Then, just as Spidey finally looks on, one of the General’s mutant son appears, a trail of freshly new born weird looking bugs following him in his footpath.
At this sight, two piercing wails can be heard simultaneously in the glass cage: that of the General and that of Spidey, just as the crowd claps and cheers at what they see as an unsuspected outcome and victory.
“How can this be?” the General exclaims to his son, incredulous, “how have you made division of yourself?”
But the General’s and Spidey’s wails, words and worries are lost to the crowd which is now carrying the new generation in its arms and cheering.
There are celebrations happening inside a glass cage, inside a small garage of a small Liverpool street. These do not go unnoticed by the four hairy men about to practice their songs again.
“Do you think I’m smoking too much?” asks John “or is the smoke in the room having an effect on these bugs?”
“Dunno,” Ringo answers, at a loss and puzzled.
“I could do with one,” Paul says.
“I think that they definitely belong to a breed of mutants,” John speculates. “That or we have no knowledge about insects and this is a lesson for us to take.”
“They’re funny,” George says, “they look intelligent. Look! There are more of them than before. I’m sure they’ve done it and had littlies since they’ve arrived here.”
“Fuck these beetles,” Ringo says, “let’s practice and find a name for our band.”
“You’re rude,” Paul says.
To be continued…