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“Hey, Brian--”
“No!” he yelled. “No, George! You’re not going to get water! You’re not going to the toilet! You’re not going to leave this room, none of you, until this song is done!”
A heavy silence filled the room as the four of them stared at Brian’s angry face. They all started to become serious and work on their song, but Paul was starting to get a bit worried. They weren’t anywhere near finishing this song, and he knew he’d need a break pretty soon.
As more time went by, he found it harder to ignore his full bladder and huffed as he stopped playing.
“Paul, what are you doing? This is only gonna take longer if you don’t cooperate.”
“Look, I’d really love to cooperate, but I need the loo, so if you’d just let me go…” Paul started walking towards the door, but when he tried to open it, it was locked. “Open it, Brian.”
“Not until you finish this song. I’m tired of your bullshit, and I’m not gonna fall for any more of it. Sing.”
Paul inhaled sharply, determined not to start crying as he walked back to his microphone. His bandmates saw his expression, and Ringo spoke up.
“Bri, I think he’s being serious. Just let him go. He’ll be back in a minute.”
“Yeah, right. You’ll be out of here soon, so I’m sure you can hold it,” he said sarcastically, and at that moment, Paul’s eyes turned bright red as he fought harder to keep the tears at bay.
After a few minutes, he was able to start playing again, but his friends still watched him worriedly, knowing he definitely needed the loo, and Brian was being a prick by not letting him go.
But the bassist seemed to be managing, at least from their point of view. In reality, he was seconds away from doubling over and grabbing himself, but he couldn’t just embarrass himself like that.
For another hour, he went on, trying his best not to squirm around too much, but eventually, it all became too much. He ran to the door, pulling at it despite the lock.
“Brian, you’ve got to fucking let me out. I’m gonna piss myself.”
“Paul McCartney, you have been messing with me all day, and I refuse to let you go anywhere until you finish this song.”
“I didn’t do anything! That was John and George! There’s no way I’m gonna sit here and let their misbehaving cause me to wet myself. Why can’t you just let me out? I swear I’ll only be a minute.”
“Alright, fine.” He unlocked the door, and Paul ran off to the toilet, already undoing his pants as he ran. But when he got to the zipper, it wouldn't budge. He got to the toilet, and still his zipper wouldn’t move. At this point, he was beyond desperate, so he wouldn’t be able to get back to the studio and ask for help. Not to mention that Brian would be pissed.
So he pulled on it himself, and when the little metal piece broke off and fell to the tile floor with a clink, Paul sobbed.
“Shit!” There was no way he was getting his pants down now, but his bladder had already made up its mind. Piss came out of him so fast that he didn’t even try to stop it. He only cried as it happened, knowing he wouldn’t be returning to his friends.
When it was done, he sat on the floor of the toilet and cried. He stayed there for what seemed like forever, wanting to just disappear.
-
“Where the hell did he go?” Brian asked the other three Beatles when Paul wasn’t back after ten minutes.
“We really don’t know,” George replied. “We thought he had to piss.”
“Is this one of your stupid games?” Brian rolled his eyes. “I swear to god--”
“This is so stupid. No, this isn’t one of our stupid games,” John said, heading towards the door. “I’m going to go find him because something is wrong if he’s not back by now.”
“Now, hold on a minute. I’m not having you going anywhere. I’ll find him.” Brian left, walking down the hall to check the toilet, where Paul said he’d be. And as soon as he opened the door, he found the bassist sitting against the wall with his pants half undone and soaking wet. He gasped, and then the smell hit him.
“Paul, shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had to go so bad…”
“Fuck,” Paul said angrily, looking up at him, “off.”
“Why don’t you just go home, and we can finish the song tomorrow, okay?”
Paul got up and marched out of the toilet, going to get his things, figuring if Brian knew, everybody else would find out sooner or later. He ignored them all and their worried questions as he grabbed his car keys and marched out of the room.
When Brian was back in the room, the other three glared at him.
“Are you serious?” John yelled. “You could have fucking let him go, and you just had to be a bloody prick about it!”
“I didn’t know!”
“He told you,” Ringo said with a huff, throwing down his drumsticks and leaving. The others followed him, and they all ran to catch Paul before he left. He was already in his car when they got to him.
“What do you want?”
“I’m so sorry, Paulie,” George said. “It was our fault. We pissed him off, and then he wouldn’t let you leave.”
“It’s fine. It’s fuckin’ boring in there. You’ve gotta have something fun to do.” Paul started his car and drove off without even saying goodbye, and the others went home, too, all of them refusing to talk to Brian.