Yes It Is Stories: BFF
Yes It Is Stories
Title: BFF
Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovely_rita_mm
Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue
Rating: R for language, sex, & implied drug use.
Disclaimer: We don’t own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and much to the real Maggie’s disappointment, is a complete work of fiction.
Wonderful readers,
We know that we are lucky to have any fans left at all since we have taken so long on updates! Sadly, our real lives keep us so very busy... We wish we could focus more on our writing!
But for those of you who have stuck with us, here's another story for you. :)
So, dearest readers, turn off your mind, relax and join Maggie Sue on another one of her Beatle adventures.....
Previous updates located HERE!
BFF
Right before the Candlestick Park concert in San Francisco, 1966
As Maggie lay on the hard concrete of the hotel room’s balcony, her long dark hair splayed out around her head like a fan, she stared up into the dark San Francisco night sky and marveled at it all.
The cosmos, science, God, time travel, logic, family, friendship, marriage, music, The Beatles, and now, the man who was lying on the balcony next to her. Their feet pointed in opposite directions, but their heads were close together, which allowed his longish dark brown hair to mix with hers.
It was quiet, and Maggie liked that. She knew he liked it too. They’d been together like this, quietly staring up at the stars, for three quarters of an hour, and it was nice. It was comfortable. It wasn’t forced. It was the type of thing that only people who were very close could do, and Maggie smiled to herself when she realized, that despite the craziness of it all, the astronomical chances against it all, this mop-topped young man was very dear to her. Just as dear to her as she was to him.
He was her best friend, and possibly her closest confidant, and she was pretty sure that she was the same for him.
Maggie lifted her right hand to look at her engagement ring, marveling at the beauty and clarity of the red ruby up against the velvet black night sky. It put her in mind of Antares, the eye of Scorpio, or the red giant star, Betelgeuse, which burned steadily as Orion’s shoulder.
A distinct Liverpudlian accent interrupted her musings and asked, “What would you say if I told you I loved you?”
Maggie laughed at him. “I’d say you were stoned. Speaking of, I’m not crazy about the second-hand smoke I’m getting over here. I think the wind just shifted.” She made a move to get up.
Chuckling, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her down so that her hand was resting on his chest. He made a valiant effort to fan the smoke away from her, spreading its wispy white essence into the night. Seeing his impish grin, Maggie relaxed, and knew that he was just teasing her. “I do love you, you know. But like a sister,” he said.
Maggie smiled at him. “I know, and I love you too. Like a brother. A brother I never had. An annoying, yet loveable brother.”
This amused him to no end. He laughed so hard that he had to sit up to catch his breath. She rolled her eyes and wondered how Help! had gotten made at all, having now seen first-hand the effect the drug had on the boys. He draped a friendly arm over her shoulder, and she gave in and snuggled next to him to watch the stars again.
“But you are very pretty you know,” he said grinning as he pressed a kiss into the top of her head.
“Stop trying to seduce me,” Maggie teased back, “It feels like incest.”
“What? Can't a man say a woman is attractive without it being a come-on?” Maggie gave him a pointed look, causing him to laugh again. “All right, all right. Let's just say, just for the sake of argument, that it was a come-on. What do you want me to do about it? I take it back, okay? I take it back.” He grinned down at her.
“You can't take it back.” Maggie retorted, pulling away and mock glaring at him, hands on her hips.
“Why not?”
“Because it's already out there,” Maggie explained, feigning exasperation and waving her hands in the air to illustrate her point.
He let a worried look crossed his face and he started wringing his hands together in mock apology. “Oh, jeez. What are we supposed to do? Call the cops? It's already out there!” he teased, yelling the last bit out into the night sky.
At this point Maggie was giggling too. Perhaps it was a side effect of the pot smoke. She had given up trying to avoid being around it - that was nearly impossible. The Beatles loved the stuff and none of them saw the harm in having a joint now and then. And at parties - well, at parties, she was lucky if that’s all they indulged in. She still didn’t approve, but she’d had to unbend a bit. She sometimes felt bad being such a stick in the mud where drugs were concerned. But they just made her uncomfortable. It was just how she was raised. But the Beatles were grown men (though you wouldn’t know it by their antics), and as long as they stayed away from the harder stuff, she would deal with it, much as she hated it. Her thoughts made her frown unintentionally.
Sensing a shift in her mood, he placed a loving arm around her and drew her closer to him, trying to offer comfort. “Don’t worry, Maggie, I was only joking, we are just friends. You know that, right?”
