Tag: katy perry (Page 6 of 8)

CELL PHONE NOISE

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Katy?”

“Hello?”

“Katy?”

“New phone. Who dis?”

“Katy, it’s me: your soulmate.”

“Jesus?”

“No, but many people have described my personal philosophies as being close to that of the Christ.”

“Oh, hi, Josh.”

“You sound rough.”

“Out late last night. Orlando likes to party.”

“I’ve heard.”

“We got some poor people to do cocaine off of, but they were poor and we didn’t want to be near them, so we made them leave and then did the cocaine off each other.”

“Katy, he isn’t the man for you. He’s steering you down dark alleys.”

“Yes, and I love it! in fact, we played Batman.”

…

“We played Batman.”

…

“We–

“What’s Batman?”

“He puts on a mask and treats me like an orphan boy.”

“That’s just weird.”

“I was into it.”

“Katy, come back to me. I can’t eat, I can’t shop, I haven’t Instagrammed a picture of a watch in days. I can’t even dress myself anymore.”

“Josh, you never could.”

“No, it’s getting worse.”

“Oh, honey, you’re a mess.”

“I know! Come back to me and we’ll go to trunk shows together.”

“Is that a Stealthy?”

“Stealie. And, no. Turns out that if you use the lightning bolt without the skull then you don’t have to pay…don’t worry about it: let’s go to an island.”

“Coney?”

“No.”

“Staten?”

“That’s worse.”

“Plum?”

“And there’s rock bottom. No: somewhere with beaches and mai-tais.”

“It’s never just mai-tais with you.”

“YOU’RE MAI TAI.”

“That doesn’t make sense on the page.”

“They know what I mean.”

“Who knows, Josh?”

“Never mind. Please be my girlfriend.”

“No.”

“Tugger?”

“No.”

“Nudes?”

“One. One nude.”

“Butthole?”

“We’re done.”

CELL PHONE NOISE

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Katy, is that you?”

“What, Josh?”

“You gotta forgive me, Katy.”

“I wanted the Dead for my backup band this summer. You stole my backup band. This is how the feud with Taylor Swift started, y’know.”

“How did that work out for you?”

“Earned me millions of dollars.”

“Katy, you don’t want these guys. You know how your musicians do what the keyboard player tells them?”

“Yes, that’s why I have to pay the keyboard player more.”

“Okay, this is the opposite of that. Although, you would now be paying the keyboard player less.”

“That’s good.”

“And that big hit you have, Firework?”

“Did very well for me. I worked with such great people. #BLESSED.”

“I’ll ignore that. Anyway, you play the song every night?”

“Of course.”

“And you shoot off fireworks?”

“Of course.”

“Bobby’s terrified of the things. Hides under Red Metal Stool.”

…

“Why is Red Metal–”

“Pleased don’t ask.”

“–Stool capitalized? Okay, sure.”

“Don’t put any Grateful Deads in your back-up band, Katy. It’s like inviting a dracula into your house. It gives them power.”

“I’ll think about it. Was that the only reason you called?”

“Yes. Also: Orlando Bloom is a tool.”

“Aw.”

“Froofy little elfling with a concave chest.”

“You’re jealous.”

“Can he solo? And, if so: for how long?”

“This is almost sweet.”

“How do you go from a rock star to an elf?”

“He’s also a pirate.”

“Didn’t he turn into a lobster-monster?”

“I didn’t actually watch the films.”

“Way longer than they needed to be.”

“I’ve heard.”

“He was the weakest part, though.”

“Aw. And: yeah, I’ve heard. But, also: aw.”

“Come back to me, Katy Perry. Let’s wear clothes together like we used to, and then boff the way I like, which you’ve finally gotten comfortable with.”

“Please don’t talk to me about that when I’m sober.”

“Sorry.”

“We’ve had this talk.”

“You’re right.”

“I’ll do it, but I need tequila and half-a-vicodin.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Josh, we’re a famously on-again/off-again celebrity couple. Currently, we are off again. Deal with it.”

“How old is Demi Lovato?”

“Hanging up now.”

“Josh Meyers! Come to me!”

“Oh, c’mon. You can’t call me that, too. And aren’t you dating Orlando Bloom now? Whatever this is, it’s his problem now.”

