Post by cardboard winklepickers on Sept 26, 2008 5:09:33 GMT
My first, and most likely last 
Just a fun little thing to get the juices flowing, my novel's kinda taking a backseat 
Stupid writer's block, lol. So yes, this isn't really serious, I just need to kill ten minutes.
The Pumpkin
Idea from aimeeandbeatles
Summary Thinger: A girl takes a 1000-pound pumpkin to a Beatles concert. 1962.
Lucy wiped away the sweat that was rolling down her forehead and yanked the wagon’s handle again. The cart holding the giant pumpkin was pulled up one stair.
“You have to get under it, Jane!” she grunted to her friend.
“I am under it! Why can’t I have the front?”
“Because you told me to take it! Now push!”
They pulled the pumpkin up another step. “That’s great, we’ve only got…” she looked up the stairs and did a quick estimation, “…about thirty steps left.”
“What!”
“Well, John’s room is at the very top,” Lucy said quickly, straining under the weight. The pumpkin must have weighed a thousand pounds.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Jane said condescendingly, putting down her end of the wagon and resting on it, looking at Lucy over the top. “I thought we were taking the pumpkin to George’s room.”
“No, no, we decided on John, remember? He’ll appreciate our genius humor.”
“What’s so genius about a giant pumpkin, again?” Jane asked. Lucy sighed and picked up the wagon handle again. She couldn’t even remember why they’d settled on a pumpkin. “An apple would have been a heck of a lot less work.”
“You realize we’re already up here, right?” Lucy said loudly. “Now help me!”
She could hear the Beatles playing on the stage below and wished she was down there enjoying the music.
“Don’t have to be so cranky about it,” muttered Jane, and picked up the bottom of the wagon again. But her perspiring hands slipped, and she screamed as the pumpkin bounced off the wagon. She leapt out of the way of the huge orange vegetable. Or fruit.
“Get it!” Lucy shouted, bounding after it. Jane grabbed the back of the empty wagon and dragged it with her, ditching it when she reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Where’s it going?” she shouted, running after Lucy and the pumpkin.
“It think it’s going–” They stopped dead when they passed through a curtain and found themselves in the middle of a stage.
The stage.
“-To the stage.” Lucy finished.
The music had stopped and everyone was staring at the gigantic orange vegetable that had settled between John Lennon and Paul McCartney. Even the crowds of fans had stopped screaming.
“Hey, it’s a pumpkin,” said Ringo Starr, poking it with a drumstick. Jane squeaked.
“Yeah, but what’s it doing on stage?” Paul asked, still in front of the microphone. Lucy gulped to keep from fainting as John turned back and spotted her and Jane.
“Hey, they’re on stage as well!” he noted.
“And they’re better than pumpkins,” George added. John had a wicked grin on his face. “Are they allowed to be up here?”
“I dunno. Are you allowed to be up here?” asked Paul.
Lucy was frozen in her shoes. Jane, the braver one, shouted, “We’re your … back-up singers!”
“That doesn’t sound right,” said Ringo. Jane squeaked again.
“Ah, don’t ruin it, Ringo,” John laughed. “We’ve got some pretty girls to come sing with us, isn’t that right, Paul?”
“I’ll take the blonde one,” Paul quipped.
“We’re both blonde,” Lucy said, swallowing her fear.
“Well, so you are. Guess you’re both mine, then.”
None of them could manage to keep the grins off their faces. They assumed the Beatles must have been taking the mickey out of them, but the girls jumped at the opportunity anyway.
“So what’s the pumpkin for?” George asked, as the two girls joined the boys at the front.
“Well, it was supposed to be a pie, but the oven broke when we stuffed it in,” Jane grinned without a blush.
“Well, that’s great,” chuckled Paul.
“We’d have preferred the pie,” added John, still grinning and pushing the massive pumpkin back with his foot to give them more room.
“How about a Little Richard one this time, guys?” shouted Paul, and the crowd took up its screaming again. “Long Tall Sally!”
