(originally posted at
Andersonvision.com)
Madonna was driving by my house one day, when suddenly her car had a flat tire. Since her cell phone had just been eaten by a gorilla (true story--Google it), and she didn't know how to fix a flat tire herself, she marched right up to my house and banged on the door. I guess she figured there must be some peon in here who knew how to do drudge-type crap like that!
I opened the door and gasped in surprise. "Madonna!" I cried.
"Yesss," she hissed with an expansive eyeroll, weary of forever being recognized and adored.
"Darn," I said, disappointed. "I thought you might be the mailman with my sea monkeys."
Madonna looked at her watch and tapped her foot. She didnt have time for such nonsense! "I have to be at some big-time showbiz thing that I'm supposed to be doing on MTV!" she exclaimed. Actually, I'm just paraphrasing what she said, since I can't remember exactly what the thing was that she was late for. But I do recall thinking that it must be a humdinger of a thing!
She jabbed her index finger toward her car, which was parked at the curb in front of my house. "The tire is flat," she announced. This was apparently my cue to spring into action!
I decided to try and inject a little levity into the situation. "Well," I quipped, suppressing a sly smile, "at least it's only flat on the bottom. ONLY FLAT ON THE BOTTOM! HAAAAA HA HA HA HA HARRRR!" I stood back and waited for her to appreciate my witticism and join in the laughter. Then, I would be able to brag to everyone that me and Madonna were buddies and had shared the gift of mirth.
Instead, Madonna was instantly stricken with an intense, blazing rage that prompted her to scream like a banshee and hurl herself against my screen door, clawing at it like a caged baboon. "I'LL KILL YOU FOR THAT!" she shrieked. "GRRRAAAARRRRR!!!"
"MADONNA! CONTROL YOURSELF!" I urged, trying to restore order to the situation. Obviously, she wasn't used to not having her commands obeyed at once, so I decided that I'd better humor her. "Okay, I will fix your tire," I lied. "Just let me go get...uhh...my tools." I closed the door and locked it.
"You'd better hurry up, you little TWERP!" came her voice from behind the door. Figuring that she would simply give up and go away after awhile, I sat back in my recliner with a big bowl of cheezy corn and started watching reruns of "The Lucy Show" again. Lucy and Viv were currently up on the roof trying in vain to put up a TV antenna. It sure was funny!
I laughed and laughed, until suddenly there came a deafening crash that shook my entire house. Looking out the window, I saw that Madonna had found an axe in my garage and chopped down one of the trees in my front yard, sending it crashing into the house. She was now in the process of chopping down another one.
Opening the window, I shouted indignantly, "Hey! Stopping chopping down my trees!"
"FIX MY TIRE!" she bellowed between chops. The second tree wavered tenuously with a loud creaking noise and then came down on my house with another deafening crash, almost going through the roof this time. She scampered on to the next tree, which was even bigger than the first two, and started chopping again.
Alarmed, I ran to the phone and dialed 911. "State your emergency," came a voice.
"Madonna is in my front yard, chopping down trees!" I screamed into the phone. "She's trying to cave my house in because I won't fix her flat tire!"
"Madonna...the singer?" the voice asked.
"Yes!" I affirmed. "HEEELLLLP!"
At that moment, I heard the ominous sound of wood splintering. I ran to the window and looked out, and sure enough, the huge tree was swaying, getting ready to topple. Madonna stood back, laughing, dancing around with the axe upraised and doing those fist-pumping "YES!" things. But to her dismay, instead of crashing into my house, the tree fell the other way and landed on her car, smashing it like a pancake. Instead of a flat tire, now she had a flat car!
"YAAAAAAAA!!!" she screamed, beside herself with naked fury. Before I knew it, she had leapt onto my front porch and was chopping the door down. The head of the axe broke through and Madonna stuck her head through the hole, her face contorted in a grinning rictus of insanity. "HEEEEERE'S MADDY!!!" she screeched. Using the only defensive weapon presently at my disposal, I hit her in the face with a banana cream pie.
Suddenly, the UPS truck pulled into the driveway. It was my sea monkeys! Madonna took one look, screamed, and started charging toward the truck with her axe, still spluttering as the banana cream pie oozed down her face. The UPS guy saw what was coming at him and dived into some bushes with a squeal of terror. Madonna jumped behind the wheel, backed up, and peeled out down the street in a cloud of burning rubber, crashing through mailboxes and trash cans. I could still hear her insane shrieks of triumphant glee as she rounded the corner on two wheels.
"Well, there go my sea monkeys," I said ruefully.
The UPS guy staggered to his feet, dazed. "Was...was that Madonna?" he wheezed.
"Yeah, she has some big-time showbiz thing to get to," I replied.