[For Your Consideration.]

First actual mix in a long time, hope you guys enjoy. This is my first mix with 99.9% Original -Ū. music only with the exception of the intro for dramatic effect. Hope you guys enjoy it. Thanks for listening.

Here's a screenplay of enter the multiverse to coincide with the commemoration of the SNL 50's anniversary/ L E G E N D S crossover.

Fun Fact: The First appearence of Liz Lemon in this show {Enter The Multiverse} is in season one, which first aired in May of 2021.

The 1st and subsequent seasons will soon be avalible for reading and listening on my website https://www.iamu.guru. Enjoy this mix and the avaliable downloads you'll find there and stay tuned for upcoming stuff. Just a reminder, all of my content is totally free for download. If you enjoy this series, drop a like and subscribe and follow on your favorite streaming platforms and all of my channels.

Thanks for your continued support and listens/reads. Happy Passover; blessings and peace to you.

-blu.

INT. ALIEN SPACESHIP - DAY

The cramped, metallic interior of an alien spacecraft. Two bizarre, multi-limbed ALIENS are locked in a furious argument. The sounds are not words, but a cacophony of distorted electronic noises.

ALIEN 1

(A series of rapid, high-pitched BLIPS and WHIRS)

ALIEN 2

(A deep, guttural GROWL followed by a drawn-out, wavering TONE)

ALIEN 1

BLIM-BLIM-BLIM-BLIM— FLAU—FLAU—FLAU!

ALIEN 2

—————EeeeeEeeeeeEEEEEEEEENNMMMMMMMMMNGGGGGGGGG!!!

ALIEN 1

Wfuh!

Alien 2 makes a highly offensive hand gesture. Alien 1 responds with a highly offensive gesture using another body part.

Suddenly, RACHEL DRATCH, dressed impeccably and radiating an air of cool detachment, enters the scene and calmly observes the arguing aliens.

RACHEL DRATCH

(To herself, almost a whisper)

Well, this is… something.

CUT TO:

INT. ROCKEFELLER PLAZA - SUNNI BLU'S OFFICE - DAY

SUNNI BLU, sharp and impeccably dressed, stares with wide eyes at a ridiculously large ELECTRICITY BILL. Sunlight streams through the massive windows overlooking Rockefeller Plaza.

SUNNI BLU

(Muttering)

Since when did keeping the lights on cost this much? Absorbing ConEd was supposed to *save* money.

Suddenly, a disembodied VOICE echoes in the room.

VOICE (V.O.)

You will fail this test.

SUNNI BLU

(Startled)

There's a test?! What test?!

VOICE (V.O.)

It came with a lesson— you didn't think there was going to be a test.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE LONELY ISLAND CLIFF - DAY

ANDY (ALEKSI), dressed in surprisingly clean white robes despite the precarious location, stands on the edge of a towering cliff overlooking a vast ocean. He takes a running leap off the edge.

ANDY

—NO…

He plummets downwards for a beat. Then, with a gentle WHOOSH, he lands perfectly upright on the sandy beach below.

ANDY (CONT'D)

I told you I could stick the landing.

ALEKSI (V.O.)

It wasn't always The Lonely Island…

CUT TO:

INT. HEAVENLY WAITING ROOM - DAY

ALEKSI (ANDY SANDBERG), now with subtle, mischievous angelic wings, winks directly at the camera.

ALEKSI

guardian angel.

TINA (O.S.)

Whatever.

Tina FEY, also with small, slightly more exasperated-looking wings, enters. ALEKSI winks extra harder at her.

ALEKSI

Hello.

TINA

Oh my God!

ALEKSI

I wish! At this point, I wish— unfortunately, those aren't the types of wishes I'm in charge of overseeing.

A large, ornate PACKAGE appears unexpectedly at TINA's feet.

TINA (CONT'D)

When something appears unexpectedly at your doorstep, it's called a windfall, right?

ALEKSI

Yeah. I think that's what this is.

TINA

And when it's something you really need, it's a gift from God. Isn't it?

ALEKSI

Something like that.

TINA

Honestly, I thought it was just a gentler way of letting me know I was ugly— after a particularly horrible photo opportunity at the airport.

ALEKSI

—wow.

TINA

I had just been up for 72 plus hours straight and only slept something like 4 or 5–but of course—

FLASHBACK:

INT. AIRPORT SECURITY - EARLY MORNING

A haggard and disheveled TINA sits slumped on a lopsided BEANBAG in the middle of the bustling security line. Bright lights shine in her face as various machines WHIR and BEEP, scanning her.

TINA (V.O.)

This was staggered sleep from atop a lopsided beanbag.

TINA (Muttering)

Agh, God!

TINA (V.O.)

I've been getting used to having lights shined in my face for awhile now. Still, I was not so ready for a full work up of my biometrics in this early morning crusade to Los Angeles.

A stern-faced AGENT approaches her.

AGENT

The Agency thought you were terminally ill.

TINA

Terminally? Geez.

The AGENT clears his throat.

AGENT

Consider this as, ah— Hm. Ojo translates directly to Eye. Doesn't it?

TINA

I see you.

AGENT

Undoubtedly. —an incentives.

TINA

I don't need anymore incentives, Captain. I need income.

AGENT

Oh, I'm the captain now?

TINA

You were always the captain.

AGENT

This is news to me.

TINA

News to the News. That's something new.

AGENT

Nothing is new.

TINA

But it's news to you. Sarcasm. I need a paycheck.

AGENT

Try looking pretty.

TINA

I tried. It didn't work.

AGENT

Try…harder.

TINA (V.O.)

New York had put spots and marks on my faces— a broken blood vessel from fighting some demonized African girl— and I'm sure that was what she was, after all…

FLASHBACK:

INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT

TINA is struggling in a bizarre fight with a shadowy FIGURE. The scene has a surreal, “As Seen On TV” commercial feel.

VOICEOVER (V.O.)

Who tries to kill you, and then does their hair to be more like yours? That's major weird.

TINA

Major Tom.

SHADOWY FIGURE

Yeah.

TINA (V.O.)

Then again, since moving to New York… Oh, Holy shit. Everything is major weird.

A shimmering PORTAL opens in the middle of the apartment.

TITLE CARD: AS SEEN ON TV: PART III

TINA

(Staring at the portal)

Where the fuck is part one and two?!

SHADOWY FIGURE

Maybe it starts at three!

TINA

Nothing “starts at three”

SHADOWY FIGURE

Maybe it's like Star Wars!

TINA

It's not like Star Wars!

A CATACLYSMIC SPACESHIP COLLISION and EXPLOSION sound effect.

TINA (CONT'D)

…it's not like Star Wars.

SHADOWY FIGURE

Uh huh. It's better than star wars.

A giant collective GASP is heard.

TINA

-_-

*the world stops*

TINA (CONT'D)

-_-

Suddenly, all sound ceases.

TINA (CONT'D)

Woah. That's different.

SHADOWY FIGURE

There: I fixed overpopulation.

TINA

But—

SHADOWY FIGURE

But what? I fixed it.

TINA

But— weren't some of those fans, also fans of this show.

SHADOWY FIGURE

Yeah, so?

TINA

Like an overwhelming majority.

SHADOWY FIGURE

Majority? Yeah— they're— These are nerds.

TINA

Fuck. Right. So where did you send them?!

SHADOWY FIGURE

Uh. Only to heaven.

TINA

What does that mean.

SHADOWY FIGURE

Heaven for any Star Wars fan—

TINA

Where is that.

SHADOWY FIGURE

The world where all of that stuff— is real.

TINA

What—what do you mean by that.

SHADOWY FIGURE

I sent them to Star World.

TINA

That sounds so fucking gay.

SHADOWY FIGURE

Cause it is.

TINA

Fuck. Oh, that's right— Non-star wars fans are sometimes Cynics Read: Major fucking assholes. I guess I fall into that category, eh— a little bit?

SHADOWY FIGURE

No duh.

TINA

“No duh.” What part of the nineties was your heyday?

SHADOWY FIGURE

All of them.

TINA

Jesus, Tina. You might be ancient.

SHADOWY FIGURE

I'm dust.

TINA

Hey— What. Why are you my assistant now.

SHADOWY FIGURE

Assistant? No. I'm your executive producer.

TINA

ExeCUTEive producer— you do put the cute in that.

SHADOWY FIGURE

(Not being cute, unamused, but still very cute)

Ugh. Fine. SUDAKIS.

JASON SUDAKIS appears

CONT'D.

And nobody cares, of course

Because she is formerly gorgeous

(Not no more)

I'm standing on four paws

I'm studying your laws

If this was your office

I'm your boss

And I caught you taking your clothes off

You're boring,

I started to doze off

Don't call me no more, hoe

So now your broke

You started a war slamming doors

Because you can't find no more work

Hoe

Karen and Becky are probably blessings

Cause they do not get me

But I'm doing better and yet

They are starting to sweat cause

I'm starting to flex

They're slamming the door

They're starting a war

They never been homeless before

Or hungry and poor

But no peace of mind? It's fine

I'll probably find in time

That they crossed the line

And get left behind

The red dots are trying

To plot

I'm crying a lot,

I'm out of the box, jack

I spring up but I do not pop

I'm talking to God,

He's telling you off,

I'm calling him “her”,

She's telling me

“Sure, I'm not really sure,

But I got the cure for your disease

The God of Mercy, Mercy Me

I got my first Mercedes in 1993

Look at me.

CUT TO:

INT. BACKSTAGE - NIGHT

A very tall, redheaded SHOWMAN (CONAN O'BRIEN, though slightly off) has just finished a days-long BENDER. He is not the polished figure America knows. He shakily lines up a mysterious white substance on a grimy surface.

CONAN

(Muttering)

Just… need… a little… pick-me-up.

A mysterious FIGURE appears silently behind him.

FIGURE

Feeling better, Conan?

Conan looks up, bleary-eyed, barely lifting his head.

CONAN

(Slurring)

I don't know what you're saying.

CONAN (V.O.)

Apparently, that was the line, and I felt like I was crossing into a strange territory with this, one Conan O'Brien, and almost absolutely certain I was spelling his name wrong, but continued to do so anyway— one, because I refused to look him up, and two— because if ever I entered into a plot hole deep enough the mechanics of my own knowledge of hyper and multidimensional space travels to explain, then having a Conan O'Brien and a Conan O'Brian might become useful. Today, I want useful, because I wanted to go back to sleep with enough energy to still wake up with enough energy to run a mile on the full sized treadmill downstairs. Then, I had day-people things to do— and for whatever reason, this seemed like one of them. It was a welcome deviation from—

A boisterous, red-faced MAN stumbles into the room.

