"So you're late why exactly?" George pushed again for what felt like the one millionth time in a very lawyer like manner. Which, obviously, was kind of scary.

"Because I was getting your candy, George," I explained as easily as possible because I don't think telling the poor kid I was diagnosed with a fake disease would be a good way of explaining it. Though it would be very truthful . . . it would not be good.

"I don't believe it," he muttered absently and I counted down the minutes it would take for him to tell me he'd need a new bag of jelly babies. It was like he was addicted to it, on some level.

But in all reality, I was thankful he wasn't addicted to something else. His mom was actually a really nice person, so nice she was okay with George wanting to come over and live in my apartment. But I'm sure she wouldn't be the happiest if something happened to the little guy. And I wouldn't forgive myself either, so it'd be double the worrying and headache.

Anyway, I continued to type and change stuff with George constantly pestering me about anything he could find, like if his guitar was tuned properly, or if he was playing certain chords right.

At one point, he set the guitar down and went off to the kitchen to eat all the food in sight—sorry, have a late dinner. Did I mention he was also terribly addicted to food?

"I'm going off to sleep, Georgie," I shouted, shutting down my laptop and putting away my books. How I was going to make a whole day's plan for a whole class was something I wanted to know.

George didn't say anything, probably looking through the fridge for the leftover pizza.

Getting into bed wasn't that hard. Just changing into my pj's, sending Dot a few goodnight texts and stretching out on the bed was all. But lying in bed and waiting for sleep to come was the easiest thing I did all day, with the stress of everything just melting right out of my body.

The next day I woke up horribly late, about 11 am late.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes but Tadashi must have put something in my drink because I felt like I was on some sort of sugar crash or something else that could have contributed to my sluggish mind and body. So there was nothing better to do than sleep. It would easily help with everything.

I woke up in what felt like only minutes, feeling much better than the first time I woke up. Maybe staying up till 4am wasn't the best decision.

I looked in the direction of my clock and jumped out of bed in a frantic hurry. Great, it's 1:26 pm and I still haven't even taken a shower. Good thinking on going back to sleep, Paul.

I ran into the bathroom, brushed my teeth so quickly I probably got rid of most of my enamel and took what could be the world's quickest shower. As I was stepping out the door—with my clothes on, of course—and grabbing my school bag, George somehow appeared right in front of me. I looked around to see if there were any other ninjas in the apartment, but luckily, it was just the one.

"What do you need, George?" I asked him quickly, looking over his shoulder like John would somehow appear where I was starting holes into wall.

"I want to go where you're going!" he said with tons of excitement that I wouldn't expect on a morning. I stupidly ignored what he really said and started to walk down the hall.

"But you can't, you might get bored and end up getting angry or something."

"You said might, so I can come anyways. No problem."

"But it would be awkward if you start to glare at him like he ate your sandwich."

"I'm already in the car, there's nothing you can do about it now," George laughed and jumped around in his seat like someone on a sugar rush . . . which would explain the nearly empty bag of jelly babies he had in his hand. I couldn't do anything about it but drive as quick as I could with Georgie in the car and him possibly moving faster than the car.

When I stopped the car in front of Little Ritchie's, George zoomed out of the car with a giddy sort of spring in his step and I was two steps behind him.

"And it's Macca! He may have been," John looked down at the watch he now finally had. "Fourteen minutes late but he's here!"

"It's not my fault though, George was—where's George?"

"Are you making up imaginary friends now? I thought you were more mature than that," John chided and I scowled in irritation along with confusion as he wagged his pointer finger in my face. I swatted it away, trying to push the question of where George was.

"Ooh! I have someone I want you to meet! His name's Richard but he likes to be called Ringo. Don't ask. And . . . um . . . there's a random kid sitting with him. I don't know any random kids."

I instantly turned around to where Ringo was and saw George bobbing his head adamantly to whatever the person across from him was saying. John lightly pushed me to the two and that was all I need to rush over.

"I told you there was nothing to worry about, Paulie! Ringo's here to keep me company!" George sang with glee and I could see Ringo with a smile on his face, probably from watching George run through all the sugar in his body and still have something left over.

"Paul! We're going to need more jelly babies . . . they're kind of gone now."

And he shook the empty box with a large amount of vigor. Ringo burst out laughing and it somehow made George start to laugh uncontrollably.

"Well, since these two are going to behave immaturely, I think we better go off and have more civilized and adult-like conversations without them," John said in a spot on English accent and stuck his nose into the air in a haughty matter. I sniffed in mock disgust and stood next to John, nose very high up.

