Taylor's New Album

 
Simon Cowell's hideous screams reverberated across the audition stage as the other judges gaped in shock.

"That was undoubtedly the worst melody we have ever heard," he stated flatly, after recovering his composure. "It sounds like a gecko with lung cancer eating Beyonce. Who wrote that rubbish?"

"It's from Taylor's new album," shrugged the blonde dunce in front of them. "How have you not heard it before? It's fire."

"Get out! Leave!" Simon beckoned the security guard to escort out the nonchalant offender, who was already humming the tune of another of Taylor's monstrosities.

* * *

Inside the wall of the opulently adorned hotel room, a colony of mice quivered, ears throbbing from the violent onslaught. On the other side of the sheetrock, a reluctant guitar accompanied the slaughter of good taste and any semblance of counterpoint or melodic intentionality. The sound of the mice projectile-vomiting to Taylor's new song provided the perfect backtrack to seduce her tone-deaf fiancé.

"Babe, that's amazing," Travis grinned stupidly. "Can you sing it again?"

Outside the hotel window, songbirds kamikazed into the merciful asphalt below.