The Alphabet Project, Part 5: "Dominoes"

I think London has a strange effect on me. Last night I was walking back to my hotel and the opening sentence of this one popped into my head and made me laugh out loud (thankfully nobody was around to see this) and I couldn't let it go. It's very short, complete nonsense and I've no idea what it all means, but I like it anyway.

***

Albert was startled to find that, after returning home from another defeat at dominoes at the British Legion, he had become Lady Gaga. Why should he, a 67 year-old widower, deeply unsuccessful at dominoes and with a slightly dodgy hip, have suddenly been transformed into the world's biggest pop star? It made no sense.

He looked at himself in the mirror, hair covered by a platinum blonde wig, elaborate make-up around his eyes, body shrouded in an outlandish stage outfit complete with conical breasts able to emit sparks, and sighed. This would change everything, he thought. Nights at the Legion with his friends would fall by the wayside, as would his coy courtship of Elsie from the sheltered housing down the road. Above all else he knew the papers would be full of pictures of his latest shocking outfit revealing maybe a little too much as he got out of a taxi, stills from his forthcoming video, and yet more rumours that he could possibly have a penis.

He tottered on his impossibly high heels into the lounge, turning slightly as he entered the room to allow his ridiculously over-sized shoulder pads through, then idly leafed through some fan mail. "GAGA - I LOVE YOU!" and so on. Already he found he missed his friends from the Legion, and wondered what Elsie would make of all of this. She could never know. To raise his spirits he crossed to his keyboard and played a short snatch of "Bad Romance", adding vocals for a few seconds, but his heart wasn't in it.

He looked into the mirror over the fireplace and Gaga stared back. Why had this happened? Was she some malevolent, nomadic spirit, jumping restlessly from body to body for all eternity? Would he ever get his own body and life back?

Albert closed his eyes and formed a plan. He knew what he would have to do.

New album. World tour.

Simple.

***

Written by Peter Lee in a grotty Travelodge in London, Monday 11th October 2010.
(C) 2010 Peter Lee. A Nasal Hair Production.