Quote:
Originally posted by Jewfro
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.
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The next morning, Beyonce sits in her palatial dressing room, examining herself in her vanity mirror and preparing for her morning routine. Breakfast? Exercise? Dance training? Vocal runs? No, her morning routine is much more important than that. She composes herself, takes a moment, then WHIRLS around in her chair, a look of horror on her face.
"No, I found her like this!" she exclaims. "She must have tripped down the stairs! Her neck…it looks broken. No, she's not breathing! Send someone right away!"
Her acting coach who's been in the room all along steps forward. "Much better. I really believed it this time. After 4 years you're finally getting it down."
Suddenly the door flies open and Blue bursts into the room, playing with her Princess Elsa doll (mommy said the Princess Tiana doll was way too dark). Beyonce glares at her. "What did I tell you about interrupting my morning routine?!"
"Sorry mommy."
Beyonce still stares daggers at her. "When the man in the police uniform shows up, what will you say?"
"Auntie Rihanna fell down the marble staircase. It was an accident."
Beyonce softens. "Good girl. You may have your father's face but you have my wits."
The acting coach paces the room. "If only you could cry. Then they'd never suspect foul play."
"Who do I look like, Jennifer Hudson?!" Beyonce asks. "I can't do it."
"Think of a deeply emotional experience," the acting coach suggests. "Like your relationship with your father coming to an end."
Beyonce rolls her eyes at him. Like she cares. That's not gonna do it.
"Ok then I'm afraid I'm gonna need to bring out the big guns," says the acting coach. "Think about your Hot 100 performance this decade."
Beyonce rises from her chair, walking toward the acting coach, her mascara a mess, tears POURING down her face.
"Finally, you're ready," the acting coach declares.
Beyonce picks up the phone and dials. "Rihanna, Blue's been asking for you all morning. She misses her Auntie. Could you come over please?" And with a sly, evil grin, she hangs up and begins her
other morning ritual -- applying copious amounts of white foundation to her face.
