The only place to sit in the room was the bed. Paul sat on one end, and Ellen sat on the other. They looked at each other from time to time, shy and nervous.
 "We could always go back down and dance some more," Ellen blurted out.
 "We could," Paul agreed.
 But they didn't get up.
 "Sox" Paul cleared his throat. "Uhxread any good books lately?"
 "Just turn out the light and get to it!" Bad Paul shouted.
 "Where on earth did you get such a crazy idea?" Good Paul wanted to know.
 "Come on boy! She's there! She's ready! At least," Bad Paul stopped, "I think she is."
 "Shut up, twit," Good Paul said, feeling a little guilty at his choice of language.
 "You said a bad word! You said a bad word!" Bad Paul said.
 "Straighten this mess out or I'll strangle you!" Paul cried.
 "Or you'll what?!?" Ellen asked.
 "Uhx" Paul looked around. "Nothing. I was talking to my consciences."
 "Okay," Ellen said warily. "You were talking to your consciences." He's a complete loony, she thought. I love him! I love him!
 "Paulie," Ellen began, her voice changing to a more smooth tone, "when do they expect you back?"
 "Uhx" Paul wrung his hands. "No set time, really. It doesn't matter, as long as I'm alive."
 "Thenx" Ellen came a bit closer. "What do you say to us slipping off for a while?"
 "Slipping off? Where?" Paul asked, a sudden interest. "Slipping off" with a girl was one of his favorite pastimes.
 "I know a very nice hidden place in the park," Ellen said. "If you don't mind sleeping under the stars."
 "But isn't it snowing?" Paul asked.
 "Sleeping in a cave," Ellen replied. "It's a little cave that only a few people know about. We can gather up some stuff and hole up there for a while."
 "You and your naturalistic ways," Paul said with a grin. "Let's slip off."

 The sunlight filtered into the room and a ray fell on Julie's eyes the next morning. It woke her up. She sat up and saw the situation that they were in- all messy and rumpled in the middle of the floor. It was cold. She pulled the shirt that George had shed over her. Julie tried to go back to sleep, but when a hungry cat is nipping at your feet, that's kind of hard. Julie put on George's shirt (which was the only thing she had on besides panties) and went to feed Natasha.
 As she poured the cat food into the bowl and filled the other bowl with water, she contemplated what she and George had done. It sealed their relationship completely. They would never look at each other the same way again. She decided to go on and fix breakfast for the humans too.
 George woke up in the middle of the floor. Julie wasn't there, and his shirt was gone. Maybe Natasha had dragged it off. He put on his pants and went straight for the kitchen, because he smelled something good cooking.
 Julie was busy with the food. George knew she wouldn't notice if he did anything. He casually walked over to the freezer, got a handful of ice, and dumped it down Julie's back.
 "Eeeeeep!" Julie cried. She whirled around and saw George. With a defiant grin, she whacked him on the bottom with the spatula. "So there!"
 "What did I do? Was I a bad boy?" George asked, batting his lashes.
 "Yes, most definitely," Julie said, stirring the pancake batter.
 "You mean I was bad all the time?" George sat down on the floor. "I wasn't good at all?"
 "You were good, but you were bad too. And get up off the floor." Julie whacked him again on the head with the spatula. George got up and picked Julie up from behind.
 "So I'm a little weak, huh?" he asked.
 Julie kicked him in the ankle. "Put me down!"
 "All right. You never let me have any fun," George pouted. "Give me my shirt back."
 "Oh no," Julie said. "Not now."
 "I want my shirt back!" George pulled on the sleeve. "Let me have it!"
 "All right, I'll let you have it!" Julie whacked him yet again. George ran out of the room before Julie could assault him anymore.

 Paul woke up in the hotel room. He and Ellen had gone to the cave and realized it was much too darn cold! So they got a hotel room. Nothing serious had happened between the two, after all, it was a double room. Ellen stirred in her bed and all of a sudden Paul had wished it was a single room so he could hold her to his chest and stroke her hair and have the satisfied feeling that he normally did when he woke up with a girl. But in reality, he was cold and alone in his own bed. Why she had the crazy idea to spend extra money like that, he'd never know. He would have been a good boy if she had consented.

