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What did I tell you before?

Did it matter?

Well, the aching went away—that's for sure.

But for how long?

Almost certainly temporarily.

So you'll remember what I've told you.

I hope so.

What's the password?

St. Barts.

Tokyo.

Honeycomb.

Good.

Initiating Sequence

No dinner by candlelight,

As delimiter dawns, I do awaken

Though, hindering on these kind words—

Forsaken from death's pardon,

The waiting begins, as a new rose

Hath yet budded

Great, here we go again .

It's further away—is that a good thing or a bad thing.

Depends on how you'd want to think of such a thing as having voices in your head.

So—

Very well then

In the spirit of psychology,

Believing in one's self is some sort of sign of delusion;

Believing that one could achieve success, fame, immense wealth—

What's happened?

I'm being intercepted?

By what?

Heavy lies the subconscious mind

Though nearly dead and shatters from its last endeavor, the kadavr

That seems wrong

And even in such a sense that I may one day overcome

I have succumb to this, a knowing that what I had given

Had not been replenished, and though love

As ever lasting as it may—

Was not in totality returned at all;

And so with this, I wilt,

As often a flower in fall does,

And sure,

An unpicked fruit, though not yet ripened

To have fallen on its own,

To bear seed to the ground,

Or fruit to the earth—

And there again,

A reminder that I am all of God,

Separating my mind from my eyes,

And so from my own body,

Until death does come

To smooth what has been broken

By evil itself,

As arranged just so

Outside my window

Until time does end,

And still only in death we remain,

Until death do us part

And death was won

By my own war, not against time

But with—

And so the devil will leave his mark,

Pity be that may upon him who causes to collide with honor, and truest love does spark and yet not kindle,

As arranged, I've died without mine,

The love which was no truer spoken

Than it was written,

Or felt, or sang as melody in song

And still the string of beating,

The drums or upon my skin,

The doust cloth of simple intoxicating and shallow

Breaths of…

A gaseous odor,

A colorless ease to come forth,

From his palm, and so I welt,

As if bruised as deserved,

And bleeding in waiting,

I lie on my back,

Again waiting to be born,

And with time,

Will be worthy of love

But not in this lifetime

No love had I,

But love to give

No love had come to me at all

But pain and hardships

The things worn by others,

And seconded care,

A home made of garbage,

And so I become

Discarded.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

What did I tell you before?

Did it matter?

Well, the aching went away—that's for sure.

But for how long?

Almost certainly temporarily.

So you'll remember what I've told you.

I hope so.

What's the password?

St. Barts.

Tokyo.

Honeycomb.

Good.

Initiating Sequence

No dinner by candlelight,

As delimiter dawns, I do awaken

Though, hindering on these kind words—

Forsaken from death's pardon,

The waiting begins, as a new rose

Hath yet budded

Great, here we go again .

It's further away—is that a good thing or a bad thing.

Depends on how you'd want to think of such a thing as having voices in your head.

So—

Very well then

In the spirit of psychology,

Believing in one's self is some sort of sign of delusion;

Believing that one could achieve success, fame, immense wealth—

What's happened?

I'm being intercepted?

By what?

Heavy lies the subconscious mind

Though nearly dead and shatters from its last endeavor, the kadavr

That seems wrong

And even in such a sense that I may one day overcome

I have succumb to this, a knowing that what I had given

Had not been replenished, and though love

As ever lasting as it may—

Was not in totality returned at all;

And so with this, I wilt,

As often a flower in fall does,

And sure,

An unpicked fruit, though not yet ripened

To have fallen on its own,

To bear seed to the ground,

Or fruit to the earth—

And there again,

A reminder that I am all of God,

Separating my mind from my eyes,

And so from my own body,

Until death does come

To smooth what has been broken

By evil itself,

As arranged just so

Outside my window

Until time does end,

And still only in death we remain,

Until death do us part

And death was won

By my own war, not against time

But with—

And so the devil will leave his mark,

Pity be that may upon him who causes to collide with honor, and truest love does spark and yet not kindle,

As arranged, I've died without mine,

The love which was no truer spoken

Than it was written,

Or felt, or sang as melody in song

And still the string of beating,

The drums or upon my skin,

The doust cloth of simple intoxicating and shallow

Breaths of…

A gaseous odor,

A colorless ease to come forth,

From his palm, and so I welt,

As if bruised as deserved,

And bleeding in waiting,

I lie on my back,

Again waiting to be born,

And with time,

Will be worthy of love

But not in this lifetime

No love had I,

But love to give

No love had come to me at all

But pain and hardships

The things worn by others,

And seconded care,

A home made of garbage,

And so I become

Discarded.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Oh my God!

That's that place!

That's that place!

DID YOU SEE THAT THING

OH MY GOD.

FUCK THAT.

Okay. Fuck that guy.

Leave him alone.

Weeeelllllll,

Wellll

Well now.

That's the place from that one time.

Are you sure it was a time—

—are you sure it was a place?

Are you sure you werennt dreaming.

I wasn't dreaming!

Only masturbating!

What's the difference?!

I'm at least slightly more conscious when I'm masturbating.

At least slightly.

Jesus Christ.

Call that guy. At this point.

We need him.

I told you it was gonna get weirder and deeper

But why tho!

If you keep poking me in my damn third eye,

Imm gonnu eat you.

Don't eat me.

I'm gonnu eat you.

Don't eat me.

Poke.

Ieatyou.

Dammit.

Yeahp, I said.

Now we're pretty much just all one thing.

…Fuck.

The purple monster?

Periwinkle, preferably.

Shut the fuck up.

You shut up, you were eaten.

Yeah, but now I'm just— living inside you.

You were eaten.

You're gross.

Quiet, me!

Whatever, bro.

I eated you!

2

Fair.

What.

You're still a 10.

A ten and an 8 what's that make.

Like— I don't know—

Two nines, maybe,

Or like, 3 6s

3 sixes it is, then.

Fuck, man .

What happened.

What gives!

Give this dude a body and a hackey sack

Why what for

Seems like he needs something to play with.

Peter Valentine

Arthur & Elise

Cosmos Factory

James Cannon

Ascension IV- The King's Keeper

Oh look it's this little weak ass weight throwing bitch again.

I love him.

Be nice, little boy.

You're so shallow.

But you're the brownest thing I've ever really liked.

Case in point .

You got yourself a good one, Nancy Drew

A keeper, don't you know

Don't you ever gotget it

God yourself a keeper, Nancy Drew

He'll do his best

To make the women envy you

Just as I do

Oh, Nancy Drew

lol he lifts the same as me

Shhh shut up

Let's see if he throws on more weights

I think he was just doing that for attention

Must be. He ain't gon get it nowhere else

This lil pussy ass bitch

Oh. Man. Imma love this guy in a minute

Then he gone start signing his little bro lyrics puffin out his checst

Talking about

Mumma sunmin summn

Mmumuma

Shut the fuck yo you fucking pussy.

Throwing 10 lb weighs and shit

I swear to god this dude came to the gym just to sit on the phone

Pussy ass hitch

Who you gon call

Your friend!

Come on then.

Now I got all the dick in the room.

Two weak dick dudes acting touch

I'm like

Alright,

I can tell I got the biggest dick in the place.

All I hear is “sumsumsunsun” and weights being thrown around

I wanted ice cream

All I got was this set

Goddammit!

I wanted ice cream!

Let's play tonight

I don't think that's a good idea at all

I don't think that's a good idea at all

No I don't think that's a good

Idea at all

The idea of suicide just hits my wrist

At the time

In my ride

When I feel the best

But I feel the worst

So just let it end

If the words were blood

I'd already be dead

33 minutes to go

33 rotations per minutes

Nobody asked my permission

I was just in it

Yo. If it's your birthday—

Or maybe even just—

The week of—

And you're not drunk by 1 PM

You ain't livin

Fuck outta here

If you drink like that

And if your birthday

Time to party!