Maggie instantly felt bad for bringing the mood down.
She never got to see him anymore, what with all the touring the Beatles were doing, and she hardly ever got any time alone with him. Now, here she was, ruining what few moments they had together.
She had to lighten the mood.
Putting another mockingly serious look on her face, she held his hand very tenderly, and gravely said, “You realize, of course, that we could never be friends.”
He raised an eyebrow at that, “Why not?”
Maggie struggled to keep a straight face. “What I'm saying is - and this is not a come-on in any way, shape, or form - is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.”
He looked at her, blinking slowly as if trying to find the truth in this, before shaking his head once. “That's not true. I have a number of women friends and there is no sex involved,” he retorted.
Maggie snorted and raised an eyebrow back at him, “No, you don't.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don't.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You only think you do.”
Exasperated, he said, “You’re saying I'm having sex with these women without my knowledge?”
“No,” Maggie clarified, “what I'm saying is they all want to have sex with you. You’re a Beatle, remember? And usually you oblige them, which is very naughty since you are a married man!”
He rolled his eyes and groaned, “Not this again.”
“Yes, this again, George. I don’t think it’s very nice of you to do this to Pattie.” Maggie said, any tone of playfulness now gone from her voice. She dropped his hand, scooting away from him slightly. This was a conversation they had had over and over again and it never seemed to change.
“No one is married on tour, Maggie,” George said, exasperated, and he proceeded to get up and lean against the railing. “You used to be fun,” he muttered, staring at the Golden Gate Bridge all lit up in the distance. Clearly he was losing his buzz.
Maggie frowned at that. Like the drug use, the flagrant cheating on the wives by George and Ringo bothered her too. But it was like talking to a brick wall sometimes. George was stubborn. George was, well, George. He had his neuroses just like the rest of them, and they were part of what made Maggie adore him so much.
And he was so fragile at times, always wondering if he was good enough. He was a Beatle for goodness sake, and he wasn’t sure if he was good enough! Of course it didn’t help that he was always comparing himself to John and Paul.
She hated to see him mopey like this, even if she knew he deserved it.
Sighing to herself she walked over to the railing and leaned against it too, casually bumping his arm with hers.
He ignored her.
Rolling her eyes, she bumped him again.
He pointedly stared straight ahead, but she could see the corners of his mouth twitching.
Steeling herself, Maggie shoved herself into him as hard as she could, knocking them both on the floor, giggling again.
“So, still friends?” she managed to get out in-between giggles.
“No.”
“Wha-“
“Because no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her,” he said solemnly, trying to stifle his own giggles.
“So, you're saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds unattractive?”
“No, you pretty much want to nail 'em too.”
“What if they don't want to have sex with you?”
George looked at Maggie and raised an eyebrow as if to question her last statement. “Oh, right, Beatle. How could I forget?” Maggie muttered, rolling her eyes.
“Besides,” George said, “you’re the one who said men and women can’t be friends in the first place, because the sex thing is already out there, so the friendship is ultimately doomed, and that is the end of the story.”
“I NEVER SAID THAT!” Maggie said feigning indignance.
“Wha- wait, you just said it!”
“When?”
“Before…”
It was Maggie’s turn to raise an eyebrow at him. “See, I told you smoking that stuff was bad for you. Look what it’s done to your memory.”
George looked at his joint horrified, and quickly flicked it over the railing into the night sky, only to turn and find Maggie grinning at him.
“Look, Mags, I’ve already given up cigarettes for you - you, with your scary knowledge of the future. You’ve got to leave me some vices!”
“Fine, fine,” she said, ducking as he made a grab for her. “Now where were we? Oh, yes, that's right, men and women can't be friends. Unless both of them are involved with other people, then they can... This is an amendment to the earlier rule. If the two people are in relationships, the pressure of possible involvement is lifted... That doesn't work either, because what happens then is, the person you're involved with can't understand why you need to be friends with the person you're just friends with. Like it means something is missing from the relationship and why do you have to go outside to get it? And when you say, ‘No, no, no, no, it's not true, nothing is missing from the relationship,’ the person you're involved with then accuses you of being secretly attracted to the person you're just friends with, which you probably are. I mean, come on, who the hell are we kidding, let's face it.”
George just gaped at her.
She continued, “Added to the fact that, clearly, being in a relationship isn’t enough to stop you sleeping around. Added to the fact that you are a Beatle. Which brings us back to the earlier rule before the amendment, which is men and women can't be friends. Or is it that Beatles and women can’t be friends?”
