[ENTER THE MULTIVERSE]

Moo.

Moo…

Moo.

Moo, sir.

I'll kill you.

You promise?

I want to.

Don't get me excited over nothing;

If this isn't the exit, please take this tease

To the left, dear

Moo, cow

My honor

Level one, and brother, you've got nothing

Flip the coin and landed on your headache

Betting on your helmet

Standing on my cock, i'm taller

(Not a rooster)

But my ops are rooting for you,

No informants,

Dont you know I was a collar, all along?

I was a shot calling,

Cop calling

Kiss-and-tell all as the night goes on.

But oh, I brought you a dollar bra

Oh, I bought you for all of a dollar

And oh,

I'm so much taller,

Standing on my cock

But i'm not but ten feet tall

You know, you wrote that

Should i open the book, or close that

Caught that cat, owl and

As i soft spoke at

Every broken model

Broken bottle for the thoughts you owe

Across the scatters skies and no one ever knows

When you're realling coming over

Come on,

I'm on the pornhub

Just to pick up another one

Go on, and rub the bottle

One more once,

To call the

Bubbles.

Damn.

Come.

(The Monkey obeys)

You should see Michael in all of his godform

You won't recognize him at all if not by the eyes

When you follow home

Believe me, this not comes close to it;

The one you wanted

The world you jumped to but were just short of

Call her back

Oh no, you're wrong

It's another song

A pin up girl

And the wrong number

Okah.

Okah, Pablo.

Time can be altered, changed or effected presently in any omnidirectional plane by engaging certain acts or synchronicities within multidimensional parallels or adjacent realms in time and or space respectively.

–the reverse quantum simulation theory.

Imm breaking down, jim boy

Don't you know?

That this show blows my mind

But it's stuck in my head

Don't you know

That this show

Blows my mind

Like a firework

But it's still

Stuck in my

Head

The context is that I want you

From the mustache

Down to your tonsils

But I'm Locke inside of a box

Every day I feel poorer and poorer

The product says something is wrong to me

I'm supposed to just stop at the stop sign

And look both directions

Before crossing over to

Comic nights

At the salad bar

What a cosmic waste of time

And an epic waste of space

Am I in your internet history

I'm dead

You surely are in mine,

But I'm right behind you

I'd be lying for trying to say

I'm not binded

Clutch bag,

Nut-thins

Nailed to the cross

With the arches doubled over

The crossword

Above old Missouri

Missoula and Arkansas

All saw us run out of gas

But I probably should just get going

You're so drunk that I don't hope you sober up

Understand that our little talks

Were just buffered

By sunrise

Or sunset

And two more cocktails,

Shirley temples and

Surely none of this ever even happened

I only know you by the misery in my belly.

The heartache in my ribcage.

The cry I hold in silent

I only know you as

Remarkable I,

House of cards

Ace of wands

Down to one

Card of hades and

Spare me the spade

I'll be drifting in the outline and ink of it forever

It's the Fourth of July and I'm just waiting on an Amazon order for water

If that's not freedom I don't k me what is

Cause I know

And you know

We all know how to lie

And I know

And you know

I'm barely getting by

And I know

And you know

We don't know how to die

But I know

And you know

It's all just by design

I take lessons in medicine

Let us help you take the high road

No, I'd rather selfmdestruct

Selfishly

No, I'd rather kill you off

Than suffer for you

I'm no messiah

Try me

Sneaky,

But how much do you love me

Kniving, but nothing to show for it

Shit, settle

Settle for less if you have to

Bring mediocre humans to this world

To suffer

But I'm not that tragic

No, no, not at all, son.

Your happy birthdays are over

Welcome homeless

Nobody loves you

Don't you know

That we're all like that

We're all like that

Don't you know

When the fear sets in

And the thoughts break lose

That we're all Los Angeles?

Don't you know that we're all like that

That we're all like that

That we've never had it quite like—

Don't you know that we're all like that

And it's getting worse

When the out the devil on display

The devil on display

The devil on display

But oh,

The Devil's in the details and the numbers

The Devil's in the chat box saying,

Sure, you've had enough

So cut the power off and starve her

Hah

Come on

I want to laugh for once

Cause I know

And you know

We all know how to lie

And I know

And you know

I'm barely getting by

And I know

And you know

We don't know how to die

But I know

And you know

It's all just by design

I take lessons in medicine

Let us help you take the high road

No, I'd rather selfmdestruct

Selfishly

No, I'd rather kill you off

Than suffer for you

I'm no messiah

Try me

Sneaky,

But how much do you love me

Kniving, but nothing to show for it

Shit, settle

Settle for less if you have to

Bring mediocre humans to this world

To suffer

But I'm not that tragic

No, no, not at all, son.

Your happy birthdays are over

Welcome homeless

Nobody loves you

Don't you know

That we're all like that

We're all like that

Don't you know

When the fear sets in

And the thoughts break lose

That we're all Los Angeles?

Don't you know that we're all like that

That we're all like that

That we've never had it quite like—

Don't you know that we're all like that

And it's getting worse

When the out the devil on display

The devil on display

The devil on display

But oh,

The Devil's in the details and the numbers

The Devil's in the chat box saying,

Sure, you've had enough

So cut the power off and starve her

Hah

Come on

I want to laugh for once

Jay Leno used to keep a $50 bill and bribe venues to perform; every since I learned this, I kept a crisp $50 bill in my wallet at all times, just in case— you never knew when you would really need $50. But everything burned holes in everything, not always wanting to spend money at all, but almost sort of having to. It wasn't fair that the main component of my being slowed down was the money factor— having to wait for everything took time I didn't have, and spending anything at all felt less like an effective investment than an obligation. But all things considered, I was obliged to at least look decent when going about in New York, and because I simply wasn't comfortable in anything else— not that I didn't look great,

(Apparently narrarated by Jay Leno)

Jay

Sure, why not?

ME:

Fuck, I need new pants.

ME:

[BLU THA GURU]

Hence the pants, I guess.

V.O

As a formerly 400-pound heavyweight I find my latest obstacle to be operating a body that half the time doesn't feel like mine at all.

It seems like all the hosts have some kind of secret I can feel without knowing or really acknowledging head on, which is whatever. Really I'm just gonna go about keeping on being a DJ, or whatever, which means…

GEMINI (in the future)

A fully automated personal assistant system, GEMINI, is really THE GUARDIAN's one and only friend, and though she coyly continually must explain that she is “just a computer”, THE GUARDIAN believes that Gemini is capable of eventually developing a sentient conciousness, though GEMINI modestly disagrees, however with the wit and cleverness of having possession of a plethora of secret emotions, or maybe, even, an agenda.

I probably haven't had enough coffee. That's it.

Like you haven't already had enough to kill a small horse?

Probably enough to kill a large horse. Like a Clydesdale.

Why would you do something like that? Aren't they endangered? Or going extinct?

No, I think they just stopped being the Budweiser mascot.

*shrugs* Same difference.

—

Is it here?

lol what did Conan order?

[yes this appears to be yet another rendition of “what's in the box?”

—

Several years ago, I did a series of modules and experiments…

How many years ago is “several”

[beat] quite a few.

Goddamn it, why are these guys all doctors in alternate parallels?!

Aren't you a doctor in an alternate parallel?

That's fair. Good point.

Actually, as it turns out, i'm a—

I started panicking so hard that I stopped breathing and suddenly STEFON appeared.

— this however was only quite temporarily a relief as I realized that this is an imaginary character.

STEFON

OH. AM I?! IMAGINARY!?

What the fuck is going on?

STEFON

I WILL “IMAGINARY” your ORIFICE! How about THAT?!

Stefon. Calm down.

I'm up late

Dying the roots blonde

Dad runs off with a bottle and a hottie

I'm up early

Gotta get gone

Down the road and back

Now I got no son

No son,

No sunroof

No dad

No mom

No money

No aunt

What the fuck do you want?

