Countless tweens lost a bit of their innocence the night Gaga’s Monster Ball Tour stopped in Columbus. Everyone else lost a bit of lucidity.

What happened that rainy evening was a kaleidoscope of boxer briefs, fake blood, fiery tornados, a winged Jesus, self-induced vomiting, a monstrous demon puppet, and miscellaneous perversions set to dance music.

Yet when Gaga wasn’t singing her chart-topping pop hits or stuffing her face with a heart, she demanded that those in the audience just be themselves — whatever the freak that may be.

In a way, the concert felt like being psychologically violated while listening to a motivational speech.

Fortunately, the play list fit a loose plotline. That semblance of organization gave sanities something on which to grip.

Gaga’s tale began after her car broke down on the way to The Monster Ball, the “best party on the planet,” where fans can find their “inner superstar.”

The fog flowing from Gaga’s crotch set the scene as she opened with “Glitter & Grease.” The stage resembled a wacky inner city, with neon lights spelling Sexy Ugly and BBQ.

Gaga performed “Just Dance,” and “Beautiful, Dirty, Rich” against the same backdrop, playing a piano fashioned as a car with its hood up. She disappeared and then rose from the floor wearing a red curtain, singing “The Fame.”

Since the piano car wasn’t getting Gaga closer to this mysterious Monster Ball, she took to the subway. She wore her famous latex outfit with Xs taped over her chest, singing “Love Game” while gyrating against the other bodies in the cab.

Gaga also wielded a scepter in a hand that resembled that of a zombie’s.

“I didn’t use to be brave,” Gaga cooed. “But you have helped me be brave.”

“Tonight I want you to forget all of your insecurities,” she continued, her voice rising as she listed the accomplishments some thought she’d never achieve. By the end of the homily, she was growling.

“Just remember that you’re a damn super star! You were born this way!”

She pointed out that the subway had dropped Gaga off in a very strange place, and would need to call upon her “deep and loyal friends — you know, my Ohio gays” for direction. She invited the audience to celebrate their pride as she sang “Boys, Boys, Boys.”

As the “little monsters” flung pieces of their homemade Gaga costumes onto the stage, Gaga found one with a note. It was from Wendy, who had a brain tumor and dreamt of meeting Gaga.

The star found Wendy near the front stage to share encouragement. “Your mind is more powerful than what you can imagine,” she said.

She also paused to promote her charity drive for homeless youth in the LGBT community. Gaga promised to match every dollar fans donated, up to $20,000, for all 200 shows.

A phone company’s promotional bit provided a segue back to the show, as Gaga performed “Telephone” in all pop music’s choreographed glory.

Gaga then slowed the pace with an acoustic version of her latest single, “Born this Way.”

She wore a bikini, nylons, and a few accessories fans had thrown on stage earlier as she played on a decrepit baby grand piano. Flames ran across the piano’s edge.

She followed with “You and I,” another track from her highly anticipated album. The flames on the piano developed into a cyclone of fire. At one point, Gaga appeared to be crying.

Yet the mood lightened with some classic Gaga gore. “I broke my nail playing for you!” she declared, flicking the bio-waste toward the audience.

She disappeared behind the screen again, reappearing in an ominous forest resembling a broad-shouldered vulture creature. She performed “Monster.”

“That boy is a monster, he ate my heart,” she sang as her dancers closed in around her. “He licked his lips, said to me girl look enough to eat. Put his arms around me, said boy now get your paw right off of me.”

When she broke free, her costume had been torn off. With fake blood smeared across her bare torso, Gaga spoke out against bullying — and against lip-syncing.

She followed “Monster” with “Show me your teeth,” interjecting quick philosophies about religion between choruses.

She rolled around on the fogged floor. Red tears dripped from a Jesus statue. Gaga seemed to be speaking in tongues.

“There He is, the eternal fountain, the only fountain in the world that bleeds for you,” she said, pointing to Jesus. “Because my religion is you, little monsters. And tonight, my religion is Ohio.”

After performing “Alejandro” and “Poker Face,” Gaga had some how made her way under the ocean. Lurching in the darkness was a giant hybrid of an angler fish (commonly called the creepiest creature of the deep sea) and an octopus.

“You’ve gone too far, Gaga!” a dancer pleaded before fleeing the stage. Gaga was alone when she faced the towering puppet.

“No! It’s the monster!” Gaga cried. “It’s the fame monster.”

She sang “Paparazzi” while battling the floating fiend.

Perhaps it was simply shock art, but it seemed to carry symbolic meaning. After a treacherous, angry journey, and after succumbing initially to a few tentacles, Gaga ultimately ended on top, singing “Bad Romance” as her globe costume orbited around her body like a halo.

Before the finale, the camera panned the audience with a night-vision lens.

It showed faces painted like skulls, lightning bolts drawn across eyeballs, cigarettes glued to glasses, antlers tacked onto headpieces, and hair bows made of hair. The little monsters had lived up to their title.

Gaga reappeared for the finale, the radio version of “Born This Way,” dressed in a flesh colored latex dress. A rainbow flag hung in the background.

She had showed fans the Monster. She had appeared in the Ball. By the end of the show, Lady Gaga had shown her fans the journey to becoming an icon.