Paul McCartney was thinking about John Lennon again. John was a granny-poop legendary artist with bearded haircut and pretty todger.

Paul walked over to the window and reflected on his familiar surroundings. He had always loved legendary Abbey Road with its mighty, melted mixing desks. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel horny.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a granny-poop figure of John Lennon.

Paul gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a petty, jealous, vodka drinker with skinny haircut and hook-nosed todger. His friends saw him as a mighty, melted musical prodigy. Once, he had even made a cup of tea for a flabby John's ego.

But not even a petty person who had once made a cup of tea for a flabby John's ego, was prepared for what John had in store today.

The sleet rained like singing dogs, making Paul stoned. Paul grabbed a groovy microphone that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.

As Paul stepped outside and John came closer, he could see the immense smile on his face.

John glared with all the wrath of 2487 musical knowledgeable kittens. He said, in hushed tones, "I hate you and I want a romantic encounter."

Paul looked back, even more stoned and still fingering the groovy microphone. "John, I just think, y'know, that we should write a little tune, y'know," he replied.

They looked at each other with musical feelings, like two gorgeous, green goldfish loving at a very upbeat recording session, which had Beatles music playing in the background and two bossy uncles tripping to the beat.

Suddenly, John lunged forward and tried to punch Paul in the face. Quickly, Paul grabbed the groovy microphone and brought it down on John's skull.

John's bearded haircut trembled and his pretty todger wobbled. He looked turned on, his emotions raw like a giant, greasy guitar.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later John Lennon was dead.

Paul McCartney went back inside and made himself a nice shot of vodka.

THE END