It was a miserable day indeed.
John had a cold, Paul had the flu, George had laryngitis, and Ringo had
a sprained ankle. Everyone was either sniffling or vomiting or wheezing
or hobbling. When George needed help, he couldn't yell for it because all
that would come out was a whisper. Ringo couldn't go to get help because
his ankle hurt really bad and he couldn't walk. Paul was so weak that if
he walked five feet he would collapse. And John would probably be too busy
blowing his nose and sniffling. So most of the time they just sat around
A knock came at the door.
"Cud you adser dat, Rindo?" John asked, sniffling.
"Ow- ooch- eep- no," Ringo replied. "Get it,
"I can't get up," George replied. "What if
they have to talk to me? You get it, Paul."
Paul sighed. "I guess it's me again." He opened the door and
threw up all over Norm's shoes.
"Oops," Paul said.
"Some greeting, eh Norm," Shake said, blinking
"Quit being so cheerful! And stop being taller
than me!" Norm cried. He and Shake walked inside. "So, how is everyone?"
He was greeted by a wheeze, a sneeze, and a groan.
"You're a- you're a- ah- ah- ah- CHOO!- a
swine," John said, wiping his nose on Norm's sleeve.
"This will not do. You've got a concert tomorrow!"
Norm cried. He walked over to George. "Well, at least someone's feeling
George tapped his throat.
"What do you mean?" Norm asked.
"I've practically lost me voice, you nit,"
Norm sighed and hit himself on the head. Shake
shrugged and said "Might as well cook up a pot of chicken soup, eh Norm?"
Norm walked to Paul. "And what's your problem?"
"I thought you knew. I threw up on your shoes.
I have the flu." Paul replied.
"Oh, yeah." Norm walked into the bathroom
to wipe his shoes off. The front door had been left ajar, and an old man
came rushing in carrying something under his arm.
"I got it!" he cried. "I got it! I can help
you boys with your little ailments all right here!"
Paul smacked himself on the head. "Grandfather?"
He then regretted hitting himself and expressed it very clearly.
"Oh, dear Paulie, how you must be sufferin'!
Here y'go." He reached into his doctor's bag and pulled out a bottle of
cod liver oil. "I know ya like this stuff. It'll help yer ailin'." He poured
some into a rather large spoon. "Now swallow it down."
Paul looked warily at the spoon, then reluctantly
did as his grandfather told him. He then ran into the bathroom and promptly
From the bathroom:"Oops...sorry, Norm."
Paul's grandfather walked over to John. "Got
a bit of the sniffles, do ya, son?"
"I'b dot habing any of dat stuff you gave
Paul!" John cried.
"Now, don't worry, John boy, I got somethin'
else fer ya. Lessee here..." While John (McCartney) was rummaging through
his bag, John (Lennon) pulled the blanket around him in his chair and pulled
his hat over his eyes. Shake pulled a cookbook out of the shelf and went
off to the kitchen.
"Where do you think you're going?" Norm asked,
pointing a stern finger at Shake.
"I'm going to fix up some chicken soup," Shake
said cheerfully just as Paul threw up again in the bathroom.
"Here we are!" Old Man McCartney pulled out
some moldy bread. John looked up and saw the bread being shoved in his
"Aaaggghhh!!!" John stood up and dove over
the chair. Paul's grandfather beamed.
"Y'see? He's recuverin' already!" he cried.
George pulled his collar over his head as the grandfather approached him.
Norm came out of the bathroom. "That's the
last time I'm cleanin' off my shoes, Paul McCartney!" he exclaimed. Paul
threw up yet again.
"You poor little George fellow...can't talk!"
Paul's grandfather pulled out a package of dirt. "Take off yer shirt like
a good boy."
George gave Mr. McCartney a weird look. "Okay,
Doctor Nutbag," he said, but fortunately because of the laryngitis, Old
Man couldn't hear him anyway. George peeled off his turtleneck just as
the grandfather scurried off to the kitchen.
