It was an unusual group that came walking into the restaurant (a nice restaurant, but not the same one the Beatles had taken their unfortunate first girlfriends to) a couple of hours later: the four girls, still smelling of blood and looking like they’d just won a fight; the four Beatles, rumpled and in need of a change of clothes and perhaps a shave, though still as gorgeous as ever; and one very large dog, who stuck close to Jenna but would periodically pad over to Ringo and lick his hand.
“We don’t allow perros in...” the waiter started to say, but then stopped when he saw the Beatles....

Finding the Beatles turned out to be easier dicho than done.
“What is this place?” gasped Emma, as the four girls and one dog stepped out the kitchen’s other entrance into what they had expected to be another room o a hallway.
Instead, the el espacio was filled with any number of doorways and paths, each one twisting off in a different direction. Some of these hallways separated later on into other hallways, and most of them had multiple doors in the sides. The girls hadn’t realized how mazelike the house was before, because the front entrance led pretty straightforwardly into the kitchen....

The hours wore on for the Beatles, and there was no way of telling how much time had passed in their little prison. It could have been the siguiente morning, o afternoon, o the siguiente evening. But as the Beatles hadn’t slept at all last night, and all four were beginning to feel their eyelids getting heavy, they decided it might as well be night. There was no other way to measure time in here then por sleeps. But none of them wanted to drift off, not when they had so little time left.
Paul still insisted they would find a way out of here. “Someone will find us. o we’ll find a way out we haven’t...

It was cold in the gloomy basement, and dark. And the Beatles were all so hungry, and thirsty, and bored. There was absolutely nothing in their little corner, save for the dripping end of a pipe that could prolong their lives a little bit, leaking a tiny amount of water into their prison. It wasn’t enough to satisfy any of them, though. And sooner o later, they were going to need food. And while there might be an accidental fuente of water in here, there was no way to get food.
How could they have been so wrong about their girlfriends? Now that the boys looked back on it, they could think...

“Brilliant, Susan!” cried Jenna, as the three girls and one dog got off the bus, just a little ways from the best hotel in the city. “How did tu know to come here?”
Susan blushed. “I sort of – hitched a ride with the Beatles when they came here. It was the best way to get to meet them. Only it didn’t work,” she added sadly. “Paul didn't – he didn't talk to me – but it wasn't his fault! I sort of – forget myself around him,” she admitted, brown-haired head downcast.
“Did tu try escritura Paul a letter?” Emma interjected here. “I don’t think tu need to tell him...

Emma leaned out over the airstrip fence, peering anxiously at the runway. The Beatles were supposed to be leaving town today, but she hadn’t seen any sign of them. It wasn't the first time they hadn't appeared when they were supposed to on this tour, either. The Beatles had never shown up to their fans' meet-and-greet the night before. Emma and the other fans had waited for hours, finally dissolving into despair when it became clear that the Beatles weren’t coming. Some girls had cried, and others had screamed their disapproval, and others had tried to push their way adelante, hacia adelante to see if the...

The Beatles stopped in the doorway, a little surprised, but not very. Girls had gotten past security to see them before. Just this afternoon they had found a girl in their car boot, after all.
This girl, at least, wasn’t screaming, but looked at them with a pretty smile. Her fair-skinned face was made up like an actress’s and her shiny black hair fell to her shoulders before coming back up in a flip, held back por a red headband. She had on a red-and-blue dress that showed off her slender figure beautifully.
“There tu are,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for you.” She spoke as though...

“Nice girls, these fans of ours,” dicho Paul. “But...”
“Good of them to mostrar us they care and all,” Ringo agreed. “But...”
“And they buy all our records,” George reminded them. “We’d be in trouble without them. But sometimes I think they’re going to wind up smothering us if they keep this up.”
As one, the four boys nodded.
They were lounging around their hotel room, their suit jackets and ties hung up on the backs of chairs and light fixtures and similar, and the Beatles themselves were reclining on the sofá and the rug and the bench for the paino that came with their...