[ENTER THE MULTIVERSE]

Impeccably professional.

Are we playing the fame game again?

‘What's my name?'

–-we never stopped playing.

Well, here it goes then.

These guys are gonna rip me apart.

Oh, you wish.

I did wish.

Don't waste a wish on this,

Just get some whippets,

Disinterest admittedly

Skittish, with good intentions;

Poignant, and probably proper,

By now;

How did I manage to have found

My way up from the ground?

Was once a seed,

But never planted

JESUS CHRIST.

He died.

He very died.

Right.

Remember the time Liquid Stranger–

–was it liquid stranger–

Yes

…I'm not writing that.

don't worry, guys,

I won't click twice,

I'm just trying to find

The commonalities,

Between these celebrities and

Whatever's happening to me

“WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME?”

I screamed from within, my palms unscathed and yet twisted with excruciating pain, as the tears rolled from down my eyes and i hushed the sound of my voice so that the man in the other room wouldn't hear me.

Okay. that shit hurt.

It did hurt.

It hurt a lot.

I'm not Jesus,

I don't wanna be Jesus.

JESUS.

Well, fuck that memory.

What about this one:

WELCOME TO THE ILLUMINATI.

Oh.

WE HAVE SKRILLEX.

oh no.

Or, had him.

what .

Where is he?

How would I know?

You should know.

I don't, tho.

Well, dammit.

They sure are friendly.

Yeah, too friendly.

HEY—HEY LADY!

Uhm, Excuse me.

HEEEEEY

Nope, not today.

What are you evading?

“The Fame Game.”

I'm not playing.

Aw, come on.

NO.

Come on!

NO. I Always get picked off, or die on drugs–or get hot flashes, it's awful.

Pleeeasee–

NO. Stop asking me.

Oh, so I die in a plane crash.

Yeah.

Ok. You die in a bathtub. Stay away from me.

[ceases to exist]

Couldn't fake it

Not even fora secod,

Not even for a condo;

On the 25th floor of the Circa Apartments

I'm being honest,

“Lost in Los angeles”

Like Donkey Kong and Mario Cart rolled into one

I'm the controller

On the contrary, darling

You're all of it,

The ending and the start of it

A Star amongst the Walk

(Against The Hall of It)

We're Always Watching.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

Wasn't I about to write something?

If I was, I forgot what it was already

Don't miss breakfast.

I wanted tater tots.

I know what you wanted.

That's a lot of tater tots.

I know.

…

…

…

Do you have any sauce?

Alright, Dillon Francis

Yea.

What's up.

Nothin.

It's like a fucked up

Cheaper By The Dozen,

With more kids,

And mormons;

And doesn't make sense, in the beginning ;

Then you'll get it

What's this one?

It's

The Adventures of…

A FIRE grows astonishingly quickly at a campsite in the forest.

STOP IT.

We gotta put it out somehow.

You're making it WORSE.

You started it.

But you're making it WORSE.

Fine. Fix it yourself, then.

[CC leaves DJ as the fire grows rapidly.]

Wait. CC!

[CC continues walking away calmly.]

CC!

LATER

[DJ Enters the driver's seat of his van, as CC sits texting, aloof, on her phone. He shuts the door, motionlessl staring forward, face blackened with ash. CC looks up from her phone, her eyes obscured from behind her dark sunglasses.]

[beat]

…Did you put it out?

…Yes.

[She nods and goes back to her phone. DJ reaches for his sunglasses, covering his ash-swept eyes, starts the van, and drives slowly forward.]

Lol. what's this shit?

Idk. It's with Dillon Francis and some girl

What girl.

idk .

Is it funny?

It's on Netflix.

So binge watch it?

That's the plan.

WHAT. What if it's on Amazon Prime?!

Nothing's on Amazon Prime.

Animal House is.

What is

ANIMAL HOUSE CLIPS

Woah.

That's a lot.

That's so much.

ANYWAY

What.

What i it's on Hulu?

FUCK HULU

A HULU ORIGINAL SERIES

Whaaaaaat.

What is this

THe AdventuresOf…

PAUSE.

I gotta break this fast.

Yeah, that's enough.

What the fuck is this guy doing with his magic.

Let's start slow:

Smart Water, and probiotics,

Some nonsense plot;

Then, my scar lights up like Harry Potter's

“Ah, shit.

Not again.”

I wanna saw off my noggin

and watch Nick

And pop ten rocks,

If it's toxic enough

To get me off this rock, quick!

Eminem?!

Nah, it's Marshall;

You went off in the project

And forgot what the next remark was.

Fuck.

Uhhhhhm….

I lost it.

Fuck.

My heart stopped,

As I name-dropped a lot of stars,

Another cougher,

I just want the

deposit on a loft ,

Or an Oscar,

Either one works.

Fuck.

I forgot what the words were,

What hurts more?

TO be apart,

or forgotten?

The knot slipped?

Better not go tie another;

“My brother, my son,

But never my love,

Nor my father”,

the promise:

An obstacle

A box,

And she hasn't stopped since

The clock rocked her

walking on water,

and stop watches

Watch this:

Fuck:

I bet i forgot what the plot was,

It's hunger,

Better off a breakfast,

Than at the wrong brunch.

Fucking A. What was it.

Welcome to the land of bad habits,

And addicts,

White rabbits,

Cabbage patch kids, with no parents

Pageant winners and panty sniffers

It's not a tragedy, as Grabbitz said,

It happens as I planned,

Turns out the demon is your friend;

The only enemy you have is Dillon Francis.

Oh. That took a turn

WHATDOESHEDOWITHHISMAGIC.

look what he does with his magic.

Wow.

‘Don't waste my time'

It's playtime, I guess

Speak in rhymes,

And write whatever's in my head,

At the time,

The eye turns red, like fire:

Guess who I am.

…

DJ and CC have been best friends since 7th Grade.

I don't know how to write this scene,

Lol.

SHIA LABEOUFF

Uh oh. That's not right.

Don' google it.

I know, huh.

Uhh.

It's okay. I got this.

SHIA LaBeouf*

lol

Worst last name ever

Anyway

SHIA LABEOUF

JUST DO IT.

Ok.

The former child stars of the LATE 90's EARLY 2000's era

Lol, how do you write something like this

idk.

Here:

A STRANGE CULT has gathered, a large tabernacle-like choir chanting ceremoniously, cloaked beneath the long robes and thick plumes of smoke, hidden deep within the confines of a candlelit cavern, adorned with mystifying and mysterious objects.

Yeah, that does it.

Lol.

Don't put me around famous people, guys.

I'm not right.

Especially ones I like.

Kesha blew my mind like 4 years ago and it still keeps me up at night.

I'm telling you.

It's not right.

Just write.

The Chanting reaches it's peak and comes to a close, as a–

Wait.

What.

Economically speaking

Uh huh.

How much money is it going to take to get all of these people in a room together at one time.

A lot.

We can do cut takes.

No cut takes!

WHAT THE FUCK DRAKE. I TOLD YOU NO CUPCAKES.

I brought–cupcakes.

I TOLD EVERYONE THERE WOULD BE COOKIES.

I brought cupcakes.

COOKIES. NOT CUPCAKES.

YOU'RE INVITED

Ooh. what's this.

COME TO THE DARK SIDE

WE HAVE COOKIES.

DUMMMMMMB.

This is reckless.

Stop doing whippets.

No.

What? Why not.

Hoes Love Whippets.

CARRYING ON.

Josh–

I SAID, CARRYING ON.

Why Does Josh Peck talk in all caps?

Typecasting.

AnYwAyS

So– is she– ‘The Forgotten One'

CULT, UNANIMOUSLY “The Forgotten One”

The shadowy figure removes his hood to reveal himself as DRAKE BELL

(gasp)

Yeah, she's one of us.

DUDE. You're not supposed to take your hood off!

It's hot under here:

SO!

Everything's on fire and I had to run around and get cupcakes!

–And that's where we left off:

JOSH PECK also removes his hood, revealing himself to the audience.

Woah. what episode of Drake and Josh is THIS

A new one.

No fucking way.

JOSH PECK

WHAT THE FUCK DRAKE. I TOLD YOU NO CUPCAKES.

I brought–cupcakes.