George couldn’t help laughing at that. “Well, I guess we're not going to be friends then,” he said teasingly.
“Guess not. It’s a shame, because you were my favorite Beatle,” she said, shaking her head sorrowfully. Maggie then looked at him curiously, watching as a lopsided grin appeared across his face. He snaked his arms around her and pulled her into a tight embrace. “That’s a lie and you and I both know it. But thank you for the attempted ego boost anyway,” he whispered in her ear.
Maggie smiled at this, and just hugged him back tighter. This was nice. A best friend in this timeline, who was, no less, a Beatle! Who would have thought it possible? Despite all the teasing and jokes, Maggie knew they were dear friends. It was very freeing. She could say anything to him. It was different. It was a whole new perspective. She got the man’s point of view. And the great thing was she didn’t have to worry because she knew he wasn’t always thinking about how to get her into bed.
She could just be herself.
No pressure, no rabid Beatle fans trying to assassinate her for stealing away their John, no awkward ex-wife/soon to be step-son relationship, no love/hate relationship with Paul, just a friend who appreciated her opinion and loved and accepted her, even when she nagged him about his bad habits. Not Beatle George, just George. Her George, in a way.
Maggie sighed pleasurably at this thought. Life was good.
Their idyllic embrace was interrupted suddenly by the sound of a throat clearing. “Excuse me, Mr. Harrison, but have seen seen my fiance?”
John stood in the doorway of the balcony, taking in the scene before him. With a raised eyebrow he looked at George and Maggie, still caught in an embrace.
“Ah, there she is.” John remarked dryly, “Maggie, are you trying to get into Georgie’s pants again? Isn’t one Beatle enough for you? Or are you trying to collect the whole set?” he teased. “Ring’s still around somewhere, shall I get him? You won’t want Paulie, though. I’ve had him and he’s no good.” John finished the last with a wink and opened his arms to Maggie in a hug.
Quickly disengaging herself from George’s lanky limbs, she hurled herself at John, and quickly silenced him with a long kiss hello.
“Ick. Get a room you two!” George made gagging sounds and pantomimed throwing up.
“We have one,” John said around Maggie’s attacking lips. “You’re in it! Now bugger off, son!” And with that, John picked Maggie up, carried her back into the room, and dropped her on the bed. She watched, amused, as John swiftly escorted George out the door and then closed it behind him before turning back to face her a wicked grin spreading across his face.
George stood outside their room for a minute, staring at the closed door. “Disgusting display is what that was.” George shook his head before he strolled back towards the room he was sharing with Ringo. Maybe Ringo would still be awake and up for pulling a few birds from the hotel bar.
But still, George smiled and chuckled to himself, a woman friend. Who would have thought it possible? Despite all the teasing and jokes, George knew they were dear friends. It was very freeing. He could say anything to her. It was different. It was a whole new perspective. He got the woman's point of view. And the great thing was he didn’t have to lie because he wasn’t always thinking about how to get her into bed.
He could just be himself.
No pressure, no Lennon/McCartney to compete with for album space, no Paul telling him how to play his guitar, just a friend who appreciated his music and loved and accepted him. Not Beatle George, just George. And God help John if he ever hurt her.
George entered his room to find a party already in full swing. He nodded at Ringo, who was telling jokes to a redhead and scanned the room, checking out his own prospects. A pretty blonde bird in the corner caught his eye, and he grinned back and went over to join her, pushing the thought of Maggie’s disapproval towards the back of his mind. No one is married on tour, he reminded himself firmly. No one.
****************************
Authors' Note: Maggie Sue and George Harrison are BFF! And John is totally NOT JELLUS!!! Isn't this the bestest Mary Sue Fanfic ever!???!!!! Absolutely believable. Just you wait, pretty soon Maggie Sue will be running Apple Corps!
And yes, this CLEARLY was a total homage to the film "When Harry met Sally" which also happens to be one of the REAL Maggie's favorite movies!
SO, if we are able to get another story out next week, what will it be??? *rubs hands gleefully together* Just you wait and see!!!
As always, we love your comments.... so please let us know if we are on the right track! :)
Continue to "Mrs. Lennon"
Want your own bound and printed copy of Yes It Is (and associated short stories) and Tomorrow Never Knows? You can get them from Lulu.com. You can also download a .pdf from Lulu for FREE!!
http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/lovely_rita_mm
Title: BFF
Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovely_rita_mm
Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue
Rating: R for language, sex, & implied drug use.
