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IN THE GREEN ROOM…

BRITNEY SPEARS: (Sauntering up to JENNIFER. Tauntingly) So…what do you think of my new fiancé?

JENNIFER LOPEZ: (Flaunting her wedding ring) I prefer my husband. You know what they say: one in the hand is worth two in the bush.

BS: Oh, I’m sure you can fit a lot more than two in that bush.

JL: I’m sorry, did you say something? I can barely hear you through the Great Wall of silicone embedded in your chest.

BS: Really? Well, why don’t you turn around and let me say it to that Grand Canyon of an ass you’ve got. Maybe you’ll catch one of the echoes.

JL: Oh, Brit-Brit, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got to go home and fuck the shit out of my highly successful husband.

BS: Is that supposed to mean something?

JL: Only that I didn’t have to stoop to marrying a freaking backup dancer.

BS: No, you just went for the choreographer.

JL: At least Cris has some rhythym.

BS: At least Kevin and I are in love.

JL: As in love as you were with that fatass in Vegas?

BS: So in love that I’m not even going to make him sign a pre-nup.

JL: Well, that’s good news for your future husband’s divorce lawyer.

BS: Oh, please, bitch. Look, I’m sorry if your crappy upbringing and disastrous marriages have made you bitter, Jennifer–

JL: Mira! How many times have I told you to call me J-Lo? It’s in my fucking contract!

BS: Um, hello? You don’t have a contract with me, freakazoid. In fact, I don’t think you have a contract with anyone right now.

THE GHOST OF MARIAH CAREY: (Entering through wall, above the hors d’oeuvre tray) Beware! Beware!

BS & JL: Who the fuck are you?

TGOMC: I am the ghost of Mariah Carey! I am a cautionary tale to all pop princesses whose heads grow larger than their talents!

JL: Mariah? Bitch, you’re not dead.

TGOMC: Aren’t I, J-Lo? Aren’t I? When did you last see me on the cover of People magazine?

JL: Well, I–

TGOMC: When was the last time they dissed me on “90 Second Pop”?

BS: But that’s not–

TGOMC: WHAT WAS THE NAME OF MY LAST SINGLE?

BS: Hey, c’mon.

JL: Yeah, you’re starting to scare us.

TGOMC: That is my mission, bitches: to freak you out. Now go! Go home and throw yourselves into the arms of your meagerly talented lovers. Go into the recording studio and do not emerge until you are sure you’ve gotten it right. And most of all, avoid all movie offers–all of them!

BS: But–but they’ve asked me to star in Glitter 2!

TGOMC: BE GONE!

(BS and JL run screaming from the room, clutching each other for dear life. TGOMC floats toward the buffet.)

TGOMC: Oooh! Shrimp!

HILLARY DUFF: (Entering) Hey, where’d everybody go?