I TOLD EVERYONE THERE WOULD BE COOKIES.

I brought cupcakes.

COOKIES. NOT CUPCAKES.

(From The Crowd)

Aw, what–there's no cookies?

(Crowd disapproval; everyone deflates and begins taking off their hoods and cloaks, clamoring.)

THE DISNEY CHANNEL CIRCLE OF STARS Enter Dramatically through every possible entrance, much like the cas of a critically-acclaimed Broadway musical.

Which Broadway musical?

Uh. One where the cast enters through the aisle. Duh.

Ugh, these guys.

Who invited them?

I did.

For what?

That was the whole point.

After a large MUSIC/DANCE number.

Lol

Hold the phone

What

How are we gonna get ALL THESE MOTHERFUCKERS

CUT TAKES

NO CUT TAKES.

BRO.

HM.

IGOTIT,

SUPACREE wakes up at a mysterious RAVE.

Oh shit. Throw a party.

Celebrities loooooooove parties.

That's all they do.

…

…

…

Yeah–that too, but we don't like to think about that.

DISNEY.

I'll take it.

SOLD.

Wait, this is on Disney?

Or one of it's subsidiaries, none of which are

NICKELODEON.

We'll take it.

SOLD.

Wait.

What.

You Auctioned Off The Festival Project on The Black Market?

Yeah.

WHY?

I don't know. Something about cookies.

At the height of the chaos, SUPACREE strolls in.

Ah shit, cupcakes! I love these.

THE FORGOTTEN ONE.

Are these Vegan?

(gasps and whispers, whippets in the back)

Pause.

OKay. Deep thought process collison

Go on…

Either someone's a genius and set this whole thing up

That's making sense

Or Hollywood just fucks people up enough that

Whippets. I need more whippets.

For what?

Whippets.

Everyone's on drugs.

oh golly, everyone's fucked up.

Orrrr, orr–they're just having fun.

Should I be worried?

Nah.

…

…

…

Coincidences don't exist.

JOSH PECK

A COINCIDENCE THIS IS NOT.

How are you this deep in my consciousness.

Maybe I'm Not.

Oh yeah, I watched The Wackness.

Oh yeah, huh.

Fuck.

So wait. Everyone's just real hot–

Money's not a problem,

And everyone's on drugs.

Yeah.

Sign me up!

Okay, You're up.

Excuse me, I'm what?

You're on Go.

Uhhh—

Just…talk.

This is stalking.

Don't stop writing

OMG WHAT'S IN THE DUFFEL BAG .

What's in the pinata?

This is NOT THAT SHOW.

Of Course it is.

It's not.

THIS IS AAAAAAALL THAT

THIS iS AAAAALLL

THAAAAAAT.

yeah.

HOW MUCH IS THIS GONNA COST???

Can we please have a stereotypically jewish accountant for this project?

On it.

Rodger.

What's up, guys.

Uh.

These are good.

…

…

…

Can you see us?

Yeah.

All of us.

I think so. Especially Amanda Bynes. Hey,

AMAND BYNES

—she KNOWS who I AM.

Duh.

WOO.

[takes a whippet]

Wow.

How are you not freaking out?!

I have cupcakes.

Fiar.

Besides, it's just a dream.

What?

I'm dreaming. None of this is real.

Uh–it's not a dream.

Maybe multiple dreams.

Ew.

Don't be gross.

I can be gross. It's my dream.

You don't understand.

No, you don't understand. Because you're in my dream;

But i”m dreaming. I'll probably just wake up in a couple of minutes when I'm finished with this cupcake…and really want cupcakes.

How did you even get here?!

What reality do you think this is?

It's not reality.

IT iS–REALITY.

THIS IS REAL.

FLASHBACK: HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA 2010

Woah, hold the phone.

Yes, I'll hold.

Nothing really matters anymore,

No more words, now

Try to lay down

Try to phaseout my

Drastic, disasterful thoughts

With croissants

And the words to a song,

Or a new work of art in

The Festival Project

I'm not God, yet;

I'm only his daughter

A doctor,

I work at the smokeshop

Look, go back to Hollywood–

Now you're a subject.

Went to Fame School,

But just started fame college

I'll need that doctorate to call

Drake and Josh up

–Honestly, don't come back.

I filled up half a chapter

(Don't want your autograph)

I wrote a paragraph after,

10 songs, and wanted a cocktail

For watching you

Buy your own canister

Jesus Almighty

And Kevin McCallister

Candidly answer a

Call from the darkness:

“Heaven Help Hollywood,

Please, Heaven Help Us. “

[The Festival Project]

The Legenf of…

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

Wasn't I about to write something?

If I was, I forgot what it was already

Don't miss breakfast.

I wanted tater tots.

I know what you wanted.

That's a lot of tater tots.

I know.

…

…

…

Do you have any sauce?

Alright, Dillon Francis

Yea.

What's up.

Nothin.

It's like a fucked up

Cheaper By The Dozen,

With more kids,

And mormons;

And doesn't make sense, in the beginning ;

Then you'll get it

What's this one?

It's

The Adventures of…

A FIRE grows astonishingly quickly at a campsite in the forest.

STOP IT.

We gotta put it out somehow.

You're making it WORSE.

You started it.

But you're making it WORSE.

Fine. Fix it yourself, then.

[CC leaves DJ as the fire grows rapidly.]

Wait. CC!

[CC continues walking away calmly.]

CC!

LATER

[DJ Enters the driver's seat of his van, as CC sits texting, aloof, on her phone. He shuts the door, motionlessl staring forward, face blackened with ash. CC looks up from her phone, her eyes obscured from behind her dark sunglasses.]

[beat]

…Did you put it out?

…Yes.

[She nods and goes back to her phone. DJ reaches for his sunglasses, covering his ash-swept eyes, starts the van, and drives slowly forward.]

Lol. what's this shit?

Idk. It's with Dillon Francis and some girl

What girl.

idk .

Is it funny?

It's on Netflix.

So binge watch it?

That's the plan.

WHAT. What if it's on Amazon Prime?!

Nothing's on Amazon Prime.

Animal House is.

What is

ANIMAL HOUSE CLIPS

Woah.

That's a lot.

That's so much.

ANYWAY

What.

What i it's on Hulu?

FUCK HULU

A HULU ORIGINAL SERIES

Whaaaaaat.

What is this

THe AdventuresOf…

PAUSE.

I gotta break this fast.

Yeah, that's enough.

What the fuck is this guy doing with his magic.

Let's start slow:

Smart Water, and probiotics,

Some nonsense plot;

Then, my scar lights up like Harry Potter's

“Ah, shit.

Not again.”

I wanna saw off my noggin

and watch Nick

And pop ten rocks,

If it's toxic enough

To get me off this rock, quick!

Eminem?!

Nah, it's Marshall;

You went off in the project

And forgot what the next remark was.

Fuck.

Uhhhhhm….

I lost it.

Fuck.

My heart stopped,

As I name-dropped a lot of stars,

Another cougher,

I just want the

deposit on a loft ,

Or an Oscar,

Either one works.

Fuck.

I forgot what the words were,

What hurts more?

TO be apart,

or forgotten?

The knot slipped?

Better not go tie another;

“My brother, my son,

But never my love,

Nor my father”,

the promise:

An obstacle

A box,

And she hasn't stopped since

The clock rocked her

walking on water,

and stop watches

Watch this:

Fuck:

I bet i forgot what the plot was,

It's hunger,

Better off a breakfast,

Than at the wrong brunch.

Fucking A. What was it.

Welcome to the land of bad habits,

And addicts,

White rabbits,

Cabbage patch kids, with no parents

Pageant winners and panty sniffers

It's not a tragedy, as Grabbitz said,

It happens as I planned,

Turns out the demon is your friend;

The only enemy you have is Dillon Francis.

Oh. That took a turn

WHATDOESHEDOWITHHISMAGIC.

look what he does with his magic.

Wow.

‘Don't waste my time'

It's playtime, I guess

Speak in rhymes,

And write whatever's in my head,

At the time,

The eye turns red, like fire:

Guess who I am.

…

DJ and CC have been best friends since 7th Grade.

I don't know how to write this scene,

Lol.

SHIA LABEOUFF

Uh oh. That's not right.

Don' google it.

