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"OH MY GOD!" Paul yelled, voice booming across the entire home. The three men in the living room, John, Ringo, and George, jolted up. What coould that be? They all gave eachother confused looks. They had all gotten together at Paul's house for an additional rehearsal, they were somewhat behind on their latest album. The trio rushed into the kitchen to see what could have possibly happened. You never know with Paul, even though the public views him as an angel, he can be quite the troublemaker.
The fridge was still open, the cool air slightly drifting out of it. On the dining table they found an empty plate. A few crumbs lingered, along with a sticky note that said, "Do Not Eat" with several exclamation marks and underlines. This only strengthened their confusion. Why was Paul freaking out about some eaten food? Upon further inspection, it still seemed like your average dish. Paul gave everyone in the room murderous glances, picking them apart one by one.
"Who. ate. it?" he announced to the room.
"What?" Ringo asked, still extremely perplexed about the situation.
"WHO ATE MY BLOODY CHEESE AND PICKLE BUTTY!" Paul screamed, venting out all of his frustration on the first one to speak, Ringo. Everyone was very concerned for Paul, he was basically having a mental breakdown over some leftovers. Nobody understood how this could possibly warrant that reaction. Obviously, John, his best mate, had to throw a bit of fuel on the fire.
"What bloke eats cheese and pickle butties?" he teased, unaware of what would come next.
"GRRRR... HOW DARE YOU QUESTION MY FOOD CHOICES?" Paul growled, turning almost animalistic. His hangriness had overcome him. He was foaming at the mouth, scanning the room for any sign of guilt from the three. "SOMEBODY BETTER CONFESS RIGHT NOW. WHO ATE MY LEFTOVERS." Paul slammed his hands down on the table, his shoulders hunched and his breathing erratic. Everyone was slowly backing away. They could tell the cogs in Paul's brain were turning, and they didn't want to figure out what he was thinking of. As Paul grumbled, the group were trying to figure out what to do.
Finally, George spoke up. "Hey, Paul. Look at me. You need to calm down, this is getting too out of ha-"
"DON'T. TELL ME TO CALM DOWN. I NEED MY FOOD NOW," he paused for a moment, "AND Y'KNOW WHAT. IF I DONT GET TO EAT," the man took a deep breath in, "none of you can."
They were all promptly murdered by Sir James Paul McCartney.
Turns out, it was Martha who ate it the whole time.