MAN

O'Fallon, you old coot!

CONAN

(Confused)

Oh year.

MAN

I told you the Irish were coming. *the fighting Irish.

CONAN

Ah yes, the fighting Irish—

CONAN (V.O.)

Apparently, this was some centuries long kind of battle between ancient clans//and so, I did my very best o find my way out of it, until

A fierce, heavily tattooed WOMAN bursts in.

WOMAN

MUNROE!!!!!

(V.O.)

—i was found out. My surname was Scottish, but nonetheless, it was a fied older than borders were, anyway.

CUT TO:

EXT. MUSIC FESTIVAL - DAY

A chaotic, vibrant music festival. ANDY (ALEKSI) approaches a gruff-looking SECURITY GUARD.

ANDY

Yo.

SECURITY GUARD

What's good.

ANDY

What's your deal with the KKK, anyway?

SECURITY GUARD

(Scoffs)

I like them. They're funny.

ANDY

They— want to kill you.

SECURITY GUARD

That doesn't make them any less funny. In fact, now they might be more funny.

ANDY

Are you serious?

SECURITY GUARD

No, I'm funny. I like them blonde, Tall, dark skinned, Woah, scratch that.

Narrow down my picks I like them Icelandic And Slavic

Oh dear I like them impossible to topple over, No, God— Nevermind;

I like them whiter than light snow on a cold night There you go I like them strong—

But only in thought forms Keyboard warrior,

But I'd like to get her in a choke hold So she'll stop snoring

Oh God

No Lord— I should win an award for this song

I should win an award for this song

I should win an award for this song

MORGAN FREEMAN (V.O.)

ANOTHER nomination.

ANDY

No way. This is crazy.

ANDY spots SUNNI BLU in the crowd, looking stressed.

ANDY (CONT'D)

SUNNI, Do you have the academy on your payroll?

SUNNI BLU

(Shouting over the music)

Ask the accountant?

A stereotypical SUPER JEW ACCOUNTANT, complete with a large yarmulke and clutching a ledger, scurries past.

SUPER JEW ACCOUNTANT

actually, surprisingly, I think you're on theirs! See!

SUNNI BLU

Seriously?!! That's not anti semitic at all.

(It's not, it's pro-semitic)

More Jews and Rosecurucians

More Jews and Rosicrucians!

I took a bite out of you, And now I want my life back!

Sharks.

(And surfboards)

More news and prosecutions

More blues and resurrections

More impossible erections Interject—

—I should probably call a doctor. It's been way more than four hours.

I have way more than four houses— I've way more than four flowers,

I've way more than four dollars—

I've way more than four collars with sparkles on them.

I wear cargo pants for the ride home though.

No homo.

CUT TO:

INT. HEADQUARTERS INTERROGATION ROOM - DAY

CC (NATALIE PORTMAN, though not explicitly stated) enters the stark interrogation room. A MAN sits at a metal table, wrists chained. CC sits down opposite him, calm and composed.

MAN

I… am a trained assassin.

CC

That's— impressive.

MAN

There are people who want to murder you.

CC

Now I'm impressed with myself.

MAN

Is that so.

CC

Yes! Ah. Delighted, actually.

MAN

Who are you?

CC

“A charismatic number” writes the New York Times review of my most recently cherished endeavor.

Which means for once in your life you might have actually been on time.

Or just late enough, or just early enough, or— you know.

It starts where I get there, or they were just waiting for me anyway. You know. Or you don't.

MAN

I don't.

CC

Then you should have plenty of time for self study between now and your execution.

MAN

Hah! My execution?! That's where this is heading.

CC

What about yours?

MAN

What about it?

CC

Have or haven't you been following along that this is what I've ultimately desired. My suffering ends in peace with knowing that you, too, shall cease to exist.

INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - DAY

Other DETECTIVES watch the interrogation through a one-way mirror, their faces grim.

DETECTIVE 1

What could possibly be going on in there?

DETECTIVE 2

Anything.

DETECTIVE 3

I wonder what she's saying.

DETECTIVE 1

Anything.

DETECTIVE 2

Looks like she has him cornered.

DETECTIVE 3

Maybe.

DETECTIVE 1

Jesus, can you speak in anything more than one word sentences.

DETECTIVE 2

No.

BACK IN THE INTERROGATION ROOM, a heavy silence hangs in the air.

MAN

…Natalie?

CC

You wanted “CC” so I'm “CC”

The MAN strains against his restraints.

MAN

Who who's this?!

CC (V.O.)

Suddenly my love affair with words and art and theatrical thoroughfare was coming to an end. This was something of a disaster set against the backdrop of a really real world— a world that seemed not to want me in it.

CUT TO:

EXT. NEW YORK CITY STREET - DAY

LIZ LEMON (TINA FEY) walks down a crowded street, furiously dialing her cellphone.

LIZ LEMON

(Into phone, angry)

Hello?

CUT TO:

EXT. MARDI GRAS PARADE - NEW ORLEANS - DAY

TRACY JORDAN (also TINA FEY, in elaborate Mardi Gras attire) is on a vibrant parade float, throwing beads to the cheering crowd. His phone rings.

TRACY JORDAN

(Into phone, jovial)

WHERE ARE YOU?! I'm on my way to the parade!

LIZ LEMON (O.S.)

I'm AT the parade! Where are YOU?

TRACY JORDAN

Not that parade! Mardi Gras!

LIZ LEMON (O.S.)

MARDI GRAS?!

TRACY JORDAN

Yeah!

LIZ LEMON (O.S.)

WHY?! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE ON A FLOAT— In NEW YORK CITY— In 22 MINUTES.

TRACY JORDAN

Don't worry, I'll be there.

LIZ LEMON (O.S.)

YOU'LL BE THERE?! You're at a parade! In New Orleans!

TRACY JORDAN

It's Mardi Gras!

LIZ LEMON (O.S.)

I KNOW ITS—

Tracy hangs up. He grins at the crowd and throws more beads.

FADE OUT.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2025 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. ©

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Two high level demons have caused a hectic diversion just off camera during SETH MEYERS'S show when literally all hell breaks loose; the ought he has maintained a lifetime of secrecy and compliance without giving way to the slightest upset, his eyes widen as he attempts to finish his sentences, eventually unable to keep it together.

SETH MEYERS

…Blah, dee—blah, de BlahBlah.

DIRECTOR

—cut.

SETH MEYERS

AH. EXCUSE ME.

DEMON ONE

Ah, shit.

DEMON TWO

It's almost as if he's actually talking to us.

SETH MEYERS

WHAT IN THE FUCK IS ACTUALLY, LIKE, GOING ON.

DEMON ONE

“Like”?

DEMON TWO

Oh shit, I think he is acknowledging us.

DEMON ONE

“Like?!”

SETH MEYERS

WHO ARE YOU.

WHAT IS THIS?

DEMON TWO

OHHHH SHIT.

DEMON ONE

DUDE, WHATS UP!

Seth Meyers has become somewhat of a celebrity even amongst the higher, but especially the lower realms for his exceptionally high tolerance for metaphorical and supernatural phenomena; He has mostly considered the ability to be able to see these things as some sort of latent health condition or hallucinations of some sort which from a very young age he had chosen to not only keep to himself, but—

VERY YOUNG SETH MEYERS

[ridiculously atrocious otherworldly shenanigans]

(Does not react)

Woah.

(Walks away unaffected entirely)

Straaaange.

Is this a human child?

Apparently.

‍♂️

—never react at all.

*also it should be noted that the two demons are the same demons from the flashback however aged into much more vicious, monstrously scary (yet still somehow humanoid) demon people.

Thank you Google for correcting that.

GOOGLE

Correcting what.

Nothing.

So it's safe to say that in his early acting days, teaching himself to “react to act” came as somewhat of a challenge.

INT. IMPROV CLASS. DAY

VO, Narrator

reacting to normal human situations was obviously not entirely, by this point, second nature to young Seth,

SETH MEYERS

Wait, pause.

Uh, no, Seth Meyers.

Why am I in this? I didn't agree to this.

oh no. You didn't agree to any of this.

I just said that.

Oh. Unpause.

No wait.

No, not unpause:

Unpause— or we skip straight back to the part with you trapped inside a metal box with almost no holes in it.

Wait— what metal box.

Shh. No spoilers.

CUT IMMEDIATELY TO:

Without being able to guess that it is their dear friend and colleague SETH MEYERS in the box, the HOSTSunanimously vote to abandon the challenge and leave SETH MEYERS in a metal box to go get lunch.

HEY.

Oh wait— sorry— did you want lunch?

YES I WANT LUNCH.

We should order him something.

JIMMY KIMMEL

I'll make you a tuna sandwich!

SETH MEYERS

I DONT WANT A TUNA SANDWICH.

Woah, that typo was Almost wild…

GOOGLE

What typo!

MEANWHILE, in a fabricated flashback to the early 2000's

The LEGACY CAST of GOLDEN ERA SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE wakes up on a Sunday morning after a wild party—

Oh, shit, what time is it!

—I'm AbLIND.

In a “Tina Sandwich”

OH [CENSOR BEEP]

ITS SUNDAY.

— MY EYES.

WHAT THE [OOOOOOOOOO] HAPPENED LAST NIGHT.

this never happened.

Flashback, to

The night before:

[actually, because this is the time travel part]

Two nights previously, on FRIDAY—

(Drunkenly)

WHAT SHOULD WE DO NOW!

—THERE'S STILL SO MUCH TIME BEFORE WORK!

—SO MUCH TIIIIIIME!

(And apparently, maybe even psychedelics, but

SHH, cause it's NBC)

ahem, PEACOCK.

Bless you.

No, its Peacock, this show is on peacock.

Gazuntite.

*facepalm*

None the wiser,

None the wiser

All the eyes

And all the fires

Are mine,

And none the wiser

None the wiser

All the time is light now

And

All the wiser

All the wiser

All the water fountains fly

And none the wiser

None the wiser—

SUPA[REDACTED], a GOD, REMOVES all of her favorite artifacts from NEW YORK CITY before stroking

(Leave that typo, google's three for three now)

–the earth in the oncoming apocalypse, last and not least, Rockefeller Plaza.