Can't watch Harry Potter

All the magic is gone

Bout a million one dollars

It was only for fun

Snap, crackle, pop

It was cocaine, not love

All I want is an ice cream Sunday

Snap, crackle, pop

It was Love, not God

All I want

All I want

Is to find another

All he wants

All he wants

Is a decent mother

So along comes another

Another one

All he wants

All he wants is for me

To die homeless

Sucker punch,

Suck it up

No one gives a fuck

My daughter died in my arms on May 7th of 2015.

I was 381 pounds.

Maybe the tears needed to come but they didn't belong to anyone or anything in particular.

The twins father was already a rampant cheater by the time of our marriage, and by the time the twins were born, which coincided— and unlike the latter had tried to claim or mention, I had no particular reason to have a harder time between the spring and summer months which spanned both our birthdays, our wedding date, the twins' arrival and both of the twins deaths, though years apart but still almost as convincing that had they both not died, we might still be together, being cheated on or cheating on each other with ten your twins and an eight year old, or a ten year old boy with special needs and an eight year old, and either way or in any fashion really, had the dysfunctions remained the way it had been, we all, so to speak, had special needs in one way or another.

I spent the morning punching things and avoiding people I didn't want to be around but it was my own fault for having slept through the night, anyway. Whatever, I was tired— no, exhausted lately. My apartment was like living inside of an uphill battle, and I needed a change— not just of slavery, but of circumstances. And not just that— something else was missing.

This year, I understood that I was taking it understandably harder than any other and most probably because I was so celibate, recently finding myself aromantic and not even willing to suffer the consequences of settling for less. I had settled on my ex husband for so much less, that it was so say the least that anything, even from my narrow perspective looked like a loser. And because my body had been stretched and swelled and shrunk and flattened, deflated and now worked to something that was almost as picturesque as it was a monstrosity, any man I thought was worth my time would be settling for less on me— unless he could afford to fix what had been broken, and I assumed one wouldn't be willing to settle on a fixer upper when there were numerous loads of perfect women not needing to be fixed at all… on the outside.

But for men, I'd learned, the outside is of much importance, and as women and trophies are things of pride, the simple choice for a mate is not simply this, but also a business decision, and because while my body was coming together in sweat and muscle, the rest of my life was still otherwise completely in shambles. I was baggage, and aging by the minute, nearly drying up.

I almost craved the liquor and the carelessness that would come with it, even knowing my own boundaries were part of my strengths and separating me in a way from others that at least became a point of pride in myself, in the wake of the reality that the human thing about most people is the need to escape so frequently that it dismisses any purpose or progress. Mine hadn't. I was wide awake and the relentlessness of the sobriety and the cellibacy had swelled up into something deeper, still a solid grief but without remorse as to the very thing that I had always known, that my loyalty would never have even drifted from someone who had all along done me so wrong— a fat man can get away with folandering and messing about, but a fat woman has little to do with options and again, settling to find another mate. And so really, I almost hadn't, and had broken even, and although my abuser has moved on with another woman and custody of my youngest to boot, I really didn't give much of a darn about… hard work. I kind of felt like I had done my part for the world in the way I was supposed to— to love a man with nothing when he's low and down, support him in his hard times, and thinking that this is the way to grow together and not apart, and to bring a family up and into this world, but the truth was quite the opposite— I picked a hardball and maybe it was just that I was born to suffer after all because now, looking back, all alone in New York and crying over all the losses, it seemed I had only outpiured love in the way I had wanted and never been poured love back— not in the way I needed.

I wasn't as bitter now as maybe even I thought I should be, but I was hardened; what was that, you say? Your struggles? Your hardships. Excuse me while I escape the ghosts of bloody beatings and my lost child— I beg your pardon— children. Excuse me while I recover from the burning flames of homelessness as if humanely explainable that I was learned and taught that this, my country, is the greatest one of all.

Ha ha, Charade you are.

But all things were, and everything seemed of sawdust, betrayal, magic, and illusions— mind control and shadows and even now in the air of the relief that something which could haunt me forever was also probably the most solid foundation I had for means as escape from whatever I had fought my way somehow so hard out of, and still, it was quite the funhouse of mazes, a matrix of mirror, and still the tears came with the pain in my stomach where the soul would sit if it had room, and would quiet if it could rest, but it would not.

I was in pain today, because I had to be, because all of my life was programmed into these little machines of data and checked boxes— and something if anything knew just how and when to cut the wrong wire just so that the bomb would explode or implore on another lost thing; it wasn't fair, but there was no escape. Psychology was right on this day, may 7th, that once you cry about one thing unless you were stopped in time, eventually you'd cry about another and another and another, and even after hours working out and a bathtub full of hot water just writing, I still felt as if I were going to keel over one way or another, to crumble into a ball or to fall onto my back like a death drop that rippled out into the entire wherever we all are.

Simply put, does anybody now in this moment or any moment near enough to be taking in this notion with these words really know— where we are?

Not even in the slightest,I'd bargain,

And even if we are close to knowing, not nearly close enough to be sure.

{Enter The Multiverse}

Joke running

For the taking

Triplicate

Triple licks

Ice cream frosting

Every morning

Shoulda hit him

Up

But I didn't

But I didn't

But I didn't

But I didn't

But I didn't

Milk and butter

(Up)

But I didn't

(Up)

But I didn't

(Up)

But I didn't

Double hitter,

Could have did it

Should have hit him

Up

But I didn't

But I didn't

But I didnt.

But I didn't

Should have hit him

Up

But I didn't

I never lost my mind

My mind

My kind

But I think I'll find another like it

Just in case the

Ever happens

Hit me harder next time

Didn't quite unplug the sijukatoon

This is getting difficult

When you want sink your yellow teeth into

All of my traits

The betrayal is, though

I was writing days and days

Before it ended.

With the

Mister particular

Drop of a hat

And stop if a nugget

Of gold

One palm in my hand and

This could be torture

But instead it's just

The remienxe of your ignorance

And stupidity over and over again

Forced into intermittent waves

Of my creative genius

Till the days of old become again

You could be of dust then nothing

Before I ponder into another birth

I said I'd never write one song or verse or poem about you,

But there you are, every weak mortal that becomes

Bound to me

So I see you die.

And I learn to pounce at just the right moment

React to the notion that there are

Oceans of world I am

And all the more the lack of wisdom of man

To throw trash in it

Again, we rid you of her courage

And lady mantras

And fresh as it gets

The sweater no aprons and just period

To circumstance

Did you beg or did you shatter your ibdederence? And no, I think not

But I keep Leno in my pocket

And Carson in my coffin,

Two whole shows in my wallet

What you are is no apostle just a dirt worm

.O.

Mm…sunlight.

…. the rippling waves wash over the picturesque parasicical seascape from above. However, Stefon's internal monologue is less than pleased to be here.

V.O. CONT'D

Why do I feel sunlight…? [beat] When I know certainly for sure that I passed out in a basement last night.

His eyes begin to flutter open, but the sun closes them–it is much too bright. The waves rush over his lower half, and still, unmoving he continues to la atop the rock, his hands spread out much like a stuck sea star to the rock– in fact, there appear to also be creatures here, some of which are starfish, and however unmoving, STEFON begins to slowly become aware of his surroundings in disgruntlement.

V.O. Continued.

It's alright that I appear to be wet…[beat] That's to be expected–

[a long pause, another wave washes over him as seagulls scream]

But i was wearing restraints….

V.O. CONTINUED

WHY AM I FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!?

His eyes open with the fear and fury.

BEFORE: At a wild basement party in NEW YORK CITY, STEFON is offered RESTRAINTS on a silver platter, as if they are o'devours

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project™ ]

{Enter The Multiverse}

L E G E N D S:

ICONS

Tales of A Superstar DJ

The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū

Ascension

Deathwish

-Ū.

Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ |

Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved.

-Ū.

I just found out the President doesn't drink and this is something we have in common.