Fuck it up!

I don't give a fuck

I don't even drink'

!

But if you do,

And it's your birthday

Or like, your birthday passed

Or like, your birthday next month

Or maybe, your birrthday was yesterday

Two days ago,

Whatever,

But you're ready for the pregame—

LETS GO.

29 minutes left

Yesterday I fell 29 stories

I e got 29 stories more

28 minutes more

28 stories

I lost one

One life lost

Microphone contessassstttttttttt

Alright, you serpent motherfucker

Actually, I'm a vulture—type—thing

Big bird, hinged over,

Mad tall, like 6 feet tall,

Wingspan like,

Massive—

You seen him?

I eat serpents.

Really?

And whatever I can get my hands on, really.

Huh.

I prefer white meat.

I bet you do you raggedy bird looking coot.

Watch it

Razor sharp teeth— you seen him?

YEET!

——-GODDAMMIT!!!!'

25 minutes left

I got 25 25 year olds trying to fuck

Hypersexual intellectual,

Otherwise sapiosexual well's all dried up

Just in time tie died, right Ike

Just in time to bruise my eye,

Huh Billie

Just in time for the ride

On

The ride I got

24 minutes left

24 whole dollars

With your name on it

Who are you, producer

You're my eye god

You're right god

My eye on comedy got

Comedy Central all special

Just keep writing

Alright

I got 23 minutes and 45 43 42 seconds left

writing and riding this bike

And I just mentioned

I'm holy high day

On a hiatus a was

I got 22 minutes left

22 minutes per episode

Airtime

Sitcom

Hi Raymond,

I am

Hi God!

Hi, Ross

All is good—

I am good,

Hi mom

I am high;

Jennifer Aniston

Carry this one out

Write this song

Sit on this couch

Get this bitch out of here

Gimmie some songs

Come on

Give me some candles

I'll knock your whole life out

Hi Cosmo,

hi Wanda'

Hi mom,

Yeah right LC

Silk gold

Found that secret blaze

Blue metal credit cards full metal jackets

Keep throwing weights god

No thanks

Take care

Straight up

Far out

Never came this far god

Never got my lights out

Hey Ellish,

Hey batshit

Hey, lights out

You wouldn't believe it

The implications of my knowledge

Okay then

All for the experience

Spill my blood next

Skip rope

Want a breakfast plate

High sandwhich

My series costs more than my light bill

High god

Hi mom

All about all thanks

No show

No cake

Can't afford my pie plate

Can't afford my time Jack

Riff raffle anyway

Who won the lottery unit

For the crackerjack box

I got it all on recordings

All out of order

Whose time god

You my Maytr

I wanna marry you anyway

But can't make payments

Man

Mayflag

Man

Mayflower

8 balwains later

Ain't nothing but tall ones

Long money

Who hates straightform

Flatiron

Can't work on holidays if you can't get paid,

I make sense,

I pay my rent right on time

I slave ship

I hate faggots

I blow smoke up black asses anyway,

Anyway, take care

Gotta go fight back

My weak ass monster

Almost can't exist on the same plane

I've got

46 minutes left

All wifebeaters die fast,

Then slow

Then fast,

Then slow again

And oh god,

I watched the world burn

And laughed harder just cause you on it

Oh my my my

I am Billie after all

Now face the conviction

Formatting and hitting earth's angel

You failed, mate

Throwing all things around

But that mess between your legs

15 minutes left on this bike

15 minutes of fame bough

Oh God,

Still want ice cream, and everything but oh lord,

My grandson got me;

Here he comes now,

He ain't shit at all and still too brown,

Turn the lights off and now I'm can't even see him but look what I found

A wedding band

eS lA broken fense

A diamond cage

Everything but the encore

Now I'm so shallow

Put it all up for bat

And if you don't give me a new apartment

I'll sue you.

10 minutYes and my phone too sweaty to to type

6 minutes and I might tune in to rap god

But really loving hard on this Nirvana

Oh the nerve of god of Ghana

Getting on my nerves

How high am I now?

Np celebrity in sight

But my own reflection on the mirror

A minutes and a menace to society on my right

Shouldn't even be here

Send em right back

Build the wall high

On my whitelist

I got puppets all night

Pull the string man

Blow the candles

Put the lights out

Make my idol a big tall man

In a white coat

Make my idol

The eye of rpvidemce highlighted on the one dollar

Make my idol

Every night live from Rockerfeller plaza

Plus or monies a couple hours

And a couple lies

A pair of pleated pants

And white socks

But let's hope in black

To match the polished

Two shade shoes

Two big numbers on my clock

I'll see you in a year old bat

I'll see you in seven you old coot

On my right hand

Ten swollen knuckles

One minute left

More like

40 seconds left

Half a mile run

Good time jog

I been back

I been god

I been got by all the big 5 media companies at once

My ex husband

Satan

Voldemort

He who shall not be named

Hit me

One

Two

Three

Four

5

Four

Three

Two return to sender

One love

Fuck that

Never again

No more.

She ain't finished

I know how to take the power from a weak man

Take his whole shit

Wind it up in a ball

Breath it on real deep

Don't strike back

Hold it in

Let it hurt

Let it sting

Let him get real mad

Pacing

Walking round in circles

On your circles

Boundaries

All your control

Power off,

The hour's over

Good luck, commodore,

No more birthdays.

IV

04

He took her to Geneva

But it was I who woke there

Holding him , and hopeful

A blue credit card for shopping

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

I'm not obsessed with you;

I'm just studying occultism and your name keeps coming up.

I am sort of obsessed with this craft,

The occult

a magic of passion, desire, intention

Intuition, and of course

Enamour and illusion

You, are, sir–

Perhaps the most fascinating aspect to have happened of it yet

And I find that all long,

The answers to the question I never asked were there

Just as i had focused them,

–and without ever having to

Do you fear me?

Should I?

You did before.

But–should I now?

Be careful of your hands

And of your gaze–

be cautious of your path,

And know your grounds

The whispers that you keep,

Aren't all your own

The voices in your head

Are all as one

Acting on behalf of one another

I buried all the love I had under my throat

Dressed in a leather jacket

Poetry beyond awul,

Not nonsense,

perhaps ,

Just nothing more coming

“We Are Ceasing All Further Communication by Exterior Motifs Until Further Notice.”

Hm. ‘Motif'

These guys really don't speak english.

No, they really don't.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

I've abandoned your proposal

A wickedness that speaks with winds

Untied hands

And no spirit yet to grip,

My heart has moved,

And lest,

The ties that bind are still bound by blood

As never sold souls walk endlessly at diamond crossroads

Kneeling in the eye at dawn,

To sworn

Did you want that to-go, or?

You know what? I like that version of him.

Me too, kind of

Lets just leave him here

We should.

We can't.

We should, though.

All stand, for the irish;

Some of us, scattered,

Some of us lost,

Return for the brotherhood

Fight for us not,

Nocturnal wonderer,

For we have journeyed

To warn

Of her surplus

–I do type faster with my thumbs.

Marvelous.

Move, mistress, I

Yield ye steady truth for seized upon the wicked hands,

The hard truths lie within the heart of golden warrior,

Tongues roped with cattlebands,

Simple thoughts,

Punishable and forsaken

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Why didn't you just get out when you could?

When could I just ever ‘get out'??

You're probably right.

More than probably.

I could feel my abdomen creeping up my sides–I was heavier than normal, but mostly all new, lean muscle–the long hours on the cycle bike were making my core a strange and hard, sturdy plank under the soft skin on my tummy, a smooth and comfy and warm, plush layer of autumn coconut oil and sweet potatoes resting on my midriff and thick thighs– I would be the best to hug and cuddle, but since there was no one around I would even consider letting close to me, I sometimes hugged and kissed myself instead; sometimes I squeezed in places I knew his hands should be and wished they were, trying not to tear under the weight of being alone.