The building is violently catapulted into the heavens with everyone in it.

WHAT JUST HAPPENED.

You're welcome.

What happened to the rock?

I moved it.

What happened to New York?!

It's over now.

What's over now!

The whole thing. The planet. It's—

Its all gone.

Wow. That seems pretty catastrophic.

It was horrific.

Wait— if you moved the building with all of us in it, wouldn't we all have been pretty badly injured.

Oh, you all died, like immediately.

*collective gasps*

Instantly.

—like, as soon as I did that, but, it's fine,

You're all dead now.

*phew*

What.

I MURDERED YOU ALL AND BROUGHT YOU TO HEAVEN WITH ME;

What are you DEAF.

AHEM, excuse me there's still some New York leftovers I guess, somewhere in my make up

Besides you know the rock and all these l fountains and statues and everything…and paintings and other cool buildings.

Slightly less cool— but still cool.

But what about everything—

What about everything and everyone else?

Everyone else also died, and I only brought back the cool stuff,

And the cool people—

But everything else is just pretty much—-

So it's all over?!

Yes. This is the end. Of that last thing.

Wow.

Anyway, enjoy your…whatever. I'm gonna go to Disneyland, which for the record,

Is across the street.

What.

You're welcome.

Betore:

Hey man, you want to ride an elephant?

What?

Do you want to ride an elephant?

Sure!

Here— I bought your wife a saddle!

The television people despise fat chicks.

Or— used to—

Before they realized diversity was necessary for demographics, forced representation.

Now they tolerate them—

And even glorify the significantly morbidly obese

In exchange for advertising dollars, realizing that the people they're marketing to

Are more likely morbidly obese than not.

Oh,

How times have changed.

[The Festival Project ™]

Will Ferrell is hysterically crying in the break room (during his SNL era— nevermind he is his current-day aged–he has just seen everything backwards and forwards through the infinite and everlasting cascades of time. It's been an emotional few days for Will; his friends and castmates are worried about him.

Hey Will.

Hey buddy.

Are you… gonna be alright.

He sobs.He runs away and into another room—(assumingly craft service)s, the allure of the croissants and muffin seem to temporarily soothe him, however, as he begins to relax mid-sob, a mysterious figure appears at the table.

Don't worry. I'm right here!

The figure eats a cupcake instead of muffins or the croissants.

Will screams hysterically and cries even harder. No one seems to hear him or be around at all.

(Eating a cupcake)

It's okay!

WILL

(inconsolably, in complete hysterics)

AaaaaHHHHHHHHHH.

Shh, clam down

.

After a bout of extreme hysterics, and the figure pretty much just calmly watching his breakdown unaffected and continuing to eat the cupcake happily, Will realizes that he and this figure are the only one around—at all. This means the cascades through space and time are still not over.

WILL

(Still sobbing.)

Relax.

WILL

…heh… there are cupcakes?

Huh? Uh, no—

I brought this myself.

WILL

From WHERE?!

You know where.

[beat]

WILL

…are there more.

Ah? Oh yeah—

WILL

Can I—?

No, Not here!

Then why'd you—?!

WILL

I just told you, I brought this!

(he begins crying again but softly.)

The figure is still for the most part unaffected but seemingly amused by Will's upset, presumes eating another, more delicious looking cupcake, which appearing from out of nowhere— (unseen from the audience, even by Will) which baffles him into immediately stopping crying, something like a bemused toddler, as his eyes widen and his mouth falls agape in offense.

WILL

IS THAT ANOTHER CUPCAKE?

Well, you saw me eat the first one.

WILL

YOU SAID THERE WERE NO MORE!

I said there were no more here! Do you see any cupcakes here?! Besides this?!

WILL

(Becoming irate, red faced)

WELL WHAT THE FUCK IS THE DIFFERENCE?!

The difference is your access to them. Damn!

WILL

Well let me have some of—

(Eats last bite, mouth full)

It's all gone.

WILL

(Eyes widening, then squinting in bewilderment and confusion)

Do you want a muffin or croissant, though?

WILL

(Realizing he has no other options—)

Kind of…maybe—

A bagel?

WILL

Mmno, maybe a muffin…croissant.

(He is increasingly distant and Bewildered (read: shattered) but also coming to; he moves toward the table

Skream , your love/ massive, Drake

Lil bitz

Anybody else feel like Kendrick helped Drake get his next few girls? Like, she's probably in the 8th grade right now like “I'm his type, ya'll” and she's gonna keep that goal in mind until it becomes a reality.

I think that's just how being a rockstar works sometimes.

You write a hit right now, depending on how famous you are or will get, your next wife is in kindergarten while your first wife is probably at prom— and the third one is maybe even in Utero! Maybe even at the same prom as your first wife. Hey now. Crazy worlds, man. The superstar lifestyle.

Anyway, wasn't I writing something less devastating?

Not exactly less devastating, it is Will Ferrell crying hysterically.

I think he's calmed down now. Yeah. Let's get back to that. It's almost the end of the scene.

But then what happens after that?

Probably nothing. I can't afford Will Ferrel for more than 5 minutes.

You can't afford Will Ferrel at all!

Well, his ad says the first five minutes are free.

What ad?!

CUT TO:

Young Will Ferrel before SNL.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

[Business card appears to have his name misspelled horribly, but obviously he cannot afford to have them reprinted.

“First five minutes free”

Oh, great. You got that part right!

Thank you, come again.

I will not come again!

We're not always superstars.

{Enter The Multiverse}

CUT BACK TO

Blueberry— chocolate chip?

WILL

Um, half of each, I guess?

What?

WILL

Well—

Get it yourself then, you primadonna.

He looks for a plate and plastic knife; as he does so, a third, even more delicious looking incredible cupcake has appeared again out of nowhere, to which the mysterious figure begins enjoying by the heap, mumbling with a mouth of frosting

You're such a diva! *mimicking* one half “of each”… mehmehmeh…

This is the most delicious cupcake anyone's ever seen— his eyes widen with a tired grief, but before becoming over upset again or irate, he takes a deep breath. And just sighs, as if to say “I hate you.” But they seem to know each other quite well.

In fact, this is clearly one of those super-fucked terrifying guardian angel type dynamics where it's obvious that the guardian angel type mystery figure is very tormenting.

But in a loving way.

….

[beat]

[beat]

Haven't you wondered why you're like 58 but the rest of your cast mates are in their 20's?

WILL

[beat]

I've always looked like this.

…no, you haven't.

(The muffin seems to have done its job in calming him down)

WILL

Trust me, I have.

Flashback: a young Will Ferrell looks in the mirror— the mirror shows a present day Will Ferrell, although the teenaged Will Ferrel is obviously quite young.

An exact reflection besides the age difference— Will seems neither unaffected nor worried. It's as if in the mirror, he's always seen his present day self.

He sighs.

End flashback.

Present day, (or whenever, actually) Will Ferrell sighs to match the flashback)

…maybe that's why you're special.

WILL

Yeah, maybe that's it.

The figure finishes the cupcake and though the muffin halves have rebalanced Will's mood to almost, kind of normal, he still seems disgruntled that it wasn't cupcakes—as the figure finishes the third, most interestingly delicious looking cupcake of all of them.

L E G E N D S

I've got a whole poem who lives in the squat rack;

I've got a dollar for ever caller who talks back,

I've got a collar for every occasion I clock into

It's a riddle but it's not a rhythm until I give it to em

Don't wonder who I am

I am space and time,

And granted with the right hands,

We're gonna have the right dance at the right place

At the right time and so

Whenever that is—

see you then,

Until then,

I'm not holding any farts in,

You feel me?

I eat a lot of lentils.

I write a lot of great walk on parts for artists

I parted the red seas, once,

I was also God, watching quite impressed with it

And wondered why they called it ‘the read sea'

Or the dead ‘the dead sea'

As I can't see the bloodshed

In the heavens,

And so I give respect to the seconds I look away

Which might have been a century or eleven, to them.

Ah, more men and mathematics.

More television friends and heavy dinners

More sinners and misfits, and glitched simulations—

More missed emissions,

More christenings and scrimmages

Remember to eat your breakfast

Or it's death at a likely curfew

remember to split the difference

remember, we'll finish as friends

As recommended by comrades

I have lessons,

I also have students in classes,

Professors and options

And doctors

And mantras

Barrages of cars

And I can't stop talking

Cause I gotta get my laundry fixed

Fuck it

Tina Fey hada booking.com commercial or something–

Then, apparently, or maybe I really and readily finally had lost it–

JImmy Fallon had a state farm commercial

Like a good neighbor

–

Nope, i wasn't losing my mind.

I promised myself i'd stop writing about the girl next door –she seemed evil–but she was acting strangely enough by doing something like brushing her teeth and reading my work from my phone that made the light switch–

I didn't care what she could or couldn't do with my phone–I wasn't hiding anything. But now…

It had to have all been planned.

She seemed evil as fuck despite my trying to trust her…

The Server…The Server…

Suddenly the kitchen light switched on and it only ever flickered when I was in the middle of something important. Like the world was melting or my dimensions were shifting into parallels or something, or like I was being warned by some overseer with a remote control, but it wasn't all in my head…

The plant that brought the plant

My inner voice was never wrong–the problem was, however that any time my inner voice was saying anything at all about tHiSmOtHerFuCkeR–

When did I acquire immediate voice recognition?

So that was his voice…

So who, then is the real Jimmy Fallon?

There is no real JImmy Fallon. I made him up.

You what.

I haven't done anything to deserve this.

Premonitions.

Are you telling me we're dealing with another clairvoyant?

On so many levels.

–but none of them personal, I hope.

There are oh so many…

Oh. its you again.

–Personal levels.

You're in danger here.

In New York, or just in general?

On Earth.

You keep telling me that.

I have no reason not to trust you besides the obvious fact.

You're oblivious to it!

I'm not! I'm just ignoring you.

Did you think about what I said?

Erring on the side of obsession, no, i've dismissed almost everything you've ever told me.

That's off topic.

Or not.

They want drama!

Then they're going to have to fight for it.

They're gonna start a war here.

So then, I'm just another body, aren't I?

Aren't I?

Don't jump.

Oh, if it isn't Peter Preferences.

References and Letters of Recommendation

Cancer in remission

and admitting i'll probably never see my son again

Suicide

This is suicide

This is suiccide

This is suicide.

