how-i-won-the-war.

“On Yoko again, are you?You know what I think, Macca…” Lennon spits, the venom bubbling up inside him. “I think yer a racist. You’d never harp on any of the other girls hangin’ round the studio. Pattie comes round quite a bit. Jane did too- before she left y’ high and dry. But all of the sudden, I’ve got a bird who isn’t some English model, alright, and y’ve got a problem with it.”

John abruptly stops pacing, and sits back on his stool, eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “If anything you should be kissing her feet fer comin’ here and inputting ideas. We’re in an echo chamber- you, and me, and Ringo, and George- bouncin’ around our padded room every day. And with anyone else who comes in- all they want to do is praise what we’re doing- even if it’s total shit. Yoko’s honest- and she’s come up with things that no musician has ever done before. Not Elvis, not anyone. And y’ have the gall to sit here and tell me I’m the one ‘acting a fool.’ Y’couldn’t see progress if it hit y’square in the face.” 

             “ JUST HOW MUCH’A THAT GRASS   you been smokin’, John? ‘re you even seein’ with your own two eyes right now, or’s she controllin’ those, now, too? ” He’s at a loss for words, finding an anger rising in himself the like of which he doesn’t even know how to PROCESS, to form into words to barrel back towards the other; it would be like shooting bullets at a brick wall, but the urge still leaves him FLUSTERED with emotions on the inside. 

             John tears through Paul’s past, exhumes RAW ammunition to throw at him alongside wild accusations that he can’t even begin to comprehend as sensible. They WOUND him  &  his  EGO, his high holding of himself beginning to tremor in defense. It cuts at him, a deep gash of a wound that leaves him without words in his mouth, merely a look of disbelief  &  HURT  on his face.  “ You’ve some nerve, callin’ me sumthin’ th ’ like ‘a that. There’s a diff'rence between  PATTIE  comin’ round once in a while,  &  YOKO  bloody MOVIN’ IN  &  SETTIN’ UP SHOP,  th’diffrence bein’ PATTIE doesn’t think she’s part ‘a th’fuckin’ band, y ’ know. An’ they’ll back m'up, like, George  &  Ringo, they’ve about had it, too, ’m not alone. You’re just too blinded by her SPELL t ’ think for y’rself  &  I PITY YE F’R THAT. ”