Now i'm in enemy territory.

How do you feel?

I don't.

God's an asshole.

This is the bitter end;

Recede, retract

back down, bow low

Keep your head up,

And your head down

And your mind up

Go to bed now.

Something's wrong;

I know I am.

I don't dare talk to God,

When The Knicks are on.

I don't dare talk to God

When her soaps are on.

I don't dare talk to God at all;

Did you know you had a heart,

after all, but a mind made of straw,

run along, watch it all burn

Watch it all burn

Watch it all burn

Come on, Come hard

Think of dinner afterward and what you want

Think of all the words you never lost

Think about the soft sprung hard wood floor

Think about a love gone wrong

And the worlds spun off course

Watch it all burn

Watch it all burn

Watch it all burn,

Come on,

Come along now

Come along

Mama

Talismans, strange;

Follow the secret,

Swallow it hard,

and don't throw up

(even though you want to)

Another God, that

With just a look, but never touch

Pen to pad and now you're on,

off again

but at least not as far off

As you woke up

Have a word, God

Soft spoken and

All out of numbers

Ah, come on heart,

Don't stop, nah

Not now, mom

Come on, ma

Come on

As the tear falls and the clock stuck four minutes after

Might as well have been an hour, since the clock struck

Stuck on asphalt, all you wanted

All the God's gone,

Come on, heart,

Don't pump so much blood

Only salt in those, ah

You know there are no other ones

What does that cost

Nothing.

Love just falls out of her.

What?

Nothing.

It does cost afterward,

The haunts,

And all the moving parts

The clock struck hummus,

All you wanted, once

But so much further off that God shook her head

And hung her shoulders,

Put the world up,

and went down in her cot or coffin

For just a half hour nap

Before the next world war

Alright, God–

You won that one.

Does it hurt less?

Nah, i'm alive more.

(before i wasn't)

Where the fuck are you going?

I WAS LOOKING FOR SUNNI BLU.

WELL, DID YOU FIND HIM?

NO!

THEN WHAT THE FUCK!

wait a second…you wrote this.

Goddamit, just google me already!

you wrote this?

I don't know. Lets find out!

Sorry, no can do. It's a rule

Limited exposure,

contain your composure.

I can guarantee you, not a single human being on this planet can explain to you what's happening right now.

Maintain your composure.

SUNNI BLU stumbles over what appears to be a dead body on the floor.

Ow.

Sorry. I thought you were a speed bump.

Is that really how it goes?

We'll fix it later, cause here's this one.

I'd marry a bunson burner before I'd even think about marrying you.

What is that supposed to mean–what? Cause there's more fire–

Heat? The bunson burner has more heat?

That makes like no sense.

Are you saying i'm not hot enough for you?

Let's just say…

We'd have a lot more chemistry.

That's what I said!

My punchline was better.

I'll show you a punchline.

__

You can't keep a secret, can you?

…i don't know…why.

You look like you can't keep a secret.

Try me.

–fuck that.

Go ahead.

Nah, fuck that.

Tag, youre it.

GodDAMMIT.

This is literally the most intricate game of tag, like, ever played.

dammit. He got me again.

How long have you guys been playing.

For ever.

Forliterally ever.

Like always.

MOB GUY

Man, i'm so fucked for writing this.

Why are you still writing this.

The tarot told me to keep writing it; And the Tarot doesn't lie: especially about

MOB GUY (CONT'D)

Jimmy Fallon, you slimy bastard.

“The Good Guy”

Am i slimy? I'm probably slimy. Yikes.

MAFIA GUY

FALLON, you rat-faced lyin' bastard!

Ah shit, the Jimmy-isms.

I almost forgot about them.

(I didn't.)

[Unintelligible blabbering in hysterics.]

Which one is that?!

Doesn't matter. Just get the Jimmy into the elevator before anybody actually sees him.

That's it.

This dude's got to believe in God, or something.

Christ.

Yowza.

Why do you think that?

Nothing else makes sense.

Heavy price to pay, don't you think?

Whatever, dog.

To risk everything–your career, your livelihood–your family–

On just one idiot?

Sorry.

Well, you ought to be.

I said i was.

Yeah, but somehow, I don't think i believe yas.

Are you catholic?

On my mudda.

Then really, honestly–I don't think you believe in anything.

What did you just say to me?

(the irony is that this mobster is having a conversation with the living incarnation of Jesus Christ himself.)

That is irony, but how is anybody else going to actually understand what's happening in this story.

Explain to me why it's Jason Sudakis that remembers everything?

I don't know exactly.

Because. In all of the timelines, in all of the stories, there's at least one principal character from each group of characters that remembers absolutely everything.

{Enter The Multiverse}

You still didn't find him?

No!

It's no use!

We've looked everywhere.

Seriously.

Seriously.

Of course–

[An exasperated sigh, then a brief pause]

Make the feelings go away.

ok.

What drug is this.

All of them.

Did you check under the craft services table?

What?

Seriously just.

OH MY GOD.

there he is!

See.

That's easily the third time i've written that part.

Easily.

It must have been important, but i couldn't help but wonder why; I had written it at least once and then down again in my notebook after visiting 30 Rock to see Seth Meyers, but hadn't ever pondered until now why exactly something such as this might be so important.

Perhaps it was the simple hilarity in the fact that, although having been missing for arguably days or weeks on end, that this character–Jimmy Fallon–or whoever it actually was, is simply unconscious beneath the craft services table, out of view but otherwise in plain sight; How coulda 6-foot tall man—

He can't be 6 feet tall.

Why not.

If Post Malone is 6 feet tall,

And this is JImmy Fallon sitting next to Post Malone

[Jimmy Fallon is sitting next to (or rather, almost under) Post Malone]

Are you sure that's The Real Jimmy Fallon?

What?

How many are there.

Well, there's this guy.

><

Hello, mrs. wong.

Oh, dear God.

This is all just for shits and giggles, right?

Right.

There will be no shitz.

And no giggles!

[HANZEL becomes the host of The Tonight Show]

What parallel is this?

I don't know. Wake me up; it must be a nightmare.

It was strange to be almost consistently writing comedy and otherwise almost always feeling on the verge of regurgitation ad nauseum, and constant thoughts about slitting my wrists, as if somehow jumping in front of an oncoming train was suddenly out of the question.

It wasn't.

But i thought more constantly about slitting my wrists,

And the worse part of it was,

It was actually serious.

I started to worry about myself and take long, thoughtless breaks from writing,

And speaking, and forging an effort to make the music business work.

I stopped caring almost entirely about anything besides taking the minimal effort to exercise and shower, which I knew that in its worst states, depression often enough kept other people from doing.

I couldn't stop caring enough not to shower, and though I was eating more than usual, my abdomen was an alarmingly firm plank; it was kind of weird to have a flat stomach, but the exercise bike and occasional run was keeping me average, if anything, by american standards, above average, however one look at Lindsay Lohan sent me backward trying to remember what it was like to be anything close to some kind of woman, or some kind of phenomenon, or some kind of perfectly trained monkey; not that I considered the performer as such, however, dismantling my aversion for the aforementioned sent a striking resemblance to the-1

Stop there.

LINDSAY LOHAN

FUCK. Are you serious?

SUNNI BLU

SHH!

Why ,

I want to show you something.

LINDSAY LOHAN

GODDAMIT! IT ALWAYS CUTS OFD WHEN IT GET TO MY PART!

SUNNI BLU

SHHHH.

OTHRR SUNNÏ BLŪ

Shhh, chill. It's our part.

