BOW THE FUCK DOWN.
Gather ’round, all ye basics and lessers: Here, beneath the branches of this shady, leafy tree inside the Great Mi Relejo Forest, as we come to appreciate the wondrous blessings of the one and only Legendtina–that is, if ye consider yourself a true music lover, and a true fan of music.
The only question that remains: Is your body ready…to get FUCKED?
Somewhere, hidden deep in the hills of West Hollywood, Legendtina sits perched in her red swivel chair in a studded diaper staring at her 1996 IBM, putting the final touches on the latest entry in her One Direction fan-fic Xanga.
Suddenly, she gets an IM.
“Hey Rihanna,” Legendtina scowls, annoyed. “What’s my chart sales look like?”
“You’re gonna have a Bionic week!” says the Illuminati High Priestess. “Also, phuck yo diamonds, bitch!”
“Au revoir, Ciara,” Legendtina says before shutting off the screen.
Having worked up a hunger from all the writing that morning, the almighty “Ven Conmigo (Solamente Tu)” songstress strolls over to her boudoir, throwing on her RICH BITCH necklace and sashaying into to her kitchen. But instead of sex for breakfast, the “Car Wash” chanteuse craves more.
“Where the fuck is it?” she grumbles to herself, tripping over wine glasses and opening up cabinets.
“SAY!” she shouts triumphantly, pulling out a box of Baby Max’s Bits N Pieces cereal.
Flipping through the television, she finds nothing to watch.
Absolutely nothing at all. Until…
“SAY!” she yells triumphantly, as bits and pieces of Bits N Pieces pour out from her mouth.
Having satisfied her desire for the morning, the 2001 Blockbuster Video Award winning songstress decides she craves a new adventure–and so she sets out onto the open road, with her box in tow.
(Her box, as any fan would know after hearing “Your Body” is filled with essentials, including a detachable lipstick anal bead stand, unsold copies of Bionic, and a Back To Basics promotional douche.)
After putting a legendary leg up roadside, a lesser Adam Levine approaches to offer her a ride.
“I think you already know my name, fan,” she says as she climbs into the car.
“What? I didn’t say anyth–”
“Just drive. What kind of tunes do you have in this shitbox, anyway?” Legendtina interrupts, riffling though his CDs.
“Oh! I have Lady Gaga‘s new album, ARTPOP! You know, I actually work at the Haus of Gaga,” he excitedly responds.
Legendtina grips each side of her seat as her eyes lower: “Yes, lesser. Put his record on.”
Minutes into the drive, the iconic singer’s Christina Aguilera: By Day is already taking effect, and the handsome stranger becomes intoxicated and groggy. He pulls over, and the two begin to desnudate. And, after a 17-second melisma of passion (“SA-A-A-A-AY!”) that rings through the desert, the deed is already done.
Having thoroughly FUCKED his body, the legend quietly waits and allows the fool to fall asleep. He snores loudly after several minutes. She knows it’s time. And so, she quickly exits and pours the remainder of her Christina Aguilera: By Day all around the car.
After walking a safe distance away, she lights a match from the Back To Basics matchbox, and tosses it behind her shoulder as the trail of perfume sparks and the car erupts in a pink, stinky flame.
“Fuck your fartpop. Love you, baby!” she cackles manically.
Meanwhile, in Calabasas, two members of X17 Online sit waiting inside a car just outside of Godney’s sweeping estate.
“Wait, what does her shirt say?” the first paparazzo asks in between a mouthful of his chalupa while watching the “Your Body” video on his iPhone.
“Fuck the paparazzi,” the second explains, sounding puzzled.
“Fuck the paparazzi? Have you been on assignment for her lately?” the first asks, chuckling.
“Let me check,” the second answers, pulling out his camera. “Godney. Rihanna. Katy. Gaga. Beyonce. Ciara. Kristinia DeBarge. Kat DeLuna. Nope. No Christina. Not since 2006.”
“Didn’t think so.”
Back at Legendtina’s abode–after returning home from the 53-mile walk back to her chateau (the Legend didn’t entirely plan out the whole exploding-the-only-mode-of-transportation-she-has-while-still-in-the-desert thing)–Our Lady of Woohoo barrels through a crowd of fans.
“Move!” she roars, throwing her gum at a basic holding a sign and shrieking with glee. “Bow DOWN!”
