With Katy Perry’s permission, Orlando Bloom takes care of his Tamagotchi on the Met Gala


Orlando Bloom and Katy Perry came to the Met Gala last night with matching Tamagotchis. What follows is an extremely real timeline of Orlando’s evening tending to his Tamagotchi.

17 o’clock: Orlando Bloom stands in front of a full-length mirror at the Carlyle, brushing stray cat hair from his red tuxedo. He swallows hard. “Katy?” he says. “Do you have a moment?”

Katy Perry steps out of the bathroom, a crest white strip carefully placed over each eyebrow. “What is it?” She asks. She speaks with a British accent. Orlando doesn’t ask why. He never asks why.

“Are you sure?” he says instead. Katy laughs out loud, a white stripe dangles over one eye. “About what? About us?” She goes to Orlando and clenches his balls in one hand. “Of course I’m not sure. I’m Katy Fucking Perry. I’m just sure that you are the happiest man on this planet, Frodo.”

Orlando swallows again. “I meant … about the Tamagotchis,” he says. Katy takes her hand from his balls and pulls a long nail down her neck. “Yes, Orlando,” she says, sticking the nail in her mouth and pulling out a stray cat hair from the inside. “I meant what I said. If you can’t keep your Tamagotchi alive, we’re over. I need to know that it is your responsibility to take care of a child. The next step is to take care of an actual one.” take care child. Then I will finally allow you to watch my cats when I shower. “

Orlando has run out of saliva now. “But … I’m already a father,” he whispers. Katy peeled a white strip from her eyebrow, now beautifully bleached, and placed it over his open mouth. He nods understandingly.

6 pm: Orlando and Katy sit in a long black limousine in silence. Katy gives Orlando his Tamagotchi, which she has hidden under her tongue. “It’s a classic,” she says, “white with black accents.” Orlando feels reassured by its simplicity. How hard can that be? he thinks. I am a father. I am a father. I’m a – “you know what to do, right?” Katy asks coolly, turning on the tiny Japanese machine. “Yes,” he says a little too loudly. In truth, he had never heard the word Tamagotchi before the end of April when Katy sent him a long email explaining her plan. “We’ve been together for almost four months,” she wrote. “It’s time to talk about the future and Elizabethtown too.” The driver looks at both of them. “Don’t help him,” shouts Katy. The driver quickly turns back to the road.

6:15 pm: The Tamagotchi pooped itself. Katy is full of anger. “It’s been fifteen minutes, Bilbo,” she screeches. “How many snacks did you feed?” Orlando stares at the tiny screen and begs the little monster to stop pooping. A snack? What is a snack? “What is a snack?” Orlando asks quietly. Katy opens the limo door. The car is still moving. She throws herself into traffic.

6:30 in the evening: Orlando is at the end of the Met Steps. He had tried to follow Katy into traffic only to be pulled back into the limo by the driver. “I’m walking the red carpet ALONE,” she’d screamed, bleeding lightly from an eyebrow. “You take the limo. I’ll get another limousine. A better limousine. A limousine that knows what he wants and knows how to keep his Tamagotchis from pooping !!!!” Orlando knows better than to argue. In addition, his Tamagotchi is starving. “How do I feed you?” he asks. He presses all three buttons. A skull appears next to his Tamagotchi’s head. Orlando is apoplectic.

6:35 pm: A new Tamagotchi is born that wobbles out of its pixelated shell. Orlando doesn’t know how that happened, but he’s grateful. He’s still standing on the underside of the mead steps. A stranger in a tuxedo comes up to him and asks if he’s okay. “Is that a duck?” he asks the man and shakes the Tamagotchi in his face. “What kind of animal is that?!?” The man steps back slowly. Orlando starts crying. He attaches the Tamagotchi to his tuxedo and trudges up the stairs.

6:45 pm: The Tamagotchi fell asleep and pooped itself again. Orlando puts his hands in his pockets and smiles at the photographers. Inside he screams.

19 o’clock: At the Met now. Orlando can’t find his table. Taylor Swift comes by and beats him up, except he forgets to do his part of the high five. She puts a hand on his chest and pushes him against the wall. His vision is blurred. His tamagotchi is surrounded by his own trash and won’t wake up. Orlando pushes a button and the word “Discipline” appears. He laughs helplessly. Discipline. What a cruel joke.

7:20 pm: Orlando is at the bar. Four shots of Patron in. He skipped the exhibition – too much distraction, needs to concentrate – and Anna Wintour already told him to fuck himself. He expects to hear this at least four more times before she pulls it into the closet and gets on it. It’s the same every year. However, this year he has Katy (where is she?) And his tiny Japanese demon. Karolina Kurkova approaches him and pulls the Tamagotchi out of his grip. “WHAT IS IT?” she squeaks. She starts pushing buttons at random. Orlando, distracted by her crazy dress, tries to explain. “It’s … I’m a father,” he tries. She gives it back to him. “Your child looks dead,” she says.

