Michelle

Paul arrived at the studio with a bit of a headache. He'd been up most of the night, and the ideas for new songs were just not doing anything for him. He needed something new, and he hoped that interacting with his bandmates might rev up the gears in his creative brain.

Out in front of the building, John was bending over a bicycle, adjusting something.

"There we go," he said after a moment.

He turned to see Paul arriving.

"Hey, Paul, check this out."

Paul approached. "What are you doing?"

"Just fancyin' up me bike. Have a listen."

John reached for the handlebar and pulled a little lever. A lovely chiming sound echoed in the street.

"What d'ye think Paul? Ye like m' bell?"

"Yeah. Nice."

Paul nodded approvingly and went up the front steps into the building. Moving down the hall, he noticed Ringo off in one of the side rooms, staring intently at something.

Paul stuck his head into the room. "What's that, Ringo?"

Ringo looked up. "Oh, hey, Paul. Look a' this."

He picked up a large conch from the table and brought it over to Paul. "It's me shell. Ye like it? I found it in an oddities shop."

"Very nice." Paul said. "Very nice indeed."

Paul continued down the corridor to the studio. As he walked, the two encounters tumbled around in his head.

"Hmmm...." he said to himself. "Me shell, m' bell."

He took another few steps, then paused.

"Those words go together rather well."

 

"Michelle" by the Beatles. As if you didn't already know.

The End

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