I don't drink; but i found out he didn't and it made me want to start.

I'm like

“Oh, I can't be associated with this dude”

I started shopping for lime-a-ritas.

Spritzers and shit, something fruity.

I'm like

“I think i just became an alcoholic.”

I started to get worried.

I watch a lot of late night TV;

I'm like, obsessed with those guys– right?

[oppotunity for crowdwork:

Anybody else watch late night?

[maybe one person, but probably nobody]

To maybe one person

Oh yeah? whose your favorite late night host?

[roast, as it is probably easy to do]

Option two: nobody? Ok.

That's alright; i'll catch you up to speed;

If you ever need to understand the state of very white america:

That's pretty much late night tv.

I'm in no demographic whatsoever,

But i watch for the news,

And these days its all about politics,

Which is great, because then,

I get to laugh.

But i started getting concerned when I realized

Myself and the president might have too much in common.

We have–I'm embarrassed to admit–

Ashamed, actually–

Almost the exact same reaction to–nearly everything.

I accidentally fucked around and humanized this motherfucker.

Or unhumanized myself.

Either/or.

See, I find the dude funny.

Hilarious, actually–

Because i've been predominately poor

And disproportionately black

My entire life.

Nothing this administration is doing is news to me.

At all.

Racism?! BIgotry?! Scandal?!

I used to check the box for [black]

It literally doesn't get much worse than that in this country.

So nothing worries me more than the fact that

Possibly the most hated man in the world right now,

And myself–

have too much in common.

His reaction and my reaction to almost anything are notjust eerily alike–

But identical.

I get that this isn't funny.

I don't like it either.

I can't tell whether I'm humanizing him or becoming less human.

Do I insert my tesla joke here?

Maybe, might as well.

Everyone was so blown away that this dude got into a Tesla and goes

“It's all computers”

Like a little kid and I myself found this shockingly familiar; because

When i rode inside a Tesla for the first time,

I had that EXACT same reaction!

I said the same thing!

“OH! IT'S ALL COMPUTERS”

I laughed too hard at this, I think
In the privacy of my own home,

although, it seems like someone might have just been watching

When the next day, everywhere I look there are teslas and I can't stop myself from cracking up.

1. Because I had the same exact reaction. Either the president might be a human, or I'M an android.

and 2. Biff Tanen is my favorite movie villain of all time. How do you not–

Anyway.

Now all of a sudden, i'M a white supremacist?!

HAHA! Jokes on you!

I'm an ELITIST!

There's a difference.

don't get me wrong; i've been broke my entire adulthood–

But i value high morals, good taste, and intelligence.

Speaking of intelligence:

[Elon]

Depends on the crowd–I could be pushing it.

Pushing it might be a good start.

{pun intended} (get it, cause tesla's are push to start)

“It's all computers!”

Fuck yeah it is, goddamit,

I said the same shit

“It's all computers! “ “ This is a spaceship!”

Don't hate the player, hate the game.

Yes, being black–or any color at all during either of this dude's administrations has been horrible–

But the upside is…

[think real hard]

Maybe segway into everybody hating Elon, which is unfair because he has asperbergs, and if he wasn't one of the richest dudes in the world– it would be the entire opposite because technically he's disabled, right?

Isn't it weird how just because the dude has a lot of money everyone is allowed to hate a dude who literally has a social disability? I find this strange and kind of attribute this to the herd mentality state of discollusioned unawareness that obviously, if no one can remember that this dude is on the spectrum…

Which, besides being a genius kind of excuses his bizarre social atrocities.

Doesn't it.

Last time i checked whenever there was a kind of issue with a disabled person, like at work or something, everyone is kind of keyed in and caught up to speed like

“Oh, that's Ernie, he's special– [whispers, aside: He has aspergers…]

And everyone in the office just goes

“ohhhhh.”

Too much latenight. I gotta start drinking.

No more late night.

{if crowd work engaged, follow up with one more roast.}

No more idle threats

Just do it, or don't

You are you you are;

And this is your curse—

Just don't make it worse

Just go to your room;

You don't have a home,

You just live in a tomb

You live in a tomb

I live in a tomb

I listen to mooba

This is my womb,

I move out soon

Full Moon, I swoon

You snooze, you loose

You booze?

I choose to amuse the humans

Shoot the roomba, too

He knew me

Music moves the rooms

Consuming doom and gloom

Though boom boxes

Not just a—-

He's an artist.

Lol what's the plotline for this.

idk adam sandler's early-career secret name change?

For what though

I guess we'll see.

You give me body ache

A subtle body ache

And knowing what you cause

A force of no remorse

You give me body ache

I knowing that you want

A knock against my heart

Don't push

(it doesn't cost)

I woke you up

With no remorse

(don't push– a body ache)

I want to want to want to

Want you

But–

(a cause)

However I don't

(don't operate unplugged)

The push–the push–the push
The pause

|| don't break || don't break||

The heart

Masterful, a fool

(encanto tanto)

But i'm soaking up your body overflow

(the cause, the cause)

I want to cherish all your fountains

(I wake up with no remorse)

I want, I want, I want

You give me body ache ||

The cause

The cause

You give me body ache ||

The cause

The cause

You give me body ache ||

I want

I want

You give me fluid heart

(I pump || I pump|| I pump..

|| || ||

(Fade out)

Oka.

Oka.

__

Okay. I got the envelope.

Good. Now, take this–Uptown.

Uptown? Why Uptown?

You're about to find out.

No. Wait–how ‘Up' are we talking”

Up.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project™ ]

{Enter The Multiverse}

L E G E N D S:

ICONS

Tales of A Superstar DJ

The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū

Ascension

Deathwish

-Ū.

Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ |

Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved.

-Ū.

I just found out the President doesn't drink and this is something we have in common.

I don't drink; but i found out he didn't and it made me want to start.

I'm like

“Oh, I can't be associated with this dude”

I started shopping for lime-a-ritas.

Spritzers and shit, something fruity.

I'm like

“I think i just became an alcoholic.”

I started to get worried.

I watch a lot of late night TV;

I'm like, obsessed with those guys– right?

[oppotunity for crowdwork:

Anybody else watch late night?

[maybe one person, but probably nobody]

To maybe one person

Oh yeah? whose your favorite late night host?

[roast, as it is probably easy to do]

Option two: nobody? Ok.

That's alright; i'll catch you up to speed;

If you ever need to understand the state of very white america:

That's pretty much late night tv.

I'm in no demographic whatsoever,

But i watch for the news,

And these days its all about politics,

Which is great, because then,

I get to laugh.

But i started getting concerned when I realized

Myself and the president might have too much in common.

We have–I'm embarrassed to admit–

Ashamed, actually–

Almost the exact same reaction to–nearly everything.

I accidentally fucked around and humanized this motherfucker.

Or unhumanized myself.

Either/or.

See, I find the dude funny.

Hilarious, actually–

Because i've been predominately poor

And disproportionately black

My entire life.

Nothing this administration is doing is news to me.

At all.

Racism?! BIgotry?! Scandal?!

I used to check the box for [black]

It literally doesn't get much worse than that in this country.

So nothing worries me more than the fact that

Possibly the most hated man in the world right now,

And myself–

have too much in common.

His reaction and my reaction to almost anything are notjust eerily alike–

But identical.

I get that this isn't funny.

I don't like it either.

I can't tell whether I'm humanizing him or becoming less human.

Do I insert my tesla joke here?

Maybe, might as well.

Everyone was so blown away that this dude got into a Tesla and goes

“It's all computers”

Like a little kid and I myself found this shockingly familiar; because

When i rode inside a Tesla for the first time,

I had that EXACT same reaction!

I said the same thing!

“OH! IT'S ALL COMPUTERS”

I laughed too hard at this, I think
In the privacy of my own home,

although, it seems like someone might have just been watching

When the next day, everywhere I look there are teslas and I can't stop myself from cracking up.

