A bedroom.
GUY is in bed. He can’t sleep. There’s a drummer playing in his head and we can hear it. Loud and clear.
Suddenly, it stops. We hear a pounding on his closet door. It grows louder and louder. GUY jerks up. Walks to the closet. Opens the door.
LADY GAGA pops out.
GAGA
Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah.
GUY slams the door in her face. She knocks again. He opens it.
GAGA
Roma, Roma-ma.
He slams the door again, she knocks again, he opens it again.
GAGA
Gaga, ooh la la
Want your bad romance.
She enters and starts singing the rest of “Bad Romance.” But the song segues into a medley of her other songs: “Just Dance,” “Poker Face,” and “Paparazzi.”
GUY watches this display in awe.
GUY
Oh my God!
GAGA
(spoken)
I’m your biggest fan, I’ll follow you until you love me.
GUY scrambles to find a piece of paper and a pen. He sits at his desk. Above his head, we see what he’s writing projected onto the screen. It’s a formula that proves all of LADY GAGA’s songs are the same.
GUY
Can you sing it again for me, please?
GAGA
What?
GUY
Do the whole thing again, please.
GAGA
...Okay.
She starts from Rah-Rah again.
On the screen, he marks down the chord progression, with remarkable accuracy: A major and G for “Rah-Rah,” A major, C, G and D major for “Just Dance,” A major, F, G for “Poker Face and Paparazzi.”
GUY
It’s all the same! I’m gonna be a millionaire! A millionaire!
He continues writing, now the rhyme schemes: on top of one another “just dance,” and “bad romance,” followed by “P-p-p-poker face, p-p-poker face” and “papa-papa razzi.”
The songs blend together in a cacophony of Gaga, louder and louder.
She grabs the piece of paper, looks at it, smiles and leads him back into bed.
Then she eats it. Then, she goes back in the closet.
He screams. It is drowned out by the music. And suddenly, there’s only silence and darkness.
GUY awakens in a panic. He jerks up. He pinches himself. Looks at the clock.
GUY
It was a dream?
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