HOUSTON HAS A BIGGER PROBLEM NOW

Madonna squirmed in her chair as the material of her underwear rubbed her private area in all the wrong ways. She looked over a few rows at her once girlfriend, and now nememis, Elton John and gave him the devil horns. Soon the Granny Trannys would announce the winner for the queen of the ball and both her and the man who no longer answers to the name Reggie were favorited to win.

The evening had dragged on like unfinished roadkill oozing its way onto the shoulder of the road. Nobody wanted to be there anyway because of Whitney. Everybody was depressed. Well, except for Madonna and Elton. They could care less about the death of a diva unless that diva were to be one of them and even then they would probably rise up and demand their award posthumous.

At the start of the week all had been well in preparation for ego's grandest celebration on the musical front. Live from la la land it was to be the 1000th or something within range Granny Tranny awards. All the men who were nominated wore cod pieces to highlight their wardrobe and accentuate their bulging genitalia that was only a result of equal doses of accolade and viagra. All the female artists who pleaded and groaned on digital medium to be taken seriously each year wore their best fuck me pumps and dresses slit all the way down to the cockpit. It was a night of extravagance that few outside of those in attendance cared anything about. Still, each year the masses must gather and hand out cheap platinum plated trinkets to all of these assholes, otherwise they would cry foul and no longer bless the world with their fetid drivel disguised as music.

Host LLcoolj took the stage cautiously so as not to slide on all the soiled panties that littered his path. He stepped up to the microphone amidst drunken hog calls and cleared his throat. Both Madonna and Elton perked up in their seats as if their nipples would burst through their gowns and their mouths hung in gaping pie hole mode as the cool J who dirty old ladies love best prepared to work it through speech.

Both diva douches had endured flights that were far beneath their royal status for this single moment in time. Since Gerard Pee-pee doo-doo had urinated on a stewardess in first class prior to setting her aflame the airlines had been cracking down on delinquet behavior in the first class regime. Madonna was quite well renowned for her own penchant for water sports and Elton John had his pictures posted on every single airplane that took to the sky because he liked to flash his junk pile to the crew as they were trying to man the flight. When asked on the penis show by leading gossip columnists Moppy Ray Cyprus and Russel Crowsfeet about this he simply said "Pfft! It is called a cockpit ya know!"

It was a changing world though and even those who are celebrated in their own heads are no longer afforded the luxury to dish out shit patties on airplane menus.  Since Madonna and Elton John were too stupid to learn how to fly a plane they were unable to have their own transport means like that enterprising fencing metal messiah Bruce Dickinson. This meant they were banned from first class and forced to fly frist class, which is pretty much just like first class except that it sucks. So, horrid traveling experiences had dumped these two jackoffs on the steps of the Manny Tranny building in downtown Los' Angels Ass and here they sat awaiting the moment to stand onstage and chatter incessantly about themselves.

Elton seemed to be taking the whole experience with several grains of salt because his husband David Furniture had given him a tube steak in the mens bathroom in between one of the dreadful musical numbers. He seemed to be patiently awaiting the announcement of his name so he could collect his trophy and tell Madonna to eat his shit politely in his seat like a good little queen and he sloshed around the ocean of salty grained steak juices in between his false teeth. Madonna on the other hand had been heckling Jcool breeze all night because this night was no longer about any of the artists that were nominated for their stupid awards and it certainly was no longer about Madonna, who waxed all of her body hair along with assurance that she was the queen of all balls.

Since it had been announced that Whitney Houston had died the night before every single moment of the evening had been all about her. Her life. Her death. Her career. The whole thing pissed Madonna off and now she just wanted to hear her name called by someone other than a fuck buddy and grab her award so that she could make her speech and thank everyone who ever lived and died and then go the fuck home. One thing she knew for sure though. When Madonna basked in the rays of the ghetto ass stagelights she would not be thanking Whitney for dying. She knew damn well that bitch could have picked another night to overdose instead of right before Granny Tranny night.

