Alright, I write fanfiction. If you don't know what fanfiction is, it's stories written by fans about their favourite popular culture characters and events. These characters and events were created by other, more prestigious persons, or were even real people. However, unless they are real people and have been sold as slaves to the author of such a work, the author of fanfiction does NOT own any characters in the fanfiction (except characters the aforementioned author created himself or herself). This is a fanfiction, and the rule applies here as in any other fanfiction: This author does not own the Beatles.

A/N: Hi everybody! I'm back! I also created a new forum with omgringo as comoderator, Beatlemaniacs United, accessible here: www. fan fiction my forums / Doctor-Lennon- 007/ 5340672/ [remove spaces] Drop by and say hello!

Paul and Ringo's phone rang first, just as pink dawn light began to filter into the hotel room.

"Can you get that, Rings?" called Paul from the shower.

"Mmm . . ." grumbled Ringo. He sleepily fumbled for the phone.

"Hello?" he answered blearily, his eyes still gummed shut with sleep. After a pause, he answered, "Okay, thanks for the wake-up call." He hung up and snuggled back down under the covers.

Then, the phone rang in John and George's room. This room was well-lit by the overhead light - John hadn't even tried to go back to sleep; by the time he had finished washing off glitter glue, it had been 3:30, and he hadn't felt like lying in bed in the dark for the next two hours, unable to sleep. John was sitting in the room's lone armchair, watching morning cartoons. George was sleeping, his head buried under his pillow.

"Get the phone, George," ordered John.

"You get it, I'm asleep," groaned George from under his pillow.

"You're closer to the phone," responded John, his eyes still fixed on the television.

The telephone continued to ring shrilly.

George grumbled something about a lazy swine as he pulled his head out from under his pillow. He pulled the phone up a couple of centimeters above its cradle and half-heartedly dropped it back into its cradle.

"Lazy and proud of it!" exclaimed John proudly.

"I'm going back to sleep like a normal person," groaned George, shoving his head back under his pillow defiantly.

In one fluid motion, John reached over to George's bed and yanked off his covers. The rhythm guitarist didn't bother to get up from the armchair or stop watching the television as George yelped and sat up.

"What was that for?" complained George.

"Are you up, boys?" asked Brian from the hall.

"Yes, Brian," chorused John and George.

Brian continued down the hall and knocked on Paul and Ringo's door.

"Rise and shine, boys!" he called.

Paul opened the door. He wore his suit pants and white shirt, and had a towel draped across his shoulders to stop his wet hair from dripping onto his clothes. He held a comb in one hand.

"Is it time to go yet?" asked Paul sleepily.

"It was time to go," reprimanded Brian, glancing at his watch, "five minutes ago."

Paul frowned. "Ringo isn't even up yet."

"Didn't you get the wake-up call? It was scheduled to remind you that it was time to go, remember?"

Paul stared at the manager blankly. "Oh."

"Will you get John and George? They said they were already up."

"Alright, Eppy," said Paul. He strode to the door to George and John's room.

"Brian wants you," said Paul.

John pushed past him into the room, already fully dressed.

"Excellent! Time to go over the battle plan!" enthused John mockingly. Brian scowled.

George followed John into the room, wearing only a torn white button-up shirt and pale blue boxers.

"Daring choice, George," commented Ringo, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Oh shut up," snapped George.

"Maybe a bit too daring," mused Paul. "You might want to accentuate the look with long underwear or something."

John snickered. "George likes to be daring. The girls are very impressed when he is!"

"I would be wearing proper pajamas if you hadn't ruined mine," complained George.

Paul rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, I think pajamas would do nicely to tone down the look."

"How did this situation get away from me?" wondered Brian aloud.

Suddenly, Mal and Neil burst into the room. Mal was clutching a half-eaten bagel.

"They've started to gather again," warned Neil. "We'll have to start soon."

"It's five thirty in the morning! What're they doing up?" asked Ringo, flabbergasted.

"Your fans are determined to see you, no matter what time of day," said Mal, pointing at Ringo with his bagel.

"They're determined to do a lot more than see us," snorted John.

"Ta," said George, grabbing Mal's bagel from the roadie's outstretched hand. "I've been dying for a bit of brekkie."

"Oi!" exclaimed Mal. "That was mine!"

George finished off the bagel with an enormous swallow.

"Want it back?" asked George.

"Where are your clothes, George?" wondered Neil, eyeing the guitarist suspiciously.

"In my suitcase," replied George. "Obviously."

"And on the floor," added John helpfully, pulling a small slinky out of his pocket and fiddling with it.

George inclined his head slightly in assent.

"Then go put them on," suggested Neil, flapping his hand toward the door connecting the Beatles' hotel rooms.

George ambled back to his room to change.

"You ought to get ready too, Ringo," said Brian pointedly.

Ringo reluctantly exited his bed. He was still in his pajamas, which hadn't been ruined by glitter glue like the others' had. He stumbled to the bathroom, clutching a clean suit.

Once the Beatles were fully dressed and packed, Brian gathered the team around him.

"Alright, here's the plan -" he started.

"Yes," interjected John.

Brian was getting to be quite the pro at ignoring John by this point, and continued, "We'll go out in pairs -"

"Okay," said John annoyingly, nodding after his assertion in a brisk movement like a punctuation mark.

Brian persevered, "Any more at once, and we're astronomically more likely to be recognized -"

"Mhm," assented John, pulling a pen and notebook out of an inner pocket of his jacket.

"Each pair will go down the back stairs -" Brian attempted. When he saw John's mouth beginning to open, however, he cut the guitarist to the chase. "What is it this time, Lennon?"

"Gotcha," said John, jotting something down in his notebook.

"Would you please be quiet while I'm giving directions?"

"Yep," said John, before his hand shot up to his mouth, his eyes wide. "Sorry, I said something, Bri! Oops, I said something again! Oh no, I -"

"That will be quite enough of that, thank you," said Brian briskly. John was suddenly silenced, but he continued to wordlessly mouth something indecipherable as Brian continued:

"As I was saying, each pair will go down the back stairs, left, second right, through the kitchen, out the service door, and into the waiting bus. Got it?"

John raised his hand tentatively.

Brian sighed. "Yes?"

"Can we get some tea on the way out, sir?" asked John pitifully, making his best attempt at doe eyes.

"No, we don't have time. We're running late enough as it is," snapped Brian. John made a face at the manager before crossing his arms in a pout.

"What're the pairs, then?" asked Paul.

"I'll go first with Ringo, then you and John, then George and Neil, and Mal will go out last."

"Poor Mal, all on his own," sniffed John, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes before remembering that he was supposed to be pouting.

"Right, let's get a move on," said Brian, glancing at his watch again. "Ringo, come on."

A/N: Please, grant me a review! This one boon I beg of you; then you may leave in peace! Remember the maths: reviews=author happiness author happiness=more writing more writing=more updating more updating=your happiness Therefore, reviews make you happy!