My First Fanfiction About How The Beatles Get Trapped in a Hotel
Paul studied himself in the mirror, thinking of how unkept his sweaty hair had become after performing tonight's show. He yearned to at least bathe or take a well deserved kip, but with John around, he could never rest.
"Oh, Paulie! Yeh finished with yer primpin'?" shouted John, banging on the washroom door.
"In a minute, dearie!" Paul quickly splashed some water on his face and dragged a comb across his head.
"Well hurry up, I gotta take a piss."
Paul walked out the door and John childishly ran in. He glanced out the suite's French windows to see millions of beautiful city lights. As he walked closer, mesmerised, he could barely make out the Eiffel Tower in the midnight sky.
He sat next to Ringo on the old, stiff couch, although he was too busy focusing on the news to greet his fellow bandmate.
"'Ello, Rings."
Ringo jumped, noticing his sudden company.
"Paul! Did yeh hear?"
"Hear what? Are we leavin' the hotel soon?"
"No, yeh silly git! We still got another show to play at. Anyroad, did you hear about the outbreak?"
"Outwhat?"
George walked in from the kitchen with peanut butter sandwiches in both hands.
"Zombies!", he squealed, his mouth full of food.
"What?! Is this a joke or something?" Paul asked. These blokes couldn't be serious-or sober for that matter, Paul thought to himself.
Just then, a reporter came on the news.
"There has been an outbreak of 'zombism' in a small town near the border of Laos in North-Eastern Cambodia. The culprit was discovered to be mosquitoes native to that region carrying a new strain of Malaria which thus far has a 100 percent mortality rate and kills victims in fewer than 2 days. Cambodian officials say that the outbreak has not been contained and to evacuate the country as soon as possible."
Paul called, his eyes fixed onto the television screen, “Look John, they’re evacuatin’ that whole country now.”
“Yer jokin’?”
“No, he jus' said.”
“Bloody ‘ell, it started a couple of weeks ago, didn’ it?”
A Frenchman came on the television, speaking with a heavy accent.
“Here you can see many of the locals have boarded themselves into their houses. Footage shows that the grocery markets have been completely emptied, as violence and murders have reached crisis points in the street.”
"Thatsh givin' me another reashon to hate thoshe bloody mosquitosh even more." George managed to say through the pieces of bread.
"Calm down, Geo. There aren't gonna be any mosquitos out in the middle of winter." Ringo assured.
John stormed his way to the leather ottoman and plopped down.
"If the outbreak reaches us, we're fucked!"
"I doubt it, John," said Paul. "They seem like they've gotten things under control."
"Blimey, Paul! Do yeh even know wha' yer sayin'? Of course it'll spread! Shite, they've already taken over Australia!"
Suddenly, there was a knock on the hotel room deadbolt.
"Oi, come in, Bri!"John yelled, knowing that the only people allowed within five yards of them was their manager, Brian Epstein, or the security guards. They always had to be cautious about who to trust considering how crazy their fans could be.
"Aren't you lot coming downstairs? Have a drink and mingle or something. You blokes can't hide away in here forever!"
"Awh, all right. C'mon, guys. Let's go get some birds." John replied.
So the four lads from Liverpool trudged down the grand staircase to the hotel's bar.
-----------------Okay, so this is my first fanfiction ever, so bear with me. >.< I'd like to know what you think about it and what I should add onto it. :D Thanks!