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. First order of business every morning is acting.
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've finally gotten 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 grabs her arm and twists it. "When the police officers show up, what will you say?"
"Auntie Rihanna fell down the marble staircase! It was an accident." (her performance is more convincing than Beyonce's.)
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. Try thinking of a deeply emotional experience. Like your relationship with your father coming to an end. Or your miscarriage."
Beyonce rolls her eyes at him. Like she cares. That's not gonna do it.
"Well then I'm afraid I have no other choice," says the acting coach. "Think about your Hot 100 performance this decade."
Beyonce's eyes immediately moisten.
The acting coach goes for the kill: "And think about how your songs have performed outside the US."
Beyonce's hand flies to her mouth. Hot tears pour down her face now. Her body is wracked with violent sobs.
"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.
I see y'all stanning for ME food but I'm so sick of it. However, there's this one restaurant here that literally serves the best ME cuisine I've ever tasted. Culinary heaven.
The boardroom is quiet, filled with executives and various suited men and women waiting patiently for the main focus of this meeting to arrive. Some pour themselves glasses of water, others rap their fingers on the long table and tut. The main door opens, and the room looks up expectantly. A harassed looking Bonnie McKee enters, handbags and purses clutched in her hands, died orange hair in disarray. She apologises and tries to take a seat quietly. She slides a pack of aspirin across the table to Dr Luke opposite her, the rest of the executives unaware that the pack actually contains a heavy tranquilliser to be used later that night.
Thankfully, miss Perry arrives only a few minutes later. She swans into the boardroom, a huge smile stretching her violently red lips across a painted face. She is dressed in mismatching clothes inspired by an irreverent 90's cartoon, and on her head is an assortment of fruit in a slapdash homage to Carmen Miranda; Katy thinks this is artistic and shows off her quirky personality. Her gal pal assistants and makeup artists fuss over her as she sits down.
"Get away from me stupid ****s!" she cries, slapping them away in an overly comical fashion. She looks around at the executives as if expecting them to understand some inside joke.
"Okay now that you're here Katy, let's get down to business." a weary label official begins, his face lined and hair streaked with grey. "Let's talk ballads. We think your discography is sorely lacking in them, so if you have any ideas on the subject you are welcome to share them."
"Well..." Bonnie begins, but Katy interrupts her with a deep breath in.
"Ohmygosh right, so I was thinking, um, get this, picture a really sad bear. He's purple and cuddly obviously, and you'd think he'd be really popular right? But get this, no-one likes him! I know right? So we could do a song like, and a video where he goes on an adventure and finds his true love! Isn't that just the cutest?"
There is a pause. A few executives exchange quick glances with one another. The grey haired official clears his throat. "Okay that's great Katy. A really neat idea." Katy looks pleased with herself and begins inspecting her manicure. "But is there any thought to production, lyrics? Adele has been so huge lately, so we think that a piano is a must."
"Ooh Bonnie! Tell them what we wrote last night!"
"Well-"
"So we spent all night writing this song," Katy continues. "And it's about loving someone unconditionally. It's called 'Unconditionally', and the chorus goes 'I will love you Unconditionally."
The executives look to Bonnie for clarification. The songwriter nods rather deflatedly.
"I think it's my best song yet! This is my I Will Always Love You. Whitney would be proud!" At this remark she winks - or rather both her eyes squint in a violent manner. "I might perform it like her, you know, except without taking a load of crack! Ha ha ha!" A female executive stifles a gasp.
Bonnie places her hands firmly on the table. "Look, we're not gonna make big promises about this. I - no, we, sorry, we will finish the lyrics, Luke can add a piano and we'll get a video with flowers and romantic stuff. It'll be fine."
"Looks like you can handle this Bon-Bon!" Katy chirps, clapping her hands and jumping out of her seat. (As she does so, her chest bounces uncontrollably, and several male executives awkwardly cross their legs.)
Katy skips out, humming Sara Bareilles' Brave to herself. Her entourage bustles after her.
The room is left silent. The executives glare at Bonnie. "Seriously, we can't afford an underperformance with this album. We have to keep the under-12s demographic on lock. We know that Lady Gaga is releasing around the same time, and we don't wanna compete, it'll just be embarrassing for us."
"Relax guys," Dr Luke says, his voice a husky purr. "We know what we're doing. We'll get the right production, and Katy can work her magic in the booth - once she's warmed up of course." He winks this time, and a female executive shivers. He and Bonnie pack up and leave, the executives keeping silent about the patches of glitter around the producer's crotch.
I was expecting a scenario of her making them listen to the song but still
Probably the best song from the era so far