1. Because I had the same exact reaction. Either the president might be a human, or I'M an android.

and 2. Biff Tanen is my favorite movie villain of all time. How do you not–

Anyway.

Now all of a sudden, i'M a white supremacist?!

HAHA! Jokes on you!

I'm an ELITIST!

There's a difference.

don't get me wrong; i've been broke my entire adulthood–

But i value high morals, good taste, and intelligence.

Speaking of intelligence:

[Elon]

Depends on the crowd–I could be pushing it.

Pushing it might be a good start.

{pun intended} (get it, cause tesla's are push to start)

“It's all computers!”

Fuck yeah it is, goddamit,

I said the same shit

“It's all computers! “ “ This is a spaceship!”

Don't hate the player, hate the game.

Yes, being black–or any color at all during either of this dude's administrations has been horrible–

But the upside is…

[think real hard]

Maybe segway into everybody hating Elon, which is unfair because he has asperbergs, and if he wasn't one of the richest dudes in the world– it would be the entire opposite because technically he's disabled, right?

Isn't it weird how just because the dude has a lot of money everyone is allowed to hate a dude who literally has a social disability? I find this strange and kind of attribute this to the herd mentality state of discollusioned unawareness that obviously, if no one can remember that this dude is on the spectrum…

Which, besides being a genius kind of excuses his bizarre social atrocities.

Doesn't it.

Last time i checked whenever there was a kind of issue with a disabled person, like at work or something, everyone is kind of keyed in and caught up to speed like

“Oh, that's Ernie, he's special– [whispers, aside: He has aspergers…]

And everyone in the office just goes

“ohhhhh.”

Too much latenight. I gotta start drinking.

No more late night.

{if crowd work engaged, follow up with one more roast.}

No more idle threats

Just do it, or don't

You are you you are;

And this is your curse—

Just don't make it worse

Just go to your room;

You don't have a home,

You just live in a tomb

You live in a tomb

I live in a tomb

I listen to mooba

This is my womb,

I move out soon

Full Moon, I swoon

You snooze, you loose

You booze?

I choose to amuse the humans

Shoot the roomba, too

He knew me

Music moves the rooms

Consuming doom and gloom

Though boom boxes

Not just a—-

He's an artist.

Lol what's the plotline for this.

idk adam sandler's early-career secret name change?

For what though

I guess we'll see.

You give me body ache

A subtle body ache

And knowing what you cause

A force of no remorse

You give me body ache

I knowing that you want

A knock against my heart

Don't push

(it doesn't cost)

I woke you up

With no remorse

(don't push– a body ache)

I want to want to want to

Want you

But–

(a cause)

However I don't

(don't operate unplugged)

The push–the push–the push
The pause

|| don't break || don't break||

The heart

Masterful, a fool

(encanto tanto)

But i'm soaking up your body overflow

(the cause, the cause)

I want to cherish all your fountains

(I wake up with no remorse)

I want, I want, I want

You give me body ache ||

The cause

The cause

You give me body ache ||

The cause

The cause

You give me body ache ||

I want

I want

You give me fluid heart

(I pump || I pump|| I pump..

|| || ||

(Fade out)

Oka.

Oka.

__

Okay. I got the envelope.

Good. Now, take this–Uptown.

Uptown? Why Uptown?

You're about to find out.

No. Wait–how ‘Up' are we talking”

Up.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project™ ]

{Enter The Multiverse}

L E G E N D S:

ICONS

Tales of A Superstar DJ

The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū

Ascension

Deathwish

-Ū.

Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ |

Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved.

-Ū.

Rob Lowe: True, or False?

What's the question?

You have access to a hidden realm and/or an open portal.

And/ Or?

True or False, Rob Lowe.

And, or “or”?

Distinctively either, actually.

___

Oh, fuck, oh fuck–fuck!

You look lost. Look less lost.

How am I supposed to know how I look?

Look in a mirror.

I was told not to do that.

No, you should do that.

But what if I backshift.

You won't backshift, it's impossible.

Oh, FUCK. FUCK.

Dude, what happened!

I backshifted! I told you!

Who did you tell? That wasn't me.

What!

Where did you go?

I don't know, I – look,

Oh shit. that is so dangerous.

Shut up.

Other people are trying to get through this portal.

That's fucked up.

Total mistake.

You should close it.

NO can do.

What.

Listen, it's–disgusting, really, I should never admit this but–

Don't tell me.

You're right. I opened this portal under contractual obligation.

You what.

No.

I know. Listen–I wish I hadn't, but–

“but”

It really did sweeten the deal.

What deal.

…”the” deal, alright.

No, not alright, Rob Lowe. You listen to me!

I'm listening. Barely, but–

With whom exactly did you make this “contract” with, exactly?

Oh, you know.

No, I don't know, which is why I'ma asking.

True or false? You get one. I told you, now that's done! You know the rules.

No. Not true or false.

No…

Truth…or DARE.

Are you kidding me?

Does this seem like a joke, to you?

A long running one, sort of!

In fact, it was a long running joke– and I was the butt of it. Or the head. Or both. Maybe I was the whole pinata…but that's another entire story…sort of.

Listen to me.

No, you listen to ME.

Okay, I'm listening.

Someone up the ladder knew I was writing this–what seemed like complete nonsense, but after years of curation, actually turned out to be…

A movie script!

A movie?! What kind of movie?!

Actually, it looks like… several…

Several what?

Several manuscripts, some sort of…

Some sort of what?

Oh my gosh…I…you know what?

What? Let me see.

I shouldn't be…I shouldn't be reading this.

Why, what happened?

No…

Let me see.

It all somehow started to make sense… Rob Lowe and his impeccable professionalism, The books i'd found in the Little Free Library–that lady on the train writing a five-season television series… and most importantly, all the weird shit that happened in the DJ world before my, well…

Blū, what are you doing?

I don't know yet.

Imminent collapse.

Little by little, all of the things started adding up–but there still was no definitive answer. Not at all.

True or False:

Oh, boy, here we go.

Once inducted into this secret union, one who is asked True or False must answer so truthfully to anything they are asked to follow–however, the limit to such a question is one.

You know the rules.

So this better be good.

Oh trust me. It is.

Why would I ever trust you?

Trust me, then.

Either of you?!

Good point.

What's the question?

{Enter The Multiverse}

OPRAH and GAYLE are eating a lustrous supper over an episode of their newest favorite, most bingable series, {Enter The Multiverse} when OPRAH receives an anonymous call.

GAYLE leans in over the smart receiver and observes the incoming call; in anticipation of the series premiere, the ringer is silenced, but the notification appears in a flurry of flashing lights and a calm, vibrational tone.

GAYLE KING

Hm.

OPRAH WINFREY

What's that?

GAYLE KING

Someone's calling.

OPRAH WINFREY

Who?

(Ah-ha)

GAYLE KING

Unlisted.

OPRAH and GAYLE look at one another suspiciously.

OPRAH.

The audacity.

NO ONE–and that is, very seriously NOBODY, calls OPRAH WINFREY anonymously.

GAYLE KING

Indeed.

The receiver continues to flash and vibrate; seemingly odd enough, a storm of thunder and lightning appears to have begun outside; OPRAH'S insanely large panoramic windows begin to pitter patter as the lightning seems to nearly syncronize with the flashing of the receiver.

GAYLE KING (CONT'D)

Answer it?

OPRAH

…might as well.

GAYLE

(biting into her dinner, but answering telepathically)

Should be interesting…

ENTER THE MULTIVERSE cannot be paused; it is live broadcasted and transmitted from an unknown extra terrestrial satellite signal in the great and ever-expanding cosmos in an unknown realm. Because of this, its availability has been limited to only the wealthy elite, the higher ranks of the entertainment community, extra terrestrial colonies far and wide, and most recently, the global governments on earth as they attempt to track down the origin of this mysterious signal in deep space.

ok.