Disclaimer: We don’t own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and much to the real Maggie’s disappointment, is a complete work of fiction.
Wonderful readers,
We know that we are lucky to have any fans left at all since we have taken so long on updates! Sadly, our real lives keep us so very busy... We wish we could focus more on our writing!
But for those of you who have stuck with us, here's another story for you. :)
So, dearest readers, turn off your mind, relax and join Maggie Sue on another one of her Beatle adventures.....
Previous updates located HERE!
BFF
Right before the Candlestick Park concert in San Francisco, 1966
As Maggie lay on the hard concrete of the hotel room’s balcony, her long dark hair splayed out around her head like a fan, she stared up into the dark San Francisco night sky and marveled at it all.
The cosmos, science, God, time travel, logic, family, friendship, marriage, music, The Beatles, and now, the man who was lying on the balcony next to her. Their feet pointed in opposite directions, but their heads were close together, which allowed his longish dark brown hair to mix with hers.
It was quiet, and Maggie liked that. She knew he liked it too. They’d been together like this, quietly staring up at the stars, for three quarters of an hour, and it was nice. It was comfortable. It wasn’t forced. It was the type of thing that only people who were very close could do, and Maggie smiled to herself when she realized, that despite the craziness of it all, the astronomical chances against it all, this mop-topped young man was very dear to her. Just as dear to her as she was to him.
He was her best friend, and possibly her closest confidant, and she was pretty sure that she was the same for him.
Maggie lifted her right hand to look at her engagement ring, marveling at the beauty and clarity of the red ruby up against the velvet black night sky. It put her in mind of Antares, the eye of Scorpio, or the red giant star, Betelgeuse, which burned steadily as Orion’s shoulder.
A distinct Liverpudlian accent interrupted her musings and asked, “What would you say if I told you I loved you?”
Maggie laughed at him. “I’d say you were stoned. Speaking of, I’m not crazy about the second-hand smoke I’m getting over here. I think the wind just shifted.” She made a move to get up.
Chuckling, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her down so that her hand was resting on his chest. He made a valiant effort to fan the smoke away from her, spreading its wispy white essence into the night. Seeing his impish grin, Maggie relaxed, and knew that he was just teasing her. “I do love you, you know. But like a sister,” he said.
Maggie smiled at him. “I know, and I love you too. Like a brother. A brother I never had. An annoying, yet loveable brother.”
This amused him to no end. He laughed so hard that he had to sit up to catch his breath. She rolled her eyes and wondered how Help! had gotten made at all, having now seen first-hand the effect the drug had on the boys. He draped a friendly arm over her shoulder, and she gave in and snuggled next to him to watch the stars again.
“But you are very pretty you know,” he said grinning as he pressed a kiss into the top of her head.
“Stop trying to seduce me,” Maggie teased back, “It feels like incest.”
“What? Can't a man say a woman is attractive without it being a come-on?” Maggie gave him a pointed look, causing him to laugh again. “All right, all right. Let's just say, just for the sake of argument, that it was a come-on. What do you want me to do about it? I take it back, okay? I take it back.” He grinned down at her.
“You can't take it back.” Maggie retorted, pulling away and mock glaring at him, hands on her hips.
“Why not?”
“Because it's already out there,” Maggie explained, feigning exasperation and waving her hands in the air to illustrate her point.
He let a worried look crossed his face and he started wringing his hands together in mock apology. “Oh, jeez. What are we supposed to do? Call the cops? It's already out there!” he teased, yelling the last bit out into the night sky.
At this point Maggie was giggling too. Perhaps it was a side effect of the pot smoke. She had given up trying to avoid being around it - that was nearly impossible. The Beatles loved the stuff and none of them saw the harm in having a joint now and then. And at parties - well, at parties, she was lucky if that’s all they indulged in. She still didn’t approve, but she’d had to unbend a bit. She sometimes felt bad being such a stick in the mud where drugs were concerned. But they just made her uncomfortable. It was just how she was raised. But the Beatles were grown men (though you wouldn’t know it by their antics), and as long as they stayed away from the harder stuff, she would deal with it, much as she hated it. Her thoughts made her frown unintentionally.
Sensing a shift in her mood, he placed a loving arm around her and drew her closer to him, trying to offer comfort. “Don’t worry, Maggie, I was only joking, we are just friends. You know that, right?”