"Let's. These two would merely drag us down in our very intellectual conversations. We will have to leave," I told John in a English accent similar to John's and the two 'children' instantly went into another round of crazy fits of laughter.

We walked away from the other two and waited for someone to come up to the cash register. Finally, someone arrived. And it was Tadashi too!

"You never take a break, do you?" I joked as Tadashi moved around like lightning behind the counter.

"It's not that, but I probably should. Half the people here took the day off today because they either needed to go somewhere or they were just sick, so we're a bit understaffed." He went over to one of the blenders and started to pour whatever was in it into a giant cup. "And now the rest of us are working just a bit harder than usual. No worries, guys."

John looked at the cup and took it from Tadashi's hand to get a better look at it, because once again he didn't have his glasses on.

"Why don't you just wear your glasses instead of taking them out at random times?" I asked John as he put the cup so close to his face his eyes got cross eyed.

"They bother my nose. And they say the nose is always right."

"Who says that? I've never heard of something like that."

"Ha! I know something Macca doesn't! Anyways . . . me and my mom say that stuff. Like, if your food smells awful, it's possible your food will taste awful."

"And that usually works?"

"Yeah! Why wouldn't it? The nose is always right!"

Tadashi came back to take the cup from John and gave it to a business man behind us, who gave John a dirty look. John returned the look by blowing a raspberry in the man's  direction until his face grew red and he got cross eyed again. The man gave John a funny look and I couldn't help but join John in the fun. The man then gave up in a grumbling defeat and walked out of the café, gripping his drink so tightly it might burst the second he gets to his car.

Once he got out of the door we both burst into laughter and Tadashi even had to join in.

"So what are you guys going to have?" he asked with a wide smile.

"I want the gingerbread latte," John said while bouncing on the balls of his feet with a hyper attitude I remember well. "And with a blueberry scone!"

"You're acting like you've already had a few of those with extra espresso."

"Well . . . I didn't . . . at least I think I didn't."

And that easily let me believe he had a few. I walked over to George, who was still adamantly talking to Ringo.

"Do you want to have the hot chocolate or—" I asked quickly but George was far faster.

"Nope! Eggnog, because it's almost Christmas, a few days away even, and I always have eggnog before Christmas!"

"How many of those jelly bellies did you have?"

He sat there for a moment, totally stumped, and look up at me with a slightly confused face.

"I have no idea. A lot. Yeah, that sounds right."

I shook my head and walked back to John, who was just getting his gingerbread latte.

"I'll have a hot chocolate and an eggnog latte. Both 'Big Show' size, please," I told Tadashi, but in the back of my head, I was listing all the bad things that would happen with a hyper George Harrison. Sadly, the list was getting pretty long and involved a lot of poking.

Through all of this, John grew more excitable and antsy as he continued to sip his latte. I think at some point he was muttering something about a walruses.

He walked back over to me after telling everyone, "I am here, as you are here, as you are me!" He then went into a fit of laughter. "And we are all together!"

John then looked in my direction and gasped as if he'd seen a ghost.

"You're the walrus," he gasped, with his eyes as wide as humanly possible.

"John, what are you talking about?"

I looked behind me and saw a painting of some really random colors. But they didn't look anything like a walrus.

"You," he emphasized greatly. "Are the walrus."

Tadashi came over, very confused with what he just walked into. John, who had the same look when he said I was the walrus, pointed to Tadashi and gave him a pretty scary grin.

"And you're the eggman," John said simply and went over to talk about that weird stuff with Ringo and George.

"What was that?" Tadashi asked with a slight frown.

"I don't know . . . but you caused it."

"What?"

I shrugged, picking up the two drinks and looked over at John who was bouncing around a noticeably sluggish George.

"You gave him the drink that made him go on the random walrus talk."

"Walrus talk? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I think I'd remember someone calling me a walrus."

A/N: I can not explain why I brought up "I Am The Walrus" (which I do not own). It's just one of those things I can't explain. By the way . . . Ringo's here! Are you happy? Yeah, he'll actually talk in the next chapter so don't worry Ringo fans! *hides behind a rock* Thanks to all those that comment before and are going to! You deserve a virtual cookie! So . . . chocolate chip or sugar cookie?

Edit 15/07/16: The sizes at Little Ritchie's go as such: Jam Session=Small, Gig=Medium, Big Show=Large and Concert=Extra Large.