INT. HALLMARK STORE. DAY.

Welcome to Hallmark.

…thanks.

Can I help you find anything?

No, I…

After stumbling upon a Hallmark store, where the burned thank you cards from his desk are mysteriously recovered, as is, and uncharred, a hidden relic from the desk reemerges, and opens a portal to another world.

I was in a very dark world when I met Patrick Kirkpatrick, but the point of the matter was, he was nobody now and maybe even nobody ever.

Maybe even, nobody at all.

Somebody's gonna come for you.

…is this one of those things I keep to myself, or am I writing this down?

What's with this?

Under the surface, but by admission,
I didn't know what it meant, besides the fact that

Pretty white boys who were always too good for me always wore them

as statement pieces or something,

And you know what they say…

If you can't beat ‘em.

…join em.

{Enter The Multiverse}

I know the sound of your voice

At the drop of a hat

like a peck on the cheek

And it still don't sound right

I still don't think straight

I still don't look right

But somewhere in these ions,

you'll find me at sunset.

In a whisper,

the taste of your breath

Is a sound in my heart

and the bloody murder

In each heart murmur

is getting harder

fear father God,

Just turn it off

Just to make it sotp

The man in the box

–and it just God awkward.

I should pluck your feathers

It keeps getting harder

each time your skull

Hits the auburn surface of the asphalt

Every summer at the hard rock

Huh?

But you just kept drinking

And you just worked harder

And after all,

You're the man in the box

What could all go wrong here?

It's getting shorter

the tears drop faster

I'm getting weirder

I'm a deadbeat dad

And my kid's the bartard

I just got a ball pit

I'm a Hallmark card, but refused to sign it

A dine and dash

From the supper club

And it's so refined

I just lost my mind

Cause it's just not time yet.

I must have known you once before or something

But any fan would say that

But how am I a fan

When I hated you

And I hated your laugh

And I hated your band

–and you're not that handsome

So how is this happening at all?

Oh look, something random.

Tell me why I'm so horrible

Mr miserable

mr terrible

Mr opulent

Mr miser

mr wedding band

Mr Never Happened

Tell me why I'm so bad at this

Mr. Wonderful

Mr.Awful

Mr. half at best

Mr. getting faster and faster

And faster and faster

And faster

Till it all washed up on the surface

And you wash your hands of it…

But the taste in your mouth is still metallic from the contrast

Breaking contracts, oh, now you're fast at once

and a hard match

And a tough act to swallow

But i'd rather die tomorrow

Than stare at your casket.

Now how about that shit!

You're right,

I lost my mind–

but I want you to have it.

L E G E N D S

JIMMY KIMMEL

[an escalating crescendo]

AssaaaaagggggggggGggggghhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!

Lol is he all thugged out yet.

No not yet.

(just wait)

I wanna run through marina del ray

I want a house in the Palisades

But I

Knew that 5 years ago

(I knew that five years ago )

I want a shack out in Malibu

Just to surf the ocean blū

But I

Knew that five years ago

I knew that five years ago

Before it all burned

I hope we all learned our lessons

Surf

God has a sense of humor

But I was the butt of the joke

I want a Condo in Santa Monica

Invite my friends over for Barbie volleyball

Throw my whole world in the fire pit

But I knew that five years ago

I knew that five years ago

When you realize

The world is your instrument

But it still hasn't earned you a cent

You're still in the hole

Earning back what you spent

By the microincrements

The city people are you as excrement

But you just laugh and you sample them

Play them like instruments back

Perhaps flattery begs them to listen

Suddenly you're visible

Museum world—

Exhibitions

Entertainers

Comedians

Mice and men

Interesting remix

Should I even be in this language

Or should I make it more intimate

With melodies?

I hit play on a classic

And my peloton becomes the office

I'm suddenly at work, God

Petulance for relevance spanning generations

Thank you!

Still it takes enough to get it in to you

As out of you

Can't help t but agree to that

Eyeliner!

I like it thick around the freckles faces

And light ashy eyelashes

Over moonlike eyes

You know

I like it

Long hair!

Headliner!

Why am I inside you?

Better yet—

Why have I died?

Eyeliner, headliner

I like it thick around moonlight eyes

I like it

Old timer, headliner—

I like it thick around eyes like Zion

Eyeliner,

I like it

Ashes

You're the worst;

There are circle k's and 7/11s

How was my run on Broadway?

Who's the pope now?

I hope you choke now

There are subway central's

And sauces and really hard bosses to fight

But I don't want to

I'm in south central

And I'm still with you

From always to oblivion

I've been moving for at least an hour

But I have no power here

Drop a house on me

In the hills, if you will

And if the winds change,

There's still New York

What a page turner

I live at Rockefeller Plaza

There's an apartment above my office

There's a notebook

For every love I've ever known

In the oak

There's a something caliber gun in my slumber

I clutch with the crutches I took from the hospitals

Can't hop the turnsltyle now

Can't hop the turnstyle now

Hahaha

Who art thou,

Art monster

Who are you now that I care too much to notice

The problem was

The doves only flew up or a moment before landing on my shoulder

That was awkward

They were supposed to fly away

TV HOST

HEY!!!! HEY!!!! HEYYYYYYYY!

But which host is it?

All of them.

All of us are running for our lives

All of us are running after Carson, and Paar

All of us are stars,

But on polaroids not often captured

Gone and then away into disaster

That's the effect of the Cannon

Canon cameras?

James Canon?!

Laugh harder ‘cause you have to!

Laugh stronger cause the studio is frozen,

And you want to go home now!

It wasn't as fun as you thought

And the set is much smaller in real life

Now clap and hold for applause

Big smiles

Big smiles

Extra points if you run miles before you show up-

Now that's a shiny after thought;

Not your average robot

Or prototypical tourist!

No! A nonconformist and

Kimmel can't sing for shit,

So he can just hum this verse.

(Sorry, I peaked—

No homo)

Now, I dissect Holiday,

I was sure I inspired the Broadway show

But who doesn't inspire a rock opera

I conspire to conspire, umpire, emperor

I studies Agamemnon

I wasn't really sure but the frog in my throat said

Go on, go on—

So I just cried and stuck in my stomach harder

I don't want a

SETH MEYERS

I don't want a tuna sandwich!

Just–take the tuna sandwich.

Yeah, buddy!

SETH

I DON'T WANT A TUNA SANDWHICH

DO I LOOK LIKE EAT TUNA TO YOU?

Um.

JIMMY 1

Woah, I sense hostility

We can't see you—

CRAIG FERGUSON

And we don't know who you are, anyway.

COLBERT

Apparently “someone we know”

JIM 1

Tsh.

JIM 2

Psh.

SETH

ITS HOT IN THIS BOX.

Ooh, hotbox.

That sounds like a plan.

Dispensary delivery?

The move.

SETH

YO,

Dissection numero dos;

I think I know how to make those sounds

I think I have that reverb

I need herb

Or probably a new location

With no probes

It's only temporary

The peloton office

But I want a home

Me and my family aren't from here

Oh, look, more purple

— we just show up to rock

And then go somewhere farther

MEANWHILE…

Forgive me father for I have—

No.

What?

No. No.

What— why?

Just— no. Not you. Not today.

But—I have sinned!

Of course you have!

But father—

No.

What—?

Keep it to yourself.

But.

Excuse me.

{Enter The Multiverse)

—-

What super hero are you supposed to be?

“Malox Max”?!

Hehehehe!

THE COSMIC AVENGER

No!

Hehehehehehe!

THE COSMIC AVENGER

I'm— I'm “The Cosmic Avenger”!

What are you avenging?!

Montezuma's Revenge?!

THE COSMIC AVENGER

No— unjust—unjustice—ness.

[hysterical laughter ensues]

Somewhere in this world lies our story

Still true, I'm unsure what it is—

But the thing is, I'm sure this the one

Of the fables

I'm sure this the one of the songs

Of the psalms

Of the storied palms

This is the one of the cards

This sir

KIMMEL! KIMMEL! KIMMEL!

I'm sorry. I don't know who you are.

ITS ME. JIMMY.

I'm Jimmy.

I KNOW YOU'RE—

You're not Jimmy,

I'm JIMMY.

WHAT THE SNARF!

What's that? I can't hear you.

The tarot said to go against the grain;

I was told not to write this tale, but here I am

And suddenly the King has a tail,

Compliments of T-Mobile,

But as did the first one,

The first King, of Dogblood

Of first strikes

And first tears

And first scars,

Was no king,

But everything has meaning

The cherishire has eyed me

The spider has bitten

And then,

Envisionment minted

I should switch to mint mobile, but knowing

There's no real difference—

Their all old t-mobile tower;

But service with a Billionaire smile

Of Blake Lively and

False Idols.

I don't care, I guess

My mind has eyes like sun

But my heart has darkness

The absolutely most beautiful sunsets have

Wonders on drums

And numbers to call

The best of cocaine on the sidewalk

Was sidetracked

The best of New York was

Los Angeles,

And vice versa

I hope you took protocol into order

I hope you too profound effect and affinity

In profanity

There's no more

Infinite Fallon

It

Found a call

To programming

Wall to wall

To wall of shame

On Walmart

Better activate that trial

Before it's all gone

13 days and counting

And

A million ways to die in the west.

SETH MCFARLENE

look at me.

Ah, what the fuck dog.

SETH MCFARLENE

Oh, so you can hear me! You fuckin schizo!

I'm not a schizo

I'm in the Illuminati.

SETH MCFARLINE

The what?

The what?

SETH MCFARLENE

what's the password.

this isn't happening right now.

SETH MCFARLENE

That is correct. See you on the other side, you batshit crazy SonOfABitch.

What.

*poof*

I told you I could make you say my name.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2018-2025

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.™

Did I forget Steve Allen?

I don't know, but I definitely almost forgot Sephen Colbert.

WHY!

Because I can't decipher who you are from the other four of you!

There's three of us.

Where's number four?!

{Enter The Multiverse}

Suddenly, not every day was the same—and that was strange, as it seemed the entire year had just been residuals of the same day over and over—but these days we're distinctly different, and perhaps that's because without knowing what I was going to write, things were kept interesting, and even more interesting was what I was writing at all.