I know, huh.

Uhh.

It's okay. I got this.

SHIA LaBeouf*

lol

Worst last name ever

Anyway

SHIA LABEOUF

JUST DO IT.

Ok.

The former child stars of the LATE 90's EARLY 2000's era

Lol, how do you write something like this

idk.

Here:

A STRANGE CULT has gathered, a large tabernacle-like choir chanting ceremoniously, cloaked beneath the long robes and thick plumes of smoke, hidden deep within the confines of a candlelit cavern, adorned with mystifying and mysterious objects.

Yeah, that does it.

Lol.

Don't put me around famous people, guys.

I'm not right.

Especially ones I like.

Kesha blew my mind like 4 years ago and it still keeps me up at night.

I'm telling you.

It's not right.

Just write.

The Chanting reaches it's peak and comes to a close, as a–

Wait.

What.

Economically speaking

Uh huh.

How much money is it going to take to get all of these people in a room together at one time.

A lot.

We can do cut takes.

No cut takes!

WHAT THE FUCK DRAKE. I TOLD YOU NO CUPCAKES.

I brought–cupcakes.

I TOLD EVERYONE THERE WOULD BE COOKIES.

I brought cupcakes.

COOKIES. NOT CUPCAKES.

YOU'RE INVITED

Ooh. what's this.

COME TO THE DARK SIDE

WE HAVE COOKIES.

DUMMMMMMB.

This is reckless.

Stop doing whippets.

No.

What? Why not.

Hoes Love Whippets.

CARRYING ON.

Josh–

I SAID, CARRYING ON.

Why Does Josh Peck talk in all caps?

Typecasting.

AnYwAyS

So– is she– ‘The Forgotten One'

CULT, UNANIMOUSLY “The Forgotten One”

The shadowy figure removes his hood to reveal himself as DRAKE BELL

(gasp)

Yeah, she's one of us.

DUDE. You're not supposed to take your hood off!

It's hot under here:

SO!

Everything's on fire and I had to run around and get cupcakes!

–And that's where we left off:

JOSH PECK also removes his hood, revealing himself to the audience.

Woah. what episode of Drake and Josh is THIS

A new one.

No fucking way.

JOSH PECK

WHAT THE FUCK DRAKE. I TOLD YOU NO CUPCAKES.

I brought–cupcakes.

I TOLD EVERYONE THERE WOULD BE COOKIES.

I brought cupcakes.

COOKIES. NOT CUPCAKES.

(From The Crowd)

Aw, what–there's no cookies?

(Crowd disapproval; everyone deflates and begins taking off their hoods and cloaks, clamoring.)

THE DISNEY CHANNEL CIRCLE OF STARS Enter Dramatically through every possible entrance, much like the cas of a critically-acclaimed Broadway musical.

Which Broadway musical?

Uh. One where the cast enters through the aisle. Duh.

Ugh, these guys.

Who invited them?

I did.

For what?

That was the whole point.

After a large MUSIC/DANCE number.

Lol

Hold the phone

What

How are we gonna get ALL THESE MOTHERFUCKERS

CUT TAKES

NO CUT TAKES.

BRO.

HM.

IGOTIT,

SUPACREE wakes up at a mysterious RAVE.

Oh shit. Throw a party.

Celebrities loooooooove parties.

That's all they do.

…

…

…

Yeah–that too, but we don't like to think about that.

DISNEY.

I'll take it.

SOLD.

Wait, this is on Disney?

Or one of it's subsidiaries, none of which are

NICKELODEON.

We'll take it.

SOLD.

Wait.

What.

You Auctioned Off The Festival Project on The Black Market?

Yeah.

WHY?

I don't know. Something about cookies.

At the height of the chaos, SUPACREE strolls in.

Ah shit, cupcakes! I love these.

THE FORGOTTEN ONE.

Are these Vegan?

(gasps and whispers, whippets in the back)

Pause.

OKay. Deep thought process collison

Go on…

Either someone's a genius and set this whole thing up

That's making sense

Or Hollywood just fucks people up enough that

Whippets. I need more whippets.

For what?

Whippets.

Everyone's on drugs.

oh golly, everyone's fucked up.

Orrrr, orr–they're just having fun.

Should I be worried?

Nah.

…

…

…

Coincidences don't exist.

JOSH PECK

A COINCIDENCE THIS IS NOT.

How are you this deep in my consciousness.

Maybe I'm Not.

Oh yeah, I watched The Wackness.

Oh yeah, huh.

Fuck.

So wait. Everyone's just real hot–

Money's not a problem,

And everyone's on drugs.

Yeah.

Sign me up!

Okay, You're up.

Excuse me, I'm what?

You're on Go.

Uhhh—

Just…talk.

This is stalking.

Don't stop writing

OMG WHAT'S IN THE DUFFEL BAG .

What's in the pinata?

This is NOT THAT SHOW.

Of Course it is.

It's not.

THIS IS AAAAAAALL THAT

THIS iS AAAAALLL

THAAAAAAT.

yeah.

HOW MUCH IS THIS GONNA COST???

Can we please have a stereotypically jewish accountant for this project?

On it.

Rodger.

What's up, guys.

Uh.

These are good.

…

…

…

Can you see us?

Yeah.

All of us.

I think so. Especially Amanda Bynes. Hey,

AMAND BYNES

—she KNOWS who I AM.

Duh.

WOO.

[takes a whippet]

Wow.

How are you not freaking out?!

I have cupcakes.

Fiar.

Besides, it's just a dream.

What?

I'm dreaming. None of this is real.

Uh–it's not a dream.

Maybe multiple dreams.

Ew.

Don't be gross.

I can be gross. It's my dream.

You don't understand.

No, you don't understand. Because you're in my dream;

But i”m dreaming. I'll probably just wake up in a couple of minutes when I'm finished with this cupcake…and really want cupcakes.

How did you even get here?!

What reality do you think this is?

It's not reality.

IT iS–REALITY.

THIS IS REAL.

FLASHBACK: HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA 2010

Woah, hold the phone.

Yes, I'll hold.

Nothing really matters anymore,

No more words, now

Try to lay down

Try to phaseout my

Drastic, disasterful thoughts

With croissants

And the words to a song,

Or a new work of art in

The Festival Project

I'm not God, yet;

I'm only his daughter

A doctor,

I work at the smokeshop

Look, go back to Hollywood–

Now you're a subject.

Went to Fame School,

But just started fame college

I'll need that doctorate to call

Drake and Josh up

–Honestly, don't come back.

I filled up half a chapter

(Don't want your autograph)

I wrote a paragraph after,

10 songs, and wanted a cocktail

For watching you

Buy your own canister

Jesus Almighty

And Kevin McCallister

Candidly answer a

Call from the darkness:

“Heaven Help Hollywood,

Please, Heaven Help Us. “

[The Festival Project]

The Legenf of…

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

Oh, Got a body guard, huh.

This is your fault.

I don't give a Fuck.

Yeah. Fuck you.

Don't come around here anymore ñ.

Go fuck yourself.

I did that.

Doesn't make a difference, to me, really

I'm just a miserable something,

A nobody

Do you think I care?

Do you think I don't?

You can go anywhere

But here.

You can do anything

But this

You can be anyone

But me

I'm nobody,

I'm nothing

I'm broken

You're hungry.

Oh, certainly;

But you see,

I promised a week

These dreams are my weakness

On weekends, I sleep

Till one of my three roommates wakes me up

Wake me up

Wake me up

Wake me

UP.

I'm not talking to you.

I'm not keeping no secrets.

I'm not working this weekend.

Is there something you need?

SUPACREE.

Fuck this series.

SUPACREE.

Fuck this, seriously.

SUPACREE.

No,

Your entrance was my exit,

Youre interesting at best,

But now I'm wrecked,

(But now I'm reckless)

I just need a check

Fuck the guestlist

And fuck Dillon Francis

DILLON FRANCIS

Where's my piñata?

Where's your honor?

On God,

I stay guarded,

Oh Lord,

Whats your problem?

Go get a model to solve it;

I'm lost in Los Ángeles,

Not on the roster,

A poser? Imposter—

Impossible,

Look:

Drake and Josh is on

GERALD

I'm on one.

Slow down, bro.

