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Ringo entered the cabin despondently, seated himself morosely, and gazed out the window dejectedly.

"What's the matter with you, then?" George asked him, leaning forward.

"No one wants me," Ringo sighed dramatically. "Paul told me to get lost, John told me to get lost, Norm said to stop bugging him, and I suppose you're about to kick me out of here, aren't you?"

"Nah," George said, moving to sit next to Ringo. "I'll take pity on you in your wretched state."

"They treat me like I'm a little brother!" Ringo told George indignantly.

"John and Paul?" George asked. "They told me to shove off, too, you know. What do you think I was doing here all by myself, twiddling my thumbs and not even Paul's grandfather for company?"

"Yeah, but you are the little brother," Ringo said. "They only think they can abuse me 'cause I'm short."

"They only wanted a bit of privacy, to have a little fun," George said.

Just then, Norm opened the cabin door and leaned in to ask, "Have you lot seen John?"

"That gormless git?" Ringo asked. "Wouldn't have a thing to do with him!"

"Paul with him?" Norm continued. "He's occasionally a sane influence."

"Yeah, they went down to the lav for a bit of slap and tickle," George replied.

"Not again," Norm moaned. "What'll happen when the screaming girls catch 'em coming out with their shirts unbuttoned? What do you think they'll be worth then?"

"Canaries," George opined.

"Paul, maybe," Ringo mused. "John's a bit more of a crow."

"Isn't he just," Norm agreed disgustedly.

"We'll keep him about for old time's sake," George decided. "All for one and one for all, Three Musketeers and all that."

"Weren't there four musketeers?" Shake asked over Norm's shoulder.

"'Course," George replied. "It's what makes it an apt analogy."