieve the noise.

"John, calm down. It's hard for him when Ringo isn-"

"YEAH? WELL RINGO HAS BEEN GONE FOR MONTHS! HE'S OFF SIGNING BILLS TO NAME PLANTS "SUCCULENTS" BECAUSE IT SOUNDS COOL. HE'S OFF HIS ROCKER, HE COULDN'T GIVE SINGLE CAN OF APPLESAUCE ABOUT US!" Lennon had finally lost it, he punched the wall. His fist bounced back and hit his face. Ringo also passed a bill that allowed houses to be made out of rubber.

"Succulents are a type of plant, John." Paul mumbled then bit his lip as John growled in frustration. He never hated Ringo for becoming president. None of them did. They were still brothers, through thick and thin. However, it didn't seem like it as of late with Ringo leaving them to live in 15 square foot apartment made of rubber walls and shotty electricity. They were lucky when the shower water was warm and even luckier if it didn't smell like orange juice or celery.

John clenched his fist, "I'm going to go see him." His assertive tone sent a wave of shock through the others.

"I'll come with you." Paul got up.

"No, Paul. Just me, he'll listen to me."

"You don't know that." George shot back.

"I do." Lennon said as he zipped up the hazmat suit that was hanging by the door.

"You'll never be able to find where he's at, even if you do, the smog will get to you first."

John froze, he had never heard Paul speak so negatively. He was always the optimist of the group. Ringo wasn't the only one that had changed in the past few miserable months.

"I will." John placed his hand on the doorknob, maybe this would be the last time he would leave this apartment? Maybe the last time he sees his mates again? Maybe the last time he took a shower in celery water? George hugs him from behind, so does Paul.

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John had tripped right onto the steps of Britain's new capital building and face-planted into the top step. His face mask did nothing to protect his face. He was disoriented, thirsty, exhausted. Any synonym for the word "tired" you could think of, he probably felt. A small red fuzzy dot streaked through his vision, he reached to it. It was a button. When pressed, it played the Phineas & Ferb theme song. The entire thing.

Lennon felt himself slowly dying as Candice's voice pierced his ears, "MOOOOOM, PHINEAS AND FERB ARE MAKING A TITLE SEQUENCE!"

The door opened slowly, "Please enter."

John found himself in a large container, the robotic voice ordered him to stand still while he was sprayed with some sort of cleaning solution that smells like city sewers and grape soda.

"Welcome, Mr. Lennon. Please take off your suit before continuing." A short, fake-smiling woman sat behind an oak desk in front of the exit doors. He didn't take his suit off, just to spite this random lady.

"Where's Ringo?"

"We've been expe-"

"Cut the shit, lady. I've been suffocated, yelled at, and have bathed in celery water for months. Now, where's Ringo?"

"I wouldn't know, he wanders..." Her smile disappeared, it was more of an annoyed nanny look than a tired receptionist look.

"Blood hell." John growled, he forced himself through the next set of doors. He turned left several times before occasionally turning right, "FINALLY!" He burst into the room, Ringo was sitting at his desk desperately trying to fold cards.

Ringo looked up, "Give me a second, I like the noise it makes when you fold the cards properly." The cards exploded around him in a failed attempt.

"Ringo?! Britain is trapped in deadly pollution and you're trying to learn how to fold bloody cards?!"

"You don't have to yell, my ears still work."

"YOU WON'T HAVE ANY WHEN I'M DONE WITH YA!"

"Now now, John. How was I supposed to know that there was deadly pollution? I haven't been outside in months."

"You polluted Britain by building those stupid cookie factories! None of them are even in operation anymore! You destroyed the environment!"

"So now is a good time to blow up the moon then?" Ringo held up a remote with a huge red button.

John was literally about to explode, "NO!"

"I don't see why not?"

John tackled Ringo, he dropped the remote and it fell on the ground, activating the button and exploding the moon.

"NOOOOOOO THE TIDES!!!!" John sank to his knees in misery.

There were no more tides ever again, Ringo went home while society continue to collapse and deteriorate. On the bright side, George was no longer wailing when the power went out.

The End