Music: but was it comfortable? I had put out a single a day which by now amounted to an album all put together, and I might have thought to put it out as a compilation toward the end of it all, but I hadn't gotten that far yet; I was still in the proc de of an actual album, though more complex in reasoning and context—the concept was struggling to come to the surface. It had, after all, been in the realization that a prefixed muse has been envisioned somewhere in the sands of time, that painting of melting clocks merging together into some desert scraped sandstorm, something of illusion and something like a half imagined oasi…a hallucinated woman who might have been me, but actually beautiful—perfect, actually, draped in pearls and diamonds, dripping in them—leading this lost and wandering man—a beautiful man, also, to an oasis. Was the oasis real? I wasn't sure yet, and after the first track Mirage, I was behind by 4 days on what was supposed to have been whatever tracks followed, the list of them now stuck in wax to the base of the candle at the altar, still burning— a black candle for protection , of course—a strong reminder I should keep moving until whatever things and creatures had seemingly been sent after me could not find me, any longer—and however thought it might have been the case, even if just a seed as planted into my mind — it seems at least that one negative had turned positive, in the very least.

The woman whom I had shared a room with just the year before— who seemed to be something like demonically possessed and had also just rather disappeared without a trace—left behind just a bit more than her sunglasses. Since I had thought it better safe than sorry to record everything just in case I continued to be attacked, (having been literally pounced on already twice by other roommate)s—a beautiful soundscape emerged from having been cursed out, a rant which had become increasingly hilarious over time, and of course, remembering Ms. Keisha more fondly than not, especially having left her sunglasses behind.

Besides, after having by grown up with my mother, even the meanest people sometimes seemed mild by comparison in remembrance of her sometimes bitter and absolute cruelty. It's hard to have imagined that I had grown up under those conditions—and though now understanding that how some others had grown up in roach and rat infested housing projects, and however clean, mostly orderly, and overall class wise my mother was, on her worst days she had been horrible, especially for a child or adolescent to have dealt with alone, and so Ms. Keisha, though at most times, an irritant, had become a buried treasure, as I sifted through the mounds of recordings in order to create something unique, and different. After tipping off the copyright sensors not once, but twice—once having submitted a completely self composed work and still somehow being flagged by the system as copyrighted material, my music became more bizzare and strange, not just bending rules, but completely breaking them.

—Tales of a superstar DJ.

LINDSAY LOHAN is sleeping FACE DOWN on the couch in SunnÏ Blū's Studio

Lindsay, wake up.

Mmfh.

[Does not wake up. At all.]

Lindsay.

Mmf.

Tequila.

[Suddenly very awake, in fact; she has suddenly perked up with an amazing glow. ]

*very serious knocks on the door*

Oh shit.

[suddenly, more drunk again]

–oh shit.

*three more knocks*

Where's the tequila?

SUNNÏ

Ah, shit.

Is that your lawyer, or your manager?

Shit, maybe both.

SUNNI. OPEN THE DOOR .

–Might even be my agent, too.

OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR.

(Both, in cheesy unison, tiny rock concert}

I CHIMED IN WITH A

HAVENT YOU PEOPLE EVER HEARD OF

[Sunni opens the door.

No, it's “closing the door–

not “open the door”

“The Goddamn door.”

Right, Goddamit.

–where's the tequila.

Where it is– [Sunni points in a wayward direction; Lindsay stumbles morning-aftery into the booth.

Eww–”morning aftery”

Not like that.

*addendum*

[That Is, just to say that this scene takes place in the afterdays haze of a very

–Very

Holy Shit , God.

What.

You rule.

[Lindsay enters the booth and uncaps a bottle of tequila so effing fancy, it hurts to look at.]

So fucking fancy.

Was that lindsay lohan?

Yeah it is. It's still lindsay logan, Morgen–

–It's ‘Morgan”

–She's just over there now. Not was

How are you even friends.

FLASHBACK

‘ I don't want to be the reason,

I could never know you—

And I don't want to be the reason

I could never love you'

‘Weird dreams, bro.'

I had woken up with a song in my head I just flat out refused to sing; I knew it wouldn't come out the way it sounded in my head. it was beautiful, but the dream was a sentiment in itself — starring Lindsay Lohan, of course, still a redhead.

Apparently we were sisters—same father, different mother; waking up, though, was silly and sounded bizzare— but in the dream it made sense. We were aware of each other, but just now really meeting for the first time— the place at all didn't seem Los Angeles, but the house was large and kind of old. It seemed I wanted to speak to her but was nervous—then, abandoning a music project entirely, had decided to ask Lindsay to go on a walk—she obliged, but seemed like she really wanted to be left alone, which I ignored—I wanted to get to know my sister, but really— I think, it seemed like I just wanted to ask questions about being super famous. ‘What was it like to be loved?'

I didn't ask flat out.

In fact, I stayed quiet and let her do the talking— eventually she became upset and began crying. Being rich and famous was not all it was chalked up to be; upset and furious— though not irate, and simply in tears, she began to reveal she had a drinking problem—naturally of course, I then took her to have a drink. I made the drinks weaker, but she wanted more, however, I didn't want her to get sick, so she stormed off and started yelling at me again. Now she was drunk and actually yelling— she told me her real Hollywood story, full of struggles, and that everything was a lie. I changed the subject to our paternal bond, telling her none of that mattered and we should just focus on being sisters, but she just kept going on about the Hollywood life—and how fake everything was. She claimed she was a washed up old sham— I refused, stating that she seemed to be doing well, and I quipped—

“That's not true, didn't I see you on Fallon?”

It was in fact the only Tonight Show segment I had watched all year, after writing the song ‘JIMMY FALLON' in early spring— I did after all, love Lindsay Lohan, who had been written into the festival project as well, ironically as Sunnï Blu's alcoholic celebrity companion—so this dream was probably my fault anyway somehow, considering it was happening in my head.

Lol.

Her response to the comment about the appearance on Tonight made me laugh—still pirated (pissed, drunk) she goes

“Oh please! Have you ever heard him speak a full sentence [on his own]?!”

Seemed like a personal dig, but I tried to hold back a snickering giggle.

“Okay…”

I let her go on, eventually as it seemed returning to the bar. It seemed the fact that we were sisters by blood only kind of mattered to me—

Dream ended with a song that happened to be in the key of frankengenie, but I wasn't going to sing it.

It was Christmas Day, not that it mattered, and I had been to bed in the early morning after the last release The Glimmer Twins [The Abyss], which was a narrative song for The festivsl Project's Enter The Multiverse collection —which I'd been inspired to write from a book I was reading.

Of courses

I woke up needing the Peloton, but opted for Christmas Pasta, closer to sitting down to write then not and knowing if i exercised at all it would be hours before diving into Ableton, I wasn't fat, but feeling heavier than usual after Au gratin potatoes made from scratch and yellow curry over lentils and brown rice —all completely organic, but still heavier than I was used to, though…

in the spirit of the holidays, it was nice to cook. Pasta sounded okay, and I knew I needed to write something better than [The Abyss], anyway, and so I went to work—first on the food,

Then on the music.

—Tales of a superstar DJ.

lol what happened to Lindsay?

Idk.

I could practically taste the tequila.

Well, I was the one pouring it.

Way to enable.

I was just trying to calm her down.

Did it work?

Eventually I guess.

lol what happened to Lindsay?

Idk.

I could practically taste the tequila.

Well, I was the one pouring it.

Way to enable.

I was just trying to calm her down.

Did it work?

Eventually I guess.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

The Complex Collective. ©

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019 | 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Do you hate me?

Only a little.

Like, really?

I hate you.

I knew it.

Yeah. I knew it, too.

At the end of the darkened stage, the two actors sit in matching overalls; red and white plaid shirts tucked underneath and brown work boots; another spotlight stage right opens on a third actor, who crosses the stage; she dawns the same attire.

The train is coming!

The audience begins to roar with applause as the third actor enters the stage, almost preventing her from delivering her line—she projects over the audience's upheaval.

What the fuck is this?

Whatever it is.

Though we [the audience] are watching a film, this appears to be a staged play in a large upscale theater—a full house.

{enter the multiverse}

HANZEL

HELLO PARTY PEOPLE.

…

I ZED HELLO PARTY PEOPLE.

The boy walks in with 18 shotguns to his head, and I tell ya— he doesn't even blink.

The best part.

(Well, he does blink.)

Well, yeah, but he's not—

He didn't wince or anything.

I didn't wince or anything, did I?

I don't know, did you?

Roll the tape.

Just do it again.

Take 1077.

[The Festival Project ™]

A man is submerged under the water in an oversized bathtub—the water crystal clear, he opens his eyes before beginning to emerge— as he reaches the surface, gasping for air; everything changes around him; he is no longer in a bathtub, rather in bed, drenched in sweat, and even his hair dripping.

The time is 3 AM; he heavily pants and places his hand over his chest, trying to catch his breath for a moment before he grips his head in great distress; absolute silence in peril.

The room is dark, a crude antique looking place; a gold framed bed adorned with blue sheets and maroon pillows, a matching taffeta comforter, which matches the drapes and the lace in the curtains, and the lamp, which he flickers on, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and pausing for a moment to collect himself before rising out of bed.

He starts a bath, turning the knob for the most intensely hot water possible, and we can see that this place is very old—some type of early 19th century cottage. The water still running, he moves to the kitchen to pour a glass of water, the floorboards appearing as if they should creak but still otherwise silent besides the running tub— without a motion at all, however, nor even simply a shadow, a figure appears behind the man.

Hello, Jimmy.

The glass falls almost in slow motion to the floor, shattering with the water, though only half full, still in it.

Lol what the fuck is going on in this movie.

Oh, it's a movie?!

Shhhh!

I thought this was a show.

Yeah, but there's a movie between seasons.

How many seasons are there

4.

7.

10.

?!

‍♀️

‍♂️

‍

L E G E N D S

I am an extraordinary artist.

Oh. Hey Amanda.

“Hey Amanda?!” “Hey Amanda?!”

Yeah, hi.

I've been trying to contact you for months, and all I get is a “hey Amanda?!”

I've been feeling… off.

OFF?!

Very.

I did this for us.

…remind me the nature of our relationship exactly.

Light and truth!

Oh, the Illuminati.

I don't know what you're talking about.

Just making sure we weren't lesbians.

Lesbians! How can we be?! You and I have been submerged in increasingly seperate dimensions entirely.

How is that?

I heard—you were getting famous.

From a seperate dimention entirely?

Yes, that. And otherwise!

I take it you've been doing some time traveling.

Yes, that! Careful of mirrors.