Slow down, Goddamnit it

This is God plan it's,

Apples, bananas and

Fasting,

For life everlasting,

I asked her

“What's the high like”

Whats your mind like?

Whats your life like?

The limelight? It's alright.

I'll find time to write,

When I work 9-5s I don't like

And everybody's fucking high tonight

Except me,

And Dillon Francis, cause

DILLON FRANCIS

I hate THC.

And I'm sure there's a story behind that;

Like there's a story behind,

Why I no longer drive,

And why I hate 4:20,

But I still smoke weed,

Sometimes like chimney,

I'm just a pig;

By the hair on my chinny-chin-chin,

I don't want your attention,

But I can't get you out of my image.

Anyway.

So what's up with this episode.

I guess it's like a crossover.

Between what series?

All of them.

Seriously,

I'll put you on blast,

I'll look past you,

Like fantastic,

A phantom,

I just want to dance, dude

Like my pants, dude?

Don't mind the attitude,

I just want to cram you

Into my clam,

Make a sandwhich after,

Damn, dude.

Let me tell you something—

Don't send the man of my dreams in

To buy something he needs

On his lonely

Cause I'm only gonna worry,

I'm only gonna hurry home

Cause I'm horny

I'm only gonna wanna know

If he wants me;

Or if I'm just another ugly..

SUPACREE.

What, Goddamnit.

Don't say anything.

Okay, Illuminati.

Don't call me God, anymore,

You can call me infinity

I'm everything,

I'm nobody.

I'm everybody.

I'm Sunni.

Oh, you're funny.

I'll be what you need, eventually

Right now I'm at a party

Right now, I'm stuck here working

Right now, I've half a heart and hurting

Half a mind to blow my brains out

Half a mind to have to hide my face now

I'm brain dead

I'm branded for Skrillex and Dillon Francis

Where's my eye at?

I'm on a diet,

Cause I died, man

I hate blue eyes

And I hate one-lines,

But I wrote them.

FUCK YOUR SAUCE, BITCH.

And then what?

Nothing, that's it.

I might write the whole shift.

I might get to a different dimension

Where maybe I fit in

And do whippets.

I don't give a shit,

Or a fuck,

Or a Skrillex.

This is my only skill,

It's a script

Or prescription,

Propaganda

Paparazzi probably followed you, but—

I don't have a bag, man,

I'm out of em.

Skrillex is a ‘bad man'

Never heard of em.

Yo, where's Hanzel at with that piñata.

I smaked him up and rapped this,

Like a tamale,

I'm sorry,

But I'm on my way to Tijuana,

Mañana,

Ask Ariana

If she wanna

Jump on it.

You're retarded.

I'm highly regarded, I got a cult following.

It's an occult classic,

Ask OWSLA.

Fuck this shit.

Fuck this shit.

Fuck this shit.

Fuck this shit.

Gotta fast again

Everybody's on whippets

“Yo, how long this shit last?”

Like five minutes.

That'll be $286.

Got two hoes in the whip,

And you know

HOES LOVE WHIPPETS.

So you got hoes, huh?

Ya.

These is my bros, brah.

I got Marlboros,

Call me tomorrow, though

This shop is on my show;

Man, I just wanna go home.

I just bought a home.

I just wanna be alone.

But you're not alone.

But I wanna be.

You're just a wannabe.

You're just a SUPACREE.

I'm just a figment of your imagination, really.

I'm on TV.

Bro, this shit is reality.

Nah,

This can't be real

Nick ain't paying me

But everybody's playing me.

Everybody's playing me.

THIS AINT NO MOTHERFUCKING GAME.

Yeah, I got game leafs.

This is the same thing, but cheaper.

This is the reaper:

You mad at me for sleeping?

Yeah.

I hate this city.

I love this city.

GOD

I love everything.

I hate celebrities.

You're famous.

Then name me.

-king.

I'm a time traveler.

I'm an unraveler,

A rapper,

Half a stack of crap,

And a trash can.

Where's your man at?

I'm at the back door, asking for a chance

I'm too fat for you.

I like a girl with some ass—

I'm too black for you.

I like my berries real black.

But a classy one.

Man, I don't make enough.

I don't get paid for this shit.

Man,

I hate my life:

I should just go back to my

Back to my

I'm high as Fuck right now.

I just bought a new truck right now.

I don't give a fuck about how this ends,

I just want it to

I miss my best friend

And my family.

“Man”

Said the man in the hat,

“I do better in Hollywood”

‘Then go there, then',

I thought in my head

Cause I don't want to hear it:

The spirit that says:

Take a minute to breathe, Cree

Life ain't easy, as it seems

To be a celebrity,

You see?

The grass is always greener

On the other side

But there's no grass on this side of town,

Not really—

It just smells like pee

And I make 17.50

But that won't rent me

An apartment

Not even at 43 hours a week

And the tweaker speak to me,

The people on Spring Street, on exstasy

And I wanna party,

Or just end it all,

Cause I'm working all day and all night

But still dealing with poverty

Honestly?

Just take me out,

Take me out in a robbery

Take me out

Take me out to the ballgame,

I'm famous, apparently.

Open a memory bank,

I'd just like to thank you for saying my name

In vain

Take a spike to the vein,

I'm in pain, yo

This is strange yo.

It's a strange world.

I'm a strange world.

Youre s girl now?

What? You're a bro?

I'm supposed to be;

Nobody fucks with me;

Think I need SUPACREE.

SUPACREE hurriedly collects the celebrities.

For what?

Hm. Let me see. Whose missing?

HEY—HEY LADY.

Are you talking to me?

Are you talking to ghosts again?!

Shut up, Sunnï.

SHUT UP, ALI.

Ali can't find the Molly;

But he's got the amphetamines;

I hate dealing with celebrities,

Unless it's me!

I said,

“Ali, make me famous”

He's like,

“I'm working on something”

TIMMY TURNER

Hey, SUPACREE.

SUPACREE

Oh, hey, Timmy.

Now what am I supposed to do?

I withdrew from society.

What do I do with this masterpiece?

Why are you celibate?

Why, are you eyeing me?

Nah, I'm not white enough.

Nah, I'm not rich, I'm not pretty

I'm not high enough

Nah, I'm not doing my job;

I'm just writing

Just fire me:

Then I could end up just like

This guy,

He sleeps on the corner of 6th street

“Now Hiring”

Fine,

So I won't be on time,

Try to find me

Fine me

Finally,

I'm in denial of everything.

No food, no thanks

Just water and coffee

Keep coughing

Till I jump off something so high

You have to watch me fly

I'm on fire

“You're fired”

That's fine, I hate being here.

“That girl is weird”

No, I'm wired just so I can be here.

I can't afford an apartment

I went off when, my body turned off

At the sound of my alarm clock and said.

GOD

This is God calling;

You're off today.

Then I nodded,

And nodded back off,

Had a cough drop;

Immunity stops

When the cops call,

“Whatchu up to?”

“Nothing officer,

I just got off, want a hug?”

Then he popped me,

But I don't want a coffin—

I don't want nobody to notice

No body cam footage,

No frontin,

Just drop me in front of my mom's spot;

She'd love it.

MOM

Huh.

Another body;

I got a lot of em

I had a daughter once;

This one looks just like her

But I like her:

She's perfect—

She don't talk back,

And she's a size 4;

I wonder who she was once—

Look, just watch SpongeBob,

Knock it off

Just stop talking

Don't get too good at your hobbies,

You hobbit

I'll pop you,

Just like you'll want the cops to

In the future.

I wanna die.

You should eat.

I'm too fat for this place.

Then go somewhere else.

I'm on my way to Tijuana.

Wood tip, good taste.

Nobody buys the wood tips, these days

Cheapskates.

Don't be lazy.

I hate this place.

So just leave.

But I need to make money.

Can't go back to Mexico,

Eventually I'll be hungry.

What? Work a job for $100 a week;

No thanks,

I'll just contribute to society.

Then you should be SUPACREE.

Nah, coughs out a curse on me.

Fuck these hoes.

The Door's Open,

But I don't wanna go

I don't wanna know what it's like after the show

10 years on the road;

10 ears, is 5 girls tryna blow you

Just for some blow

Just got the chance to show you

How much I owe:

This is how much I know—

Hoes. Love. Whippets.