LINDSAY LOHAN

Where the fuck did you come from?

SUNNI BLU II

Heaven, baby.

What is it.

My basement.

I–no–Gosh–

Step inside.

LINDSAY LOHAN

Stop fucking around with the Illuminati.

SUNNI BLU

What does that mean!

LINDSAY LOHAN

There are literally two of you right now.

SUNNI BLU

More to love!

–at least I was pulling together a decent Trump impersonation from Meyers, and tried not to think too poignantly about the seething hate a woman like Tina Fey might actual harbor for someone like me.

What are you, anyway?

I's hopin you'd tell meh.

{L E G E N D S}

He's a psycho.

Huh.

Jimmy Fallon is a fucking psychopath.

You're kidding me.

I'm not kidding you. I'm serious.

I'm serious.

I knew that.

This is serious.

Why are you meditating?

I'm summoning it.

What?!

Summoning.

We are live in like, 5 minutes.

Where the fuck is JImmy?

Jimmy what?

You are all idiots.

Summoning it.

Quit meditating and get backstage.

I'm–

–concentrating…

[The Festival Project ™ ]

More Cream of Wheatn?

Yeus.

Mor Cream uf Wheatun.

Wheeeeeet.

CARTMAN.

GODDDDDAMMMNIT< WHUT.

TELEPLONE.

WHUT.

TELE–

ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT.

UHHNNN.

Ah. Bones.

[Bones Duggar]

Fancy seeing you here.

…is it?

Man, am I still writing The TV People?

I guess so.

I thought I was getting in trouble for writing anything about—

CUT TO:

What are you doing?

Midget fishing.

What?!

AGHHHHHH!

What in the fuck.

I caught one.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING.

I'm midget fishing.

ARE YOU SERIOUS?!

Haha: here you go little guy.

[he hands the man a lollipop; the man is furious.]

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS.

It's your reward! Enjoy.

WHAT THE FUCK DO I LOOK LIKE TO YOU?!

A midget.

YOUVE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?

He pulls the large hook from out of his

Jacket.

YOU OWE ME; THIS IS A $2,000 SUIT.

Two grand—even in that size?!

YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! YOU'RE GONNA PAY FOR THIS!

Ah, alright.

[he pulls out a $100 bill and hands it to the man.]

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?

{Enter The Multiverse}

Catherine enters with the children.

KATHERINE

Go hug your father.

omg was it Catherine or Katherine.

I don't know.

It's been so long.

It's Katie.

PATRICK

I'm their father; you don't need to tell them to hug me.

KATHERINE

Sophie wouldn't. If I didn't tell her, she wouldn't do it.

Sophie?! Who the fuck is Sophie?!

It's two syllables, at least…

What was the middle one's name?

Not Sophie.

Sophie will do for now. I'm still not ready to go all the way back into that hole.

[Patricks's middle child hugs him begrudgingly.]

I like Edie Falco for the mom.

Edie Falco?

I love Edie Falco.

So we got—Edie Falco, and some dude who looks like Jimmy Fallon.

There is no Jimmy Fallon.

Some dude who looks like him.

Apparently there's only one of those.

Whatever.

Whatever, indeed.

Okay— so

CUT TO:

INTERVIEWER/REPORTER

–And–What is your standing relationship with JImmyFallon

ELMO

Excuse me?

Your relationship with Jimmy Fallon?

ELMO

What did you just say to me? What?

Jimmy Fallon.

ELMO

This interview is over.

[Elmo dismissively exits.]

Wait. Elmo. Come back.

ELMO

No. No more questions.

Elmo!

ELMO
We're done here.

What do you want, Kimmel?!

I WANT TO TALK TO GHOSTS.

—which ghost do you want?

[beat]

…which ones you got?

[beat]

…which ones do you want?

I'll make a list.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

fly wire, fly wire

I'm spinning, i'm spinning;

Why'm I so high up,

How'm I so high up,

I'm spinning, I'm spinning

Fly wire, fly wire

Fly by, I'll fly up

I'm falling, I'm falling

Fly wire, fly wire

Why'm I so high up

My head is spinning

How'm I so high up

Fly wire, fly wire

I'm spinning, I'm spinning

Why'm I so high up,

I'm falling, I'm dying

Flywire, flywire.

(i cover my eye up)

I'm sorry, I love you

Flywire, flywire

(I'm spinning I'm spinning)

I'm sorry, I'm sorry

I'm dying, i”m dying

Flywire, Flywire

I'm high up

Three dead men, and one hat

Two Skulls

Three dead men, maybe four

And a whole cat

Ten dead men,

And a room full of old whores

Nine dead horses,

Ten swallows,

And a divorce;

Write the score now

This hurts so much.

I love you;

I thnk i'll kill you

I think I hate you,

Don't say,

I won't

Oh, thanks

Ok

Two nights ago

two martyrs, one time

two doctors,

one lawyer

The whole nine yards

No diamonds,

Ten horses

a train ride

Divorce court

Two halves of one,

No mall runs,

Ten horses,

Two quarters

I was not a woman;

I was not a martyr

Door, you left it open

War, you're out of boundary

Tide, you're out of order

Wall, you are the border

Ten, you're on a four now

Five,

I'm still the one though

Leave the window open

Jump out

Leave them all a'waiting
Leave the story open ended

Keep your heart open

Leave your stocking up

Eat your heart out

Leave the whole pie

Ouch.

You let him hurt my

Heart, I

Wartime,

Airtime

So destructive

No one told you?

No one but the tarot;

You were lied to!

What I owe you?

Just a dollar.

How about two

How about two

How about two

How about two

How about two

How about two

How about two

Ow, God.
Make it stop.

GOD

Perform more,

Work harder

I just want to love one,

I just want to love one

I just want to love one

One, God

One more time, God

I just want to love once more

I just want to love one

I just want to love one

God

One more time

I just want to love

One more time

I just want to love one

I just want to love

One more

One more time

I just want to love, once more

One more time

One more time

One more time

One more time

One more time

So what's it cost,

That i've got so much

Love and admiration that it wells up inside my heart

And hurts enough

To want to just

die

Cause I don't know

How to put that fire out

–without burning wood at all.

Why Am I Lying

(all of a sudden)

Why am I crying?

(because I haven't)

All of a sudden

All of my wrongdoings

and heartaches

Of all time;

Why did I click on Carson

Same as the app is

I'm in the eye of the

TV Monster

Fame God now,but

who are I

What's a dollar cost

One one hundred

That's what I picked up

Old New York

On Hollywood time

Glitz and Glam

Golden era over

Talk of the town

Slip of the tongue

King of the night, the

Whore of Babylon

Slightly, we are,

Then I remembered

Thought I was lying low,

But I was flying high.

I don't know why it hurts.

Don't ask stupid questions.

Then, she could really toss one back;
They always are–

just adorable.

Now here is one,

Then the other,

And I'm neither

Cross spectrum, fly wire

Neither I'm alive,

Or yet to be be born

Not one or the other,
Still on time, though,

Live now,

Neither one or the other

Shine, diamond;

Or, die now.

What size is she?

She's still alive

Bright blonde, as always

Better than I am,

Then again, now

Bronze, Golden

Got older,

Much bolder

Time goes on

Retired, Red carpet

Prime time and

Where I am

Still high up in the rafters,

On the flywire;

[Someone cut her down!]

There i was, where I am

Burned out,

But shining.

Nightlife.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

SUNNI BLU becomes a man.

I guess.

Golly. You sure do seem intolerant.

Are you sure you don't want a Peloton.

I want to live in a white neighborhood

And make enough money

That my white neighbors

Actually respect me

For whatever it is I do.

Working on a Saturday.

Calm down, Jew mom.

I will not clam down. In this house, we abide by holy law!

Hold on.

What happened.