OPRAH answers.

HELLO?

As she accepts the call, the screen becomes available to see with whom she is sharing this conversation, however, bizarrely enough–the very scene plastered onto the giant screen is her very own setting in real time–OPRAH has ENTERED THE MULTIVERSE.

GAYLE

See.

{ENTER THE MULTIVERSE: L E G E N D S}

THE ICONS: PART I

Oh Jesus.

Yeah, we're gonna need all the help we can get.

BUTTERS (RYAN REYNOLDS) is not okay.

OH JESUS.

Lil bitz

One day, after therapy, i'm goingto make the best girlfriend ever,

You want to cheat? Cheat.

Just dont hit me.

You love drinking?

Drink your face off.

Just leave mine alone.

Do whatever you want actually– excluding physical assault.

I swear, i dont care!

I wont argue.

Just leave me my teeth

Rob Lowe: True, or False?

What's the question?

You have access to a hidden realm and/or an open portal.

And/ Or?

True or False, Rob Lowe.

And, or “or”?

Distinctively either, actually.

___

Oh, fuck, oh fuck–fuck!

You look lost. Look less lost.

How am I supposed to know how I look?

Look in a mirror.

I was told not to do that.

No, you should do that.

But what if I backshift.

You won't backshift, it's impossible.

Oh, FUCK. FUCK.

Dude, what happened!

I backshifted! I told you!

Who did you tell? That wasn't me.

What!

Where did you go?

I don't know, I – look,

Oh shit. that is so dangerous.

Shut up.

Other people are trying to get through this portal.

That's fucked up.

Total mistake.

You should close it.

NO can do.

What.

Listen, it's–disgusting, really, I should never admit this but–

Don't tell me.

You're right. I opened this portal under contractual obligation.

You what.

No.

I know. Listen–I wish I hadn't, but–

“but”

It really did sweeten the deal.

What deal.

…”the” deal, alright.

No, not alright, Rob Lowe. You listen to me!

I'm listening. Barely, but–

With whom exactly did you make this “contract” with, exactly?

Oh, you know.

No, I don't know, which is why I'ma asking.

True or false? You get one. I told you, now that's done! You know the rules.

No. Not true or false.

No…

Truth…or DARE.

Are you kidding me?

Does this seem like a joke, to you?

A long running one, sort of!

In fact, it was a long running joke– and I was the butt of it. Or the head. Or both. Maybe I was the whole pinata…but that's another entire story…sort of.

Listen to me.

No, you listen to ME.

Okay, I'm listening.

Someone up the ladder knew I was writing this–what seemed like complete nonsense, but after years of curation, actually turned out to be…

A movie script!

A movie?! What kind of movie?!

Actually, it looks like… several…

Several what?

Several manuscripts, some sort of…

Some sort of what?

Oh my gosh…I…you know what?

What? Let me see.

I shouldn't be…I shouldn't be reading this.

Why, what happened?

No…

Let me see.

It all somehow started to make sense… Rob Lowe and his impeccable professionalism, The books i'd found in the Little Free Library–that lady on the train writing a five-season television series… and most importantly, all the weird shit that happened in the DJ world before my, well…

Blū, what are you doing?

I don't know yet.

Imminent collapse.

Little by little, all of the things started adding up–but there still was no definitive answer. Not at all.

True or False:

Oh, boy, here we go.

Once inducted into this secret union, one who is asked True or False must answer so truthfully to anything they are asked to follow–however, the limit to such a question is one.

You know the rules.

So this better be good.

Oh trust me. It is.

Why would I ever trust you?

Trust me, then.

Either of you?!

Good point.

What's the question?

{Enter The Multiverse}

OPRAH and GAYLE are eating a lustrous supper over an episode of their newest favorite, most bingable series, {Enter The Multiverse} when OPRAH receives an anonymous call.

GAYLE leans in over the smart receiver and observes the incoming call; in anticipation of the series premiere, the ringer is silenced, but the notification appears in a flurry of flashing lights and a calm, vibrational tone.

GAYLE KING

Hm.

OPRAH WINFREY

What's that?

GAYLE KING

Someone's calling.

OPRAH WINFREY

Who?

(Ah-ha)

GAYLE KING

Unlisted.

OPRAH and GAYLE look at one another suspiciously.

OPRAH.

The audacity.

NO ONE–and that is, very seriously NOBODY, calls OPRAH WINFREY anonymously.

GAYLE KING

Indeed.

The receiver continues to flash and vibrate; seemingly odd enough, a storm of thunder and lightning appears to have begun outside; OPRAH'S insanely large panoramic windows begin to pitter patter as the lightning seems to nearly syncronize with the flashing of the receiver.

GAYLE KING (CONT'D)

Answer it?

OPRAH

…might as well.

GAYLE

(biting into her dinner, but answering telepathically)

Should be interesting…

ENTER THE MULTIVERSE cannot be paused; it is live broadcasted and transmitted from an unknown extra terrestrial satellite signal in the great and ever-expanding cosmos in an unknown realm. Because of this, its availability has been limited to only the wealthy elite, the higher ranks of the entertainment community, extra terrestrial colonies far and wide, and most recently, the global governments on earth as they attempt to track down the origin of this mysterious signal in deep space.

ok.

OPRAH answers.

HELLO?

As she accepts the call, the screen becomes available to see with whom she is sharing this conversation, however, bizarrely enough–the very scene plastered onto the giant screen is her very own setting in real time–OPRAH has ENTERED THE MULTIVERSE.

GAYLE

See.

{ENTER THE MULTIVERSE: L E G E N D S}

THE ICONS: PART I

Oh Jesus.

Yeah, we're gonna need all the help we can get.

BUTTERS (RYAN REYNOLDS) is not okay.

OH JESUS.

Lil bitz

One day, after therapy, i'm goingto make the best girlfriend ever,

You want to cheat? Cheat.

Just dont hit me.

You love drinking?

Drink your face off.

Just leave mine alone.

Do whatever you want actually– excluding physical assault.

I swear, i dont care!

I wont argue.

Just leave me my teeth

Do you think it will work?

I don't know, Conan, I don't know!

Conan O'Brien?! Where did you find Conan O'Brien on such short notice?

It was actually pretty easy.

I don't think that's real thunder but i'm impressed with the teatrical…

Is that not real lightning?

It is, but.

That's it.

Conan, hold this.

What.

CONAN O'BRIEN is STRUCK by LIGHTENING.

It's a-half-past eternity–where the fuck are you?

The daunting this was, I hadn't any idea at all how much time had passed…

Not really.

I'm coming…i'm running late.

Tell me about it?

Under the circumstances, there really are no straightforward conversions of time between your world and mine–or, our worlds and yours.

You mean.

How much time you got?

Forever.

It would take forever and a day to show you even just the slightest of mine, and what I have to offer.

But…

But what…

I should go…

Well, go then.

…but…

The doors are open.

This is heavy.

The thing is, in navigating between this realm and that, many are lost–and also, many wonder as to what becomes of times past, and all in all, unnoticed, many things are not at all, or never were–or…never again.

ANDRE 3000

I know it's coming…

ANDRE 3000 slides smoothly, leaning back until the grand piano on his back stands on its own legs on the crystalline floor of the clouded paradox; a glistening void in the kingdom of the unknown, where much time is spend, in the journey of pondering. Now he is laying down on the piano and flat on his back, horizontal to the golden glow of the purplish horizon in this place, seeping into a quiet unknown, waiting–

ANDRE 3000

…and here I will wait.

Man, this show is so weird.

I know, you would think i'm on drugs.

I wish.

WISH?

Oh God, here comes this guy again.

Whose this guy?

I don't know! He grants my wishes!

I'm a–fairy–I think.

Right.

Whatever.

Ooh.

Wait.

Is this for me? I can't memorize all these things. Playing all these characters.

That's – seriously?

Seriously.

Stop caving.

I'm caving.