Yo. Fuck. This shit.

Where the fuck is Skrillex?

Working on a billions,

With Brazillians,

They're all feeling him

And I'm all in my feelin's

Wondering if Dillon is a real one,

But my show's on.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

Fuck it, then—

It's over when it's over;

If you ask me for a soda,

It's “No”

—but I might give you water.

God, that's an awful lots of stuff

In that storefront,

Honest,

I got a dollar.

But it's part of my deposit,

Honest—

I've only got a moment to offer

—I'm not what you want,

But I'm all for the love—

—if you got it.

All I want

—is to be wanted

All I want

Is just an apology,

Starbursts,

A car,

An apartment..

I'm the talk of the town

“The Apostle”

Comma, apostrophe—

I put it all in

Call me when you're lonely

(Or call me when you're on one)

I'm off when the sun comes up.

I love LA.

I work at a smokeshop—

—actually, I work at 3.

Yeah.

More on that later.

So, it's like 3 AM—

In downtown Los Ángeles.

Right.

This was so LA.

Okay.

So it's three in the morning—

(In downtown LA)

I'm just reminding you of where I'm at—

So you know, I see some VERY LA shit—round the clock

We're open 24/7

Yep.

So I see some high-level LA shit all the time,

But this dude reminded me of how LA LA gets.

So dude comes in like

“Can I park my bird in here?”

[pause]

“Yeah dude”

Then I look at him—good and hard, too—and I'm like

“Okay, what is this dude up to”

He is wearing— a full-length fur coat—

Not faux fur, guys, no—

—over a black wife-beater—

Okay?

And some skin-tight adidas,

Red ones—

Yeah.

With a white stripe—

Uh-huh—

And some boujee ass flip flops—

Thank god, no socks.

You socks with sandals wearing motherfuckers are gonna die and go straight to hell—and you're gonna get there and wonder what the fuck you did, and Satan, the dark lord himself is gonna look at you, dead in the eyes, wirh his cold, soulless self and say

“Champion slides and white socks” AAHAHAHAH—

—and then you'll burn for an eternity.

I gotta get the bag

Gotta put it in the bag

I gotta get the bag

Ya, I put it in the bag

Yea—put it in the bag—

Put your hands up;

Put it in the bag!

Ya,

I'm on the eleven to seven

Like a glamorous 7-11

Call me @ Kream—-

We got everything, man

Everything…

Except toothbrushes—we don't have that.

Seriously?

Yeah. We don't have that. Sorry about that.

—-But—

I hope you have a good night—I—

I gotta get get the bag

Gotta put it in the bag

I gotta get the bag

Ya, I put it in the bag

Yea, Put it in the bag

Put your hands up:

Put it in the bag

Eyyy—

What's the rent

In this bitch?!

Don't make dollars—

—don't make sense/cents

I gotta get

Gotta get

I gotta get the bag!

SKRILLEX

okay. So we're gonna stage a robbery!

DILLON FRANCIS

that's the worst idea ever.

What about the other timeline.

Okay. Here.

DRAKE

okay.

JOSH

what.

DRAKE

I got it

JOSH

what?!

DRAKE

We're gonna stage a robbery.

JOSH

That's the worst idea ever.

What.

It's multidimensionality.

How does that make sense?

Just wait for it.

A mock robbery has been staged to scare SUPACREE into quitting her job to pursue her true dreams and passions

INT. KREAM. 3 AM

SUPACREE halts an attempted robbery with an entire canister of police-strength pepper spray.

AGHHHHHH

WHAT THe FUUUUUCK

NOOOOO—AGHHHHHH

AAAGAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA

[crying and reeling for a full 5 minutes]

SUPACREE ties up the assailants, taking their wallets and purchasing a large amount of high priced items, sitting down to vape and write for a moment: as the pepper spray wears off, she unloads another round of spray, emptying the can entirely.

MY EYES!!

I'M BLIND! I'M BLIND!

SUPACREE

youre not blind—you're just stupid.

AGH, MY EYES.

(GUY FROM SPONGEBOJ, from outside:

AH! MY LEG!)

SUPACREE closes the store, places paper page over the assailant's heads before dragging then up the spiral staircase.

How much do you know?

(Know, know)

How much do you care

(Care, care)

Would you carry me home?

(Home, home)

Would you take me there?

—take me there

——take me there

——-take me there

What if this were all mine?

What if I were all yours?

What if I were always on your mind,

Like you're on mine?

Am I—?

Am I on your mind

Am I—

(Am I on your mind?)

All night,

This is where I am

(This is where I'll be)

This is where I am

EXT/INT- KREAM- 6:15 AM

A HOMELESS WOMAN enters the store, snatching several bags of snacks; BLŪ follows her out of the store and onto the sidewalk

BLŪ

…you have to pay for that.

HOMELESS WOMAN

AAAAAAAGGGHHHHH!!! I ONLY HAVE 40 CENTS!

BLŪ throws up her arms in amazement—the security guards across the street shrug nonchalantly.

Before I close my eyes

I had to find the time to write this

To tell you

I like—

Love you

Before I say goodnight;

Before you catch your flight

I have to find the time to write..

cause I ——-

Love you

Don't pass me by

Don't leave me on this island

Don't die

(Without me)

I—-

Here's this place

Full of things

That you want

—but you don't need

—you don't need

——-you don't need

——-you don't need

You don't see me

Don't see me

Don't see me

Don't see

I don't need

(Don't need, don't need)

To eat

(Don't need, don't need)

For at least a week

(Don't need)

—but I need ti keep you in my dreams ;

I'll keep you between my needs

Until I need them

To pray.

—For LA.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

THE CELEBRITIES OF HOLLYWOOD have all been stuck at THE ETERNAL RAVE, after ridin THE HELLEVATOR//

THE HOLLYWOOD PEOPLE have SUPACREE locked into a controlled hyper-simulation environment, out of her element and nestled in a series of inter dimensional portals along the Downtown Los Angeles central area, where old spirits, extra terrestrial beings, magicians, and of course, the filthy rich and famous embark upon missions. Collect tokens, and meet and gather for an array of unseen (and often unheard) business endeavors;

The real like DRAKE BELL (F), a fan of the cult-classic series Enter The Multiverse is strategically placed in SUPACREE's path, l masquerading as BLŪ/SUNNÏ BLŪ— she once again collides with the forces of fame,

SUNNÏ BLŪ has not yet sold her soul — however, has made an amicable agreement with an unknown force

The Devil?!

No!

Ok.

Probably the Illuminati

THE ILLUMINATI is playing a HIGH STAKES game, using SUPACREE to craft a multi-million-dollar mega-franchise, finally monopolizing the entire entertainment industry.

*The World

Having used the NEW WORLD ORDER to predictively program an entire generation. THE ILLUMINATI employs its all-time favorites to unlock secrets embedded deeply, hidden secretly in SUPACREE's genetic code by THE ASCENDED MASTERS.

where is skrillex.

I don't know.

TIMMY TURNER- A fairyless party animal has reached the end of his luck—as his intermingling a with multiple organized criminal organizations place him in imminent danger, after re-entering the 4th dimension, SUPACREE becomes Inter grated i to all of her classic childhood television shows, which mold into the material multidimensional world around her

THE INSOMNIACS, BAMPHERAMPHS, and MOTHERFUCKERS work dolls gently with the ASCENDED MASTERY, bending, shifting, and manipulating time to lean the odds in their favor, as THE BATTLE OF WORLDS sets to begin on EARTH, whose planetary consciousness

DILLON FRANCIS is a mess.

Lol.

It's not funny.

It is funny. I have his piñata.

GERALD

I'M NOT JUST A PIÑATA.

I know yur not, hush Gerald.

GERALD

Fuck Dillon Francis.

Fuck Dillon Francis.

HANZEL

—fuck Dillon Francis.

Aha.

ANYWAY

After THE ARMENIAN MOB

The Armenian Mob?!

yeah.

Makes a deal with the US GOVERNMENT

THE US GOVERNMENT?!

YES

Illuminati Confirmed.

great.

A counter-plot to disarm and debilitate AUPACREE before her full powers unlock is put on hinges, as THE HOLLYWOOD PEOPLE

Ahem.

What

Write a song.

