Frankenstory 04/13/2002, round 1, #1

"Itsy-Bitsy-Teenie-Weenie Yellow Polka-Dotted Meanie"

It was another typical day for the fab-four,

John, Paul, George and Gretchen. The woofiest thing since cell phones were

going on tour. The call came from wardrobe. Gretchen felt shy,

but mean. Her bikini-waxer had left her sore and itchy, and someone was

in the bathroom with the door locked and the shower running.

Of course, she couldn't find her yellow polka-dotted bikini anyway, not since

George had come back from Shady Hills.

It was in the Shady Hills that a Meanie infected

George and the paparazzi caught him with red bumps all over.

The infection gave him nightmares, and he dreamt he was being operated on by

first the neighbors, then Frank, Fred, Fanny, Fats, grandpa,

grandma, Joe, Pop, and Rover, and the family doctor declared

them all in good health, except that Gretchen was still nursing her smashed finger from when

Paul closed the submarine hatch hastily.

The children huddled in the hold, waiting for their bedtime story.

A shadow passed over them, the shadow of a meanie.

Gretchen had found them. Paul had to sacrifice a kidney to save them,

John, his dignity, and George, his self-respect. Breeches

were breached impossibly, hole gaping, they whistled their hits, shame

showing, so Gretchen excused herself and went to adjust her

radio. She'd already heard that song 6 times today and it was making her

feel weepy. She reached into her handbag and felt the old dentures

that had given her the nickname 'Yellow Polka-dot' to the press. "Life, you

cruel old fart!" The first mate looked uncomfortable at first, though

he turned on the tape recorder. They called her "Meanie", this wouldn't help,

and after all, it was true. Gretchen hurried from there

determinedly, not noticing George hiding in the shower stall next to her.

The first mate, who wanted his name kept out of the papers, saw it all.

At home, his feet up in front of the fire, he chuckled to himself.

John reached over and turned off the camera, but not before

Paul handed Peter Jenkins a towel and the mic shorted out.

That was three days ago.

Now it's Tuesday.

But you knew that already.

Bemused, Paul knew it was time for a shower.

George, whom nobody had seen till then, stepped out, dripping

wet, wearing only Gretchen's yellow polka-dot bikini.