Juilliard Graduate Patti LuPone
You’re attending a Broadway show
You’re texting your bae so your phone’s lit up Out of the corner of her eye she spots you Patti LuPone She’s glaring at you
‘Bout three rows back She sets down her drink and breaks into a
sprint. She’s coming for you. Patti LuPone You try to hide the screen
But you’re all turned around She’s almost upon you now
And you can see there’s makeup on her face! My god, there’s makeup everywhere! Drop your playbill to the floor
(It’s Patti LuPone.) You’re running out the door
(From Patti LuPone.) Chase you to the lobby Musical Superstar Patti LuPone She’s had enough of it,
(Patti LuPone.) Callin’ out your shit
(Patti LuPone.) You heard the announcement! Juilliard Graduate Patti LuPone You duck backstage and you seem to have lost
her, But you’re hopelessly lost yourself.
Stranded with a tony winner, You creep silently backstage left. A-ha! Down the hall, A small dressing room with a light on.
Hope! You move silently toward it,
But suddenly! AH! It’s Michael Cerveris! Selfie snap with Mike,
(Quiet, backstage.) Sneaking down the hallway,
(Quiet, backstage.) Entering the dressing room, Sitting inside, Patti LuPone. Straightening her wig,
(Patti LuPone.) But she doesn’t hear you enter,
(Patti LuPone.) You’re sneaking up behind her. Startling superstar Patti LuPone. “Aren’t you that bloke,” says Patti
LuPone, Drinking rum and coke; it’s Patti LuPone, Then she grabs your cellphone. You limp out of the theatre,
Ego oozing from your dejected head Phoneless. You’ve been defeated by Patti LuPone Wait! The stage door! It’s a Patti parade! Her eyes lock with yours, you feel so afraid. But still need your cellphone Body slam superstar Patti LuPone Her hair’s in disarray Patti LuPone Normal matinee for Patti LuPone You plummet to the ground with Patti LuPone People document it using snapchat. You grapple for your phone, she dodges to
the left You scramble to the right, you execute the
theft You’re reaching in her pocket You have just emancipated Patti and phone You scamper out of the alleyway with an inexplicably
signed playbill Your selfies intact, your pride in tatters But you have retrieved your phone from from Patti LuPone.