"Wonder what he wants with you then," Ringo
George tried to growl, but all that came out
was yet another wheeze. Paul came back in, looking miserable. He propped
his head up on the arm of the couch and fell asleep next to John.
Paul's grandfather rushed back in with a bowl
full of mud. "Now, George boy, sit up straight," he said. George did, and
Paul's grandfather took the spoon and put mud all around George's neck.
"What in heaven's name do you think you're
doing?!?" George exclaimed, trying to dodge the muddy spoon.
"I'm curin' you!" Grandfather McCartney said
proudly. "Now sit still!" He finished with George and went over to Ringo.
Ringo cowered as the man approached.
"Let's see what we can do for you, dear Ringo,"
the old man said. He removed the bandage from Ringo's ankle and pulled
out an extremely large plant leaf and a bottle of thick yellow stuff.
Paul groaned. "Not the famous McCartney salve!
Cures all aches and pains, yeah, uh-huh. It just turns your legs yellow
and makes you itch."
"Well, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger,
Paulie! It ain't my fault you have an allergy to the most wonderful cure-all
substance in England!" Mr. McCartney cried.
"Yeah, me and every other McCartney he's tried
it on," Paul grumbled. "He's got an allergy to it himself."
"Be quiet and let it work its magic. Pull
up yer pants leg, Ringo old boy," John (McCartney) said. Ringo, not wanting
any further scolding from the old man, did. The grandfather spread the
yellow stuff on his ankle and wrapped the leaf around it. All of a sudden,
Ringo began giggling.
"Now exactly what- wha- wh- ah- ah- ah- CHOO!-
is in there? Some kinda hallucinogen?" John asked.
"No," Paul said. "Whenever someone tries it
they usually start itching like crazy. Wonder why it's acting so funny
"Well, in case you've noted, Ringo isn't exactly
a McCartney," George remarked, trying to get the old man's remedy off of
his neck. He couldn't, because it had dried like cement. George had a permanent
Norm stroked his chin. "I'll be back in a
moment," he said."I'm going to the store." He walked outside.
A few minutes later, Norm returned with a
bag full of peppermints.
"What are those for?" Paul asked.
"Each of you boys get one of these. They should
help," Norm said.
"How?" Ringo asked with a giggle.
"They always worked on me." Norm passed them
"Nah," John said. "It won't work on me just
'cause it works on- on- on- ah- ah- CHOO!- swines."
"Just take it, Lennon, or I'll shove it down
your throat!" Norm exclaimed.
"It's going to go down me throat anyway,"
John replied. "Oh well." He finally gave in. Norm went into the kitchen
to help Shake.
peppermint then flew from his mouth like a rocket and whacked the back
of Norm's head.
Norm turned around, walked over to a chair,
sat down, and made a very interesting observation.
"Maybe this isn't working as well as I thought
it would." He looked worried."We've got that concert tomorrow, and nothing
is working!!!" He stood up and, with a deep breath, began to pace. "I give
Norm then walked out again. Paul applauded.
"Good show, John!"
Another knock came at the door.
"Isn't this a popular place," Paul said, going
to answer it. There was the dignified studio director, terrible sweater
"I heard you were ill. Well, since your gig
tomorrow is at my studio, and MY CAREER rests on it, I've come to offer
some assistance," he said through gritted teeth.
"How thoughtful," George said, beginning
to get a little silly. "If you knew the poor pain and suffering we were
enduring in this cold chamber with the sighs of the wind howling at my
doorstep, I would tell you that I would be much lonelier than in a warm
suburban house with lots of kids and a dog."
"Oh...I see," the studio director said. "Well.
I heard that John Lennon was having a bit of a cold. Well, I know what
to do for that." He walked up behind John and pounded him repeatedly on
the back. "I'LL BEAT IT OUT OF HIM!!!" Once he was through John looked
even more miserable than he had before.
"He probably beat the snot out of him first,"
Shake came out of the kitchen. "Say, where
do you boys keep the potatoes?"