LLcoolj stood still and looked annoyed because Biz Markie was flicking boogers at Jughead Beaver and his date, which was a mannequin hand dressed to impress in the infamous Michael Jackson glove he had purchsed from that totally awesome auction site called Bay-bay. There was a moment of silence for everyone and not just Jughead who had globs of nose nodules in his ear canal. Then LL began to speak lovingly as only LL can speak it.

 

"Tonight is a night that we have come to honor those who we pay tribute and give what we can give so as to be as what we all be. In the being of what it be we must all let it be just like my men John Lennon and Paul Shartney said back in the days when they was all beatle juiced up."

There was a pause and Madonna looked over at Elton with a smile on her face before she feigned having a cock ramming her in her also false teeth. This was it. She knew it. Whitney had left more than just the building and Eltons career was nothing more than week old dried and dusted Granny panties. Madonna was now to be the star attraction of the evening. She was so caught up in the moment that she failed to see a photographer snap a picture of her lips sporting a line of drool that, though hanging in one piece, would have measured a solid five roper in porno scale.

LL stepped over the mounds of filthy underwear and stood behind the podium to hide the fact that he was sporting a chubby. As he found himself caught up in the moment and stroking the microphone as if it were a lady who loved him long time he spoke softly.

"Tonight is about art."

This was greeted by a horde of applause and more hog calling.

"It's about love-"

Many calls of "right on!" were heard.

"-Respect-"

"R-e-s-p-e-c-t, motherfucker!" was yelled by Al Green, who apparently was no longer a Reverend, as he jumped up and howled like a fuck hungry wolf mother. This brought laughter and plenty of yay wow looks around the room as LL continued preaching the gospel of orgasm.

"Tonight is about one woman-"

This brought a smile so large upon Madonna's face that it could have jumped from her shoulders and masterbaited in the aisle right next to George Michael, who surely would have liked it more than just on fuckbook.

"The woman who says everything about what a woman really is. I know because back in my day I used to f#%@ many of these bitches proper."   (Oops. Censors got your tongue EL.)

This caused many women in the audience who were sitting next to their husbands to crank their necks floorward and become face to palm.

"A woman ain't just a woman though and every man knows this. A real woman is a queen. Not just for a day but queen of these right here-"

He grabbed his nutsac and grinned from ear to ear.

"Queen of the balls, bitches."

Just then, a voice garbled with static screeched over the frequency landing right in his ears.

"Uhhh .... EL .... its queen of the ball. But we still love ya baby."

LL dropped his hands from his nuts and stood back behind the podium.

"Yeah yeah.... yeah.... ball. I knew that. Queen of the ball. Just one. A mother@*%#*! ( His expletive grabbed away again with no respect what so ever by the seven second delay) haves to keep hold on the other in case of emergency."

This brought a moment of confusion to the mix in the crowd and LL jumped right back into his heartfelt eulogy.

"Tonight we stand up because we is on the rise and to rise is to rea-lize and when we realize that we is standing tall that means we can not be small and so we must open up our hearts and give love where there is love most needed."

Madonna was as close to shitting her pants as she had been in the last 48 hours from the moment she heard the words "open up our hearts" because she knew she had a song called something like that shit. She clenched all the wrinkles in her ass cheeks as tight together as they had been since that night she had a fuck tub party with Anthony Cleetus and Flea Dip Bag of the rod hot smelly petters. The outfit Madonna had on prohibited the wearing of depends without visual confirmation so her bowels would have been on their own. But this was the moment that Madonna had been waiting on with little regard for patience and there was no way she was going to ruin it by shitting herself. She smiled sweetly knowing damn well that she had a grapefruit shoved in her ass cavity for blockage. The night was hers now and as LLcoolj worked his way to her name she stood up and headed towards the stage.

"Tonight we have gone above art to showcase love. Love is better than art because love is beautiful. Art can be beautiful too but art will not give ones jewels that shine it so rightly deserves."

LL smiled feeling large and in charge at his masterful attempt to beat the censors because had he become lost in the heat of the moment he was going to reach down and pull out little EL and start waving it around the room. After all, little EL was way too familiar with much of the women in the room anyway. Should old acquaintence be forgot EL always felt it best to show 'em what you still got. This became his new motto because he was too old to still be knocking motherfuckers out just because of his moms say so.

