Penny Lane, Liverpool, 1968
Paul: Well, boys, here we are.
John: Our old stomping grounds, as they say.
George: It’s just as I remember it.
Ringo: It’s just as I remember it.
George: I just said that.
Ringo: Just said what?
George: “It’s just as I remember it.”
Ringo: What is?
George: Have a biscuit.
He throws a cookie to the sidewalk. Ringo pounces on it.
Paul: And we’re just in time. First snow of the season last night.
John: The world is coated in marshmallow dreams.
Paul: The screaming girls, the press junkets, the grueling tour, they all seem so far behind. Like they’re happening to some other people.
George: We may have our differences, boys, but when we’re all here like this, it feels just as it was. When we were lads.
Paul: With Stu still around.
Ringo starts to gag audibly. He vomits a bit of the cookie back up and swallows again.
John: And Pete.
Paul: It’s moment like these we have to cherish. The here and now. We may never get a chance like this again.
George: We should mark the occasion.
Ringo jumps up excited. Bits of cookie and vomit drop from his chin.
Ringo: Nbsss. Blllkkk nbbbb.
John: What’s ‘e going on about?
Paul: Use your words, Ringo.
Ringo spits out a dead bird.
Ringo: Knobs! Bollocks and knobs!
George: Oh god. I’ll go fetch a juice box.
Ringo: No juice! No juice!
Ringo makes a snowball. He rolls it through the snow.
John: Oh you clever boy!
Paul: He’s making a proper willy out of snow!
George: Are you thinking what I’m thinking?
John: On “peace on earth and joy to all celestial beings!” One, two, peace on earth and joy to all celestial beings!
The Beatles jump in the air to the opening chord to “Hard Day’s Night.” They stay there for a second.
“Hard Day’s Night” continues as the Fab Four, in montage fashion, begin rolling and piling snow into the street. They intermittently break for playful snowball fights, making snow angels, and keeping Ringo from masturbating.
On the last “feels all right,” the boys dust off their hands and survey their work.
Paul: Job well done, boys.
A giant, veiny snow dick lies in the middle of Penny Lane. From an aerial perspective it resembles a music note: a cock in profile so that the visible testicle makes up the note head and the fully erect shaft makes up the stem.
John: Vishnu smiles upon this day.
Ringo unzips his knickers and pisses his signature into the sculpture. The others look at one another, shrug, and do the same. The market value of the cock skyrockets.
Paul: It’s times like these when I’m glad we keep this old bugger around.
He pets Ringo on the head.
Yoko comes barreling down the street in a multicolored school bus with baby dolls hanging from nooses streaming out the windows.
John: She is Become Death. Destroyer of Worlds.
Paul: Oh no.
Yoko: OH YES, ONO!
Yoko motors through the penis, getting as far as the head before her bus gets stuck and stalls in a precariously tilted position. The bus crashes to its side. Yoko climbs out the window.
George: What the fuck? No girls allowed!
Yoko: I AM NO GIRL. I AM WOMAN OF WOMAN, Y0O0KO ONO!!1
She limps towards them, shrieking a bloodcurdling shriek. Ringo is visibly agitated.
John: Honey, me and the guys were just –
Yoko: You were just! I AM JUST TOO. I AM JUSTER! I AM JUSTEST!
Ringo: Make the bad lady stop!
Yoko: I AM JUSTICE!
Yoko comes at the Beatles with her claws protracted. Ringo foams at the mouth and descends upon Yoko before she can harm his friends.
And in a sleepy corner of Liverpool, England, they fight the greatest battle in rock and roll history. For what seems like millennia, Ringo and Yoko tussle in a Yin and Yang of conflict and harmony. In this mutual struggle between antipodean negations, one could see the face of Yahweh, Allah, the Universe, whatever you should call it. The fight’s significance is bigger than any -ism, bigger than Jesus Christ, bigger than the Beatles. It is the answer to everything that Is and Is Not.
Or at least that’s what John thought. He was tripping balls.