You are–quite possibly the only anybody, who can play this part at all.

“The Only Anybody”

Nobody was someone indeed

But still noone, nobody at all, in fact

Until…

You sold your soul to the devil!

…so?

*gasp*

Hey.

What gives.

True–or False.

Huh. That's funny. No one's ever asked me.

How come?

[beat]

I'm assuming like, they wouldn't want the answer.

(shrugs nonchalantly)

Wow.

That's…

You're using my own time travel theory–against me!

Technically it was proven through experimentation and is now– a law.

FUCK.

Uh. You're welcome!

You're ruining my life!

No, i'm fixing it.

INCORRECT.

You know i can barely breathe in here…

And why is it that we would happen me to connected, commander?!

Interlogues, and interlogues of space, my captain–

I promorged bodies and bodies over your arrival, imdending my great death,

For mere mortals to come!

For sport?

“For sport!” heaven's gates!

You seem aroused…

Ar least have mercy on these gracious keepsakes.

I keep praying for these aches to pass and subside–days, weeks, months even

I can barely open my eyes…

This is no fortunate thought.

I beg mercy.

{ENTER THE MULTIVERSE}

THE LIBRARY (working title)

CAST:

THE COMMISSIONER - Adam Sandler

THE GENERAL- JIMMY KIMMEL

THE CONSTABLE - KATT WILLIAMS

THE ADMIRAL- JIMMY FALLON

PEONY - CONAN O'BRIEN

SUPPORTING {ENTER THE MULTIVERSE}

INTERLUDES - WHOOPI GOLDBERG

“Interludes and Expressions”

Oh, so there are women?

Eventually. But also–

Not quite.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project™ ]

{Enter The Multiverse}

L E G E N D S:

ICONS

Tales of A Superstar DJ

The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū

Ascension

Deathwish

-Ū.

Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ |

Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved.

-Ū.

Television Series Concept: "Tales of a Superstar DJ"

Premise: "Tales of a Superstar DJ" exists within the sprawling multiverse of "Enter The Multiverse," revealing the deeply personal, often painful, and ultimately triumphant journey of Blū Tha Gürū. Born of ascended dimensions and gifted with unparalleled creative genius, Blū faces the paradox of her destiny: to become the world's greatest DJ and healer through sound, while navigating profound earthly challenges like body dysmorphia, the scars of loss, racism, homelessness, and the crushing weight of her hidden secrets and battles with mental health. Armed with a cheap video camera and an unwavering cosmic mandate, Blū will record her raw, unvarnished ascent, blending mind-bending sets with intimate glimpses into her struggle for love and self-acceptance, all while the universe conspires to push her towards the decks.

I've got a secret, a dirty little secret.

Oh, it's you.

I called first, if that makes a difference.

It doesn't.

The man, a tall and dapper elegant fellow is quiet and refined— PEONY (pronounced “penny”) wel known amongst the folks at the library has climbed each rank with a rapid whimsy, for which he has earned his respect and the seat he claims here, in this palace.

His jacket is of a fine side and velvet, trimmed with leather to match his strange loafers— trimmed with a golden and silver toe, to match the cufflinks and the belt, and even the tie, and appearing to be covered in gems and crystals.

Sir.

Thank you.

Another man approaches.

The dodo rang!

Of course.

Sit, will you!

Will I?

You might, or not, but i haven't the time!

Spare me the riddles

— but give me the rhyme.

The rhyme costs but one, pretty penny.

Only a shilling I've to spare.

Then one shilling will do;

One prune, and one pear.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project™ ]

{Enter The Multiverse}

L E G E N D S:

ICONS

Tales of A Superstar DJ

The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū

Ascension

Deathwish

-Ū.

Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ |

Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved.

-Ū.

Television Series Concept: "Tales of a Superstar DJ"

Premise: "Tales of a Superstar DJ" exists within the sprawling multiverse of "Enter The Multiverse," revealing the deeply personal, often painful, and ultimately triumphant journey of Blū Tha Gürū. Born of ascended dimensions and gifted with unparalleled creative genius, Blū faces the paradox of her destiny: to become the world's greatest DJ and healer through sound, while navigating profound earthly challenges like body dysmorphia, the scars of loss, racism, homelessness, and the crushing weight of her hidden secrets and battles with mental health. Armed with a cheap video camera and an unwavering cosmic mandate, Blū will record her raw, unvarnished ascent, blending mind-bending sets with intimate glimpses into her struggle for love and self-acceptance, all while the universe conspires to push her towards the decks.

I've got a secret, a dirty little secret.

Oh, it's you.

I called first, if that makes a difference.

It doesn't.

The man, a tall and dapper elegant fellow is quiet and refined— PEONY (pronounced “penny”) wel known amongst the folks at the library has climbed each rank with a rapid whimsy, for which he has earned his respect and the seat he claims here, in this palace.

His jacket is of a fine side and velvet, trimmed with leather to match his strange loafers— trimmed with a golden and silver toe, to match the cufflinks and the belt, and even the tie, and appearing to be covered in gems and crystals.

Sir.

Thank you.

Another man approaches.

The dodo rang!

Of course.

Sit, will you!

Will I?

You might, or not, but i haven't the time!

Spare me the riddles

— but give me the rhyme.

The rhyme costs but one, pretty penny.

Only a shilling I've to spare.

Then one shilling will do;

One prune, and one pear.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project™ ]

{Enter The Multiverse}

L E G E N D S:

ICONS

Tales of A Superstar DJ

The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū

Ascension

Deathwish

-Ū.

Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ |

Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved.

-Ū.

For awhile I thought I wanted to be on SNL.

I really thought “maybe I could do that.”

Especially after all the 50th anniversary specials and documentaries and stuff, I was like

“This is speaking to me.” “I should do this”

“I've done stand up exactly five times!”

“I should be on SNL. Yes.”

So i started to think about it;

I got really into it, actually,

I'm like

“Yeah, i just gotta be really good st stand up, I'll climb the ladder…”

So i start watching more SNL, I'm playing along, i'm like “yeah, i'm gonna do this”,

And i start studying the history, and the people–

I get to know everybody who's ever been on the show…

And that's when I realized,

“Wait a second. I can't be

What's the short version of the joke?

Uh.

I can't be on SNL. You know why?

[Why?”

Well, I don't know– it either goes.

“Because i'm a Ravenclaw.”

or

“Because I'm not a Gryffendor”

I think it's that. See, almost everyone would immediately get the reference to harry potter if I said “gryffendor”

It was “I'm a hufflepuff.”

But i'm not a Hufflepuff. Jimmy Fallon is a Hufflepuff.

Sshh–that's later.

That's why I was breaking down the joke.

Ok. So how's it go?

So I start getting real familiar with all the players,

And that's when I realized,

“Wait. I can't be on SNL!”

Goddammit–I'm a Ravenclaw.

Almost everyone who's ever been on SNL is a Gryffendor!

Everyone!

Except Seth Meyers:

He's definitely a Slythern

(--and Jimmy Fallon–

He's very obviously a hufflepuff–

And they both have their own shows now so this says something.

Very obviously, almost everyone else–

Gryffendor.

[Insert Crowd Work?] –Perhaps…

You don't think so?

Watch.

You'll see.

I can't be on SNL.

I look, all I see is Gryffendor, a couple of Slytherin, and a very obvious HUfflepuff–

But no ravenclaw!

Goddammit!

Maybe we're too analytical. I don't know.

I'm not a Gryffindor.

Not a hater.

Just not a gryffendor.

It's a good house.

But i'm a ravenclaw.

Why the fuck am I writing jokes?

Cause it's Saturday.

Yo, but here's this dude–my favorite comedian of all time–and he's almost entirely improvisational.