Ok.

I'm so—

I'm so

Jealous of your girlfriend

(I'm jealous of your girlfriend)

She's so

She's so

Worth it

I'm so

Jealous of your girlfriend

(I'm jealous of your girlfriend)

What's a girl got to give

(Give in, to give in)

Just to sit in the back of the—

(You get it: you get it)

What's a girl got to give

To get your attention

Get your attention?!

(You have my attention)

Is she

Attentive

Bet

She's a ten

Yep,

Damn,

IMm so jealous of your

Jealous of your

—I'm jealous of your girlfriend

Oh, woah

I'm jealous of your girlfriend

Woah

Woah, oh

I'm jealous of your girlfriend

Woah,

Woah, oh

I'm jealous of your—

I'm so jealous of your life;

I'm so over this!

I just want to be a

(Nevermind, it's not worth it)

Can't—

C-c-c-can't fix what's not broken

I'm all alone,

And you're over here showing her

Love!

(To the wrong one,

Is she a blonde?!

Oh!)

No!

I'm!

So!

Jealous of your girlfriend

Anyway.

TIMMY TURNER, a true player, absolute gangster, and night-owl turns to a life of

SIN.

Is this religious?

No, i just meant, it's finished.

THE END.

“The Noir Episode”

I first saw her at the Equinox.

I didn't know who she was then,

But I thought to myself—

She must be somebody.

Aww, that's sweet.

So I followed her to the Whole Foods market.

Okay, that's stalking.

—where she bought nothing but coffee and coconut water.

TIMMY TURNER narrowly turns the corner on his speed motorcycle, his black duffel bag sweeping the ground.

MEANWHILE, JOEL ZIMMERMAN IS BEING RAIDED.

WOAH.

Yup.

POLICE

GET ON THE GROUND

ON THE GROUND RIGHT NOW.

JOEL calmly places his arms atop his head, laying down on the ground silently—-

Meanwhile, at DTLA SMOKESHOP

Hi, josh pan.

whatever.

Earlier:

Take this, and go get 2 50-pack of whippets.

—for what?

WE FINNA GET HIGH ON WHIPPETS AND LISTEN TO ALLLL OF SUPACREE'S SHIT.

that's so dumb.

WELCOME: To Sodom And Gamora!

Oh, it's nice.

It's very nice.

I live here.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

I should—

SPLIT MY WRISTS WIDE OPEN—

—so I can feel again!

So I can feel again

Slit my wrists right open—

So I can see again

So I can see again

Tongue beneath my cheek,

And your feelings make me weak;

I need to breathe again;

I better not

See you next week—

PLEASE

Lay beneath me and

Squeeze me,

Please me l,

Tease me, I—

Greet me at the door,

To your

Rocky Mountain horror

Feed me, Seymour,

This is horrible!

I hate this show

I hate this world

I hate you

I—

I hate you more—

I should—

What the fuck is this.

It's screamo

You're writing screamo again?

Shit!

I hate my life

Is it what you want to believe,

Burn another tree

Dream another lucid dream,

Lucifer is just the truth to me,

It won't deceive you

I won't believe you

I don't believe you

I don't believe anything I see

I don't believe

I don't believe

I don't BE

LEAVE.

Me?

Yes.

—you wish.

I WISH— uhh—-?!

—HURRY UP, TIMMY, GODDAMMNIT.

Alright, i wish…

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

[The LA Standard]

Oh,

You're on my mind

Your on my mind

My mind

My, my

You're on my mind

You're on my—

My, my—

You're on my—

You're in my

My—mind

You're on my mind

You're in my mind

You're on my

Thought I should say

That I just like the way you

Say my name

Then you walk away—

Thought I should say

Oh baby

You really drive me crazy

Thought I should seize the day

But now I can't escape

Now at night I lay away and think of you

(Think of you)

Now I know there's nothing else left to do

Why'd you have to all in

With that look on your face

That you always had

Goddamn, had to laugh

It has been a long time

“The Dead Mouse”

As I trailed behind -king, silently waking in synchronicity and cadence in a triangular formation with his friend, not really a musician but more of a third wheel, the squirming of a small creature under the sole of my special edition Air Force One's which I could only feel, and not hear sent shivers rom up the base of my foot into the bottom of my spine. I thought to myself ,

“that's a dead mouse.”

Not even realizing the semi-humor in it; I was running at full speed away from anything I had thought to love, but honestly God had been working on it's sense of humor in almost-delectable ways.

“Oh, I get it .”, i thought to myself once more, before piping out into the silence of the Long Beach air,

“You picked the wrong day, Mr. Mouse,” chucking, but under my breath for some reason worried that Deadmau5, or Joel, whichever thing, seemed to be foraging its way deeper into my conscious mind, and further out of my subconscious, where I kept almost everything, especially after Dillon Francis.

I hate him.

Okay. i guess we hate him.

I hate all of them.

What? no…

I HATE MEN.

But that–wasn't true. I loved men—I just hated that they all seemed to need so many women–or plain and simply just one, but that ‘one' was never me, unfortunately, either in their mind, or mine; like -king; Entering his dilapidated apartment, I of course had the urge to clean and remedy it, Egyptian hymns scryed into the walls and the cosmic lights of the universe cast into the ceilings–but, the space was in desperate need of a feminine touch–one I knew not to give to just anyone anymore, as I had done with my first love and all the others, becoming entangled more in the needs of man than my own; Then, I was, as Nick said, a true submissive, and I had been given specific instructions to be weary of the darkness that would result from submitting to the wrong kind–and-while in my mind All Is One, I was all in-and-nothing in love with whatever I had created in my own mind with lust, sapiosexuality, and the love of creativity and imagination all rolled into the goulish overkill of what might have been with any or all of them, had I been born with the right skin tone, the right figure–and of course, the right connections.

I woke up the next morning–Saturday morning, Christmas Eve, pissed as all get out–all of my roommates were scrolling drones–room dwellers with less to do than just sit on their phones in bed, not moving much and taking up way too much of my precious alone time, which was rare; I had been given a bunch of particularly annoying roommates; One, a 22-year-old from New York who liked to talk on the phone and drink too much–who apparently had a boyfriend kind enough to pay for her room, but was nowhere to be found, and just-as-well was probably getting along with someone else, as she seemed to need more male attention than I could even stand. I thought, “Maybe some Techno music will make her leave.”

“Earplugs still firmly planted in my brain, I queued up ‘Techno House Elephant”, probably opting for something even harder–something like ‘The Shell', by Snails, if she decided to stay around beyond the 30 or 40 minute playtime of the EP- but then again, I myself might just leave by then, as it was reaching towards noon, and, after a disappointing Acai bowl just the night before, I was craving a more put-together one–and though my aversion to the Whole Foods across the way which I still loved, I was growing tired of the place, and probably of all y surroundings–I was stuck with too many people who I didn't like, with no other choice at all really but to just sit through it, unable to afford more privacy and my body unable to work two full time minimum wage jobs.

I was horny, hair disheveled, and in bad need of a manicure and pedicure, which I could afford, but hadn't the energy to pursue; It had been a long week, and I was haunted by my failed dreams of becoming someone, anyone other than who I was -likable, of course, but not pretty enough to have any real fun in the city, and of course, anything I was attracted to at all only reminded me of y awful placement as a black girl in a white girl's world. I hadn't thought to be jealous, at least, of jy roommate , which seemed to be her placement in the Matrix: making me jealous that she was beyond petite, toting a child's figure, which of course men seemed to adore – the notion of pedophelia being a blurred line between attraction and sexuality I still had yet to understand. The men I seemed to find myself particularly attracted to were of course out of my league, my sapiosexuality of course always getting the better of me– and now, a new tipping point in the alt-right insanity that had to have been the confines of my inner mind itself. It shouldn't have been bothering me as much as it was, but it was–and there was going to have to be an elemental change in my coping mechanisms, before I altogether dropped off into an intricate world that seemed to be designed to torment me with remnants from an old world; though I was no longer married, it seemed as though there was nothing else really in the world left for me

It wasn't working. My roommate had asked very nicely twice for me to turn down my music, but I just wanted her to leave. I needed a moment of calm and clarity to myself, after a week of too much nonsense at all to make anything worth it, I wasn't making any real music, and my mixtape series had come to a plateau, after posting [The Next Level] and feeling that the energy of that mix couldn't be topped– if I was going to be a real DJ, I knew I needed to play that way every time, but it seemed that day that a new energy entirely had taken over for exactly 1 hour 8 minutes, and had resulted in the perfect mix. Now my other callings were beckoning–remembering that I was, in fact, a gifted writer, having just the day before publisted a telling entry based on my surreality, merged with my sexuality coming to a peak and noone to be found in my realm worth breaking my celibacy for; It wasn't fair at all that Drake Bell had to buy his own whippets–nor that I had to be the reciprocate, working at the smokeshop with just enough time to be reminded of my own failures, my childhood dreams, or what seemed to be the curse of a body literally not even a mother could love.

