"So you're Paul, right?" Ringo asked as he shook my hand, just after I gave George the drink he ordered and stopped John from chewing on his fingers. Do not ask.

"Yeah. And you're Ringo right?"

He nodded and poked George who flicked Ringo's hand away like it was a fly. All Ringo needed to do was eat George's sandwich and he would instantly be on George's list.

"Don't poke me," George muttered and took a sip of his eggnog, giving him a little bit of a milky mustache. "I need my eggnog before I can talk to you again."

I was about to ask what George meant by that but John snapped his fingers and bobbed his head happily.

"Sitting on a cornflake . . . waiting for the van to come," John giggled and went off to sip his latte, which I took from him the second he got it away from his lips.

"But it's mine," he whined like a child and frowned when I wouldn't give it to him. Putting his head on the table, he "cried" as soon as his forehead touched the table.

"Does he always act like this?" I asked Ringo, who gave John another glance and nodded his head vigorously.

"Yeah, well, when he's hyper and all. But John whispering about walruses is new. It's usually just stuff that's hard to wrap your head around and understand, not stuff that makes you think he's insane."

"I'm not insane," John groaned, rubbing his eyes. "I'm merely so wonderful and talented no one can understand it or chart it on a scale. I've told you about a million times, Ringo."

He then turned in my direction and gave me a bit of an upset look and the wobbly lip. Sadly, I have no defense against that kind of guilt. Or any guilt.

"And thanks for caring about me, Macca. I was here, crying my eyes out and you did nothing. Nothing! I'm hurt!" He then clutched his heart dramatically, gasping for air.

"So you've sobered up from all that candy now, have you?" Ringo asked as he ate one of the surprisingly many sandwiches Little Ritchie's has. John snickered and took out a little notebook and a little pen.

"Never! I just don't have as many ideas right now. I just need to get more—"

"No!" Ringo and I shouted. I was starting feeling more and more happy I took that drink away.

"Just jot down whatever ideas you got from your crazy sugar moment," Ringo joked lightly. John snorted and quickly started to write down just about everything he said, scratching out randomly sometimes.

"But my teacher hates me, even that really good one . . . umm . . . Please Please Me! It was a classic in the making and he gave it a C because it apparently had vulgar messages throughout the poem. What a liar!"

"It does sound like it would have something dirty in it," George said as he continued to sip at the eggnog, his mustache milky getting thicker by the sip.

"This is exactly what I'm mad at. Why do people go off and start thinking for themselves and bring other stuff into it! Ugh, I hate it when people think for themselves," John vented and took his latte back, sticking his tongue out at me too.

"So what is it about?" George asked as he tried to take John's scone but John took his scone out of George's hand and shoved it in his mouth quickly. After swallowing it, he simply patted George's head until George stopped whimpering like a dog.

"It's about something dirty. Simple as that. But I hate that people over think it. That's why I'm happy about this new one. If you over think it, you'll go half crazy. So that'll teach my teacher something," John said proudly.

"Or you'll get an F this time," Ringo simply said as he polished off his sandwich. I snickered a little, with John simply grinning and laughed wildly when he looked at George.

"What? Is there something on my face?" George asked innocently. John nearly fell out of his chair and pointed at his face.

"You've got a mustache now," he said through gasps of air and then pointed at me."You've got one too Paul! But yours is kind of weak…"

Ringo snagged John's latte and took a quick sip of it. "Ha! Now we've all got mustaches," Ringo said proudly and took out his phone. "Now gather all around so we can get pictures."

"Wait, I have a mustache too? Is it a manly mustache?"

Ringo laughed at John's question and nodded.

"Yeah, it's all around your mouth and looks like a beard. You could be some sort of hippie even."

"I'd be the manliest hippy though," John said with utter pride and got a very stoic look on his face, puffing out his chest.

"Alright, you've got a very manly beard. Can we just take the picture now? My lips are starting to get all tingly," George whispered and nearly wiped it all away before Ringo had the smarts to pull us all close enough to get a good picture.

