Then he began to feel a “bit” of a new sensation as the beer he had drunk earlier started to complain about his new found flight. Shortly thereafter, somewhere down below in the night time street of the city, some poor sap received some slightly used beer in the form of rain. Our hero, Timothy, however, felt much better.
“Who are you anyways?” he shouted to his racily dressed companion, Lady Gaga.
“I am Lady Gaga, the ghost of chicks you've hit on past.” she said in an eerie voice.
“That's uh, that's quite a mouthful.”
“That what I said,” she quipped.
“What?”
“Nothing! Anyway, it's not a title that rolls off of the tongue, I'm aware of this. I was kinda hoping you wouldn't ask.”
“Sorry,
“Don't apologize. Which brings up my next point.” Lady Gaga began, “We're going on a little trip down memory lane.”
Tim chimed in “Why ghosts? Are they dead or something? Am . . . I dead?”
“Haven't you ever seen a Christmas Carol?! You should know the drill!” Lady Gaga continued under her breathe “Chimed in, what is this a Hardy Boys novel?”
“What?”
“Nothing!”
They began to descend from the sky to the edge of town. They landed in the basketball court of a small park.
Meanwhile, back at Tim's dorm.
Young girl: Uh, is that a reindeer in your roommates bunk.
Roommate: Yeah, uh, let's just go to your dorm.
Young girl: That's . . . uh . . . yeah let's go.
Back to Tim and Gaga.
Lady Gaga led Tim to a small sports car. It was black with bright pink flames painted down the side. It was a two seater, what ever kind the reader can best imagine.
She peeled out of that parking lot straight into part three. Stay tuned.
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