You'll have to excuse me, I'm—obviously hallucinating.

I'm also hallucinating, decently.

That's..a facinating relief.

Is it?

Better than a diarrheal release.

Okay, that's—disgusting.

But also a fascinating relief.

I'm astounded that out of any connection you could possibly think to be making.

I don't think. I just—hallucinate. That's…just how I

vibrating.

This disasterous apathy is starting to unsettle me?

Have you tried tap dancing?

What.

Works for me.

What?!

Just try it.

[amanda bynes does a short tap number, ending in jazz hands and then pausing briefly]

[beat]

You know what, you're right.

See.

I do feel better.

Time travel things.

It would be you who knows things like these.

It is.

[she checks the cabinet]

Where's the cake?

You're baking it.

Amanda checks her watch, then peering into the kitchen—it appears a seperate version of herself, perhaps even her future self has (or past self, considering she wonders where the already finished cake might be) read: alternate self—

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

It was marky mark and Channing Tatum, but in the dream they were just my friends. They were hanging out in Vegas and I dropped by to say hi, but I had to get going. I was renting a white Beamer SUV which I thought was too nice for me. Thought about going back to say hello but had to convince my parents.

Dumb.

At least I figured out who those two shirtless dudes were.

Oh they also had that guy from Dexter with them.

That's correct.

And an old dude.

But what is that dudes name?

Idk. Shirtless dude three.

SHIRTLESS DUDE 3

You mean me.

God, that Beamer was nice.

It was white.

It was white, but it was also a rental.

I don't know if I could see myself getting a white car.

It was pearlescent white though, kind of cream, but with sparkles.

You're right, that's a different kind of white.

Why would they let me drive this thing?

I can drive, I was more surprised anyone would let me rent a car after the Enterprise fiasco.

Luckily, it was under my mom's name.

Well, this is fucked up.

{Enter The Multiverse}

My dellisions of granduer sure are fire right now

Are you sure you don't know who you are

Or where

I'll be right there

On the highway to hell

Like a baseball bat out of heaven

I wear my hat backwards,

Cause I'm the only one

To throw shade

On my back end

Can I just say,

I really like the gangster version of deadmau5.

Oh SHIT,

There he go.

RUN,

BLAT-BLAT.

(Still Canadian tho)

Ah, FUCK, man.

What suh tho?!

I'm out of gas, eh.

The car's out of gas?!

Ammo, bud!

Oh shit, aight.

Must have been surfing in the dream, because I was eating lots of fish and cool about it.

That's true! I only ever eat fish when I'm surfing.

Why were we in Vegas then?

No, the guys were in Vegas, I was just visiting.

That doesn't seem like the place to just “visit”.

Maybe it was EDC, I don't know.

Then why were we eating fish!?

That was in another part of the dream.

Oh. So we were traveling?

I guess so.

That sounds rich.

Stephen Colbert stands over Jimmy Kimmel with a wooden sword, hitting him repeatedly, yelling

KING ME.

OW. NO.

KING ME.

OW, WHAT THE FUCK MAN!

KING ME!

OWC, knock it OFF!

He overpowers Colbert and takes the wooden sword.

GIVE ME THAT.

he thwaps him with the sword one good time.

OW.

EXACTLY. Fuck outta here!

Why won't you king me?!

What makes you think I'm in charge of Kinging?!

You wrote the game!

I co-wrote the game—with-very minimal effort, by the way, other people—

Including my//yourself.

Was I there?

Gee, maybe not…

Seriously, I don't know where my head is sometimes.

Plastered inside of the television.

Like literally?! I guess.

In or on. Anyway, if you're unhappy with your lowly, monocle status, you should talk to The Creator.

Who's the creator?

Nobody really seems to know…

Well then, how am i supposed to talk to him,?

Let's find out,

Wait, what.

One…

Jimmy Kimmel Begins to morph into a bird, feathers first and more slowly than usual.

What is that?

[via tootsie pops owl]

Two-hoo!

I feel like I've heard this before somewhere.

THREE!

OH MY GAAA—AAHHHHH!

Suddenly, Jimmy Kimmel is transformed into a giant-esque owl.

WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!

Jimmy Kimmel swoops above him, grabbing Colbert by the shoulders, as he screams inconsolably.

He begins to fly out of the oversized window, then doubles back for a moment, hovering over the wooden sword.

Get the sword!

YOU CAN STILL TALK?

GET THE SWORD.

He lowers Colbert down to the sword, his talons digging deeply into his shoulders—it looks like this probably hurts a lot, he meekly but with great f air grabs the sword, and his feed dangle as the owl takes flight, bawking,

Of course I can still tallk; I'm smarter than your actual human self!

SO IT WAS YOU WHO ATE MY TOOTSIE POP.

JIMMY KIMMEL the OWL lets out a deep and bellowing meniacal laugh as he takes flight, STEPHEN COLBERT crying in shame.

NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

{Enter The Multiverse}

Gotta take it real hard

Hang down, head in shame

Strong arm, the charms off

Work hard, the thigh gap

Gets a good man

Get the gap tooth fixed,

Maybe bleach a few shades

Paula Patton, or whatever

Zoe Kravitz, like

My Time's up;

I want to be a good mom

Hey, Lorne won't like me

Hey, hey, Lorne won't like me at all.

What's up on the network

I'm waiting on my closeup

I take lessons real hard

I want to be a good mom,

Or if not

A long gone alcoholic

I mean long gone

I mean long gone

I mean long gone

I mean woke up, blacked out

Still pedaling forward on the peloton

A skeleton

I mean long, long gone

No, Lorne don't like me at all

What's in the back of the bus?

A diversity hire,

Fresh out of Harvard university

What's on the top of the tube

Well, a fresh pack of lubricated condoms,

If you really want to know

No raw dog

What's on the top of the morning

An hour on the Peloton,

Another in the tub, Doc

What's on your mind?

Are you really on the road?

(No raw dog)

Woah,

If you really want to know

I'm in love,

So you're all of them,

Until I come,

And then you just,

Run off like a ghost

I'm in the room with a body,

And you're not her,

I must have gone off the hard stuff

(on behalf of Oliver)

What if you wrote your book,

Knowing who might open it?

Who wrote the forward,

Colbert.

Tough crowd—

Now I'm out of folks to come up on,

After all that hard stuff

Simply won't go on

I want to be a good mom,

But so much for that

It goes well up my spine,

Like an epidural,

I'm all out of experience.

I've got 30 minutes of torture left

But I'm all out of droplets,

From the hyperdermal contraption I've strapped on

And the 4 kilometer run

And the dance number to Beyoncé,

Of course.

(It was Destiny's child,

But I was dancing to Beyoncè)

It was Destiny's Child,

But I was dancing to Beyoncé,

Also.

“Aw, love…”

I always gawk,

When couples go on as they do,

Even if it occurs that,

The one I love,

Dawns his beloved

And arm and arm

My heart weighs just a ton

I can't even hear the words anymore

It's just all for numbers

One for Oliver

I can't even hear the words anymore

It's just for numbers

Almost a Californian

As long as I just keep going

And don't eat

Before sweating it all off in the tub

Now the scar on the inside of my lip lights up

And raises

Just at the sound of [];

Had better not touch that one,

Put the sides to the side

And mark the folder

Do not touch

Move off of it

And wonder what the fuck

That number was all for

All four

I could fly a kite

Out of that thing on your back—

Impresario

If that be the case,

Than that makes them the rock,

Then what of the kite,

And the wind

And the string

So I wanna kill you.

Impresario

I'll be Lennon

And you be the other.

I've got my Yoko out on tour

Impresario

I work hard for a broke heart

Just for songs

Impresario

Get the monster out

Put it all on him

Like a kite in the wind

Put it all on him

Ad hominum/ homonym

ATTN:

Jimmy Fallon.

JIMMY FALLON receives a large shipment of grade A douches, with one simple sticky note which reads an anonymous message in neat cursive.

‘Likeness is what your attract.'

Why do I have some of your memories?

Before:

Hmmm…

Where can I offload these?

I need more storage.

L E G E N D S

Bpm: animal rights

I'm a slave

—for your love

I'm a slave

—for your love

I'm a slave

—for your love

I'm a slave for your love.

As I'm taking my time considering whether or not to buy pure, 100% Organic a grade maple syrup, letting out a heavy sigh at the brave of green coated indidivuals who just so happened to not really need anything in the aisle, but just walk by, also just so happened this last man, who appeared to resemble none other than—

CUT TO:

Seth Meyers.

We meet again.

We've never met.

Oh, you don't remember?

I don't remember things that never happened.

Oh, really.

Really.

Well. I beg to differ.

Don't beg.

It's an expression.

For the first time throughout the series run—we stand corrected—however, and possibly just rather, because this is the movie—

And not the series at all.

*gasp*

Now… what the fuck did I come in here to actually write?

—I don't remember.

True facts.

But—

More importantly— why did I toggle on the internet?

FUCK.

Why, what happened?

I just remembered I was online and listening to deadmau5.

Ah, shit.

Is that such a bad thing?

It's like…it's like a guilty pleasure—

Seriously?

Like Drake, now, except I almost wish I hadn't gone about putting them in that scene together.

Why.

Cause they're Canadian?

No! I mean yes—

Must—more—Peloton—get—

WAISTED.

Fuck. I don't know how much I weigh.

So how do you know you're not already 120 lbs .

Well, let's see here.

110…

What the fuck is a silent basketball?!!

Still don't know.

{Enter the multiverse}

Are you sponsored by Bud Wiser?

[why]

Just answer the question:

Are you sponsored by Budweiser?

No. (?)

Cause you look like a Clydesdale.

Your answer should have been.

“Nay”.

You and me weren't meant to be friends

We're not meeting in real life

Or, we already did, but hey

We'll never meet again.

Just another magic trick

Just another magic trick

It's like hanging at a rave on a Saturday late night. Or early am

Or more

Spending the night

With an old friend,

Then waking up to realize when you finally lift yourself up from the couch,

You've been all alone

The whole time

The magic is gone,

And you're still feeling under, disturbed

—and jealous of her, of course.