"So what should we call it?" John asked as he looked at the picture, moving away from Ringo as the latter continued to try to get rid of the drying drink 'stache on his face. I looked around the room and my eyes settled on the outside. There was nothing good there to base it off of…but maybe...

"Sergeant Pepper," I said simply and everyone looked over at me.

"What? I think it'd be alright," I added as I continued to feel the stares. John looked at the picture one last time and handed the phone over to Ringo.

"Yeah, let's go with Sergeant Pepper . . . but it could be longer," John agreed and picked up the pepper shaker that was sitting at our table.

"What do you mean longer?"

"It just feels like Sergeant Pepper needs something—Lucy in the Sky! That's it!" And John went back to writing in his little notebook. George laughed into his cup of eggnog, choking on it quietly as everyone continued talking.

"So what are you and George doing for Christmas, Paul?" Ringo asked me and it kind of caught me by surprise.

There wasn't much to do, just open presents and ask Dot if she could make something great like she usually does so the whole building wouldn't burn down and Brian, our landlord, won't kill us.

"Not much really. We're just trying not to burn the house down and get some presents under the tree."

"Santa will do that last part though, because he's real!" George yelled, getting over his choking fit and walked away to throw away the empty cup. And possibly sulk, but I can never know.

"Oh, I have an idea," John blurted out and stuffed his pen into his pocket. "We should all come over to your place and have a big Christmas and everything!"

Ringo noticeably perked up and nodded enthusiastically, basically acting like George whenever I bring up an idea.

"C'mon guys, its so soon and—" I tried to say but I was silenced by John.

"Please Macca! Please? We'll be nice and everything! We'll be like silent, little mice and only eat cheese if we have to!"

"What about the—"

"But what about George? I'm sure…okay I can't be sure about John, but I'll try to make sure to have fun with him too. Why not?" Ringo added too in hopes of swaying my opinion.

"Well, there's lots of—"

"Then it's settled," John shouted out with glee and ran over to George to bring him back over to the table. "We'll be coming over to your place for Christmas!"

George brightened a whole lot more than I thought he could and started to tug on my arm vigorously.

"Let's get ready then! C'mon Paulie, let's go!"

. . . . . . . . .

"Do you want a ham or turkey?" I asked as we walked down the supermarket aisle.

"Why would we get a ham, Paul? What's so special about ham?"

"What's so special about turkey? It's only a giant bird that people eat on Thanksgiving."

"But it's the only bird that people eat on Thanksgiving! So . . . it is special."

I groaned irritably and looked along the walls again to see if there would be something we could agree on.

"Pot roast then? That doesn't sound too bad . . ."

George made a face and looked away.

"I'd rather have the ham than that."

"The ham it is then," I ended quickly and threw the big ham into the cart. "Now we'll need other stuff. What do you think?"

"Umm, veggies. And pie! Is Dot making some stuff?"

I nodded, making him jumped up and down wildly.

"Yeah, but I'll have to remind her not to get too many sweets because you're around."

"And she'll need to get eggnog too! Remember that."

We stayed in the store for what felt like hours until the cart got full of everything George thought we should get. Apparently hot chocolate, peppermints and marshmallows had to be very high on the list, before the ham even, because they were supposedly something you couldn't leave behind when it came to Christmas.

"This will be awesome! Snow will be everywhere and presents will be around too," George beamed and stuffed more things into the cart, right when he sneezed.

"Hey, you can't get sick today of all days, Georgie. Or else Santa'll be very upset."

"No way," he sneezed again. "I'm George Harrison. Nothing can stop me from having an awesome Christmas!"

A/N: I'll honestly try not to bring up Beatles songs in every chapter but I can never promise with stuff like that. XD Thank you to all the people that reviewed on my chapters and who is going to! You guys are so epic! First person to comment gets a sticker! Macca40 got one last time, would you not like one?