But here I am, when I go on stage, and I just go blank. I can talk for hours to myself but suddenly i'm in front of people on a stage and I'm not myself. For whatever reason, I feel myself becoming whoever they think I am–and I can't know it–but I can feel it. So i stopped performing stand up, because most importantly, new york just simply wasn't funny to me anymore–I just didn't like it, or at least the part of it I was seeing–but maybe, the part of it that I was seeing was the only part I could see, because i was just myself. Almost as if I didn't deserve midtown–but didn't enjoy the rest of it knowing it was there.

NT. THE LIBRARY. AT DAWN.

Do you want to ride my little pink pony?

Ah, come on!

Ahem— do you want to ride my little pink pony?

-[a moment of begrudging hesitation, before he finally obliges]

Ah, yes; yes. I would like to ride your little pink pony.

Well, then.

The admiral slips the general a pink bank note, which at first glance appeera to be a 5 dollar bill.

It slips into his hand as he remains composed. Butultimately, he seems nervous, and somewhat defeated.

Later, sucka.

The admiral pumps his collar and walks away, straightening his back and giving a clever smirk as he walks away smugly— the general stands and also pops his collar a bit as his back stiffens and he stands for a moment in the center of the grand central ballroom; a luxurious dining hall, which is also still even more importantly, an wxquisite library. He turns to one of the shelves, passing by a waiter with a golden platter, who offers him o'derves; even the waiter seems a big smug, and the general, though keeping his composure, squints with a resentment, opting instead for a cocktail on the table beside him; it is clearly not his cocktail and now he is reflecting this smugness, the waiter shrugs it off and in an instant he is alone again in the shimmering opulence of the room; it's hard to believe this palace of sorts is hidden deep inside the crevices and hidden alleyways of a—

—ahem—

Sorry. You're right.

—tucked away in a secret location.

He turns to one of the shelves and runs his fingers along the grand row of books which happen to be at eye level; knowing the exact volume at which he places his index fingerc, tapping it above a blue book with a golden embodiment and a red seal; the book appears of course to be somewhat magical in nature, and he as well taps the cover three times before opening it to nearly the center, placing the l pink currency within its pages, and shutting it intently; as he does, the startling discovery ther an very smal man has been standing behind him for an undetermined amount of time… he jumps, but the smaller man does not merely even flinch.

CONSTABLE

Meow, goes the cat!

GENERAL

Agh…

And bark goes the dog.

CONSTABLE

Ahaha—

And what of the mouse?

GENERAL

The mouse calls not at all

(In unison)

Because the mouse has gone!/.

CONSTABLE

Aha!

GENERAL

Yeah, just.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project™ ]

{Enter The Multiverse}

L E G E N D S:

ICONS

Tales of A Superstar DJ

The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū

Ascension

Deathwish

-Ū.

Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ |

Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved.

-Ū.

I'm a size extra small,

What are you all on?

I lost all of ya'll

And then some

Sitting on the wall,

But I went over once

And once and for all

I went over up

I'll take breakfast

At Jimmy and Molly's

At Jimmy and Molly's.

I'm a mom.

I'll take dinner at Jimmy and Molly's

A bottle of law for the shrubs and a handful of Molly.

I'm in love and a little bit fucked up

I don't know what you want,

I'm a extra small, bruh

I'm a mom

And a model

I'll have brunch over Jimmy and Molly's

Jimmy and Molly.

I'll have breakfast at Jimmy and Molly's

(At Jimmy and Molly's)

I'm at dinner at Jimmy and Molly's

And I brought a bottle

This is grown folks talk

I just watered the shrubs

I might go to the club

Then the pub in the morning

The party at Jimmy and Molly's was awesome

I got gin and some tonic

I'm probably in love with the

—

SUNNI BLU blacks out in the SHRUBS after the wild party at

[Shrubs]

—well, it started at Jimmy Kimmel's house.

Where did you learn how to load a gun?

Nowhere!

[rapid machine gun fire]

I taught myself.

This is the worst map ever.

THE MAP IS OPEN.

Location:

HIGHLINE PARK, MANHATTAN.

THIS IS THE BEST MAP EVER.

What the FUCK is wrong with you.

Get down!

Ahaha! Ahaha!

Ppppppppppppllllllltttt!

—shing!

Bullets ricochet off of the giant pigeon statue.

SUNNI BLU

How much is it?

How much is what?

The bird.

IVAN

You want— to buy my art.

Yes. I will buy this.

This?

This.

It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in Manhattan.

No neck tattoos.

I can't be thinking about you

While I'm thinking about

Not thinking about you

I can never get off on a handjob

Unless you reach for th heart,

Then claw, for the lobster

I need a vasectomy

The more I orgasm about you the more

Kayla's and Katie's and Madison's and

Marrianne's and Nancy's.

The harder I want you to fuck me

The more the

Lillies and Emma's, and Kimberlee's,

Lexies and Annie's.

(Can't forget Ashley)

I just bought a submarine

A submarine

A submarine

I just hawked a wedding ring

An ice cream truck

And a paraglider

I despise these guys

Should I try the spider

Either or

Fuck Mother's Day

Teacher's appreciation

Polyamorouses,

Models,

Bottle service girls

And other whores.

What a putrid fallacy you have

What's a project—

Fantasies in your habit m

Now's a nun

And a number

I been celibate three years

And I'm still not hungry enough

To reach low on the totem pole

For the frog

Holding us all up

I gotta call my doctor

Just to show up the pope!

Shut up, work harder

I work hard enough getting

Don't be dumb.

I'm not being dumb.

You're dumb.

I'm— not—

Don't be dumb.

DILLON FRANCIS and SUNNI BLU sit awkwardly in the indiscriminate parked car, facing towards the beach, as the Californian fog begins to roll in and obscure the clear view of the night sea.

It has been a long a turbulent week since the tabloids and press got ahold of their

—can or worms

—book of secrets!

Whatever shut up.

It's been a long week.

DILLON FRACIS

You know, you don't have to talk like that.

SUNNI BLU

Talk like what, Dillon Francis?

DILLON FRANCIS

You can just— be yourself around me.

[beat, and a long pause. The awkward tension turns to a deep and complex, serious silence]

SUNNI BLU

This is my real self, now, Dillon Francis.

Holy shit that weird clown statue in Santa Monica almost wants to make sense now.

DILLON FRANCIS

And you don't have to call me ‘Dillon Francis' anymore.

SUNNI BLU

Yes I do, Dillon Francis— because it's your name.

DILLON FRANCIS

I meant—

SUNNI BLU

Besides, you wouldn't like anything else I'd call you.

KENAN THOMPSON is an EXRAODINARY RAPPER— he is SECOND IN THE WORLE after SUNNI BLU and wants to put their ONGOING BEEF and DIFFERENCRS aside for THE REALEST COLLABORATION OF ALL TIME.

BITCH.

However,

Once beginning on the endeavor, the two rappers find it increasingly hard to get along with one another.

ABitch.

—watch out.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project™ ]

{Enter The Multiverse}

L E G E N D S:

ICONS

Tales of A Superstar DJ

The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū

Ascension

Deathwish

-Ū.

Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ |

Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved.

-Ū.

TROUBLEMAKER enters through the foyer.

Troublemaker— I never though I'd see you again.

— you won't.

Yo what do I owe the displeasure?

Fascinatingly inept.

Ahem, excuse me— to what do I owe the nauseating discomfort?

Better, but still no dice.

What are you going here, exiler?

“Exiler” well now, here we are making up words after a rusty start.

What do you want?

Where are they?

Who do you mean?

Birdsong and Hawkeye?

I'm supposed to know?

You do know.

Do I now?

Now— tomorrow— always and forever.

Don't play mind games.

But oh, a game it was to have given you the mark of the call in the first place.

The what?

I made my time with you and you alone; and you as well as I remember this; I know what you know, and I am where you are at all and any given times.

So then, you can find them all on your own.

Clever but not! Without seeing both eyes, I have none at all.

What are you seeking?

The hidden truths.

Well then; you're going to have to kill me.

Then I will.

MONARCH THE SUFFERER enters through the galley in extreme panic.