I wasn't pretty or well to do enough for anyone I actually liked, and though I could have at any point easily gone to the dark side for what may have been decent dick, It wouldn't have been worth it in any effect to lay down with anyone who actually wanted to lay down with me–or at least who had made it apparent, of course–black dudes I would have been happy to keep just as friends, as if there ever was such a thing between myself, apparently in a body attractive to black men, and repellant to my type

“Goddammit” I thought.

Drake Bell looked good: too good, actually– the reason I had ignored him intentionally the first time he came into the store, and before I had realized who he was; not that I would have believed Nick if he hadn't come back a couple nights later.

“Fuck this.”

What's a girl to do in the midsts of being reminded of

What?

Nevermind.

What.

I don't know how to word this.

Well, try.

‘Nick' Get it?

Very funny, God.

But God is Funny, Undoubtedly.

WHY.

Why what?

WHY would you do this?

By the end of The Shell, I was ready to leave myself; I wanted an acai bowl, and had no intentions of heading towards the gym, but needed to– I was, at least for the moment, okay with my figure–though something about the experience had pissed me off just enough to know that I needed to return to ‘The Hollywood Diet' ; there seemed to be an attraction to the vibration of fame and fortune that was ever fleeting, and with a plethora of one-dimentional fuck-boxes that paraded around in model hot bodies, spending upwards of thousands in whippets – of course, there were the upper echelon women, too– the high bar, classy and well-achieving type I knew I wouldn't see any time between the Graveyard hours of tomfuckery at which I was posted in this Downtown Los Angeles Smokeshop–and it was surprising even to me that I had chosen this employer over Aziz, who had insulted my intelligence enough that I felt no need to explain my disappearance–but now God was playing tricks with my mind.

WHY GOD.

Because.

WHY.

Because.

IT ISN'T REAL.

A strange thing was happening inside my sick and twisted mind ; Repressed sexuality collided with rage in the seat of my soul, and there could be only one thing left to blame for any of it.

Hollywood.

It's always Hollywood.

And it was–always Hollywood.

They know how to pick ‘em.

That's the point.

The miniature pinata, my only real prize from having worked at Higher Livin, for all and none of what it was worth; I felt myself sinking into an abyss of carelessness, on the verge of a bender of sorts, sexual or otherwise–I had again fallen victim to the cruelty of Hollywood's chaotic clammerings of magic and insensible display of wonder, and what could be. Now I had an array of men I desired ranging in a spectrum, not all together alike, but not altogether separate: I did seem to have a type, and a tendency to be attracted to what was clearly out of my league, at least for the moment I knew that Hollywood had had it's cyclops eye on me since my early years, and perhaps even at birth– but I was unaware of how to break the barrier between this– poverty and mediocrity–, and the limelight of success in the entertainment industry. For some or any reason, Drake Bell and his Whippets had caused a flat-out degradation of my exterior and formerly safe reality; My multidimensional world was blending together almost harshly with the taste of reality that I was still working an almost-dead-end job, which required too much of me.

I was a easy egg to crack: my attraction to anything could be calculated in an algorithmic cocktail of 1 + 2 = 3.

Hollywood could do anything.

After throwing Skrillex in my tent of course, there was absolutely no denying how easily I could be manipulated with the wrong type of attention: not to ever think I would be lucky enough to get any dick out of it, but at least I was writing;

First about Jon,

Then about Sonny,

Then About Dillon Francis

–Sometimes about Joel,

And now about Drake Bell,

Who, to be fair, I had begun writing about some time ago in Mexico, when I had decided that all of the characters and personalities of the fourth dimension were still alive out there somewhere,

and the only way tha SUPACREE could ever exist is if they did too.

I wanted to cry. I felt I was being tormented, played with–and of course, rather than to act in rebellion, I submitted, as probably at least somewhat expected, still upset at any of the aforementioned for living my dream life, or probably just as jealous of the innumerous women that they had their pick of at any moment because of it, my ugly, too-blacl-too-fat self included from anything I might have once wanted, besides a peaceful and restful peace of death, suicide once again in my mind's eye and in my grips.

“Maybe I should just do some whippets,”

SUPACREE was nowhere to be found, really–but Sunni Blu was making the rounds in another word away, just a parallel and a stones throw from mine.

“Fuck it.”

–And,

I'm not into you,

I'm just that miserable

I ain't got much to do

But think about my every move

And every movie I've seen you in,

For the moment.

At least this Flum gives me a headrush,

And just enough

Remove my trust,

Perhaps, move from this gloomy room

I just assume that this is what you do

To keep me moving

So much for an encore

So much in store;

A bargain for a robbery,

A sob story on your arms;

An informant,

A mormon,

an adorable girl,

an honorable martyr,

a star,

A scar across my heart,

For all you are,

And all I wanted,

Too far gone,

But not quite yet forgotten

On my awful God:

A mockery, we all are

Aren't we?

Stop.

I just can't go on any longer,

I–

I can't go on anymore.

It's just a storefront,

it's ,

It's just a front, or something

What do you want from me?

What more than just a start,

To stop working too hard,

At the corner market,

(and more on my art)

I'm up in arms,

And out of armor,

All at once

“What did you do this for?”

–I asked my God,

And now, she won't respond,

She just laughs harder and harder.

Do I scare you?

Only a little.

Huh.

What?

Nothing..

I hate you.

ihateyou.

Eventually, The Ascended Masters will intervene.

They already have.

Oh, Christ Almighty.

He's not coming.

JESUS CHRIST ALMIGHTY

[Answering Phone]

Jesus Christ Almighty

–WHERERU?

JESUS CHRIST ALMIGHTY

I TOLD YOU I'D GET THERE GODDAMNIT.

Fascinating.

Do my eyes deceive me,

Or

Is there a secret between us:

A secret illusion;

Should I bury it,

Or keep it neatly

And unseen,

Between my knees,

And where you need me?

Is there a thing that I should need,

But never speak–

I'll keep it in my sweet release

To dream beliefs of evil

Seen, aquamarine revines,

And pulsing veins,

–and stolen hearts,

Not passing judgment,

But just passing by

To hide, to pass the time

To find a high,

Align in color

Fly,

Write another rhyme,

Or wire fireflies a transfer of light,

Like blue eyes reflect to mine.

WHY would you write this?

WHY.

I hate blue eyes.

That's racist.

No it isn't.

Congratulations on making it into my aerospace, unscathed.

A coincidence, this is not.

I have something for you.

I don't need anything from you.

That's because I gave you everything you need.

Right. I have everything.

RIght.

So you should know whatever you need comes at a high price.

What makes you think I need something?

You said you have something for me?

Yes I do.

You don't seem the gift giving type.

I'm not.

So, what do you want from me?

WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?

Oh. it's another one.

What's he need?

Probably nothin, really

Oh, it's something.

This shouldn't be happening.

I agree.

why is this bothering me.

Google it's self had deleted half my entry, which was admittedly sloppily thrown together, at nearly a full episode's length; probably for the best, as I was becoming more intolerant of my societal responsibility by the moment, and increasingly self destructive asa result. It was stil chaotic; fame kept coming closer towards me and then leaping away, but not out of reach or out of sight, but rather than chase it, I merely calmly strode forward in a never-changing pace, not rushing and always careful to remain calm, even when filled with fury. I had become unrecognizably fit, chaste, and a remarkably healthy eater; I was all together well, besides in the areas of romance and sexuality of course. I was ready to pounce, but timing would be key, and patience the virtue;

Man, the Illuminati is high-key hilarious.

