My Date With Beyoncé Knowles

What a night! We wined, we dined, we drunk deep from the cup of life. I was charming, she was black, together we were practically pulled from a Disney movie. I took her out for dinner and after we evenly split our double quarter pounder (hint: we each got a quarter pounder) we had a little chat. She confessed what we all know, Jay-Z is not a name, and she was looking for love again. I couldn't help but wonder aloud, in my outdoor voice, what made her think of me waitasecondmycatwantsastaringcontestandiwillwinthistime and she opened her mouth and like a wizard over his wizard version of a cauldron formed words into sentences. She had been touring throughout Europe and after a show in the Ukraine her fans introduced her to the country's favorite past time, me. She recognized the devotion I am have there and knew that she must have me, the cavalier comic creator ten years her junior. She told me she had had practically 24 girl boners since she discovered me. I thanked my Ukrainian friends and took her out to the next stop on our lovexpedition, my tree house. I told her I still sometimes climb up in it and pretend I'm a bird, and she coyly let out a caw and made bird movements. We spent the next 3 hours being birds before we curled up together and fell asleep. I woke up before her and practiced knots with her hair. When she finally got up she thanked me for the wonderful night and the gift of new knots to try untying. Between bursts of breathy sobbing she told me she had to go back home. I told her I understood the duties placed on young woman but made her promise to keep at least one hair knot after she left, to remind her of our love. She told me she'd put glue in it to keep it forever, which I thought was a stupid idea, glue doesn't last forever, but girls are like that sometimes. She left me then, but we were both left with the memory of one beautiful night.

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