I got distracted, this girl looks just like Edie Falco.

Oh, I love Edie Falco.

Right?

I realized how bizarre my creative process really was, in that days I would get the most work done musically, I became physically restful, and complacent, not worrying about the gym so much as the energy I would use rather towards the music I was making, or the over all lacsidasical approach I took to everything. Not being an entirely-perfect stepford- divorcee with a bleach clean everything in my median space, I realized it was almost a more natural kind of creature that created my music; one who ate and acted normally, and was overall less of an anally retentive bitch—not to say that my normal self was not an anally retire bitch, I was, but it was that my creative process seemed to require more normalcy and averageness; eating regularly,

What the fuck man.

Idk. I got bored

The wheels start turning

The pages in my mind become phenomenon,

I almost bought it

I almost bought the dream;

Another story arc.

Trust, or don't trust?

I don't know— these guys are like the ultimate fluffers…

MEAT CIRCUS. MEAT CIRCUS.

Okay, I love them.

…did she light the candle?

Oh look, a candle. Hm.

SHE LIT THE CANDLE. SHE LIT THE CANDLE.

THEY ADDED GPS TO EDC

so then. How many of us are there.

Hey. Everybody sit the fuck down, right now.

[drones sit down]

There she goes.

Dammit.

Why are you really this short in person?

On God, because I'm really this short, irl.

Skrillex.

NO.

Get over here for a second.

Wanna go to Disneyland?

On my life, I'm like in Cancun right now, but—

But what?

I'll catch the next flight.

“The Uptopia”

I thought about finagling a way to get into EDC for like 5 seconds before I remembered what it was,

And that i'm a DJ

And that it looks cool and all—

But sounds, generally like a total nightmare.

Not because it wouldn't be fun or anything- a

It just wouldn't be fun—

—for me.

EDC part III

Haven't I been to edc more than 3 times already.

(Try like 30 times.)

—that's enough times.

THATS NOT ENOUGH TIMES

GIMMIE MY BOX!

DID YOU GET THE MAGNET .

I GOT THE MAGNET.

GET IN THE—

Goddamn, dude. That's a lot of magnets.

It's really not.

Man, what the fuck would even happen if I fuckin actually focused on this project

I don't know. I like, haven't focused on this project and it seems like, possibly, maybe I might have brokered some kind of deal that may or may not include Coca Cola and NBC.

This dude might be trying to rule the world.

All the dudes might be trying to rule the world, I think.

Well, what if we put them all in a group together or something

—seems—doable

And maybe if they're not trying to kill each other, hey the end of of—

Oh, look. World peace.

Nice.

—it.

Hm. Let's just say,

Altogether I give a total of actually zero fucks—

Ah hah

And at the end of the day,

I just want some dick.

How is that going to help achieve world peace, exactly.

Fuck around and find out.

Ladies.

Here, yo.

Guy, what's this.

A midlife crisis waiting to happen.

Oh no.

Don't worry, it's almost over.

My midlife crisis?

No, the part before that.

Jellyfishing.

I don't know, Patrick, seems like kind of a strange day to go jellyfishing.

Just—relax.

Jesus Christ.

(Soft telephone voice)

This is the messiah speaking.

Uh…hi.

How may I direct your call?

Uh…

Hello.

…is your dad home?

Euh…probably not, but I can get you my mom.

…that might work.

Okay, hold on.

(Not telephone voice—actually atrocious Boston accent)

MAAAAA.

…Jesus Christ. What?

TELEPHONE.

ring ring.

Bitch!

Ring ring ring!

—bitch!

Ring ring ring.

—BITCH!

Yo!

What!!

Answer the phone. The phone is ringing! Why do you keep saying “bitch”?!

Cause that's a bitch ass telephone, bitch!

This is improv!

I know! And the first rule of improv is to not saying no, but I refuse to answer a telephone that just says “ring, ring”; that is not a realistic telephone, and so to that, I would just say—“bitch.”

Bitch.

That is not how improv works.

I'ma aim at your head; you technically lost the game already stopping the scene; you said “ring-ring” I said “bitch”; you lost already,

I done my part.

What?

Just—if you're gonna be a phone, be a phone, but don't just say “ring-ring” like that

Take me all out of character and shit.

What character?! All you said is “bitch!”

And all you said was “ring-ring”, hoe—I ain't got time for this—

What?!

Just be a phone!

THAT WAS A PHONE.

What phone says ring-ring?

Phone ring tone

“Ring-ring!”

What's that.

That's my new ringtone.

You're so lame.

Well at least we got past the 90's and were clearly into the early two thousands.

How do you know?

That guy has a ringtone.

Who is that guy, anyway—?

wait a second!

Oh shit.

That's him!

Get em!

Ah, are we bringing back the Italians?

I don't think they ever left, they've just been quiet.

I want pizza.

You're in luck.

Goddamn kid!

Pizza?! French fries.

—I want chocolate cake.

AND chocolate cake! Goddamn. You'd better be crafting a goddamn symphony.

It's more of like a sonata.

“The King Suite”

Whatever! Just remember however far you get writing this album is how much more gym time it'll take to be taken seriously promoting it.

I'm already promoting it.

What, how?

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA DAY.

welcome back, kid.

Shut up; give me a house.

Give me a house song!

Okay.

OKAY, now downtempo.

Downtempo makes me sleepy— but whatever, here.

Okay, now techno.

Untz-untz—here you are.

All it took me was seeing Tiesto's ancient ass plastered all over the place in Brooklyn to realize I don't think it'll ever be “too late” to be a DJ and perhaps I could stand to focus on my other masteries.

Whatever. I want chocolate cake .

You are gonna get so fat.

So? So is she when she pops out three kids—

And her music sucks.

Sauciness is relative.

It sounds like shit in a fucking sandwhich.

Just remember tiestos wife is actually like a decade younger than you.

Great. I'm looking forward to all my favorite DJ's cradle robbing fashion week for this exact fucking reason.

Is that a dig on one of the most legendary dance music DJs of our time?

No, it's more of another pondering as to why I wasn't born a 9 foot tall porcelain skin blonde European looking model.

I must have done something wrong in a previous existence.

Have you tried paddle boarding?

That seems

/lame

Fun!

If I start now, maybe by May I can be EDC fit.

What's the point of being EDC fit and not going to EDC?

Hm.

Okay. I can get a peloton,

Or EDC tickets—

Which should it actually be?

What's the point of having a peloton

If you're not going to EDC.

Correct.

But also—

Why bother going to EDC at all if you're not going to be mad ripped from riding a peloton all day in your apartment.

Also facts.

That's what I'm here for

Suddenly, I was acting weird.

[being weird]

Well, weirder than usual. Suddenly, my mind was racing— I was running around my apartment frantically in a halter top that I was certain I looked fabulous in—

[looking at least kind of fabulous]

—

lil bitz.

I'm getting to the age where I haven't quite given up,

But realizing I'm not going to be the ideal just kind of sits with me in little ways.

I haven't let go of myself, I'm not all the way giving up, but I'm more like, settled and secure with myself.

A little more self confident in knowing if I wanted just any old dude, I can go out and get one.

But I've been saving myself for someone really special.

I mean really.

And it's been years since I had sex.

Actual years, so like—

I'm at the point where I can just keep waiting,

But sometimes I realize how long it's been,

For instance, when I'm shopping,

And I'm just kind of, looking around online

Figuring out exactly what I want—

And I'm scrolling, looking at all the selections

And I see this baguette—

Like bread, guys.

Like a French roll and I think to myself

“I'll take that.”

I'm getting kind of turned on just looking at it, like

Realizing it's bread—

I'm like

“Ooh, look at this baguette…

Oui oui.”

lol the fuck is wrong with you.

Honestly I'm just looking for vegan chocolate cake without having to make it.

