Mariah Carey was escorted into the plant factory by her bodyguards. “Hello Miss Carey, welcome to our plant factory,” she was greeted by a sleazy looking music executive. “We hope you’ll find a lovely plant suitable for your garden.” Mariah sneered. “Ugh, what’s that terrible racket?” The sleazy executive laughed nervously. “Oh, that’s SoundCloud rap, we find that it inspires our wigge-ahem, I mean, our “urban” plants.” Mariah covered her ears in disgust, belting out a whistle note, she destroyed the speakers with her Grammy award winning voice. “Ah, much better.”

Mariah was then escorted to view the various plants in their natural habitats. “This is our J. Lo plant,” the sleazy executive whispered nervously. “Don’t know her,” Mariah replied. The J. Lo plant could be seen spying on the other plants, attempting to steal their lyrics. Mariah looked on in disgust. “I didn’t know she sang, I thought she acted, or whatever.”

Mariah was then introduced to the Africana plant. “This is our most popular plant, the Africana Wakande,” the sleazy executive said proudly. “Her voice has often been compared to yours.” Mariah rolled her eyes. “Who?” Africana could be seen whipping her fake ponytail around in circles and grunting in ebonics. “YUH!” it screeched in horror as its skin became a slightly lighter shade of brown before crawling into a tanning bed. “I hope she has some wrinkle cream.”

Finally, Mariah, now in full diva mode, was led to the Billie Eyelash plant. “This is our most prized plant,” the sleazy executive was practically drooling, money signs in his eyes. “Surely you know of her?” Mariah shrugged. “Sorry, name doesn’t ring a bell.” Billie was wearing extra large gangsta clothes, as well as a spiked collar and bracelets from Hot Topic, also grunting in ebonics, like Africana, as well as edgy pseudo-suicidal cries for attention. “Deadass! I’m finna end me!” She hollered at a group of hypnotized zoomer girls. “I wanna end me,” they said in unison, making shallow cuts into their wrists with butter knives. Billie’s brother, Finneas, could be seen counting stacks of hundred dollar bills and snickering in the background, Denzel Curry licking his lips.

“Disgusting,” Mariah had seen enough. “Most of these bitches can’t sing without autotune!” Billie protested. “Deadass, I can sing!” She attempted to hit the high notes she used to be able to hit in Ocean Eyes but her voice gave out. “YUH!” Africana grunted as she tried to sing God is a Woman, but the tanning bed had taken its toll on her voice, which now sounded dry and gravely. J. Lo tried to sing a song she blatantly stole from a Black woman. Mariah, enraged, effortlessly hit a high note that vaporized them all, before remarking: “I don’t hear you, I don’t see you, you don’t exist to me.”