Maggie instantly felt bad for bringing the mood down.
She never got to see him anymore, what with all the touring the Beatles were doing, and she hardly ever got any time alone with him. Now, here she was, ruining what few moments they had together.
She had to lighten the mood.
Putting another mockingly serious look on her face, she held his hand very tenderly, and gravely said, “You realize, of course, that we could never be friends.”
He raised an eyebrow at that, “Why not?”
Maggie struggled to keep a straight face. “What I'm saying is - and this is not a come-on in any way, shape, or form - is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.”
He looked at her, blinking slowly as if trying to find the truth in this, before shaking his head once. “That's not true. I have a number of women friends and there is no sex involved,” he retorted.
Maggie snorted and raised an eyebrow back at him, “No, you don't.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don't.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You only think you do.”
Exasperated, he said, “You’re saying I'm having sex with these women without my knowledge?”
“No,” Maggie clarified, “what I'm saying is they all want to have sex with you. You’re a Beatle, remember? And usually you oblige them, which is very naughty since you are a married man!”
He rolled his eyes and groaned, “Not this again.”
“Yes, this again, George. I don’t think it’s very nice of you to do this to Pattie.” Maggie said, any tone of playfulness now gone from her voice. She dropped his hand, scooting away from him slightly. This was a conversation they had had over and over again and it never seemed to change.
“No one is married on tour, Maggie,” George said, exasperated, and he proceeded to get up and lean against the railing. “You used to be fun,” he muttered, staring at the Golden Gate Bridge all lit up in the distance. Clearly he was losing his buzz.
Maggie frowned at that. Like the drug use, the flagrant cheating on the wives by George and Ringo bothered her too. But it was like talking to a brick wall sometimes. George was stubborn. George was, well, George. He had his neuroses just like the rest of them, and they were part of what made Maggie adore him so much.
And he was so fragile at times, always wondering if he was good enough. He was a Beatle for goodness sake, and he wasn’t sure if he was good enough! Of course it didn’t help that he was always comparing himself to John and Paul.
She hated to see him mopey like this, even if she knew he deserved it.
Sighing to herself she walked over to the railing and leaned against it too, casually bumping his arm with hers.
He ignored her.
Rolling her eyes, she bumped him again.
He pointedly stared straight ahead, but she could see the corners of his mouth twitching.
Steeling herself, Maggie shoved herself into him as hard as she could, knocking them both on the floor, giggling again.
“So, still friends?” she managed to get out in-between giggles.
“No.”
“Wha-“
“Because no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her,” he said solemnly, trying to stifle his own giggles.
“So, you're saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds unattractive?”
“No, you pretty much want to nail 'em too.”
“What if they don't want to have sex with you?”
George looked at Maggie and raised an eyebrow as if to question her last statement. “Oh, right, Beatle. How could I forget?” Maggie muttered, rolling her eyes.
“Besides,” George said, “you’re the one who said men and women can’t be friends in the first place, because the sex thing is already out there, so the friendship is ultimately doomed, and that is the end of the story.”
“I NEVER SAID THAT!” Maggie said feigning indignance.
“Wha- wait, you just said it!”
“When?”
“Before…”
It was Maggie’s turn to raise an eyebrow at him. “See, I told you smoking that stuff was bad for you. Look what it’s done to your memory.”
George looked at his joint horrified, and quickly flicked it over the railing into the night sky, only to turn and find Maggie grinning at him.
“Look, Mags, I’ve already given up cigarettes for you - you, with your scary knowledge of the future. You’ve got to leave me some vices!”
“Fine, fine,” she said, ducking as he made a grab for her. “Now where were we? Oh, yes, that's right, men and women can't be friends. Unless both of them are involved with other people, then they can... This is an amendment to the earlier rule. If the two people are in relationships, the pressure of possible involvement is lifted... That doesn't work either, because what happens then is, the person you're involved with can't understand why you need to be friends with the person you're just friends with. Like it means something is missing from the relationship and why do you have to go outside to get it? And when you say, ‘No, no, no, no, it's not true, nothing is missing from the relationship,’ the person you're involved with then accuses you of being secretly attracted to the person you're just friends with, which you probably are. I mean, come on, who the hell are we kidding, let's face it.”
George just gaped at her.
She continued, “Added to the fact that, clearly, being in a relationship isn’t enough to stop you sleeping around. Added to the fact that you are a Beatle. Which brings us back to the earlier rule before the amendment, which is men and women can't be friends. Or is it that Beatles and women can’t be friends?”
