Plastic-fantastic flirtilicious floozy Heidi Montag had a series of seismic shocks yesterday, writes Napoleon Crippen, Poisonous Brainrot and Egomania Correspondent.
Hilariously-humpable Heidi, who hails from Butt, Idaho, was hard at work flashing her tits and showing her arse on her daily jiggle yesterday, at Caligula Beach, California. After signing autographs for a gang of Montag-Mad Shop-Window Mannequins, Heidi exclaimed: "It's a pleasure to meet my fans. I'm popular with polymer people because my own polymer content is so high!"
With that, she wobbled and wiggled away, delighting the 10000 photographers who were there to capture every tremor and tremble of the bouncing bounty that is Heidi's bounteous bod.
She skipped and danced along the sands, letting the waves - their translucent tongues lapping her toes, their milky fans of foam caressing her ankles like Brussels lace - soothe her with their cool embrace. Then she stopped, open-mouthed.
For she saw her husband, X Pensive Pratt, the famous Celebrity Cretin, who is a famous Celebrity, celebrated for being a famous cretin and famous for being a Celebrated Cretinous Pratt.
Heidi was shocked, because the contrived meeting with her husband was nothing to do with her. The only contrivance she was aware of was her dollariciously delightful dance in the surf for the parasitic paparazzi perpetually pursuing their plastic pet.
What was more, Heidi was moved to exclaim: "Why is X Pensive standing on his head with his head buried in the sand?" Nobody could answer, least of all her husband, whose head was buried in the sand, though he did try to communicate by waving his legs in the air.
Heidi soon recovered from this shock, and flounced fabulously in the foam again, bending beautifully over and whirling and twirling for the cameras. Until she stopped, open-mouthed.
How she pouted, even more than usual. For there, dying in the harsh sunlight, like two drying and expiring crabs, were Twilight Twosome, Robert Pattinson and Taylor Lautner.
As she pirouetted pertly towards the stricken boy vampyre and child werewolf cub, Heidi screamed in anguish at their plight. She was moved to exclaim:
"Oh, poor Robert and Taylor! They'll die, exposed out here in the sunlight. What can we do?"
But she soon forgot about the pathetic pair, and pranced, preened and pouted again for the paparazzi, allowing the sunlight to coat her luscious lithe loveliness in an aura of plastic perfection.
Yesterday evening, Heidi Montag mused on these amazing encounters, as she enjoyed a barbecue with her manager, Manny Launderer. Heidi was dressed in a special minikini, as she sizzled special sausages for the gathered photographers, and bent over to show her arse and let her tits wobble.
The barbecue was fuelled by lots of books, in honour of Heidi's great-grandfather from the future, the character Montag from the dystopian novel Fahrenheit 451 by sci-fi author Ray Bradbury. Montag's job in the story is to burn books, so his great-grand-daughter from the past was a real sexy sizzler of a book-burning bombshell!
She stopped suddenly, open-mouthed. She was moved to exclaim: "What a wierd day! I wonder what was going on with meeting those guys on the beach? This feels wierd, unreal. It's like we don't have any control, like someone is making me do these things and say these very words, like we are all doomed to do what they make us do."
So this was what Heidi was thinking as the sky wept blood and the tide came in, covering the writhing forms of X Pensive Pratt, Robert Pattinson and Taylor Lautner.
Tomorrow: Selena Gomez - "I'm A Huge Animal Lover: Give Me A Huge Animal, Any Huge Animal, Just Make Sure It's Really Huge"