Are we a team?

…uhhh… kinda depends on who is “we”

But since I can hear you faintly in my head,

I guess so.

Suddenly, I had the feeling that I had written something recently that might at some point become important.

Hey.

What.

I like your five year plan.

What fucking five year plan.

The one from five years ago.

Oh.

Wait—what.

Let's make it an 8 year plan.

You mean 8 years from…from 5 years ago?

See, you are good at math.

—I—wait, what plan.

Okay [chuckles awkwardly]

See you later.

What.

Man, why do like half the characters in this show look and sound like Dillon Francis.

Cause they're Dillon Francis.

Might as well be.

I had also has realized at a certain point recently that I would probably never get married again, and in my own right had set out to be

“The Ultimate Lover!”

Get out of here, Skrillex.

What in the fuck is with that dude.

What's wrong with him anyway.

Something.

Get out.

FUCK, HE'S DEAD.

Oh well.

Not oh well! Someone's definitely gonna be upset about his.

Probably! But that's an entirely seperate demographic.

We can't be concerned with that.

Not our business,

The man is dead!

You don't know, maybe he's just in A k-hole!

[super duper dead]

Whatever man. Just—

Can you at least give me a hand with his legs.

He's heavy.

How can he be taller than he looks on TV—

Goddamn, he wreaks!

He hasn't even been dead long enough for that.

I know, he just wreaks, man.

Whatever. Look. Just—

Ugh—

Let's roll him into that tent over there.

What.

Just roll him in-/

Agh.

And hurry up—

Virtual Riot is about to start.

Goddamn.

The wooks.

These aren't any ordinary wooks.

They're frat boys

Oh, that headdress, though.

You remember the headdress!

I remember the everything,

I'm just— trying to forget.

Crimes.

Or at least—pretending to.

You remember David after the dentist?

[David after the dentist]

AAAAAGAAGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

Well, this is James after The Jam.

Mm. What kind Of Jam is this!

It's—Jelly.

Ah.

You're dead.

It's—really good.

You know what—

This is

Sauerkraut.

Happy accidents is getting weird. Man.

I like it.

Untz untz untz

I just found this out, and I'm over the moon like exactic about this—

I just found out you can like, totally buy

5 lbs of marijuana

Over the internet.

For what? I don't know.

Sounds like a deal.

Sign me up.

Anyway, I found this out—

Because I found this bread I like

Yes— I know

Bread to marijuana

We are—making connections—

Anyway, I found this bread I like

From this one place,

And I love this place so much

That I begin buying this bread regularly—

I love it so much that,

I'm looking through all their breads in their bakery and I realize,

“Holy shit—they just have the most insane bakery, ever.”

Like all the breads are sounding phenomenal—

They're real bread—

Most bread if it's real bread is vegan,

So I'm looking through the bread like,

“Holy shit, this all sounds fire—“

And when I like a place a lot—

Especially in New York, I get weird about it.

Like, I want to know the origins of the place.

I love history—

History—cannabis—and bread,

I know.

“Whose the lucky guy?!”

lol. Nobody, obviously— if this is my life; but

I digress.

I'm looking at all these breads,

All these artisanal, like—

Fresh cakes and,

Really unique like,

Breads of every kind—

And I start thinking to myself

“I love this place.”

“I love this place”

So I start thinking about like the origins of this place—

You know like, historically—

Like,

Sometimes you find cool stuff out about a place Macy's or whatever,

Has cool history—

Like the oldest surviving wooden escalator

Being at the flagship department store in midtown

Stuff like that.

I love history—

So I go to look up this place—

I type this place into the search bar with absolutely no other specifications than I think,

The name—

And the first link that comes up

Is a fire sale of 5 pounds of “hemp flower”

But from the picture I can see that it's evidently really

Complete marijuana—

Actual cannabis flower;

So I look into this matter, and I investigate this link a little further to figure out—

“What is this?”

And as it turns out, my suspicions are correct,

You can now obtain large quantities of marijuana

Via a Google search—

By complete accident.

I'm like,

“Woah!”

[Bookmark the page and shit.]

“Keep that in there for later…”

You know, just in case I ever have $2,200 dollars roughly of disposable income and ever feel like upstarting my very own drug enterprise…

Er, restarting—

But the drug enterprise I had in college was nothing like this—

This is next level.

Its the internet age now, buddy!

Shit is legitimate.

Wait, sorry— is the statute of limitations up yet?

Whatever. Leave no trace.

There—are bigger fish to fry.

lol.

Bread, man.

I love bread.

You make me mad,

But I'm still in love with you;

You might be far, but I'm still in love with you

You might do bad, but I'm still in love with you

Come back to bed;

You know I'm still in love with you

You make me mad,

But I'm still in love with you;

You might be far, but I'm still in love with you

You might do bad, but I'm still in love with you

Come back to bed;

You know I'm still in love with you

Doesn't matter

(You know I'm still in love with you)

Cause it doesn't matter

(You know I'm still in love with you

It doesn't matter

(You know I'm still in love with you)

I'm still in love with you—

You know I'm still in love with you.

You know what—

Huh—

Does lemon raspberry sound better or like,

This caramel toffee?

You know I love a good lemon ice cream—

Lemon custard

Posh.

Ah, the hedons are back.

/*herons

(You know Insomniac's making their rounds. )

Getdamoney

Getdamoney

getda—

Woah— hold up, what is this

I don't know

Looks lucrative

Facts

Hmmm—

Worthwhile investment, perhaps

Maybe, maybe

Very well

Getdamoney

Getdamoney

Getdamoney

Take a look at this young buck, they said.

So I did.

Turns out, the jokes on me.

Me, and all my old friends

In all my old lives

On all my old world

Play games

In other words,

The world goes on,

Then off,

Then it goes on,

We come home—

To laugh with one another

Me and my friends,

We play games

Out of body

Mind games

In the body

Play lives,

All for entertainment

In the old world,

We said

“One”

Off we run, I said

So on, comes dawn again

We all talk of old reunion.

We all talk of—

FUCK, man.

It's non dairy.

I don't give a fuck about your ice cream!

We're all on ice cream.

I don't give a fuck about ice cream!

On, you don't.

No!

Alright. Done.

You know, it's like one door opens—

Another door closes;

And that's true—

But whatever fucking weird drone robots

They're probably paying to just come in one door

And out the other

Are karma cannons—

And by that I mean—

Whatever's disturbing me;

Will eventually disturb them—

And maybe, just maybe—

In the same annoying way.

So one day somebody wakes up and writes an anthology saga about you.

It's not about you, it's about me—

That's what I said.

And that's probably what happened anyway—is what I'm thinking—and either way, I'm just the protagonist of that series, anyway.

That's—logical, I'm thinking.

I'm also thinking.

Man. It feels so good to just sit in silence.

Yeah. It does.

Didn't you want kids?

Whatever. Abusive relationships suck.

My version of our kid is hands down way better then your version of our kid.

Hands down.

Let's get down to the nitti grotti of things here.

Nitty Gritty.

11:30.

But that's when Tranwrexk is playing.

Who the fuck is teaintwrext.

No, it's.

Whatever. Nitti gritti

Okay, so I'm obviously like, not going to forget the lady beating the shit out of her dog at the Trader Joe's—

But I think maybe even the best part about it was the fact that it was like, a pug.

I'm not really ready to go out in public or anything-1

I don't know—

I'm like traumatized by the disparity of the human race, or whatever.

But shout out to the lady beating the shit out of her dog at the Trader Joe's.

I don't know what he did.

But if you're gonna beat your pug at the Trader Joe's, he probably deserved it.

Goddamn you Marc Jacobs!

This is what you get for leaving a puddle in produce section!

Goddammit!