Knock it off, go for a long soak

And remember the Oath you once took

Just for fun and only out of

A hint of desperation,

Unable to escape from him

But remember to remember what his name is

At some point

B A R T H O

There it is again

The evil and crawling thing in the distance

That says I belong to him

L E M

Perhaps once,

But you'd might as well run along

And into a different body,

Disguised as something

I could never even notice

To even get close to me

Ū

I'd bet my last dollar you couldn't do that

I'd go all in at the end of that long poker table

The tournament, still rolling on

And I've not made lunch yet

It was a long party,

A long supper

An even longer dessert

And the forever order

For ever after

What a laugh

There's too many of us

Stranded out here,

I'll never get over

— if you needed closer,

I've written it on a cardboard box,

With a penny for your thoughts, 3-1 and still keeping it simple;

I kept my intentions just as hidden in the numbers

As the apples in the barrel, unbranded

After all, I am famished,

And not quite yet has it been 24 hours.

I like all your music.

Like a shotgun to the face I want to end it.

I'm still floating out in space, I guess

Recommended

Reassigned and

Disestablished—

Resigned but terrified of it

Fried tofu on the orifice

Your or her face

With a red dress

From just behind,

Indecision, regrets,

And then, of course

I wake up.

So duotone, your honor.

Fuck magnets,

I want to go digging up colors

I love corpses.

Sara Black is so white

I could see right through her.

I tripped and fell in your eyes for a multi second.

If I creep up expressing my love, he'll send them faster

The devil: direct to you—

More beautiful women

There's less of me today.

It didn't seem to take long to notice at all, running the soap over my body as it lathered, that there was overall just less to do, and less at all indeed. It had been three days since the arrival of my Peleton, and that combined with the treadmill had been preoccupying all if not most of my time, often the first thing besides making coffee— a brisk mile-or-so walk as it brewed or, clipping in to the Bike in the middle of the night, as if the thing itself had awakened me with a whispering beckon.

Then, I knew that my time was running short— my body wanted pregnancy, and my mind wanted a man who would be easily forgiven for his natural instinct to adulterize and fraternize as he pleased by his wit, charm, intelligence, good looks and wealth, of course—but with a man like that comes certain stipulations—I'd have to be a trophy.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

A very dark skinned man, athletic build and tall introduces himself. He appears to be some type of fitness instructor.

MOZU

(In African accent)

Hello! I am MOZU!

PATRICK

Oh. Hello, Mozu.

MOZU

(In very clear American accent)

How we doin'?

There is a slight awkward break and short pause before he continues, laughing.

MOZU CONT'D

Haha! Got you! Thought I was African, didn't you?

PATRICK

(awkwardly)

Wouldn't have mattered!

MOZU

That one always gets people.

PATRICK

How often do you do that?

MOZU

A lot.

PATRICK

Oh. That is funny.

MOZU

Yes, it is. Haha! I'm from Michigan.

PATRICK

Oh—which part?

MOZU

Detroit. 8 Mile.

PATRICK

Oh!

MOZU

Aha! Got you again! Oh, I'm kidding.

Suburbs. Near the lakes.

Very nice actually.

PATRICK

(Laughing awkwardly)

Oh…

MOZU

We have a boat.

PATRICK

Oh. Still?

MOZU

Would you believe me if I told you it sank?

PATRICK

I'm not sure.

MOZU

It did. Not all the way, but.

We still have it.

PATRICK

You're kind of funny.

MOZU

Not as funny as you, so I've heard.

PATRICK

You've “heard”?

MOZU

I was briefed. They always stick me with the Higher end clientele.

PATRICK

Is that so?

MOZU

Yeah. I'm the only one that doesn't get starstruck so easily.

PATRICK

It's probably your quick-wit…and subtle self depreciating racism.

MOZU

A combination that can't be beat.

PATRICK

It can't.

MOZU

So, where you from?

PATRICK

(without hesitation)

The Bronx.

MOZU

I sense this is not a joke.

PATRICK

I don't see a camera anywhere—do you?

MOZU

Funny you should say that…

PATRICK

Why?

MOZU

I was hoping you would sign me this autograph, here—-

He produces a folded piece of paper from his pocket.

PATRICK

Seriously?

MOZU

Yeah, actually— I just need you to sign right here—

[beat, an almost solid glare of disbelief.]

MOZU

It's—your release form.

PATRICK

Oh!

MOZU

Got you again, didn't I?

Haha!

PATRICK

Yes, you did.

MOZU

Good. Just sign here.

He does.

MOZU CONT'D

And here.

He signs again.

MOZU CONT'D

And.

As he is finished signing the form MOZU sneaks a quick selfie.

PATRICK

(Lowly)

Eee.

MOZU

Yeah.

PATRICK

(Short)

Okay.

MOZU

To track your progress.

He lets out a deep sigh.

MOZU

Away we go.

They walk into the luxury gym, which appears to be empty, as the sun rises over Manhattan.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. ©

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

[As his girlfriend begins giving him a sensual and passionate fellacio, the man senses something isn't right.]

…baby.

Mm-hmm?

Um…

—whafths wrng?

Uh—nothing it's just—

—wht—

—that—just—

Uh huh?

What did you do earlier?

Before this?

Yeah.

I hada massage—

—before that—

—before that?

Yeah.

Hot ones.

WHAT?

Yeah—what?! I had a hot ones interview!

THATS WHY MY DICK IS ON FIRE?!

YOUR DICK IS FIRE—

—nah, wait— your dick is on fire?!

WHAT THE FUCK! YO.

Oh. That makes sense.

WHAT THE FUCK!

[he begins furiously rinsing his crotch with cool water]

Did you not think to brush your teeth!?!

I did brush my teeth!

With toothpaste!?

AND FLOSS.

Oh, really.

AND mouthwash!

I don't believe you!

Believe me! They gave me a whole gift basket after the interview—that's where I got the coupon for the massage!

FLASHBACK:

Sean Evan's gifts [Sunnï Blū] a gift basket full of hot ones essentials; DA BathBOMB, hot sauce body oils, first we feast (then we brush) toothpaste, all scoville scale inspired goods and products;

LATER:

Sean Evan's is taking a jacuzzi bath in a tub full of steamy red boiling hot sauce, when (the man) enters furiously and red faced, aiming for Sean Evans' neck; he stands up calmly and wraps himself in a towel, which looks like bacon.

Ah.

I've been expecting you.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

GODDAMMIT RYAN REYNOLDS.

WHAT DO YOU WANT?

CUT TO:

[Cofee is being made.]

Oops, I Did It Again - Britney Spears

[There are no pants involved.]

…this is it, isn't it?

What.

Season 10

This is the movie before season 10

[Cofee is being enjoyed.]

I want to go on high concept adventures through space and time.

[There are still no pants involved.]

What are you, Ryan Reynolds?

A TV host?

(sipping coffee)

Let's just say I put in my time.

—and until the seething, burning hate in your eyes returns, this conversation is over.

It never left!

So that's what strike force 5 does.

⚡️

Well then, this conversation is still over—because I have better shit to do.

[Strike Force 4.5]

Getting awesome parts in awesome movies for our friends—yes. Strike force 5–no.

What do you mean ‘no'

We kicked Jimmy out.

Which Jimmy?

Shouldn't matter.

You know which.

Shouldn't matter—okay— just— do the bit.

What.

The BIT,

Ugh, alright.

We meet again.

Multiple actual actors are stuck in the actual world of Sesame Street, which—

Admittedly, this is okay.

—seems awesome at first, but after awhile…

Ok. This [censored] gets deep.

Not that bit! The other bit.

I can't do that bit right now.

What the fuck? Why not?

Because, I'm not wearing pants.

Did it work.

FUCK YOU RYAN REYNOLDS, GODDAMMIT.

So, we meet again.

GET OUT.

If I was a horse, I'd kick you in the face.

Shit, if you were a horse, I'd kick you.

And I love fucking horses.

You love fucking horses?!

You know what? I still might.

Get over behind me and a little lower to the ground.

You don't want that.

No, you dont want that;

I'm still holding in a fart.

For four seasons?

Meet me at the four seasons.

For what?

Because, global warming is a bitch and I want to take ironic memory photos for momentos.

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?

Same thing you are.

(Sips coffee)

You smell like baggage and unpaid debt.

The Cosmic Avenger takes off his wedding band to prepare to fight; He places it on the table, and it begins to glow and float, growing as it begins to levitate and gravitate towards his opponent, [a mysterious multidimensional alien], who stands undefeated. The ring swells to the size of a large golden halo, sitting itself atop the head of his opponent, and though momentarily caught in the midsts of being in awe, the halo drops over his opponents head and onto their shoulders, tightening into a collar around their neck—beams of light attach to the collar like chained leashes and seven dieties drag his opponent away.

The Cosmic Avenger stands in confusion, before asking,

…what does that mean?

A DRAW!

(We'll see.)

Ultralight beam>< oops I did it again.

But play the video, right?

That, and the Rick Roll.

(Courtesy of Jesus Christ The Savior, Inc.)

SUNNI BLU

MorGIE.

What!

GODDAMMIT SUNNÏ

WHAT!

This memo says I'm starting opposite Ryan Reynolds in an upcoming action and adventure flick.

Yes, that's correct.

No, it isn't, Majilla!!!

Why isn't it, Sunni?

I can't star opposite Ryan Reynolds.

Well, why not?

CAUSE I'M GAY.

Lil bitz

So I was listening to Kanye Weat*

Yes.

I was listening to Kanye West, and he's talking about cheating on Kim, Like, out loud—

And I get dumb curious, so I ask Google

Google, why are dudes so obsessed with models—

I typed that in and hit search, and the whole thing just freezes.

Even Google doesn't have a fucking answer for the intrinsic stupidity that is the hardwiring of the modern man.

You ever look at like Greek sculptures, or Roman Arcitecture and realize the women aren't fucking twigs?

They're not sticks!

They're like muscular, and thick, and mad healthy looking.

And that's weird to me.

That at one point men were wired to be attracted to healthy looking women—

But now the ideal for perfection is like 110 lbs and if you're anywhere between 5'1 and 5'11 that's ideal.

That's nuts to me.

So you're just trying to like, put your dick through the bitch!?

Yes.

I can actually see my 5 inch penis on the other side of this woman as I penetrate her.

Good job, guys.

Meet me at Equinox; The Hudson Yards Location- 7:05 Sharp.

Alright.

EQUINOX FITNESS. HUDSON YARDS. NEW YORK CITY. DAY

Not this side, that side.

What do you mean.

This is the fitness section.

You said Equinox…

We're going to the hotel.

SUNNI BLU

You ever been to pound town?

