[SO MANY WEIRD WHITE STRIPES ON THE SCREEN. And then it flips to a view of the ceiling, where the edge of a gaudy sombrero haunts the edge. A phalange yellowed with not enough age to be bleached taps on the screen, heralding a hearty, hollow-sounding laugh.]It talks! It's like a television, but the buttons are too many! I can hear you in there
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Heeey, gracias!
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Buenos dias! What a glorious morning!
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Goddamn.
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Morning to you too, señorita!
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You are ... amazing. Totally fucking amazing.
[There's actually kind of a little awestruck tremor of emotion in her voice.]
Um, shit, I'm so rude. I'm Lady Gaga. What's your name?
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Will ya sing again?
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Yes, señorita! For you, anything!
[Aaand he starts playing, and singing, again! Something like this, now tapping his foot as he sings.]
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