George Harrison, the youngest Beatle, was watching television while his fellow band mates were having their breakfast in their hotel room. They were due back to Liverpool the next day, so they decided to get around Paris as much as possible before the day ended so they'd have a taste of France, at least. 

        "Hey, Georgie, watching yer cartoons again?" John said, ruffling George's hair. George turned red instantly.

        "Watching cartoons..." Paul chuckled. "Don't you want a little bike with training wheels, too?"

        George turned redder at that. "Shut up, Paul."

        "Hey, we gotta get ready and get out as soon as possible so we have time to go around," Ringo said.

        "Yeah, who's getting cleaned up first?" Paul said, finishing up his coffee.

        George was the first one to rush off to the bathroom. God, they were idiotic. His face was still red from before but George shaved and got cleaned up anyway. He had no time to be bothered by them. They were due back to Liverpool soon, anyway, and then they'd have a week's break to write the album. It wasn't so bad.

        Meanwhile, John, Paul, and Ringo were getting dressed. Sort of.

        "Hey, boys," John said, with a mischievous grin on his face.

        "John, don't try anything," Paul said with a knowing look on his face.

        "This'll be marvelous, Paul," John said fiddling with his tie. "We gotta do it."

        "We're not murdering anybody," Ringo said, taking one last sip of his coffee.

       "No, it's about George. We totally gotta play this trick on him," John said.

        "John, let's not terrorize the poor kid," Paul said, but he was grinning. Of course they had to play a prank on George.

        "So your job is to lure George to the prey and I'll take care of the rest," John said. 

        "Where do we lure him, now?" Ringo was now interested.

        "To the balcony," John said, and then went off to prepare his special prank. 

         George finished up and was adjusting his tie when he came out of the bathroom. The television was blaring but none of the other boys were in sight. Where were they? They couldn't have gone in such a short time. 

        George sat on one of the beds and adjusted his Beatle boots. God, those boots- they'd cripple yer feet. 

        "Hey, Georgie..." Paul said, opening the door to the room.

        "Sod off, Paul," George quipped. "I don't have time for your remarks."

        "Come on, don't you want to check out something? I'm pretty sure I saw Bridget Bardott or somebody..."

        "Paul, it's bloody France."

        Paul dragged a very angry George to the balcony. "I don't see anybody, Paul. This is bloody stupid."

        "Look, you have to step a little closer."

        George stepped into a loop of rope, and instantly he was hanging from the roof of the hotel, screaming for help.

        "What the hell did you do?" George shouted frantically.

        "It was just a little trick!" Paul said, now laughing.

        "It's not funny, Paul. I will kill you right now. Let me go!"

        Paul grinned. "Let him go, Johnny!"

        George fell on his wrist, which was the worst possible thing to have ever happened to him so far on the trip. He passed out and Paul stopped laughing, realizing that this was real. Ringo realized it, too, and went to the phone to call Brian for help. John went after Paul to help George up onto the bed.

       George was pale because of the pain it was causing him. His wrist was now hanging at an awkward angle, which suggested that it was broken. Fantastic, isn't it?

        Not such a marvelous idea after all. 

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Thanks for sticking around! I hope you enjoyed the story! I'll be back soon enough with the next chapter.