19:30 o’clock: Now in the bathroom. Orlando can’t stop vomiting. Someone’s knocking at the door. It’s Olivier Rousteing. “Orlando, it’s me. Olivier Rousteing.” ORLANDO kicks open the door. Olivier stares at him. “Katy told me about the Tamagotchi,” he says. “She arrived. You might want to find her.” Orlando gets up and desperately cleans the reborn Tamagotchi, which is already very hungry. Olivier watches him wordlessly and takes a quick selfie in the bathroom mirror while Orlando puts his head in the sink and turns on the water. “You’re going to make a terrible cat babysitter,” says Olivier.

8 pm: Orlando stumbles to his table with the help of Olivier Rousteing. Olivier whispers in his ear as he leaves: “You disgust me.” Orlando is trembling. Katy is already sitting at the table and, as always, looks regal and terrifying in Prada. Orlando is sitting next to her. She reaches for his Tamagotchi without speaking. He gives it to her and she examines it. “It’s hungry. And I can tell this is a new one. This one looks like shit. I hate it. I hate you. You will never touch my cats. I regret the day I ever met you at the Golden.” Let Globes smoke. “Orlando unfolds his napkin and places it over his head.

8:30 p.m .: Someone is talking on the stage. Maybe it’s Anna Wintour. Maybe it’s Lady Gaga. Or maybe someone is singing. Maybe God is singing. Singing for Orlando’s dead Tamagotchi. Orlando had 12 shots now, his napkin hanging from one ear. He notices that Katy is quiet now, holds his hand and smiles. Orlando is confused but optimistic. “Are we all right?” he writes to her. She looks at her cell phone and reads the text. A waiter comes by. “Can I have your most terrible cocktail?” she asks sweetly. The waiter brings her something light blue and frothy. “I took out Kanye’s contacts and broke them up and added egg whites,” he says. She lets go of Orlando’s hand and drops her cell phone into the cocktail.

8:55 pm: The fifth Tamagotchi now. Orlando is sitting under the table playing with it. It entered a strange game feature that it can’t get out of. But Orlando likes the game. Because life is just a game, isn’t it? The Tamagotchi that Orlando referred to as Joan is weak and small. He pours a tiny drop of tequila into his mechanisms. At least he gives it a good life before it dies.

9.15 p.m .: Katy sends Derek Jeter to get Orlando and Joan out from under the table. “After-party time, brother,” says Derek. Orlando starts crying. Derek pulls a baseball out of his pocket. “Here,” he says, sticking out Orlando’s head with his other hand. “Take that.” Orlando accepts this little act of kindness, an act he doesn’t deserve. “I’m a terrible father,” he says to Derek. Derek pats him on the back. “There may be people who are more talented than you, but there is no excuse for someone to work harder than you – and I think so,” he says. Orlando resolves to write this down later.

9:20 pm: Derek escorts Orlando to Katy’s limo, where Katy is waiting with a baseball bat. Orlando instinctively covers his head and screams. Katy laughs. “I thought it was Derek,” she says. She hands the bat to Derek. Derek puts it in his pocket and walks, winking at Orlando.

9:20 pm: Katy and Orlando are back in the limo in silence. Orlando is on her way back to the Carlyle, while Katy goes to the Standard High Line Soirée and, as she put it, “finds a new German elf to fuck”. Katy holds out her palm one last time. “Tamagotchi,” she says. Orlando reaches into his pocket, finds the small, sleek coffin that carries Joan’s dilapidated corpse, and gives it to her. She stares at the screen, then turns to show him.

Inexplicably, the Tamagotchi thrives. It now has a long beak and looks fat and happy, as all children should. Orlando is stunned. Katy is thrilled. “You did it, Gollum,” she says, taking his cheek in her hand. For a moment, he remembers why he fell in love with her at the Golden Globes. They smooch. She shoves the tamagotchi back into her mouth and then falls asleep.

Orlando opens Katy’s mouth and inspects the Tamagotchi. Can this be real? he asks himself. How? Suddenly he realizes that this Tamagotchi is not Joan. She doesn’t have the same zest for life (although she literally lives). Then Orlando remembers Derek’s baseball. At the second thought, it was a little tiny and squeaky being a baseball, wasn’t it?

Orlando reaches into his other pocket and feels the cold, unforgiving shell of Joan’s rotting duck carcass. He realizes what Derek did for him: He gave him a blooming, beautiful Tamagotchi that he can call himself. Saved his relationship. Saved his dignity. Saved his life. Derek. Derek!

The limousine stops. Katy wakes up and excitedly pulls Orlando by the nose into the Standard High Line Soirée. Derek Jeter is standing on the steps as they pass. “If you want to play at all, you want to win,” he whispers to Orlando. “Playing baseball, board games, jeopardy, I hate to lose.” “Same thing,” says Orlando. “It’s never over,” replies Derek. “You don’t want to be able to lose four runs in the ninth inning, but it’s not over until the last out.”

Orlando takes a deep breath, reaches into his pocket and quickly hands Joan to Derek. “Take care of her,” he whispers. He follows Katy into the party.


Janet Smith