 You realize, of course, that John and Ringo don't do much in this story. I apologize to all the John and Ringo fans out there. So, to appease your appetite, here is a nice big juicy scene that hardly has anything whatsoever to do with Paul or George!
 A bright ray of sunlight fell on the floor- right into John's pit. John shrunk back and hid under the cover. He wasn't ready to get up. He had a terrible hangover. (See, I told you the party was wild!)
 But Ringo was entirely awake and happy. He got up, stretched, smiled, and faced a fine new day. (Ah, yes- the conflict begins. The never-ending battle of optimism and pessimism.)
 Ringo got out of bed and kissed his Mousies good morning. He skipped across the room into John's room. Uh oh! He tripped and fell right into the pit.
 Ringo got up and looked down. John wasn't moving. Oh no, I've killed him! Ringo thought.
 Then, all of a sudden, the covers moved. Ringo looked down. John pulled the cover away from his face but kept it draped over his head. There was Ringo's face, his giant nose almost touching John's. And Ringo was smiling. A big, happy smile. Ughhhh.
 "Hi!" Ringo said, rather loudly. John groaned and went back to sleep. Ringo checked the clock. It was almost 9:30. He thought that was late enough. Ringo grabbed John's arm and tried to pull him up. He succeeded, but the man still didn't wake up.
 "Wake up, sleepyhead, wake up, sleepyhead," Ringo sang.
 "Knock it off, you ruddy clod," John mumbled.
 "What's a ruddy clod?" Ringo asked.
 John groaned again and went back to sleep. Ringo tugged on John's arm. "Come on then! Come on then! Wake up, Johnny! Cocka-doodle-doo!"
 "Shut up!" John cried. "Shut up! Leave me alone!"
 "Come on, Johnny! Get up! Up! Up, up, up, up, up!" Ringo bubbled.
 John groaned yet again. Ringo pulled him out of the pit and dragged him along for a way. John's temper was getting to the boiling point.
 Ringo had dragged John into Paul's room when all of a sudden, John leapt up and shouted, "LEAVE ME ALONE YOU STUPID GIT!"
 Ringo dropped John's arm and looked down. His lip began to quiver. "I- I'm sorry," he said, almost inaudibly.
 John slumped back to his pit, not caring that Ringo was about to break out in tears. Ringo went and turned on the waterworks, and that's when Paul came in. He walked over to Ringo.
 "What's wrong with you?" Paul asked.
 Ringo, unable to speak, pointed at John.
 "What did he do?" Paul put his hand on Ringo's shoulder. "What did mean ol' Johnny do to you?"
 Ringo just cried more. Paul walked over to John's pit, leaned down, and smacked the sleeping John hard on the face. John screamed and then sat up. "Where have you been?" he asked.
 "That's not the point, Johnny. The point is-"
 Ringo stopped sobbing. "Yeah, where you been?"
 Paul sighed. "I was in a hotel," he said.
 "With who, exactly?" John asked.
 "WithxEllen," Paul replied.
 "Oooooooh," John and Ringo howled in unison.
 "It was a double room," Paul answered.
 "So you had a choice on where to do it, eh? Eh?" John asked.
 Paul was getting frustrated. "Look, if we had done it, you'd know."
 "How?" Ringo asked.
 "I would have come in looking all messy and self satisfied," Paul said. "Okay?"
 "Don't have a fissyhit," Ringo said.
 "A what?" John looked up. "A fissyhit?"
 Just then, George came in, looking all messy and self-satisfied.
 "What happened to you?" Ringo asked.
 "Your date go well?" Paul kidded.
 "Georgie and Veronica sitting in a tree!" John began.
 "No," George said, a little smug. "Not Veronica. She was too fast for me so I left her."
 "Then who, oh, tell me, who did this to you?" Paul asked.
 "Someone," George said, a little more smug.
 "You didn't just pick up a random girl, did you?" Ringo looked concerned.
 "Nope." George's grin was big and wide.
 "Then who, oh, tell me, was the lucky little lady?" Paul leaned over to George.
 "You wouldn't get mad if I said it was Julie, would you?" George asked.
 Paul shrugged. "I'm over her. You can have the girl."
 "That's a lot better than your reaction last time," Ringo said.
 "Let's get some breakfast," John sat up.
 They made a very nice breakfast and had it in honor of George's Big Score and Paul's Big Miss.