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"Out!" Itsy snapped, "Out, out, out! The lot of you!"
"Sheesh! Alright!" the Chief Chef said. "We're goin'! We're goin' already!" He and his crew of nine or ten chefs ran out of the kitchen of the Sand-Castle-on-a-cloud.
Queen Itsy was very uptight, and easy to annoy right now. Alright, so she was always like that, but she was worse. She was also being worse of a control freak, as bad -- wait, no -- WORSE than her husband had been during the Festival Of Phoebus.
What was happening was Passover, and Itsy wanted it to be absolutely and completely perfect, and she was determined to make sure it was herself. Though only she and her sister were Jewish, everyone else was forced to celebrate anyway. This was the third group of chefs she'd thrown out in nine hours. (Yes, NINE. It had been a very bad day for her.)
She glanced around the kitchen, trying to figure out what had to be done. "Let's see, there's still the rice stuff for the vegetarians, and the meat for everyone else. There's the horoses, the horseradish, and the whole Sadar-plate, plus the wine to be bought. AAAAAAHH!" she screamed, realizing that in the day that she had left she could never do everything, and all the chefs who could get to her in time had already been fired.
She collapsed in a chair in the kitchen, looking at the half-cooked everything. "It's no use," she sighed. "I couldn't do it, no way, never. Not with no chefs!"
It was true, there was no use trying because the writer got lazy. There was no way she could do it in the time she had with the help she didn't have.
Then she stayed sitting for a while, unable to think of a way to advance the plot.
"Who're you?" asked Itsy, looking for the source of the voice, or more precisely, the fancy writing.
Itsy looked confused but shook her head. Then 60 YOJ came in, mumbling, "...mumble mumble SPAM mumble it's because of the immorality of time travel and inter-dimensional travel, mumble mumble you see, she's in a different dimension, so she can record what we're doing here, mumble mumble and if she or any of the other authors go away we disappear, y'see, mumble mumble SPAM mumble..."
"What?" asked Itsy.
"...mumble mumble nevermind mumble..." He wandered out.
"Where were we?" asked Itsy, who was very confused. "Oh yeah! I can't do this!"
Then she heard a weird song. "Hey, hey, we're the Junkees! We ain't just junkeein' around! We're too busy-"
They ran inside the kitchen, dressed as chefs, with long hair. One was wearing a green wool hat, one had shaggy blond hair, one was very cute, and one just looked really weird.
"So you vant to be a race car, right?" asked the weird one in a weird accent. "Ve're here to be chefs, yah?"
Itsy told them what they'd have to do. They nodded and strange 1960's Beatles-wanna-bee's music started playing, and she found herself written out of the scene.
While the music played, The Junkees began messing around in the kitchen, throwing more food than they cooked, making pasta, and poor Peter (the shaggy haired one,) was making a pizza. He tossed it into the air.
The camera panned around to show the other three, doing their own weird things. Meanwhile, Peter had lost his pizza on the ceiling, where he'd thrown it up.
Mickey (the weird one,) was throwing food at Davey (the cute one,) who stole Mike's hat, who threw water on Davey, and grabbed his hat back.
Peter looked up at the ceiling, wondering where his pizza was. Davey picked up some food and began throwing it at Mickey, as Mike attacked him from the other side.
Peter tipped his head completely back to look at his pizza. Predictably, it fell on his face. Meanwhile, the song finished. Davey, Mickey, and Mike laughed at Peter.
When they were finished, the kitchen was a mess, and a nice Italian dinner had been cooked. Unfortunately, there was nothing Italian on Itsy's list.
When she walked in, saw the mess and the food, she screamed, "WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY DINNER?!"
Mike shrugged. "We made it."
"Geez! Even I'M not THAT messy!" she snapped. "And none of this is on the menu! Out! Out! Get out!!!" She pointed a finger at the door, and The Junkees sulked out. "What now?" she muttered to herself.
Someone knocked on the door. "Come in," Itsy said. A woman walked in. She had dark hair, and was wearing a chef's hat with lots of smily faces on it.
"Umm, your Majesty? I was wondering if you were still looking for cooks?" she asked. Itsy nodded eagerly. "Oh, good," the woman sighed. "I was afraid you'd found someone already. Y'see, I'm a cook. My name is Becca."
Itsy jumped to her feet. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" she gasped, pumping Becca's hand up and down several times. "Here's the menu...I'll leave you to cook!"
Itsy ran from the room.
That night, Polly sat on her balcony, staring down at the fountain below. Then several people walked into her view. Four of them.
"Lady Polly?" one asked.
"Yeah?" she called down, but someone with a Manchester accent began singing shmarmily.
Meanwhile, Itsy was having a simular performance, strangely enough from the same people at the same time.
However, instead of the shmarmy singer, it was someone with a groovy wool hat, singing about his dog, or how he was going to get one, or something. Then George walked onto the balcony, and took one look at the slightly odd performance.
"What is THIS?" he asked. Itsy shrugged.
"I dunno," she said. "I think they're the chefs I threw out earlier...but I don't know why they're singing -- Hey! Nice fingering!"