"With the gracious love that fills this room here tonight so deeply that it feels up the world like a titty," he paused and then broke out with a terminator love smile because times have changed since rap was young and now you can say titty on the tube. Maybe it was because titties ain't nothin' but a tube to begin with. Whatever the case he spoke on and smiled on and on and on much to the annoyance of Madonna who had now stopped on her walk towards the stage because EL wouldn't shut up the hell up. As the rapper and lover genius rattled on Madonna had parked her rose colored wrinkled bum cheeks on the arm rest of the seat where Russel Crowsfeet was sitting.

There seemed to be no end in sight to the speech that LL was giving so Madonna had decided to make a pit stop and engage in flirtacious behavior with a man whose idea of foreplay was to have his women give him a dutch oven and then try to guess what they had for dinner. Madonna had downed a hefty sized bowl of chili in the parking lot she had taken from a street vendor after flashing him her penis. Russel Crowsfeet became intoxicated with the intense high powered chili powder stench. Meanwhile LL kept on going like an energizer bunny fuck.

"Through the genital and generous donations tonight from four out of the five award nominees we have decided that majority is where its at here in this joint and so I am pleased as the Kool-aid kid at one of my moms house parties to announce that the winner of the queen of the-"

He stammered for a second before catching himself nicely and smiling his final words right into the camera to nobody at home because that is who was watching him.

"-Ball for tonight at Granny Tranny 2012 is none other than-"

Madonna slid her ass that was now stuck on the face of Russel Crowsfeet like the embryo layer in alien from its seat and raced back towards the stage.

"The true star of the evening and diva of a lifetime.... Miss Whitney Houston."

The crowd erupted in applause that rivaled the attack at Pearl Harbor and Madonna stopped dead on her stick legs. This could not be happening. But, as she looked over in a nightmarish haze to see Elton John smirking proudly, she knew very well that it was.

"Oh helllllllllllll no!" She screamed so loud that it silenced the room as if she had brought forth a roar from her chili closet.

LL looked down at her and smiled that shit eating grin that he had picked up from one of his German tours.

"Hey, Madonna! What up, babycakes? I almost didn't recognize you without your body hair."

Madonna was pissed off and it showed because after her face turned fire engine red it became piss yellow.

"I am the queen of the ball. I am the queen of all the balls. Everybody here knows it and I have this to prove it-"

She parted her thong and waved her penis around the room. This made LLcoolj extremely angry for the first time tonight because he had wanted to do just that and his angered state caused him to wonder how much of this shit the censors were allowing on the broadcast and he zapped the fuck out.

"Bitch, sit the fuck down!" He yelled with no regard for the censors or the audience that wasn't watching.

Madonna stomped up onto the stage and grabbed the award from his hands very easily because LLcoolj despite being well known for his persona as a hardened lover is actually quite soft.

Just then the doors at the back of the auditorium flew open and the orchestra queued up the theme to jaws as every head in the room turned in a pitiful attempt to imitate Filthy Regan Macneil. Then a voice echoed from the street and bounced off the walls like some old school Johnson magic.

"Back the fuck up bitch! This is my house. I'm queen of this motherfucker now."

A crack smoke fog rolled in the air like Ike rolling Tina down the river and when the air cleared itself and the coughing stopped in walked-

"Whitney??????!!!!" Madonna and LL both exclaimed in a symphony of surprise.

Whitney stumbled in the room and fell down on the carpet. The crowd near the nose bleed section began to gather around her but her waify frame popped back up like a defective Jack in the box. With her flesh eaten index finger bone raised at high noon she hobbled down the aisle towards the stage grunting and groaning her displeasure at Madonna. Their exchange was down in the audience and this year all the studio could afford was cheap ass equipment so their words found themselves uncensored by those certain broadcasting shitheads which everybody knows is what cbs really stands for.

"Gimme my pi- I mean my trophy bitch!" Whitney screamed.

Madonna laughed at the haggard looking corpse of Whitney that had somehow been reanimated. She had obviously not planned for death like Madonna who was going to be criogenically preserved in Wintry sludge straight from the depths of Icelands coronary district and then thawed out at every single awards show.