George couldn’t help laughing at that. “Well, I guess we're not going to be friends then,” he said teasingly.
“Guess not. It’s a shame, because you were my favorite Beatle,” she said, shaking her head sorrowfully. Maggie then looked at him curiously, watching as a lopsided grin appeared across his face. He snaked his arms around her and pulled her into a tight embrace. “That’s a lie and you and I both know it. But thank you for the attempted ego boost anyway,” he whispered in her ear.
Maggie smiled at this, and just hugged him back tighter. This was nice. A best friend in this timeline, who was, no less, a Beatle! Who would have thought it possible? Despite all the teasing and jokes, Maggie knew they were dear friends. It was very freeing. She could say anything to him. It was different. It was a whole new perspective. She got the man’s point of view. And the great thing was she didn’t have to worry because she knew he wasn’t always thinking about how to get her into bed.
She could just be herself.
No pressure, no rabid Beatle fans trying to assassinate her for stealing away their John, no awkward ex-wife/soon to be step-son relationship, no love/hate relationship with Paul, just a friend who appreciated her opinion and loved and accepted her, even when she nagged him about his bad habits. Not Beatle George, just George. Her George, in a way.
Maggie sighed pleasurably at this thought. Life was good.
Their idyllic embrace was interrupted suddenly by the sound of a throat clearing. “Excuse me, Mr. Harrison, but have seen seen my fiance?”
John stood in the doorway of the balcony, taking in the scene before him. With a raised eyebrow he looked at George and Maggie, still caught in an embrace.
“Ah, there she is.” John remarked dryly, “Maggie, are you trying to get into Georgie’s pants again? Isn’t one Beatle enough for you? Or are you trying to collect the whole set?” he teased. “Ring’s still around somewhere, shall I get him? You won’t want Paulie, though. I’ve had him and he’s no good.” John finished the last with a wink and opened his arms to Maggie in a hug.
Quickly disengaging herself from George’s lanky limbs, she hurled herself at John, and quickly silenced him with a long kiss hello.
“Ick. Get a room you two!” George made gagging sounds and pantomimed throwing up.
“We have one,” John said around Maggie’s attacking lips. “You’re in it! Now bugger off, son!” And with that, John picked Maggie up, carried her back into the room, and dropped her on the bed. She watched, amused, as John swiftly escorted George out the door and then closed it behind him before turning back to face her a wicked grin spreading across his face.
George stood outside their room for a minute, staring at the closed door. “Disgusting display is what that was.” George shook his head before he strolled back towards the room he was sharing with Ringo. Maybe Ringo would still be awake and up for pulling a few birds from the hotel bar.
But still, George smiled and chuckled to himself, a woman friend. Who would have thought it possible? Despite all the teasing and jokes, George knew they were dear friends. It was very freeing. He could say anything to her. It was different. It was a whole new perspective. He got the woman's point of view. And the great thing was he didn’t have to lie because he wasn’t always thinking about how to get her into bed.
He could just be himself.
No pressure, no Lennon/McCartney to compete with for album space, no Paul telling him how to play his guitar, just a friend who appreciated his music and loved and accepted him. Not Beatle George, just George. And God help John if he ever hurt her.
George entered his room to find a party already in full swing. He nodded at Ringo, who was telling jokes to a redhead and scanned the room, checking out his own prospects. A pretty blonde bird in the corner caught his eye, and he grinned back and went over to join her, pushing the thought of Maggie’s disapproval towards the back of his mind. No one is married on tour, he reminded himself firmly. No one.
****************************
Authors' Note: Maggie Sue and George Harrison are BFF! And John is totally NOT JELLUS!!! Isn't this the bestest Mary Sue Fanfic ever!???!!!! Absolutely believable. Just you wait, pretty soon Maggie Sue will be running Apple Corps!
And yes, this CLEARLY was a total homage to the film "When Harry met Sally" which also happens to be one of the REAL Maggie's favorite movies!
SO, if we are able to get another story out next week, what will it be??? *rubs hands gleefully together* Just you wait and see!!!
As always, we love your comments.... so please let us know if we are on the right track! :)
Continue to "Mrs. Lennon"
Want your own bound and printed copy of Yes It Is (and associated short stories) and Tomorrow Never Knows? You can get them from Lulu.com. You can also download a .pdf from Lulu for FREE!!
http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/lovely_rita_mm