Katy Perry is there too, and she’s super pressed.
LOL, I sharted.
“No, no, no, NO!” she howls as she stomps through the crowd. “I’m over this!”
And so, Legendtina goes back inside, throws on her denim vest, applies another layer of Blu Red lipstick and quickly ties her biconic weave into Stripped-era braids. “Live it, love it, breathe it, glam,” she purrs to herself as she leaves and struts over to the local Hula Hanks.
Once there, she takes to a stool at the bar, sipping on her new Lotus promotional alcoholic beverage, The Lotustini, while scowling at the basics. That is, until she spots her bird of prey.
“I think you already know my name, fan,” she says as she beckons him over to the pool table.
“What? I didn’t say anyth–”
“Just play,” she interrupts, thrusting a pool stick in his face. “What kind of tunes are you listening to these days, anyway?” she asks, bending over the table to give him a full view of her elastic love.
“Uh, well, have you heard Ke$ha‘s new single ‘Die Young’? I actually did the background vocals on that record. As far as I’m concerned, she’s the best songwriter in the business.”
A vein on Legendtina’s forehead begins to throb as she stands back up. She bites her lip. “Yes, lesser. Keisha’s song is very meaningful and advanced. Say, would you care to join me in the bathroom for a FUCK?”
“I don’t know if it is a man or a woman, to be honest.”
Not knowing quite how to refuse the advances of this aggressive, lipsticked woman, the handsome stranger follows her into a stall in the men’s bathroom.
The two quickly desnudate, and before he knows what’s happening, it’s far too late: Legendtina reaches in between her bosom to reveal a half-eaten Cheesy Gordita Crunch, raising it above her head.
“Oh my God. No. NO, it’s you!” he shrieks. “Someone help me, please!”
“SAY!” she howls, bludgeoning him across the face as cheesy special sauce spews onto the ceilings and all over the floor.
Licky licky yum yum, she thinks to herself as she strolls out from the scene of the crime.
Later that night, while sitting on her tanning toilet throne and angrily tearing through the latest OK! Magazine, the legend realizes: I’m fresh out of fucks–and Lotus toilet paper.
And so, she hops into her pink souped up ride and head over to the convenience store that Godney robbed a few months ago.
While sorting through the wares, she runs her hands along a bat. “This sort of looks like my lipstick anal bead stand,” she murmurs to herself.
“What did you just say?” snorts the attractive store clerk from behind the counter.
“SILENCE, LESSER!” she begins to shout until she notices his body. “Oops,” she apologizes, giggling. “Say, how would you like to come with me back to my motel and have your body FUCKED?”
Not knowing quite how to refuse the advances of the aggressive, bewigged Latina, the handsome man agrees to follow her to a motel. Fatal mistake.
“I think you already know my name, fan,” she says later that night as she throws the beautiful idiot onto the bed.
“What? I didn’t say anyth–”
“Just sit. What kind of tunes should I put on first?” the legend demands.
“Anything but that shitty new Christina Aguilera song. Have you heard that yet? I mean, it makes sense if you haven’t. Bitch hasn’t cracked the Top 10 since Rihanna was born. And that fucking singing show she’s on–I mean, could she be any more desperate?” he chuckled.
The voice within stirs. Unable to pacify the fighter burning inside, Legendtina throws her head back and yelps a 32-second yodel, as the gorgeous fool on the bed plugs his now bleeding ears. “BOW DOWN, lesser! BOW DOWN! Max Martin already knew my name!” she screams, swinging the bat directly against his face.
But instead of the bloody massacre, the room is sprayed instead with unused confetti from the cancelled Bionic Tour.
“SAY!” she coos, writhing in the glittery goo and confetti. “SA-AY!”
And then, her LG Lotus rings. “Legendtina speaking, who owns the throne?” she sing-songs. “You do, mommy,” a tiny voice sighs into the speakers. Shit, she realizes: It’s Baby Max. “Hi sweetie! Be home soon!”
Whatever, the toddler thinks to himself as he hangs up his iPhone and crawls back into the living room to pull out the Twister Dance from beneath the couch. “Time to rock the spots.”
The next day, Legendtina finds nothing on TV again.
Nothing at all.
And then, she finally does.
“Your Body”: The most important video since “Thriller.”
“Your Body” was released on September 17. (iTunes)