George glared down at The Junkees. "Why do you think that -- What did you say? Nice fingering?!" Itsy shrugged.
"Well, It IS," she said. George stomped off the balcony, and reappeared a moment later with his guitar in hand.
"You want nice fingering?!" he yelled. "I'll give you nice fingering!" He shoved the guy with the wool hat out of his way, and began playing triplets. John appeared, sitting on the fountain, looking vaguely amused. Then he screamed and began singing.
Paul screamed. Quite loudly and high-pitched. And angered. "Paul, calm down!" Polly yelled, trying to be heard over her husband's screaming. "I don't like him -- Hey! That's kinda shmarmy..."
Paul stopped screaming. He also grabbed his bass and ran downstairs.
One hour (nine songs,) later, Itsy was leaning on the balcony in fascination, staring down at the sight below her. There was the ghost of John, (As well as Jerry, holing a pool stick, and tapping his foot impatiently,) Ringo the out-of-work drummer, King George , and Sir Paul, all playing instruments. That was on one side of the fountain.
On the other side was Mickey, Peter, Mike, and Davey, also all playing.
Standing on the balcony was Itsy and Polly, both rolling their eyes and sighing on and off. (They were sighing at the good songs, and rolling their eyes when the song impressed the other.) This was definitely getting silly.
"Look!" Itsy yelled after 'Here Comes The Sun' closed. "This is getting silly! Play one more song, and we'll decide who's better."
"One song for each band!" Mike yelled.
"And one song for each girl!" George yelled back, so he wouldn't be outdone by Mike.
"Fine," Polly decided. Since it was Polly's song, Davey began singing.
"I'll be true to you, yes I will..." he sang. Paul rolled his eyes, and whispered his choice to George, who nodded eagerly, and to Ringo, who shrugged, and to John, who apologized to Jerry for taking so long.
Polly and Itsy clapped from the balcony, while Davey smirked at Paul. "Oh, yeah?" Paul challenged, as magical flutes and violins appeared to play with him, as he sang alone.
You probably guessed the song, which put Itsy to sleep, but caused Polly to sigh romantically and blush. Yes, the song was 'Toast Of Tomorrow.' (which has been the GROOVY BOOK's clever, though strange, alias for 'Yesterday.')
"Oh, Paul," Polly sighed happily. "I love you!" Paul smirked at Davey, who scowled back.
"Your turn," he said sweetly to Mike, who began playing.
"Ifeelthatsomethingverystrangehashappenedtomybrain," Mike sang, his country accent slurring it into one word. George decided on his song and he told the rest of the band, who agreed.
"But doesn't Eric usually...?" Paul said. George shrugged.
"I wrote it. Trust me, I can play it," he said as Mike finished and the ladies on the balcony clapped.
Then George began playing, softly at first, but he gradually grew louder as he began playing 'As His Sitar Quietly Cries.'
Itsy watched him in fascination. "Doesn't Eric usually play that song?" Polly asked her.
"Hush!" was Itsy's only reply, as she concentrated on her husband's playing. "Well, it wasn't much of a contest." she said when he finished, "And George won."
"Twit-head!" Mike mumbled, pulling off his hat, and smacking Peter with it.
"What did I do?" whined Peter.
"Nothing!"
"I didn't mean that I liked Mike better than you," Itsy said to George as they walked through the hallway to the dinning room, where Becca had (hopefully) prepared a feast. (Itsy hadn't had time to check on her last night, due to the excitement with The Junkees.)
"It's okay," George said.
"Oh, and I think I'm-" but then she walked into the room, and stared in shock at the feast that lay on the table. "Oh, my!"
Everyone was sitting around the table, waiting for the King and Queen. The Junkees were there (even though Davey was glaring at Paul,) and Rita was there (who was also looking at Paul.) Obviously Paul was there, and therefore his body guard, Polly, (who of course was staring at him, but only in this case, he was looking back,) Jack with his newly formed WALRI, 60 YOJ, the Great Llama, the Bearded Goat God, the Cart-guy, a bunch of Plutonians and Cheese-weasels, the Flying Germans, John's ghost, Jerry's ghost, Ringo, Eric, Eric the-orchestra-leader, Eric the-'alf-a-bee, the Moat Monster, and even the reformed ghosts of Linda and Javert were there. Dorothy, Fuleasha, Josh, Eleanor, Snap, Crackle, And, and Pop, Vincent, Vilson, Kieth, Rianne, their nine children, Mills the pirate, and Crew Captain Bogg (who'd been magically turned into a lobster, that Eric kept trying to eat because somebody stole his savory truffle,) Louis XIV, and King Kiki were all there too. Jessie the depressed jester didn't come because no one knew of her where-abouts after she'd mysteriously left that one day. Jay Delphono didn't come either. No one had let him out of the Free-Thinker's Jail. Darn.
Rebbe Tever lead the services, and everyone got drunk. All-in-all it was very fun.
Later that night, Itsy finally managed to finish the sentence she'd started before services. "George, I think I'm pregnant."
George fainted.
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