A pair of red lips comes floating into view inside a mirror. A vanity rests in the middle of a field. “Bionic, take it supersonic,” the lips whisper. The sound of a cheering crowd roars in the distance. Bobbleheads flutter gently in the breeze. Nicki Minaj floats by on a pink bubble. “Woohoo!” she exclaims. “Ay, damelo duro,” the lips in the mirror moan. Suddenly, a dark cloud forms overhead. An outline of something appears — a bird of prey? No. Worse. An egg.
The egg slowly begins to split down the middle and — oh God, no. No. Not now. What is that disgusting thing? A claw? Music begins to play. The familiar chords of “Express Yourself.”NO! NO! GET AWAY! I WASN’T BORN THAT WAY!” Legendtina shrieks, shooting up from her bed in a cold sweat and knocking a bottle of Christina Aguilera By Night off the nightstand. She sits panting for a minute, collecting herself while looking around the dark bedroom. Just another night terror, she realizes.
Today is the day.
The prophets predicted this day would eventually come: It is finale night at The Voice. It is a night of joy, of heartbreak and, of course, of #LotusPromo. But there’s something else in the air: Guest performers. This year’s roster includes a heavy amount of powerhouse players — from Ne-Yo, to Celine Dion, to…
The legend is currently pre-taping introductions at the studio.
“Oh, yes. We’re so excited to have her here tonight,” Legendtina says through gritted teeth, her nails penetrating the cushioned armrests of her red swivel chair just below camera-level. “Very excited, yes. I respect Madonna immensely, so it’s always nice to see someone paying tribute to her work.”
The camera clicks off. “Great. Cut!” the director announces as the crew retreats back to the video room. Legendtina scowls and grabs her empty passion tea lemonade Starbucks cup, then throws it at a stagehand off-camera. “MORE!” she demands. “But make it a Red Hot Kinda Latte!” He runs away, sobbing.
The “Hoy Tengo Ganas De Ti” songstress shakes her head. Just a fool, she thinks. The lotus rises up and straightens out her chic, glam outfit. Suddenly, a troupe of fashion gays walk in.
“Ready for your ‘Get The Look,’ Your Legend?” they excitedly ask.
“Why, yes,” she smiles, striking a pose. She stands triumphant. “Walk, turn, pose…HA!” she shouts, delivering a pose perfected on the set of Burlesque. The camera flashes.
“Yet another flawless Instagram to add to the collection!” they exclaim, giddily dancing and blowing air kisses toward the “Let There Be Love” icon.
“Thank you, fans,” she smirks. She sits in silence and closes her eyes, feeling this moment. And then, she hears an unwanted voice.
“Legendtina?”
Legendtina hits the red button on her swivel hair and spins around slowly.
It’s her.
“Oh. Why, hello Larry,” Legendtina cooly replies.
“It’s Lady, actually. Lady Gaga,” she quickly corrects the Legend, taking a dramatic bow.
Legendtina’s fake smile quickly fades. “Right. Let’s get one thing straight off the bat: I don’t know you. I don’t know your life. I still don’t know if you’re a man or a woman. You’re just a blank page in my book.”
She leans in closer. “This is my night, do you hear me? It’s about me, and my contestant, Jarquinta. Now, let me show you to your dressing room. I imagine it must take you a while to fix…all of that,” she grumbles, pointing up and down at Gaga’s face while hopping off the chair.
The two walk together in complete silence down a corridor backstage — the lingering scents of Fame of Red Sin quietly dueling in the air — until Legendtina stops short at a metal door labeled “TRASH.”
“There it is,” she smirks. “I’m sure you’ll find everything you need in there.”
“Thanks,” Gaga nods. “I love the structure of this door. It’s so…Koons-ian.”
“Yeah, that. If you need anything, just SAY! something to the crew — I’m giving up on you.” Legendtina turns on her little, little Louboutins and begins clacking down the hallway.
“Uh, hey! H-hey! Wait up! I need to talk to you about something! It’s…it’s about Perez!” Gaga cries.
Legendtina stops dead in her tracks. She looks up and spins around to face Gaga. “Who?” she demands.
“I know you know who I’m talking about. He started that nasty rumor. That #JusticeForBionic nonsense. I just want you to know it’s not true. I would never try to sabotage you,” Gaga pleads.
Legendtina stares dubiously as Gaga continues to sputter out words.
“I’m a huge fan. My new album ARTPOP, which is now out on iTunes, is an homage to Bionic, I thought that was obvious enough from the promotional art and sales figures. As a true lover of music, I wanted to try and create a Reverse Warholian Expedition to get myself back to the future of music. But he — he got to me. Into my brain. One second I was a bobblehead…then suddenly the bobblehead was ME!” Gaga cries, beginning to sob uncontrollably.
She reaches for a Marilyn Monroe lighter in her pocket and a cigarette. “It was him,” she murmurs as she lights up. “It was his fault. He’s the dope. He tried to stalk my whole life. I wanted to do this performance with you tonight to get back at him for being such an ass.”
“With ME?” the Mi Reflejo songstress spits back, staring at the sobbing amateur incredulously. She feels something deep inside — not the voice within, but rather pity. Pure pity. “Alright, Gaga. Let’s do it.”
“Really?!” Gaga exclaims, cracking a smile through her smeared mascara tears.
“Yes, Gaga. Clean up your face. Let’s show Perez how we burlesque.” She tosses her head back and cackles.
It was on.
Backstage, the duo begin to brainstorm the perfect routine to get back at Perez.
“Alright, well, what if we sang my GLAAD Media Award-winning LGBT anthem ‘Beautiful’?” Legendtina offers. “You already know it, obviously. Let’s try. Ready? ‘You are beautiful…in every single way,” she acoustically coos, extended the note for an impressive 12 second run.
“…’Cause baby, you were born this way!” Gaga happily croons back.
“STOP AT ONCE!”
“Okay,” Gaga shrugs, pushing her furry headdress to one side. “Say, how about we do one of my songs, like ‘Swine’?”
“I’m completely unfamiliar with your music. How does it go?”
“Well, it’s really just a whole lot of beats, and then you channel your dark energy into the light by becoming a beacon of truth and justice for youth culture and confiding in your inner bikini seashell lady, and then, you just build up all that excitement and shout….’SWINE!‘ Here, you try!” Gaga walks off to the side and pushes play on her promotional ARTPOP tape recorder.
The beats build quickly. Legendtina looks around nervously, confused by the terrible, non-advanced sounds coming at her ears. She narrows her eyes, reaches deep inside and screams: “SAY!”
The music stops. “What did you just say?” Gaga asks incredulously.
“SA-A-AY!” Legendtina roars back.
“Perhaps this one’s not quite your aura. Here, let’s do ‘Do What U Want.’ That one’s easier. It was originally sung with R. Kelly, but um…he’s a little busy right now,” she notes, pushing away at a stray Kermit The Frog dangling from her arm. “Here we go.” She hits play on her tape recorder again.
“So do what you want, what you want with my — ALL I WANNA DO IS FUCK YOUR BODY,” the Bionic beauty interjects, thrusting her studded diaper around in the air. “DO WHAT YOU WANT WITH MY HA!”
“Yes…” Gaga mumbles, juggling two blue Koons balls in between her hands. “This just might work.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
Legendtina is an ongoing fan-fiction series…and if you don’t like it, fuck you.
