What Was Going Through Prince’s Mind at 11:59 pm on December 31, 1998

          Well, this is it, the moment I've been dreading for sixteen years now. I knew this day was coming. Only one minute until the ball drops and I’m doomed to an entire year of people telling me that they’re “Partying like its 1999!” What was I thinking? I never should have written that stupid song. Ugh, I bet its playing at every fucking New Year’s party right now. That’s why I stayed home. No parties for Prince this year. I feel bad for everyone who is suffering through drunken karaoke renditions of that fucking song all across the country. Hell, all across the entire fucking world!

            Forty seconds until the ball drops. Someone just drove past my house playing that fucking song. How did they know I live here? I bet it was just a coincidence. I bet every car on the streets is playing that song. It’s like the entire world was lost to some strange musical apocalypse and the only song that survived is that fucking song. Did he have the CD in his car? Did he specifically buy the CD for this night just so he could play that song at the perfect moment? Was it on the radio? Fuck! I forgot about the radio! I bet every radio station is going to be playing that song on repeat for an entire fucking year. Guess I can’t listen to the radio. But I love the radio! But I also loved little red corvettes and now I can’t stand them. I’m still a sucker for raspberry berets though.

            Fifteen seconds until the ball drops. I’m probably about to see so many royalties from this song. I bet my albums fly off the shelves tomorrow. I’m going to be so rich, even more than I am now. I bet the checks come to me in those big burlap sacks like in movies when someone gets a lot of mail. That’ll be cool. But wait, can you make a check out to whatever symbol I go by? Fuck, I have to remember to change my name back to Prince.

            Ten… nine… eight…

            I swear I will never play that fucking song again.

            Seven… six… five…

            I swear I will never play that fucking song again. Ever.

            Four… three…

            I can’t wait for the year 2000. Then I’ll be all like “Party over! Oops, out of time!”

            Two…

            I need to change my name again so I can get rich.

            One…

            Happy Fucking New Year to me.