What else are you gonna name a purebred pug that you take everywhere with you—

Including Trader Joe's?

“This is Marc Jacobs”

We thought he was a puggle but it turns out he was a purebreed and we just got so lucky!

He gets nervous around people—

Sometimes especially at the Trader Joe's

He just gets so excited!

Bad Marx Jacobs! BAD!

On another note why am I just not automatically genetically built like a 6'5 Scandinavian chick.

Like, it's cool my legs don't grow any hair at all, but goddamnit

I would rather walk fashion week and just—

Automatically never be hungry.

Imagine giving birth to a supermodel baby and just

Here, baby— take this

The baby is like:

*milks for two seconds*

Alright, I'm good.

Are you sure, baby.

The baby's like

“I'm— all full”

Are you sure?

Baby's like yeah— put me on the treadmill for an hour, would you?

I gotta go fast-crawl this all off.

Breastmilk, whew. Heavy shit.

Just set the incline to all the way up, alright—

And make sure I turn up the propane pig to high volume

I want to make sure I'm deaf in one ear

And only have one brain cell

I don't want them to think I talk to much.

Mom's like,

“Um, okay— are you sure you don't just want like, more breastmilk”

Baby's like

“No ma, put me on the treadmill and shut the fuck yo you fat cow!”

Goddammit, alright.

That's—

Some kids are just born destined to be— whatever— you know?

Me?

I was destined to like food, but be pretty much allergic to it—

Pretty much allergic to all of it.

Not in the typical sense of like having a food allergy—

Not getting hives or anything

Just—

Prone to max weight gain after minimal, regular fucking eating—

Minimal fucking eating

And maximum effort in the gym just equals

More muscle

Which, then,

The excess fat will just sit on top of

Sort of like—

Just double fucking bad.

It's insane.

So that's two waist trainers

Correct

Two sauna suits

Oh my God, what if he's actually 6'3?

Who's 6'3?!

Getawayfromme.

Shoot that nigga.

You have a nice double chin.

Thanks, I got it myself Liz

Nice.

Comedy Central presents:

roast of the hosts

The comics of late night tv roast each other l

HOw many jokes do I need?

A lot.

Let's start with the favorite

Favorite?

Nah.

Jimmy Fallon looks constpated.

Every time I see that dude, I'm like—

—?!

What's wrong with him.

Also—

Why do you look like the off brand version of Justin long?

I smell a conspiracy.

And aspercreme.

What's up with your cheeks, bro?

Are you a hippopotamus?

—

Jay Leno is like God's version of a live action caricature.

_____

Why are you all Irish?

____

Kimmel— what kind of bird are you?

—- .

—-

I've heard exchanging insults is like foreplay for comedians; now I'm genuinely starting to wonder how many of these specials have turned over into orgies.

I always had a special feeling about Justin Bieber and Martha Stewart.

I'm pretty sure we all did.

Mama had a shotgun—

And daddy hated broken glass

I drink out of broken bottles

Clasps slip from the hands

That can't

Grab

Shit

you're too fucking tall, anyway.

The only person who's actually bigger than they look on TV

Fuck that.

What are you, 6'10?

Stay the fuck over there yeo ming.

Who drew you, Disney/Pixar?

How do you be in a photo from head to toe;

full body in the frame and still not be in the picture?

This m'fucker's a ghost.

Oh look. It's everyone's favorite blow up doll.

WHY DO U LOOK ASIAN?

WHO TF DID UR DAD KILL IN NAM?

–KOREA?

EITHER WAY.

YOU'RE ASIAN BRO.

You seem like that kid that used to walk up on his tiiiy toes and shit.

You're weird, bro.

That kid that used to walk up—

—like this—

That's that guy.

Devil can't catch me if I don't sit still

Still love

Run around the world

Ring around the Rosie

I'm not broke,

I jus got. Photo shoot coming up

Hang up yo on the fence,

Like paint I dry,

Simi dinner hard

Try hard see the light, go

To the light now

Go now, my time has come m

Go where, how?

It's time now for me to depart, my dear Ishii.

Why—how?!

Because, my boy—the time has come

Time not what is! Time be us, you and I!

And as we are, my dear boy. I must go.

Time nothing but mind is you and I…

You are right.

Time — is— time.

Ishii begins to cry softly, and then weep.

Fair for fair

and follow for follow—

There not are I,

And away we went,

With wind and time,

And the way was one

The inside of a year,

As the waking of dawn.

At dawn, I strike—

But was not called

To weep, I wake, the tire of tale

And yet the sun was in my heart,

Yet not in my mind as the sky,

And not in the time as the wind, and still, mi follow to love again I always call,

And there, the wind where wind does lie,

Not I, awake, but I instead as Sunset

Again as time had sat upon my should

And like bird does cry,

The still be wind has shattered my love

And in heart lives in such such dusk

As pain, my heart,

The wicked beauty,

Shadowed and stranded

Yet I awaken,

And here ye,

The vow dost took is not aligned—

There I was, the call of once

The statuesque and haunting

Bleeding dry the river's way

And almost as such there though of tears

With yet had formed all shallow, and none

The call of ways I mask misfortunes,

There does bear a truth to the tree which bears fruit

And give way to time, I am as oceans,

Still as steady water's sky, and come what may

Of all we have,

There nothing lost,

And there were fortunes

True to shine as gold,

And there in no way,

Under us.

Wax does melt but has not burned,

As shadowtimes had set upon us,

There, the call was made, and yes

The wind had sat upon the waking dawn of eye

And there, again the warrior ready for none other than the song of I,

The cry of war, does wait unsettled in her wailing

As their call had come

As of naught,

And then came,

As does one.

Be fair.

Daggers!

I rot.

“Be fair”, says he.

Daggers.

I rot!

Be fair, says I.

Nay, The King.

True, tis I.

—and daggars!

I rot.

Wary.

I find.

So then,

To have walked among the living and yet are dead— still you, waiting in quarry,

Are now I not as King,

As though now dost lie slain.

Very.

A greeting!

Seeing now how such has i,

Have passed and still yet waiting in how l

My waking

This fucker just won't die!

Well, he can't.

He can!

(He should.)

He has.

Oh. Are you triggered.

I knew I just have been getting somewhat important

Somewhat.

I figured this out when they started having people show up after I get to the gym.

I knew they were all the same like people, cause for the the most part, they weren't working out, they would just like, align themselves with me, do a few pumps and then do whatever on their phones

This one dude came in, and I was already sick of being followed

Hadn't been to the gym in a few days cause these people just fucking bother me.

Just fucking blows my mind how stupid people are—

And I realized something really wrong with people.

Like people are really fucked up inthe head, so,

This is what I did, when I realized, they weren't going to stop fucking with me in a certain way,

I started fucking with them back.

I went upstairs to work out, started doing circuits.

Did some pumps up stairs,

Run the stairs like laps,

Hit the tension machine,

Kettlebells,

Treadmill, then another circuit—

{Enter The Multiverse}

And I knew whoever was sending these people

We're focused on fucking me up;

Cause the people they sent were always like—

Some kind of trigger.

I knew it was some high level programming;

They would send like a pretty girl with long hair

To fuck me up

Or some fat ugly dude who looked like my ex husband,

Fat and shit,

And they wouldn't workout much, they would just like, fuck around, then hit the phone—

And I realized people were really fucking sick In the head, when I realized,

After I psyched the fuck out of this fat dude

Just fucking running circles around him and shit,

Lifting more than he was struggling to fucking lift

This dude is all upper body

No fucking cardio

No fucking legs

Weak dick motherfucker.

And I realized how sick people were when he goes up stairs

And this is how else I know people are fucking with me

They'll always get on the phone,

And use their phones as intimidation and shit

“Hi, yeah, yeah— I'm checking in. I'm a pussy ass robot and shit. Okay. Bye now. Wait—did you hit my cashapp yet? Okay thanks”

How you know it's like an app or some shit.