So they all had a pretty killer, if not unorthodox, jam session.
The end.
Just a fun little thing to get the juices flowing, my novel's kinda taking a backseat 
Stupid writer's block, lol. So yes, this isn't really serious, I just need to kill ten minutes.The Pumpkin
Idea from aimeeandbeatles
Summary Thinger: A girl takes a 1000-pound pumpkin to a Beatles concert. 1962.
Lucy wiped away the sweat that was rolling down her forehead and yanked the wagon’s handle again. The cart holding the giant pumpkin was pulled up one stair.
“You have to get under it, Jane!” she grunted to her friend.
“I am under it! Why can’t I have the front?”
“Because you told me to take it! Now push!”
They pulled the pumpkin up another step. “That’s great, we’ve only got…” she looked up the stairs and did a quick estimation, “…about thirty steps left.”
“What!”
“Well, John’s room is at the very top,” Lucy said quickly, straining under the weight. The pumpkin must have weighed a thousand pounds.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Jane said condescendingly, putting down her end of the wagon and resting on it, looking at Lucy over the top. “I thought we were taking the pumpkin to George’s room.”
“No, no, we decided on John, remember? He’ll appreciate our genius humor.”
“What’s so genius about a giant pumpkin, again?” Jane asked. Lucy sighed and picked up the wagon handle again. She couldn’t even remember why they’d settled on a pumpkin. “An apple would have been a heck of a lot less work.”
“You realize we’re already up here, right?” Lucy said loudly. “Now help me!”
She could hear the Beatles playing on the stage below and wished she was down there enjoying the music.
“Don’t have to be so cranky about it,” muttered Jane, and picked up the bottom of the wagon again. But her perspiring hands slipped, and she screamed as the pumpkin bounced off the wagon. She leapt out of the way of the huge orange vegetable. Or fruit.
“Get it!” Lucy shouted, bounding after it. Jane grabbed the back of the empty wagon and dragged it with her, ditching it when she reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Where’s it going?” she shouted, running after Lucy and the pumpkin.
“It think it’s going–” They stopped dead when they passed through a curtain and found themselves in the middle of a stage.
The stage.
“-To the stage.” Lucy finished.
The music had stopped and everyone was staring at the gigantic orange vegetable that had settled between John Lennon and Paul McCartney. Even the crowds of fans had stopped screaming.
“Hey, it’s a pumpkin,” said Ringo Starr, poking it with a drumstick. Jane squeaked.
“Yeah, but what’s it doing on stage?” Paul asked, still in front of the microphone. Lucy gulped to keep from fainting as John turned back and spotted her and Jane.
“Hey, they’re on stage as well!” he noted.
“And they’re better than pumpkins,” George added. John had a wicked grin on his face. “Are they allowed to be up here?”
“I dunno. Are you allowed to be up here?” asked Paul.
Lucy was frozen in her shoes. Jane, the braver one, shouted, “We’re your … back-up singers!”
“That doesn’t sound right,” said Ringo. Jane squeaked again.
“Ah, don’t ruin it, Ringo,” John laughed. “We’ve got some pretty girls to come sing with us, isn’t that right, Paul?”
“I’ll take the blonde one,” Paul quipped.
“We’re both blonde,” Lucy said, swallowing her fear.
“Well, so you are. Guess you’re both mine, then.”
None of them could manage to keep the grins off their faces. They assumed the Beatles must have been taking the mickey out of them, but the girls jumped at the opportunity anyway.
“So what’s the pumpkin for?” George asked, as the two girls joined the boys at the front.
“Well, it was supposed to be a pie, but the oven broke when we stuffed it in,” Jane grinned without a blush.
“Well, that’s great,” chuckled Paul.
“We’d have preferred the pie,” added John, still grinning and pushing the massive pumpkin back with his foot to give them more room.
“How about a Little Richard one this time, guys?” shouted Paul, and the crowd took up its screaming again. “Long Tall Sally!”
So they all had a pretty killer, if not unorthodox, jam session.
The end.
