Thursday, April 1, 2010

SPOILERS

The LAST THREE PAGES of the book!!!!


(@_@)


Lady GaGa doesn't wobble so much as an inch on her Alexander McQueen platform heels. The crown on her head seems to be cut from black construction paper; one of its tines is bent. The smoke from her sunglasses streams toward the ceiling.

"That boy is bad," she says. "And honestly, he's a wolf in disguise."

"Um. What?"

Marcus's face splits open; his muzzle erupts and whiskers unfurl into the open air. "What did you call me?"

Sara pokes her head out of the bathroom. "Who the magic carpet ride was – IS THAT LADY GAGA?"

Lady GaGa strikes a pose, hands on hips, elbows out. "Don't call me GaGa." The oversized metal chains hanging from her neck clank against her studded bikini.

Danny scratches his head. "Then what... should we call... you?"

"She's my nemesis," Marcus growls.

"I wish my nemesis was Lady muffin' GaGa," Sara says. "Also, I wish I had nemesis. Also, I want to have sex with Lady GaGa."

"Shut it." Marcus's tails whips back and forth. "You don't understand what she is."

"She's a singer?" Danny offers.

"She's an abomination. I can't see her. Not in the past. Not in the future."

"But you can see her right now."

"Don't be an idgit. She's dangerous." He bares his long curved teeth.

"You can't read my poker face," Lady GaGa explains, then grabs her crotch. The crown on her head has been replaced by a telephone made out of fluorescent yellow hair.

"Where do you think I should get her autograph? On my boobs?" Sara pulls down the collar of her shirt and looks downward thoughtfully.

Marcus extends his claws and leaps.

Lady GaGa knocks him aside effortlessly with her disco stick, not a scratch marring her Kermit the Frog coat. He lands on all four paws on the opposite side of the room and rears back onto two.

He leaps at her again, and this time he pins her to the wall, his plate-sized paws swallowing her wrists, his mouth wide open, fangs dripping saliva.

Lady GaGa bites the air inches from Marcus's snarling lips. "I'm a free bitch, baby. Boy, now get your paws right off me." Her disco stick glows.

Instantly, he crumbles into an unconscious heap at her feet.

Danny pulls his gun from his holster. Points it at Lady GaGa. Takes a couple steps toward her. "What are you?"

"I'm k-kinda busy." She waves her disco stick, and his gun is encrusted with crystals.

"Hm. I guess I could still bludgeon you to death."

"Hey, you voodoo babies," Sara says. She holds up her hands. "Stop fighting. How about we try to get along? Is that too hard? Like Ron Jeremy? I don't think so. And, yeah, Lady GaGa is apparently some sort of Eldritch Abomination, so points to Marcus, but look at the ass on her! And aren't we all Eldritch Abominations, when you get right down to it? Let's look at her ass again. Can you turn around?"

Lady GaGa stops and places her hand over her heart. "You've left me speechless." The bat on her head smiles.

"I wasn't kidding. Turn around."

Lady GaGa reaches down and touches Marcus on the forehead. Her bubble dress squeaks. His eyes open.

"Just dance," she says to him. "Gonna be okay."

Before he can speak, she holds a finger up to her lips.

"Promise I’ll be kind." She flourishes her disco stick.

Marcus nods almost imperceptibly. His striped fur fades to pink skin.

"Wait. I don't understand," Danny says.

Lady GaGa turns to him. Her sunglasses are made out of razor blades.

"Okay. Never mind."

"Yeah." Sara pulls off her shirt. "I think my boobs would be best."

"Rah rah-ah-ah-ah, roma roma-ma-ma!" she commands. "Ga-ga, oh, la-la!"

Her disco stick is blinding.


TO BE CONTINUED...?

4 comments:

  1. AUGH. NOW I CAN'T READ IT! I KNOW THE ENDING!

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  2. I'm still gonna read it. I wanna find out how Gaga joined up with the group.

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  3. I like it. My niece wants to know what would happen if Lady Gaga and Pope Benedict were alone in a room together - I think you should work that in.

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  4. I'd like to think Lady GaGa would compliment him on his choice of shoes. Then they'd throw together an impromptu fashion shoot by raiding each other's closets.

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