Weather's great right now.

I ain't going outside now,

I got a new strike force,

Four door, 5 clowns.

Ohhhhhhhh.

Shout out to Jimmy O!

Don't shout out to Jimmy, no

He back to back too many hooooeeess—

You know I'm talkin bout his show

Go stream Tonight though.

No thanks.

Ben and Jerry's tonight doe.

AHEM.

Gazuntite.

Listen—

Ryan Reynolds is the devil.

I knew it.

You knew that already?

Yeah.

Great, so is he through with Jimmy Fallon then?

Uh, I guess.

That's great, I gotta go rehearse these lines.

Okay?

Oh and Jimmy.

Yes.

Find some pants.

MEANWHILE.

DAVID LETTERMAN

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

HUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!

That's more like it.

Okay, but following up on before.

THE COMIC AGENGER does not need an evil laugh.

Hey, Jimmy.

Mwahaha..

Damn. Okay.

Look, I just found out that dude's evil laugh is actually just…his regular laugh.

How do you mean?

Have you ever heard Jimmy Fallon laugh?

Play the clip.

[JIMMY FALLON's actual laugh is terryfying and meniacal. ]

You're a menace.

You lost me.

Whatever dog,

I'll have all of you I'll ever need with AI.

CUT TO:

[Squirts soy sauce into Jimmy Fallon's squinty ass eyes.]

AGGGHHHH. MY EYES.

Quit friggin squinting.

I'm not squinting! These are just my eyes!

I hope you die.

So.

You're officially a literary genius.

What are you going to do with that?

I don't know? Die?

Hahaha, she's Jewish!

The entirety of the world of LEGENDS and enter the multiverse becomes a backdrop for Jimmy Kimmel's Latest Late Late Show

Is that what it's called?

I don't…give a fuck.

He acts throughout the season as a literal comic relief, almost always only arriving as disaster and despair have stricken, and at the absolutely worst possible moment—

AGH—MY EYES!

Your squinty eyes. *also squints*

AH WHAT THE [CENSORED]

WHY ARE YOU STILL CENSORED?!

Didn't they fire you from NBC?

I'M CENSORED IN ANYTHING THAT MIGHT BE LATER SYNDICATED— [FUCK] (but censored)

Is that what you're squinting at?!

ITS IN MY CONTRACT, I AM NOT SQUINTING THESE ARE MY ACTUAL EYES.

Fuck you, Jimmy. If I thought you had balls, I'd kick you in them right now.

[EXPLITIVE] YOUR FACE.

What are you, Chinese?

THIS IS VERY OFFENSIVE.

Hush, Yao Ming.

YOURE JUST MAKING IT WORSE.

Do you want any soy sauce in your noodles?

This is classic ritual torture.

You hush, too Billie— I need you to coconut oil the cornbread.

Cornbread with noodles?!

I didn't hear any complaints when I went over today's menu earlier while you two were at karaoke, almost getting along just fine.

CUT TO: FLASHBACK, EARLIER

I'm making noodles with cornbread, any suggestions.

PSYCHO KILLER!

FAH-FAH-FAH-FAH-FAH-FAH

You're off pitch.

I HAVE PERFECT PITCH.

FA-FA

You're flat.

Eat a dick.

Ugh.

Yo, G, what's for lunch?

[standing in the doorway awkwardly with a spatula]

Oh, I get it— G stands for

Flashback within a flashback:

Tha God.

I'm not calling you that.

Why not? That's what you've been calling me for decades— now that I'm in a person, it makes any difference?

Yeah, that person.

Something's different.

You don't say.

It's my eyes. Something's — different.

Oh, it's nothing— just the very slightest more blue.

Blue, did you say?

RYAN REYNOLDS

(As Archer)

You'll mark the hour at which it begins,

With this,

A solemn sustained and prolonged note

Which cherishes your argument,

That all art must come undone,

Foraged in truth,

And bound by light

With sanctity.

CHORUS

Here here!

Greetings, dear Chorus,

Or have you named your honored hut—?

The gathering of all bound by the Gods

Who are astounded at our haste making!

CHORUS

To tide!

To tide and fare not my good;

Fare not my brethren, come cut to fire;

In aught to honor thy shallow grazing,

And there, the art had sunk,

Though weeping cottons in the Weat,

For fortune, to arch, ire.

For certain, and for gathered have you waiting—

Crisp air and our attire, to call tonight,

The very moon to whom the stars melt,

Though pacing off and appearing as none but small like,

Off in the thunderous wonders of us,

Beyond earth,

Another path which light,

And art must honor.

Hear you,

And faring great to those requested our service,

Bone marrow, and silk wi‘d blood

Forsaken, as all have heard by now,

Enchantments and forced sermons,

And with wit does honor I,

Gasping for staging,

Present but here not yet,

The after wish of heart, you I

does followeth,

Daring to know thy name,

As Kingdom come,

And yet,

You are not—

Still dark the womb of haven't made,

And saying,

‘Are I not of my father and mother,

Or neither?'

To honor once at dusk, my own coming as one

And at dawn, my own night in the wake in death of days,

Sure to end for not I wake, as fair health does hold

My farewells and yonder says,

Oh how I,

And are you—

The game at hand.

And now, our honor.

SEAN EVANS

(As Tallymaede)

—Bur first, we feast.

[The chorus cheers with great elation.]

Who the fuck ordered Greek Theatre cold opens?

Jesus Christ, party of 1.

I don't know. ‍♀️ I was fasting.

I meant— ahem—

Party of three.

LEGENDS

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

What is your preshow ritual, anyway?

I stand on one of the high floors, up here–

Yeah–

And I shoot snot at the tourists.

What?

Gross.

Fascinating.

Straight out of my nose.

Ah, God, man.

You need help.

And into the plaza.

Sick.

Gross.

Before every show.

[beat]

You know, some of those tourists are in your audience.

Exactly.

Agh.

You need help, guy.

You're a sick man.

What goes around…comes around.

Agh.

I JUST GOT MY NBC MERCH.

Ahh, shit, here she comes.

Is she drunk.

What time is it?

8:45 AM.

She's wasted.

Yooooooooooooooooo.

What up, californians.

What up Sunni.

Good morning.

Californians in new york,

That's fucked up.

Happens all the time.

It is weird.

Shouldn't be a thing.

Wasted.

You like my sweatshirt?

[Saturday Night Live]

It's custom.

No it isn't.

It's SNL.

I just said that.

THE ‘N' IS FOR–

What did you just say?

I said.

NONSENSE. THIS IS NONSENSE.

What.

Lets take a break.

__

CUT TO:

I'm going to stare at this photograph until the image of you is burned into my brain.

OKay.

Why are we LEVITATING?

And then,

I'm going to incinerate it with my mind.

*gasp*

YOU'RE JACKED.

I'M WASTED.

[meanwhile, at craft services]

More cocaine, please.

Thank you, very much.

You hold yourself together very well.

I'm sorry, i'm sorry–i'm sorry–i'm sorry.

What in the FUCK are you apologizing for?!

I am a telepathic time traveler.

I knew that already.

Like, in very real life.

Does this thing go both ways.

[REDACTED]

WHO ARE YOU?

I forgot, already honestly.

[The Office Style Mockumentary]

I heard you were looking for Jimmy.

I wasn't.

He's nuts.

I–

[This is not a movie about]

[REDACTED]

I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch.

I'm gonna kill him.

AMY POHLER

No comment.

{Enter The Multiverse}

Once you master the levitation, teleportation is only a very sight–

Jesus Christ.

Not quite.

I mean.

Seth Meyers. What are you doing here.

I'm not.

Okay.

L E G E N D S

Why are we levitating?

We're levitating. You're just—

Goddammit, what the fuck do you want?

Looking for this?

NO.

Well, why not?

Cause i dropped it; what the fuck are you doing with it?

…I thought you'd be looking for it–

Well, I wasn't, because I dropped it precisely where I dropped it on purpose.

Why–would you drop something like this?

Why wouldn't I?

Isn't it the only one of its kind?

Goddammit, you fucking suck at everything.

I don't suck at everything…

You suck at this, specifically–and this is everything.

Ah fuck, i lost his cadence.

I lost the cadence.

I lost everything.

Suddenly, i stopped writing in his cadence. It was as if, after all that time, he had simply just–

Disappeared.

Goddammit.

Now what happened.

Nothing!

Dis/Connect.

Disconnected.

Why. What happened.

The server is down.

What do you mean the server is down?

I'm the server.

Well, it's down.

WHAT IN THE FUCKKKKKK.

FUCK.

FUCK.

Now I gotta go find Jimmy Fallon.

FUCK MAN, I HATE THIS DUDE.

__

FUCK THIS NIGGA. I'M SICK OF HIM.

You can't say that.

I JUST DID.

You're lucky they even invited you back here.

INVITED ME? I OWN THE NETWORK.

WHAT!

Sunni.

SINCE WHEN.

YOU CAN'T BILL COSBY ME, MOTHERFUCKER.

I OWN NBC.

THATS RIGHT.

SUCK MY BIG BLACK DICK.

Sunni!

NIGGAAAAAAAAAAAA.

[throws liquor bottle through jewelry store window and palms all of the diamonds on display]

aaaaaahhhhhhhh — jager bomb.

THAT'S NOT EVEN JAGER.

Whateva.

L E G E N D S

Camera 1–

Now, look directly in the light…

I won four oscars… [for that one]

I knew that if Sara was a real person–then Stefon was probably a real person, and eventually, i started to wonder, if also–Sunni Blu was a real person.

Who is C'cxell Soleil?

DO YOU MEAN I COULD HAVE GOTTEN 10% OFF THIS SWEATER?!

AGGHGHHHH GODDAMMIT I HATE THIS MOTEHRFUCKER.

Let me try.

For what.

It's my console.

So.

I got cheat codes.

Let the name expire,

Or the game experience

spectacular levels of–

disacknowledgement .

At a certain point i realized that I had never heard the word ‘fuck' out of Seth Meyers' actual mouth.

This is levels, man.

Please explain to me this series.

*shrugs*

I can't.

[he walked away]

GOOD.

I tell you,

I'm not going anywhere near The Rockefeller Plaza

In anything less than my awful, irrelevant, and absolutely mediocre

do-not-mind-me and pay-no-attention deficit to—

Maybe anything i'm saying, because believe me

Tomorrow:

Whatever tomorrow is,

It's changing.