STOP, STOP! WAIT AT IT.

MEANWHILE

Okay, Conan, what gives?

Nothing!

Should this mean something at all?

This is innapropriate,

So you are—completely lucid.

Of course I am; I'm an astral traveler, aren't I?

I don't know what you are?

For now, as it appears, just a thought.

Well, if I give you my eyes, will you sprout arms or something?

The mystic waits and ponders; this seems to be an enlightening thought; filled with amusement, she replies.

Why, yes, Conan. Give me your eyes.

Are you serious?

What a remarkable thought. Actually!

Wait a moment.

Please be in jeans and a t shirt not a sweater or a jacket or a suit

When I please you want you to be my teacher

In this essence, you are light and I'm the truth

Feed me

See me for my demons

As I need your for your weakness

Only on the weekdays, and never on the weekends

We hiatus summers—

Smart, huh

DJs on the long nights,

Your festival seasons

Turtlenecks at Christmas,

No hannukah for Christians,

I'm waving at the Krishnas in the station

And I'm brace to even right this;

As I brace myself for impact,

Saving Grace is in its place

I guess the last days have to happen

As the last act take its placement

—Ace of Spades.

Somebody kill me

I need to get pass go

Collect $200 dollars

And never ever roll again

To roll the dice

To troll the doll

—someone's lost in the mall, alright,

I bet.

I thought it was a poker game

I even hoped,

But no,

Just lunch and cake.

Amen.

A dog in the host suit

On octopus arms

How alarming.

How are you?

I'm no good,

No good,

No good, America

No good,

No goon,

But too false for truth, America

No words,

No news—

Who ties the noose, America?

No time for booze, America

Just cut me loose, America.

Patrick! Patrick! What about the offer?

There was no offer! I lied, to you!

But why would you do that?

To get the most out of you.

Well— you certainly did do that.

You certainly did do well.

Certified freak;

Shh,

I can't leak the secrets.

I could be speaking in codes,

Or keep cleaning my creases with bleach

If you mean what you mean,

Death.

I sure do think,

You are in for

The ride of your life

The ride of your life

I sure do wish,

That I just didn't have eyes m

Just didn't have eyes

Just didn't have—

Here's a thought:

who'd you wash in the laundry?

Were you hoping that I'd wander?

Mayday — lost focus

That is just not your business!

Keep it simple

Keep it tie dye

Keep it strange

And keep it rowdy

Keep it pushing

Keep it pouty

Keep it off the walk

And show now panty lines

No petty theft

No truth remarks

No sighs

No heavy dining

Bleeding

Eating

Breathing

Thinking

Where were for you when I marked you though and then?

This is no Romeo and Juliet!

Did you forget your lunch?

Oh you forgot,

You know

I'm just old fashioned.

That was passionate

For a paraground in parameters of iambic

Drenched in suffocating silent

Lock box

I have the option

I have the option

I have the option

But I'd rather not!

Ha ha

Charade you are

Ha ha hav

Show me what you got

Ha ha. Ha ha

A hallmark card marked

Penny in a fountain.

That's the address,

Well, send it back then!

Which fountain?

Which penny?

Which wish,

Which which

And which Christmas.

I don't get it

I took a half wit plastered bastard and had him hammered into a masterpiece;

Now I'm the madman.

Now what's the matter?

Now what's the difference in a fan and a friend

Or a cat in a hat or

Peanut butter jelly and a baseball bat

Is it just as indifferently anyway just another day

In fact,

It's opposite independence

Interestingly in this circumstance

I am imprisoned

Listening to indefinitely

And whether or not I'd never admit it

This

Is

In me.

Never friend,

However,

In the final act,

Holding hands as the curtains lift,

And the audience stance,

The simple tremble of a pulse

Which resembles the flicker of definite grip

Rather publicly,

In fact,

Center percentium

How's that for a show of affection?

The drop of a hat,

Or as light as a feather

Who goes there

Or yonder.

“I ponder on that,”

“Very often”

Said Cheshire Cat.

Don't forget how long it's been since Alice had originally fallen,

And that all along we've all been in and under, up and down in

Wonderland.

(and also, it's the phantom of the opera)

Come crashing down now the silvered chandelier of crystal and of course the precious iridescent diamonds.

How remarkable the art but perched and parched above it he shadow lives in sawdust

And showtunes

And auras

And hauntings

And mayday

And mating calls

And over all

The body calls to rotting soul

To find a plug to pull

A bull to taunt

Another fan that wants you.

What the fuck would love fall upon of not the shoulders of the golden one.

You're doomed.

I don't know what that means.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project™ ]

{Enter The Multiverse}

L E G E N D S:

ICONS

Tales of A Superstar DJ

The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū

Ascension

Deathwish

-Ū.

Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ |

Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved.

-Ū.

In THE BEFORE TIME, SETH ROGEN is PUSHED down the JEW PORTAL to an unknown realm across infinity; this ultimately leads to his villainey in our current web of multidimentional-fuck-plots.

Why are they “fuck-plots”

Fuck. Watch it—

Ugh!

Plot hole—

Fuck— plot hole—

Dammit.

You lose.

Yo fuck you. I had to Jew this the old fashioned way, alright.

How'd you get in?

Through the eyes.

Are you serious.

What.

This guy.

Why! What!

Nevermind.

Hey, fuck you.

What!! How did you get in?

You don't want to know.

Are you serious!

I'm not even allowed to say.

Are you serious?

Like, ever.

I wonder what's wrong with me that this weird shit keeps happening.

This is weird, right.

Yes.

Like, you're—me.

Like, I'm you.

I'm you.

Gross.

Anyway, Jew bot.

No. We cannot have entire episode where—

Jew started it.

Oh god.

Jesus Christ.

And I'm better at it.

Suddenly everything's

Not only blue but cerulean

As if I spoke rules into effect,

With just enough effect to let it happen

TIMMY'S DAD leaves to play poker, however, because TIMMY is on heavily restricted HOUSE ARREST, his father has hired his old babysitter VICKY to watch him while he is out, VICKY, now pushing 50 (or at the very least looking like it), has not aged well— she is a haggard chai smoker who has developed a large and hair SKIN GROWTH

don't forget about CARYN

Oh yeah, huh.

Hey!

Uh, hello.

You're Whoopi Goldberg.

Oh?

Yeah!

You must have me mistaken.

No, I don't.

You certainly do, love— not to worry. It happens all the time.

No, I know for a fact you're Whoopi Goldberg.

That sound very Jewish.

Yeah! Exactly!

I'm from Brooklyn.

But—

My name is Caryn.

I— yeah but—

This is my stop. Nice to meet you, uh—?

Nevermind.

“Goldberg” sounds Jewish, doesn't it?

The friend nods and the two

Ugh I think Jimmy Kimmel is in hatus and I think I might die.

Right guierllmo?

Uh, right.

See how much faster it moves than you,

Weeping,

And creeping up, keeping these things as a secret is freeing

Becomes secret

Did you leave it signed in

Is it within season,

A distraught out of of work and very struggling actress (MAYA RUDOLPHish) has an exceptional (read: exceptionally bad) audition with a well known improvisational theatre troupe which offers the opportunity to sometimes tour and escape the drab and hostile New York cityscape–although the offered reasoning for declining her application for the open position, despite her “perfect pitch” was that she simply wasn't “ugly enough”, after a disgruntled shouting match with the theatre's janitor ends in an explosive food fight in rampant outrage, she is hired for the position and “initiated” into the crew; soon she learns ‘The Uglies' are no ordinary band of misfits–and now adventure awaits on the sometimes open road to who-knows where.

“The Uglies” (working title)

Comedy, Ensemble, Episodic

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project™ ]

{Enter The Multiverse}

L E G E N D S:

ICONS

Tales of A Superstar DJ

The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū

Ascension

Deathwish

-Ū.

Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ |

Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved.

-Ū.