The first time he wandered into the storefront, I of course immediately avoided any direct eye contact, as I typically did with any attractive Caucasian male, especially in thick glasses—not that I noticed who he was at all before Nick mentioned it—and not that I actually did believe Nick at all when he did; I had immediately looked away, anyhow, and rightly so.

“You remember that show Drake & Josh?” , asked Nick coyly, as the man exited

“What about it?” , I asked unassumingly

“That's that nigga Josh Bell”, he nodded—

“Oh”, I bawked, thinking twice to correct him, but instead opting to seem unaffected—mostly I thought he was lying, but it at least had sparked my imiagination enough to remember I had begun writing about Cosmo and Wanda's life after the conclusion of Fairly Oddparents, not yet having returned until now to inspiration—suddenly I was flooded with the remnants of a song I had once loved enough to keep on repeat, which I was of course prompted to listen to as soon as possible, and with which a story unfolded in front of my eyes and beneath my feet, as I left to work the next day with my then-newest mix ringing in my ears—and an actual narrative for Timmy Turner himself, now reaching middle age, as I was— and, to my suprise, a couple nights and a million lifetimes later, when the well-dressed man caught my eye again, after having resisted the urge to waste a Google just to verify what may well have been a farse—God took the liberty of playing show-and-tell—and for some reason, it was his voice, along with a quick and striking once-over, that it was in fact once more as Nick said he was—and rather than his stardom that made me nervous, it was perhaps more so that he was, in fact, extremely attractive, especially my type—and actually, probably at most—the overflow of things I had written and already published about him in my imaginary world—the place where I lived, but wasn't entirely sure anyone else was aware of.

His pink sweatshirt and ball cap tempted me to Google exactly what it was Timmy Turner used to wear—in my creative headspace, I thought to myself, blushing a little as he walked away, still swinging to the Detroit Drill music in the background

“What's Timmy Turner up to tonight?”

Perhaps it was my sex drive getting the better of me—I had wholeheartedly been indulging in the tater tots at the hot bar for three nights exactly—but at least I was back in the gym, where I listened over my mixes, playing over Timmy Turner by Desiigner, envisioning the Fairyless Timmy's trials, intermingling the fictional trademark into my multidimensional science fiction fantasy-action world—and somewhat hoping the real-life Drake has no way to creep into my ultra-conscience hyper sexual fantasies, disallowing my mind to run too wildly.

It was late at night, or rather, early in the morning—and I was just the girl at the smokeshop—meanwhile, in the fourth dimension, Timmy Turner was more than likely..

TIMMY TURNER

open the registers.

CASHIERS

Fuck that, bro—

—no, way, man

—on God—

TIMMY TURNER produces a Glock.

OH SHIT

—OH HELL NAW.

The cashiers raise their arms in surrender.

TIMMY TURNER

Now open the register.

—Alright man, ok

Oh, fuck, man—

[The cashiers obey his command—the registers spring open, clinging.]

TIMMY TURNER

Cool, now—in the bag.

CASHIERS

All of it?!

Come on, man.

TIMMY TURNER

Oh yeah, I want all that shit!

[He leaves, palming a soda on the way out.]

TIMMY TURNER

Suckas.

Timmy Turner- Acoustic Version, Various Artists

BLŪ / SUPACREE skates to work in the heart of downtown Los Angeles

3 weeks later:

Cosmo.

What.

Get up.

What. What do you want.

Get up.

Stop touching me!

No! Get up!

What?!

—just get up.

What is it?

It's Timmy.

TIMMY. TIMMY WHAT.

He made a wish.

He—he did?!

YES.

WHERE IS HE?

—I don't know.

INT/EXT. SMOKESHOP - 5:50 AM

GET LOW

It's too early for this.

Can I get some whippets?

Yes.

LEGENDS: EPISODE 3

“Hoes Love Whippets”

Timmy, what happened?

...I don't remember.

The True Origins of the Bampheramphs are Unknown.

I know what they are.

No you don't--nobody knows.

Yah. I'm nobody.

*Running at exactly 140 BPM*

SAMMI! SAMMI! SAMMI!!

WHAT?

Listen to me!

I'm—listening to something else—

What is it?

Something more important.

That cannot be!

Why?!

LISTEN TO ME:

What?!

Something very strange is about to happen to you.

To me?

Yes, to you— I just said that.

Just making sure.

LISTEN TO ME:

I've been listening…

Bampheramph Camp

Welcome to your dwelling.

This is disgusting.

I don't care. I'm beat!

Yeah, me too.

Dibs on top!!!

Aw, no fair!

[he jumps onto the top bunk; amattress spring quickly protrudes from the top of the bed]

Oh, well, never mind.

[another camper opens the bathroom door, to find only the foundation of plumbing for a toilet]

Uhhh… where's the toilet?

(From afar)

It's...over here.

What.

You're welcome.

You're welcome?! For what!

Not all the cabins even have toilets.

That's seriously disturbing.

It's supposed to be—

And why is the bathtub separate from the toilet—

—or where the toilet should be—

Right—

Because— there are 43 of us in this quadrant; some of you are gonna have to shit and shower at the same time.

What!

43 of us?!

Are you blind?

There's like 16 of us!

I'm pretty sure there's only 9; we lost those guys.

[a group of dilapidated campers huddled in a pile]

Nah, they're alive… well, maybe like five of them.

[immediately, the front door swings open— a drove of campers come pouring in]

Alright guys, single file lines.

[not even close]

Perfect.

What the fuck.

Who are they?!

Who are you?

What the fuck!

There's 10 beds!

Learn to share.

Get off me!

GET OFF THE FLOOR.

Mm—no, probably not…

Ughuhhhuhhh—-

[blows gym whistle]

OH MY GOD!

THEN GET UP.

I'm so drunk.

I've been drunk for three days.

Flicker the lights.

I WANT MY MOM.

Too bad—she's with me!

Noooo!

The rise<> free your mind>< I still care

Cosmo and Wanda share stories of their lives as Fairies (before becoming Godparents) with their androgynous offspring.

Poof, this is reckless. You can't just go granting every wish he makes--

Why not?

One, It's dangerou--

He isn't evil.

Secondly, it's irresponsible.

SUPACREE

TURN UP, TURN UPPPPPPP!!!

DRAKE BELL

Goddamn, girl.

SUPACREE

SHUT UP, DRAKE—

DRAKE (THE SINGER)

WHAT I DO?!

SUPACREE attempts a whippet—but the can is empty.

SUPACREE

not you, dumbass.

DRAKE continues dusting.

DRAKE BELL enters the suite.

CONT'D

This dumbass.

She attempts another huff from the empty can.

SUPACREE

this shits out.

DRAKE BELL

Jesus Christ.

JESUS CHRIST

WHAT?

BOTH

NOT YOU.

SUPACREE CONT'D

—you get my whippets?

Okay, this is bothering me too much.

Okay.

Okay.

A man in colored graphic motorcycle helmet popped up on a wheelie, aligning with and then passing by me, reminding me of something that had not quite left my mind since the time of its reentry.

Come on,

Don't let me take this on

Come on,

I'm unremarkable,

Honored, but on one

Come on,

I'm tired

I'm on one

You're ok one

Come on!

Are you alright, my guy?

It's gonna kill me inside

Kill me inside

Just one look in your eyes

It's gonna kill me inside

Kill me inside

Kill me inside

Now, my idol—

Rest your eyes and

Set your mind on

Fire

On fire

Come on!

I can shrug it right off,

If I want

I can rub it right off on the morning

With soap

Are you suffering?

What! Have you lost God?

God, this is awful,

God, I don't want it no more

And I'm on one

Gotta be on love

Gotta be on something

Watching the stars

Coming on as I follow,

They fall in my honor

And I'm not a God—

Come on,

I'm just watching it all

From my awesome apartment

Or loft,

Turn it off, though, I'm done with it

God, this is awful

You turn me on

And the world keeps on turning

I'm falling apart

In the heart of Los Angeles

Honestly, God,

You're a Dog,

(And adorable)

I should be jotting my thoughts,

But I'm lost in a document,

Mocking my mantras

And talking to God,

All in awe with the colors of

Love

Come on.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The RFestival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.