The Pop Star Fled Across The Desert, And The Guitar Player Followed

by thoughtsonthedead

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“Katy–”

“IMPERATOR PERRIOSA!”

“–can we…oh, good: you’ve renamed yourself again.”

“I am occupying another personality cluster; subscribing to a different memeplex; inhabiting a new personal arcology of motifs.”

“And, I can do tricks. Watch me, John! VROOM!”

“Nice Segway.”

“I bought it from Kanye, but I’ll probably end up giving it to some naked people.”

“The circle of life.”

“I also had a great idea for my show for the next tour.”

“Does it include a drum solo?”

“No!”

“Is the entire idea ‘drum solo?'”

“Yes!”

“Katy–”

“Mrs. Katy Jean.”

“–I realize that your hallucinogenic travels have opened up your mind to new musical possibilities, but you’re a pop star. Gotta play the hits.”

“I will write new hits. New hits about jamming untested psychoactives into oneself, and also girl power.”

“Bodily autonomy extends to the metaphysical realm, I suppose.”

“And the Grateful Dead will back me on my stadium tour.”

“They won’t do that.”

“I will pay them.”

“They’ll do that.”

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