20th
Oh Me, Oh Miley!
Little Red Miley Hood: And The Tragedy of Max Azria
Once upon a time, in a card board box on the out skirts out Nashville lived a very démodé girl named Miley Cyrus. Her teeth were so very large that she often lost her balance while standing atop of her horrible Dock Martins, whom she borrowed from Britney Spears at the abortion clinic when avoiding K. Fed numbero tres. Anyways, one day after finding fragments of a trash bag to match her Faded Glory cut off’s, her father staggered out from a nearby rubble of Pat’s Blue Ribbon’s. “MIY-LAY!” exclaimed Billy Ray,”NASA cawled and the’re gonna need ta’ borrow yer forehead as a landing dock fer sum spaceship. Awlso, today’s yer Party n’ Amerca video shoot!”
“But Daddy,” said Miley, “Haven’t you heard? The Civil War is over! Nobody’s interested in white trash anymore! I know a girl who actually had a baby outside of her bloodline, can you imagine?! How am I supposed to win over the nation with my multiple personality disorder and lack of intelligence?”
Billie Ray, who couldn’t keep his eyes open at this point due to the excess Pat’s, let out a sigh. “Miy-lay, if Reba Mcentire can convince tha’ world that he’s a woman, you can brang back the white trash nation. You know why, Mil-lay?”
“Why Dad?”
“BECUS ITS AMURCAN!”
After watching her father protrude an entire tin of chew and explain the triumphs of incest and cow tipping, Miley was convinced to do the video and set off on her adventure.
Miley felt very much in her element while walking to the video shoot. The paths were lined with broken fishing lines and used condoms (she was one of the few girls in her backwoods to have been educated of what a condom was used for. Birth control was a mystery until Britney told her about her younger sister). While Miley reminisced of her Nazi Power days back at Disney, she was startled by a noise. She looked all the way around her buck teeth to discover a lone Wolf shuddering behind his thick rimmed glasses.
“Excuse me, my name is Max Azria and I’m completely lost. Lagerfeld told me that this is where Tom Ford lives, do you know where that is?”
Miley was struck with discovery. She had never heard of this Tom Ford man, but she wondered if he looked as interesting as this Max Azria. With her mouth wide open, her eyes traced the silhouette of his solid black blazer. This appeal was like nothing she had ever felt before. This was not a matter of wondering which one of her relatives double wide’s she was waking up too, this was so much more then that. She was both intrigued and ecstatic at his splendorous clothes.
“Gee, I don’t know sir but your clothes sure are…interesting”
“Oh this old thing?” he said. “I just threw it on with this fabulous sapphire collared button up.”
“Sapphire? So you’re blue collared too?!”
Before poor Max could respond, she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him farther and farther up the pathway until they reached Miley’s favorite department store called Wal-Mart. She rushed inside to the manager with Max at her overweight fingers, dragging him past the barefoot customers.
“Hi there! My friend Max here designs clothes and is looking for one of your employee’s named Tom Ford, is he here?”
The manager lifted up his netted Dixie Pride hat and grumbled at her “Ford? Ya say, Ford? Look out front baby girl, there are about twenty parked Ford’s that your friend could talk to.”
Max, who quickly realized that he was going to be subjected to this pathetic doom until Lagerfeld called the National Guard to rescue him thought of how he could pass time. As he looked around, he became terrified with every corner that he passed. A rack full of grammatically incorrect labeled shorts spelled out things like “Shake it, Sis!” and “Don’t ASS Me!” almost made him faint with sickness. Having feeling faint, he thought he could see a clearing of forest up ahead. Instinctively, he ran for it until about a yard away he jerked to a halt.
For it was no clearing in the forest, it was the camo covering the beer guts of seven “Santa-Claus-meets-lack-of-civilization-and-ABC-store”ish men. As he began to retreat, one of them stepped forward.
“Son, immawl need to ast you some questions.”
(Ast: To interrogate or inquire, as when a revenue agent seeks information about illegal moonshine stills. “Don’t ast me so many questions, it makes me mad.”)
Max cowered in his Valentino flats. “Yes?”
“Why you look so differnt?”
“All the better to umm… “
All of a sudden, the rank stench of Miley came soaring to his freshly plucked nostrils.
“MAX! Guess what? The manager says that in order to pay him back for the herpes I gave him last week, we can make clothes for him! Isn’t that great?”
Under the glow of the flickering banged up lights, he cried until he agreed to design clothes with Miley. And Miley eventually went to her video shoot and shook her barely covered bottom while her dad wept because it was AMERCUN.
THE END!
