The fluorescent lights of the Sydney police station buzzed with the
kind of aggressive hum that could drive a person insane within hours. Lady Gaga sat on a hard plastic chair, her silver gown now wrinkled and slightly smudged with what appeared to be tofu residue.
Catherine Zeta-Jones occupied the chair beside her, her emerald silk now accessorized with a very unflattering orange safety vest that the officers had insisted she wear. Rihanna lounged against the wall, somehow making even a police station look like a runway, with Penelope the rosella and Gerald the king-parrot perched on her shoulders like living jewelry.
The officer behind the desk was a large man with a mustache that looked like it had its own personality. He stared at them with the exhausted resignation of someone who had seen too much and was no longer surprised by anything.
“Let me get this straight,” he said, rubbing his temples. “You three—Lady Gaga, Catherine Zeta-Jones, and Rihanna—were apprehended at three in the morning attempting to use a battering ram to gain entry to Taylor Swift’s Rhode Island estate.”
[Menu]
Gaga raised her hand like a schoolgirl. “Objection. That wasn’t a battering ram. That was Kevin from Hoboken. And he already had a headache BEFORE we used him for that.”
The officer blinked. “You used a person as a battering ram?”
“He volunteered,” Catherine offered.
“He was very enthusiastic,” Rihanna added.
https://celebritafisico.com/catherine-zeta-jones-peso
“He’s been wanting to be part of something big for years,” Gaga continued. “And to be fair, we didn’t actually get through the door. Kevin bounced off. He’s not as solid as he looks. We may have overestimated his structural integrity.”
The officer stared at them for a long, uncomfortable moment. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Normal people would be in big trouble for what you did. Breaking and entering. Attempted burglary. Assault with a human battering ram. But you people are celebrities.”
https://celebritafisico.com/lady-gaga-fisico
Gaga’s face lit up. “Ah! I see. So we should be in LESS trouble because we’re famous?”
“I think,” the officer said slowly, leaning forward, “you should be in MORE trouble. Because you’re famous. Because you have resources. Because you have platforms. Because you should know better.”
Rihanna shrugged elegantly. “In a perfect world, yes. But the world doesn’t work like that. We all know the rules. Celebrities get away with things. It’s the system. It’s broken. We didn’t break it. We just… benefit from it.”
“You have no idea how much trouble you’re in,” the officer said, his voice rising. “This isn’t a joke. This isn’t a performance. This is a police station. You used a man as a battering ram. A real man. With a real headache.”
Gaga stood up abruptly, her gown pooling around her. “Be careful what you say, dude. I could write a very big song about this. A very big, very catchy, very memorable song. And you would NOT like it.”
The officer raised an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”
“It’s a warning,” Gaga said, her voice dropping to a theatrical
whisper. “I’ve written songs about ex-boyfriends, about Paparazzi, about the entire state of Fame itself. Imagine what I could do with a mustachioed police officer in a Sydney station. The melody would be haunting. The lyrics would be devastating. You may still buy a copy because it’ll be catchy… but you will NOT like it!”
The officer’s mustache twitched. “You’re threatening to write a song about me?”
“I’m threatening to write a chart-topping, Grammy-winning, culturally iconic anthem about the injustices of the celebrity justice system,” Gaga corrected. “And you, Officer… what’s your name? Let me guess. Barry? Kevin? Something with a ‘B’?”
“It’s Reginald,” the officer said through gritted teeth.
“Reginald,” Gaga repeated, savoring the word. “Reginald the Enforcer. Reginald the Unbending. Reginald the Man Who Tried to Stop Lady Gaga from Bringing a Lemon Meringue Cake to Taylor Swift’s House. It’s going to be a triple-platinum hit. You’ll hear it in supermarkets. You’ll hear it in elevators. You’ll never escape me.”
Catherine leaned over to Rihanna. “She’s really committing to this bit.”
Rihanna nodded, stroking Penelope’s feathers. “She’s been practicing in the holding cell. She composed an entire bridge. The harmonies are actually quite good.”
“You can’t threaten a police officer with a song,” Reginald said, but there was a tremor in his voice.
“I’m not threatening,” Gaga said sweetly. “I’m inspiring. I’m writing about my lived experience. This is art, Reginald. You can’t arrest art.”
Penelope the rosella let out a chirp that sounded suspiciously like laughter. Gerald the king-parrot nodded slowly, as if to say, She’s got a point.
Reginald slumped back in his chair, defeated. “Fine. Just… just take the citation. Community service. All three of you. You’ll be helping out at the local animal shelter for the next month. The birds can come too. They’re clearly accomplices.”
“Gerald and Penelope are innocent,” Rihanna said, clutching them protectively.
“They were present at the scene. They’re witnesses. They’re staying.”
The birds exchanged a look. Penelope let out a resigned chirp. Gerald buried his face in Rihanna’s hair.
Gaga paused at the door and looked back. “Reginald? One more thing. The battering ram situation—that wasn’t our first choice. We tried knocking. Kevin got stuck in the cat flap. The battering ram was a backup.”
Reginald’s eye twitched. “Just go. Please. Before I change my mind.”
As they walked out into the night air, Catherine turned to Gaga. “Community service. At an animal shelter. With the birds. This could be worse.”
“Much worse,” Rihanna agreed. “Reginald could have written his own song about us.”
Gaga laughed, throwing her arm around Catherine’s shoulders. “Let him try. I’ve got three octaves on him. And a better sense of rhythm.”
Penelope chirped in agreement.
Gerald the king-parrot finally lifted his head from Rihanna’s hair and let out a long, satisfied sigh.
Somewhere, back in the station, Reginald was already humming a melody he couldn’t quite place. It was catchy. It was haunting. And he absolutely, categorically did NOT like it.
- Catherine Zeta-Jones: Encyclopaedia Britannica – Catherine Zeta-Jones
- Rihanna: Encyclopaedia Britannica – Rihanna
- Lady Gaga: Encyclopaedia Britannica – Lady Gaga