Quote:
Originally posted by Nicole
Katy adjusts the implants in her barely-there top and turns the corner toward her new boyfriend Carrot Top's house. And just like Gaga's career, she's gone.
The next morning, Beyonce and Blue are out for a walk in Central Park. Strolling hand in hand. A casual mommy and me day. A picture-perfect postcard. Poor Hallmark. Poor Norman Rockwell. Except this "spontaneous" outing was carefully planned for the past 4 months by her multimillion-dollar PR team. According to their studies, Beyonce's 'good mom' public image is down 12% in 2014, so something must be done if Sierra Mist is to pay the $75m she's demanding. Beyonce smooths down her T-shirt which reads Harriet TuBeyman in pink letters over black. According to her PR team's studies being photographed wearing that T-shirt could result in a 17% positive image increase with older African Americans, and there's a 32% chance it could catch on with young gay whites trying to look cool on college campuses.
As Bey and Blue walk by the lake, Bey's watch beeps. 11:00am. She dramatically turns to Blue with a warm, affectionate smile and clears her throat, giving Blue her "cue." Blue looks at her, confused. Beyonce just stands there, the smile frozen on her face, trying to suppress her anger. She clears her throat louder. Suddenly Blue remembers. When the lady I must call mommy gives me the cue, I smile back. Using Pavlov's electric shock therapy method, Beyonce had spent all morning trying to condition her to smile at the cue. Blue gives Beyonce the sweetest, most adorable smile.
At that precise moment, a photographer emerges from behind a bush and snaps mother and daughter giving each other the world's most loving smile. He photoshops Beyonce's laugh lines out of the picture, widens her thigh gap and emails it to all media outlets. Beyonce gives him a quick satisfied nod and keeps walking. Mission accomplished.
Bey and Blue are heading toward the duck pond when suddenly an abnormally large rodent scurries toward them. It's almost human-sized. Could it be a new breed of giant radioactive NYC rat? People in the park shriek and run away in terror, but Bey and Blue seem unfazed (they wake up to Jay-Z's face every morning). Something about the creature looks...familiar to Beyonce. That looong snout. That droopy eye. Those rabbit teeth.
And then it all comes flooding back. Police tape. Coke cans. A honey bun. Poison. The American flag.
"Lady Gaga!" Beyonce exclaims, feigning delight and hoping she doesn't ask about the Telephone sequel for the 600th time.
The homeless Lady Gaga (who is over) hops closer. "So Beyonce, how about that Telephone sequel," she wheezes through her elongated snout. She wears a trash bag covered in feces (at least some things haven't changed, Beyonce thinks to herself).
"Telephone?" Beyonce asks. "Yes, that's right. My phone. It's ringing." She pulls out her phone and pretends to talk to someone. "Sorry, gotta run!"
Frazzled, for a second Bey forgets that she's in public as she YANKS Blue by the uncombed knots in her hair, running away from the creature in the park.
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Beyonce hangs up the phone, just like the GP hung up on Lady Gaga (who’s over) in 2011. She’s walking out of Central Park when Blue starts to fuss. Something about being hungry. “I don’t have time for this ****,” Beyonce mutters as she eyes her surroundings.
Beyonce looks around just to make sure her photographer followed instructions and was not in her presence for more than 10 seconds. He obeyed. She smiles and looks lovingly at Blue as she pinches her cheek. She keeps pinching until the skin breaks. Normally Blue will submit and stay quiet for another hour like she is trained to do. But the pain is too much. She cries out with a sharp wail.
But Beysa Parks will not stand for this. Today will not be ruined. Not with PR dollars on the line. Not with FORBE(Y)S on the line. Always aware of her surroundings, she casually reaches into her purse and pulls out a tiny bark collar with a custom shock system designed to pick up even the slightest of whimpers. She quickly wraps it around Blue’s neck and hides it from eye sight under Blue’s coat. She smiles warmly, masking the mounting fury that has been slowly building over the outing, and says, “Give mommy some lovin’” as she pinches Blue’s cheek HARD. Blue screams. With a sudden jolt, Blue is quiet and her eyes glaze over.
The jolt, however, spills coffee on Beyonce’s Harriet TuBEYman blouse. It takes every ounce of restraint for Beyonce not to smack Blue around. Her bleached skin is crawling. She looks around for anything to wipe herself off with. She sees a sign to her left but since she can’t read, she keeps looking. She spots a shiny statue in the grass a few feet away. She bends down, places her stained shirt on the statue’s face and starts grinin’ on that good good but is startled when the statue moves. She realizes she’s rubbing Rihanna’s forehead. Rihanna is grazing in the pasture as goats tend to do.
“Step off me forehead!” Rihanna croaks. Beyonce laughs. Rihanna yells, “Why are you ****ing laughing? Get your bleached ass out of my face. And don’t ****ing touch me again.” Beyonce gets serious. “Silence, goat. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you. You’re nothing without JAY-Z. I Please get out of my presence. NOW.” Rihanna is fuming. She lunges up at Beyonce and Beyonce strikes her across the face.
After the initial sting wears off, Rihanna smiles. Beyonce rolls her eyes. If she wants to get Rihanna to leave, she will have to be smart. So Beyonce starts to treat Rihanna like a decent human being with basic rights. Repulsed, Rihanna walks away as she mutters, “**** this bitch.”
Beyonce grins to herself as she continues to leave Central Park.
