He brought his fist down so hard on his chrome desk that diamonds rattled off his iPhone case.
“I’m sorry Sir-Z, people tire of them easy! What do you want us to do, update the music?!”
They laughed as Jay-Z wandered towards the machine & pressed “VEND”.
With a wet noise, a scream of a sudden sentience, & a whoosh of vapour, the door slid open.
“This is what, number 10? Call it Rita X & get it a ridiculous haircut immediately.”
The vat-born songstresses stirred in their nutriTanks as the door to the PlethORA machine slid shut.