[Scene: Two common houseflies, Fly 1 and Fly 2, are sitting on the remnants of a half-eaten hot dog and its paper wrapper which have been tossed on the concrete floor of the Depends Undergarments Arena in Shataway, New Jersey.  Lady Gaga is performing for a full house of enthusiastic fans.]

Fly 1: Is this a Nathan’s dog? It doesn’t taste like it. Something’s off.

Fly 2: I dunno, man, maybe Depends changed vendors or something. You gonna finish that part of the bun?

Fly 1: No, you can have it, I’m full anyway. Some fat putz was trying to juggle a plate of nachos and two cheeseburgers and a beer and dropped that in Aisle 12, so I was all over that, let me tell you. (Fly 1 moves over to sit on a miniscule piece of pork bone in the hot dog, and regards the stage for a moment.) Dude. DUDE. What the hell is this show??

Fly 2: (excitedly, through a mouthful of bun, predigested by his own spewed spit prior to eating) Are you kidding? Man, this is Lady Gaga, only the hottest musical property going! Where have you been, under a rock or something?

Fly 1: No. The dump off of Route 12.

Fly 2: Ohhh. Well, that’s a sweet gig, man.

Fly 1: Tell me about it. I had an entire bag of kittens last week!

Fly 2: Lucky!

Fly 1: (watching Lady Gaga) That’s some get-up that girl has on, eh?

Fly 2: She’s outrageous.

Fly 1: Is it just me, or does this sound like recycled club dredge from like thirty years ago? “…Ra ra ah-ah-aaah, ro-ma, ro-ma-ma?” Sounds like a Eurovision song contest winner from Abba with sub-bass and Autotune.

Fly 2: Ha. Dude, that’s so true. Mmm…Roma tomatoes. I once sat on some excellent ones at Safeway until this old bitch shooed me off.

Fly 1: (angrily) God, I hate getting shooed all the time! I have personal space, too, you know! People and animal tails are just getting ruder all the time, I swear. Back in the day, everything was so much more civil.

Fly 2: Dude. Your “back in the day” was like, last week. We only live for a couple of weeks, you know.

Fly 1: Well. Sayin’. (Looks around at the fans) Damn, son. Those rotted kittens looked better than this crowd.

Fly 2: Don’t hate! The Gaga welcomes all the Misfit Toys to her Island!

Fly 1: At fifty bucks a pop for the nosebleed seats.

Fly 2: It’s an elaborate show. She changes her clothes a lot.

Fly 1: I see that. I think she’s been through five costumes since you puked on that bun.

Fly 2: She’s really more of an entertainer, man. Like walking art or some shit.

Fly 1: So’s a Tijuana zebra-stripe-painted sombrero-wearing mule, then.

Fly 2: (spit-takes a piece of saliva-covered bread) LOL! I know that guy!

Fly 1: This is just nowhere near as good as the Justin Bieber show here a couple days ago. Those little girls were crapping their pants over that guy. Like, actually, crapping. Delicious, it was.

Fly 2: How did I miss that??

Fly 1: I flew in for it.