Lift up those brows, readers: This week’s New Yorker has a brief but entertaining article entitled “Soup with Prince”, where writer Claire Hoffman sits down and chats with the world’s most sexual entertainer over a bowl of carrot soup.

Many things about the interview may strike you as noteworthy: Perhaps the fact that poor, frail Prince is now walking with a limp. Or maybe that, since becoming a Jehovah’s Witness, Prince actually goes around town knocking on doors to proselytize (Which probably goes something like: “Ding Dong” “Who IS it?” “Prince.” “Thud. [Person is now dead].”) A handful of you might even be interested to know that Prince thinks God is against homosexuality… this coming from a man who uses the best moustache conditioner money can buy.

But not us. No, to us, the weirdest, most disturbing part of this nugget of Prince journalism is that it takes place over a bowl of carrot soup. EATING SOUP WITH PRINCE. I mean… WOW. I don’t think I’d be able to ask a single question, what with his little lips sipping from the spoon while his eyes look up to me, squinting, as if to say “I’ve waited my whole life for this bowl.”

Here is a dramatization of me eating soup with Prince:

Prince: This soup is so hot… I can barely eat it. How’s yours?

My reaction plus more soup eating ahead.

Me: Uhguh.

Prince: I think I’m going to blow on mine… (air escapes his lips while light melisma tones are whispered.)

Me: (dabbing forehead with cloth napkin)

Prince: Girl, are you alright? This soup is delicious. (slow slurping.)

Me: (Painstakingly spells the following out in soup letters.)

(Then promptly faints.)

The End.

Please Note: This is not the first time I’ve photoshopped Prince. Please look at this photo which I made 3.5 years ago using MS Paint and unfulfilled fantasies.