“WOOOOOO! HELLO, UH YES? DALE!” Pitbull merrily cries out as picks up the phone.
“Desnudate,” a voice whispers into the phone seductively. “Así me gusta, papi. En mi reflejo. Solamente tú.”
“Eh?” he responds.
“JUST MEET ME IN MY LAIR, FAN–err, I mean, meet me at the hotel,” the voice purrs, now slightly agitated.
“I know you want me!” he smirks. If he wasn’t busy licking his lips and hip-thrusting the air in victory, he might have caught the nefarious cackle that pierced through the phone just before hanging up.
It’s only been a few days since Legendtina laid down her genre-defying yelps on “The Blower’s SAY!” with Chris Mann, but she’s already hungry to record again–and this time, with someone who could actually chart. Pitbull would be over any minute.
Feeling impatient, she reloads the iTunes Top 20 chart for the fifth time in an hour. “What in the basic fuck is this…” she murmurs to herself, scrolling through the list. Red. Red. Red. She picks up a pen. “Light Taylor Swift‘s hair on fire – XoXtina,” she jots down in a promotional Stripped notepad.
“Heh, heh! Uh, YES! Hotel room service is here!” the sweaty bulge announces as he shuffles into the room behind her, mopping his brow with a handkerchief. “One to the two to the–” he starts.
“SILENCE, FAN!” she roars as her red swivel chair slowly spins around to meet his gaze, throwing a glass of wine at his head. I hate boys, she thinks to herself.
“I don’t really push myself to have those formulaic commercial successes,” she explains. “I’ve invited you here to help me create something for the true music lovers. Something ahead of its time. Something beautiful and timeless, like Christina Aguilera by Day, mixed with something a bit sensual and seductive, like Christina Aguilera by Night.”
“What th–”
“SAY!” Legendtina roars. “There’s no time for small talk. TAKE THIS!” she yells, throwing him a shovel. “Now come on over, baby.”
Together, the two stroll outside to the back of Legendtina’s Lair, past the stinky lotuses (loti?) of the Back To Basics swamp, up to a series of piles of CD’s–one made up entirely of unsold Bionic albums, and the other labeled Not Yet Ruined Pop Classics. “NOW, DIG,” she barks, throwing a piece of gum at Pitbull’s bald head.
“Heh, Mr. Worldwide,” he shrugs as he begins to shovel countless CD’s over his shoulder. Suddenly, something catches the eye of Our Lady of Woohoo. “Hmm, what’s that?” Legendtina says, pointing at a lone CD resting in the middle. Pitbull shovels it out of the pile: It’s A-Ha‘s “Take On Me.” That’s the one.
“Aaaaaaayo!” Pitbull cries out in victory. “Shimmy Shimmy yah, shimmy yam, shimmy y–”
“SILENCE, FAN!” Legendtina cries out as she slaps him across the face with the CD case and heads back inside to slip the CD into her 1996 IBM. As the classic ’80’s beats come blaring through the speakers, she smiles and allows her creativity to flow: “ALL I WANNA DO IS F…” No, Legendtina, she thinks to herself. Think deeper. Channel the voice within. Channel the inner lotus. Say.
“ALL I WANNA DO IS…FEEL THIS MOMENT!” she yelps, as the entire room explodes in a mixture of Bionic Tour confetti and blue goo.
And thus, a smash was born.