"Look at you. You're a disgrace to what it means to be a diva and a woman. What did you do? Crawl here straight from the morgue downtown?  I just performed at the Super bowel. What have you ever done in the last fifteen years except time in prison in crack minutes?"

Whitney shook her head slowly because as a freshly raised corpse there was much chance of her neck snapping and her head rolling down the aisle. This would suck because her hair had not been done.

"Mmmmhhhhmmm.... but did you sing the national anthem at the Super bowel?" She retorted.

Madonna looked confused. The corpse of Whitney shuffled further down the aisle as she railed at the still material girl clutching a statue that clearly belonged to someone else in this corpse cold world.

"That's what I thought. Now sit your cracker ass down and rest them wrinkles Grandma and give it up to the real ganggreenstress."

Madonna looked more than a little amused for a wrinkled old haggy pop star diva of douche with a penis bigger than most of her male peers and a grapefruit shoved in her ass as the only thing keeping her from repeating an episode like what happened to Christina Aguilera just weeks ago.

"Whitney, I will have you know I am not yet a Grandmother. My Lourdes is still like a virgin and has never even been touched for the very first time by any of these penis wielding pud wackers of the peasant hemisphere."

Whitney had somehow managed to reach down at the front of the stage without suffering from frail afterlife disintegration, a condition occuring in zombies that caused parts of their shit to break the fuck off and was more commonly referred to as F.A.D. There she stood in front of Madonna and shook her head at the enormous length and girth of Madonna's beef balogna which was clearly visible through her thong dress. After composing herself because Madonna was even bigger than Bobby Brown she ripped into Madonna like the songbird that she once was gobbling its birdfeed through gulps of singing with her beak so full it dropped bird food everywhere.

"Yeah, well let me tell you something ho,' like a virgin ain't no motherfuckin' virgin now is it? So you is a Grandmother. Except there ain't nothing grand about yo' wrinkley ass," She twirled around as if forgetting that a limb could drop off from friction any minute and spoke like a true princess," I on the other hand.... I am forever young like my man Rod says."

Madonna wrinkled up her face like her ass cheeks at this.

"Ewwwwwwwww. Sorry honey, but Rod Stewart is far from young looking. He looks like my old Nana Ciccone's douche bag that she used to hang on the fence and that was back in the old wild West."

"Bitch, I know that! I'm talking about the song motherfucker sings! Such a pretty song. Pretty like a Summers eve."

Whitney raised both of her arms and tried to pay tribute to that beautiful ode sung by her overaged pal Rod Stewart about not having to take viagra or wear depends. As she began to tackle the first verse her tongue spewed dust and cramped up and would proceed no further because corpses are not allowed to sing shitty pop music and only sing heavy metal because the walking dead are creations of the devil and therefore must only sing his music. Since Whitney did not know any Slayer or Dio lyrics she continued to stutter in broken record corpse mode and Madonna found herself becoming more annoyed than ever and stagedived on top of the corpse of dirty Whitney.

As the two worthless icons of shitty music, one actually dead and the other who might as well be, rolled on the carpet to cheering from the audience LLcoolj stared into camera number one because it was the only camera they could afford and he smiled as if he just farted on television. Mostly because he did but since nobody watches the Granny Trannys anyway nobody saw it or heard it. This would be well made up for by the audience having to smell it. Just minutes before showtime LL had grabbed himself a bowl of chili from that same street vendor Madonna had patroned and now he found himself sharting in his suit. As he hobbled back to the podium and dripped shit everywhere he stayed in permanent smile mode.

"That is all the love that we have time for tonight. I have made some love of my own in my drawers and if any of you bitches would like to come backstage and give me a sponge bath lets do this."

 
LL trailed his mess all over the stage as he headed towards the curtain to wipe his ass. Roughly twenty women jumped from their seats and their husbands left the building faster than Elvis because their mistresses were all waiting. All of a sudden there arose a rumble and the grapefruit shot from Madonnas ass followed by a gushing stream of chili juice that free flowed all the way to the ceiling. The janitors stood at the back of the room and shook their heads. The night that celebrates irrelevant artists and their shitty music and flatulent careers had now officially turned to shit.

*****Original post date 2/14/2012*****