“No, no. We are linked. When you saved me after my triumphant, but losing, battle with my own hallucinogenitals.”

“Not a word. Also, not a thing. Also: what?”

“You were my knight in shining armor and an RV that your new band full of insane old people stole. Did you ever get the Earthroamer back?”

“I did.”

“Did you have to get it cleaned?”

“Four times. And exorcised.”

“Is that expensive?”

“It is. Plus, several of the men who did the damage died years ago, so I didn’t even bother with the insurance. What do you put on the claim?”

“Sure.”

“Also, the thing might be sentient now.”

“That happens a lot, doesn’t it?”

“Disconcertingly often. Anyway, Katy, why did you call?”

“Despite your scarf thing, you were always the sane one in our relationship.”

“That’s more due to the laws of comedy, but go on.”

“And I think I might be having a flashback or a little psychotic break and I wanted to talk to someone I knew wasn’t crazy.”

“What did you do, Katy?”

“I’m looking at this tweet that I sent out, and I don’t remember sending it, but obviously I sent it, and…would you look at it?”

“Sure. What’s your Twitter handle?”

…

“You don’t follow me?”

“You don’t follow me.”

“I unfollowed you for narrative purpose on the advice of my people, yes, but that’s not the point.”

“I just followed you.”

“Yay!”

“I’m looking. Looking. Wait.”

…

“You wrote this?”

“Yes”

“The thing about being authentic with your peers?”

“Uh-huh.”

“With your fingers? You used your fingers to input this into a device and then hit the little blue button?”

“That’s right.”

…

“Are you a human?”

“Yes, Josh.”

“Don’t call me that. Because this does not sound like it was written by a human.”

“This is what I’m saying. I wrote it, but I wouldn’t have written that.”

“Forget ‘would,’ I don’t think a human could write this. Wait! Were you referencing the popular meme depicting Steve Buscemi talking to his fellow kids?”

“Two questions.”

“Shoot.”

“What? And: who?”

“That’s a no, I guess.”

“Was I possessed by a demon? I met many on my lysergic journeys. There was Darrathraxio. And Kevin. Kevin was the really evil one. An over-compensation thing, maybe.”

“Stay on target.”

“Sorry.”

“Wait. You don’t manage your own Twitter account. That’s “Katy Perry”s account and everything that goes out from there is tightly scripted and scheduled.”

…

“Y’know, you’re right.”

“Goddammit.”

“I pay people a lot of money to do that for me. I forgot.”

“Easy to forget.”

“I should probably fire whoever sent that out, though.”

“Yes. Can I go now?”

“I miss you.”

“Katy, you’re dating Orlando Bloom now.”

“HE WON’T DO THE WEIRD STUFF YOU TAUGHT ME TO LIKE.”

“I gotta go.”

“Bye, Josh.”

“Not my name.”

“Katy, let me drive.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Get out of the car and let me drive.”

“They’re getting away with your Earthroamer, John.”

“Please get out of the driver’s seat, Katy.”

“No, I wanna drive. C’mon: car chase time. This is always my favorite scene.”

“No car chase, sweetie. This is the epilogue.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I think we’re done here.”

“Too bad. It was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Had its moments. Sweetie?”

“Yeah, John?”

“Either you let me drive or I beat you to death with my hat.”

“Boo.”

The headlights slashed across tree trunks as the Earthroamer took the pins and switchbacks; across the valley, there was a fire halfway up the slope. The cliff face shot the engine’s sound out over the river and it was quiet in the cab, and quiet in the camper, and quiet in the bathroom because Garcia had nodded off.

For a moment, John Mayer lost time, and saw what was in front of him. Above him and around him, as a moment. Were there no stars yet, or no stars left? When am I? he asked

Where are we going, he wanted to know.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Mushi Mushi?”

“John, it’s Katy. I need you.”

“I’m coming. Send me your GPS location.”

“Okay, done.”

“Great. Now send me some nudes.”

“Bear down, John.”

“See you soon.”

“Hurry!”

“Is everything–”

DIAL TONE NOISE (EVEN THOUGH PHONES DON’T DO THAT ANYMORE)