An hour later......

"F'ing Linda was right I can't leave ever again! This is ssssshit. I will neverrrrr see my drum kkkkit again" I moaned drunkingly...then started crying.

I was past tired and had downed 3/4 bottle of scotch and about 3/4 again of my weight in vodka. It was a wonder I was even awake, or alive, let alone standing, well swaying, but yeah.... He was laughing at me til I lurched at him, pointing my finger in his face, poking his nose. "You. You can't keeeep me here!! I'll call the cops, yeah..I'll call coppin coppers, fuzzier fuzzys... I'll call. I'll call the.... policemenman! I'll go to Paul, I'll make 'immmm let me out"

"Calm down Rat, just sit down and take a load off those feet of yours" He walked me (I think I only stumbled once or thirty times) into the living room and sat me on the couch. "What sort of name is Rat anyway? I thought you were a bloke for bloody ages"

"Best I stay a bloke, not so many hassles that way" I eventually put my feet up on his coffee table after missing twice or three-ice and closed my eyes. I def could control my drunkenness a little better this way and I didn't get all googly eyeballed at the sight of John f-ing Lennon sat three foot from me."Rat is Abe's nickname for me which stuck. It got me more gigs as guy drummers are air quotes-more popular- than girl drummers" 

I rambled on and on. The words tumbling out in my state of loose lipped stupor "Catlyn- my silly mother forgot the I in the name on the birth registration form. It should be Caitlyn, but Noooooo, everyone took my name as on the form; Abe particularly liked Cat then Cat/Rat then Rat stayed. It's ok, it's a hard name."

What bands?" John prodded my brain and my side at the same time.

"Ouch! Oh nothing much"

"Come on you have been round the world by the sounds of it"

"Mostly tribute bands ummm Beatles tribute bands the last few years. Was all I could get after..."

"After what?"

"I sort of went on a bender and hurt Charlie Watts-"

"You hurt the Stones drummer Charlie Watts?!?" John leaned forward out of his chair waiting for the story. I could feel him come closer, the man was a deadset, chicken magnet. I mean chicken maggot...sorry chick magnet. I granted him a sly smile.

"Yeah – we're ok now. It's all a bit of a laff- now. Wasn't at the time though" I opened my eyes from their previous resting position and looked at him, he was really listening to me.

"...Well you see I was doing all the heavy lifting for him. He was 'smoking' then you know and doing the hard stuff, extremely hard stuff..... routinely not showing up at the studio or hiding in a broom closet somewhere in a self inflicted coma. I was in that studio 24/ 7, even sorted drum licks on a few hits for him. Mick was nice... too nice. We weren't nothing, just mates and he used me. I was naive I guess"

John offered me a smoke but I shook my head no. I was on a roll and kept talking my heart out "I worked those songs into the ground with them, ironed the bugs out, set 'em up for recording, recorded some, then I was tossed out like last weeks rubbish... They all said 'a couple of credits on the LP Rat, for sure' Rat. 'Thanks Rat'.

Nothing......

Apparently stoned druggo Charlie managed to do all the songs on his little lonesome- I called bullshit and the shit hit the fan. I punched Charlie in the nose, Mick in the stomach. Was going to keep going but Keith, bless his heart, offered me another drink. I stopped and drank with him instead"

John laughed, he has a great laugh and I bet heaps of people missed it in their lives.

Him being dead stops everybody hearing it, doesn't it.

"Even one lousy credit would have lifted me to a better level. But no.  After that.... I fell into tribute bands and shit. Not that I minded playing. You guys- The Beatles music is great, just would have rathered real Beatle Buns out in front!"

I stopped rambling at that point and went into myself, thinking about the might haves, the has been's and what might, or might not, come next.

I fell asleep.