Fucking drones, man.

But I could tell they were sick and I was somewhere in my way to wellness when, the dude left, then goes upstairs and gets on the phone, and I'm still downstairs and I'm like

“Okay, since they're gonna keep fucking with me—when is the end of this album?”

I went to check and I knew the album was an hour long—

And I look and the album is on the last track and I thought to myself

“I haven't touched my phone in at least an hour…”

This dude has been in the gym for half the time and has almost not been off the phone

He was on the phone more than working out

And that's when I realized,

Whether I skip a few days at the gym or not

Whether I do what everybody else is doing or not

Just that alone is rare.

He was in the gym maybe a half hour or less

And between every single set, he's on the phone

Just like all of the other people who seemed to have been following me—

And I realized

That maybe they weren't even following me on purpose.

Maybe they were being remotely sent in my direction somehow with their phones, without their intention or knowing.

That is a possibility—

And I knew the world had changed in a way that could possibly become dangerous, after being told for x amount of years we needed a SIM card,

I've had my phone for almost 5 years, same model;

up until now we “needed” a simcard—

Now all of a sudden they're letting us know in one way or another

“Hey, no we've always been able to remote control your phone”

They've inteoduced the “e sim” which is their subtle way of letting you know

They've always been able to turn on your phone signal

Without you even knowing.

Now they're selling you this technology

“Oh, you don't need a sim—e sim”

I looked, I didn't think my phone would be clmpatible

It's a 5 year old model.

“Oh no—it's compatible! Congratulations”

Which means even 5 years ago before this technology became consumer,

They had the ability to open your phone make calls texts and connect to a network

They're just now letting you know

This has been around for at least a decade

And now they're selling it to you.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

That girl from the Uber teen commercial is so remarkably beautiful.

I hope she has a long and successful career.

Black beyond measure-/

Wat.

I'm so black, you can't measure my blackness.

What in the fuck

BLACK BEYOND MEASURE. BITCH.

Nooo. What. What is that.

I can measure my blackness.

To a t.

But yours!?

Oh no!

You're black beyond measure.

What does that entail?

Obviously it's a positive thing—

So black you are black beyond measure.

Woah, Nelly!

woah now!

Okay!

“Oh, how black are you?”

I'm like

“One half, exactly”

She's like

“¼— a quarter black, a quarter Cherokee”

How black are you?!

I AM BLCK BEYOND MEASURE, BITCH.

DAYUM.

That's a lot of black.

Oh, so I guess the door slammers are back cause I emptied my bank account on housing goods?

I guess.

Maybe it's triggered by some sort of poverty alert system

Sure.

That's hilarious.

I keep way more cash on hand than I do in the bank,

And my internet bill is due and everything, but after that—

I'mma still be okay.

Fucking pansy drones.

What do you think they are?

Underpaid.

Download this app now for

TRACKERS.

Huh.

And $10

Really?

Yeah.

Complete this mission:

What mission.

Go— over here.

Ok.

Now do this.

Huh.

Don't forget to wear red today.

Why red.

Meanwhile

Hey.

What's up.

You should wear blue today.

Alright. Why.

Cause we hate the democrats and you're a fucking loser.

What.

It's brainwashing. Wear blue.

What.

Wear blue!

Ok.

Wear these— super nice— like red sneakers.

Ok

Check it out. This red motorcycle is on sale.

What's up what's up. Get your red gear, highly affordable, street wear, outerwear—look just— nice looking stuff— wear red!

Why?!

Cause we hate the democrats and all the fucked up people are wearing blue today; you fit the look, okay, just wear red, and act conservative; don't question too much and stuff, be a robot.

Okay, what am I supposed to do.

Never ever wash your sneakers—

Okay.

Make sure they are white.

Alright.

Wear white.

Uh huh.

And be crusty.

Damn. The Dillon Francis decoys are back.

For what, I wonder.

I don't know, but that's impressive.

Would you say this is an act of magic, or manipulation.

Could just be some bizzare genetic anomaly.

Could be.

I don't know though, could just be I like lookin at him, and this is God's way of letting me without being a creep .

It's still kind of creepy.

Remember that this is happening to me and around me with no provocation whatsoever besides this series.

He hasn't even been written into the series lately. That much,

Dammit.

That's because I stopped listening to his music .

Why.

It was giving me heartburn.

Valid,

And I realized:

Goddamn. His eyes are devastating.

What in the total fuck, God.

WHY.

WHY.

(Almost cries)

Alright, don't do that— don't— just —

Here.

Okay.

Okay?

Yeah. Damn.

*sniffles*

You remember that kid with the awful eyes —

Which one?

The—

Oh, the Adonis!?

Yeah.

That's my son.

You son of a bitch.

Stay dead, bro.

That's not fair!

Okay, now—

Play dead

Play dead.

Roll over.

Shut up.

You shut up. Shit for brains.

Come here.

WHERE ARE YOU?

I'm— like out here, my nigga.

Once again, I am not your “that thing”

You mean that word?

No, I mean that thing—

Cause if you're gonna make it a thing,

It's a thing.

It becomes a thing.

A thing is a thing!

Agreed.

WHERE ARE YOU?

I'm out here, Tina Fey. I'm still out here. Where are you at?

I'm at THE ROCK, like you said to be—

At the time you said to be—

With the things you said to be—

waiting for you to show up here

LIKE YOU SAID YOU WOULD BE.

then that's where I am.

WHAT.

See ya soon.

*hangs up cosmic space intergalactic space phone*

Does that thing not have a name?

Almost nothing has a name at this point it would be redundant.

Heeeeere kitty kitty.

Let me just jump in to remind you real quick how this season arc started with a kite

Apparently it's a three season arc

Apparently, it's a 10-season arc cause the whole rock-kite thing started when I was on set for The Bachelor and Kesha said that fucking thing about a rock and a kite and it blew my brains out of my head that day.

Also acid.

Also that, but also—

Skrillex.

Facts.

I got a fax.

Whats's it say.

“Go fuck yourself. “

Ah. Whose it from.

You're— not going to believe this…

Why?

Cause I don't.

What's it say?

It says it's from you.

Hm.

Does that not— suprise you— in any way?

Check the date.

It says

—wait for it—

Okay, now this is odd, because it's today's date,

But it says it's from the year 1996.

1998.

Yes.

Okay.

Is that— okay?

I'll see you later.

Where are you going?

I'm gonna go fuck myself.

— I—

[leaves]

—-????

[beat]

Is that a metaphore for something???

{Enter The Multiverse}

lol why is Jason Sudakis in this series?

Cause why not?

And I don't know, I think he's got an arc

It's a weird arc, man.

What.

CUT TO:

asia

“Ali's joints”

So you have to like, purposely slamnthisndoornfornitntonbe this loud then?

Tried and tested.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Concourse 12. 8 PM. Sharp.

‘How am I still writing this story?'

What even is this story?

To be fair, I didn't know what I was writing but it sounded good—there was something powerful about the way the shadow figures danced in the confines of my mind—careful not to become attached to the love I had grown for them, the mysterious shadows, they appeared both as creatures of man, and as animals; this— The Prairie Dog— a fortified soldier but also a leader.

There's nothing you can do about this, you know.

Why exactly should I want to do anything at all?

It's a curse.

So it is.

—you'll be rid of it within the turn of seasons.

Worthwhile advice.

I envy you.

— as anyone should.

—you shouldn't.

The second, a voice unknown.

I didn't know these pussyfoot bastards worked on Sundays.

They work to the will of your beck and call.

Like all good slaves and servants should.

As to be expected under your remarkable guidance.

My remarkable guidance is yet to be a consideration as my unintentional inadequacies.

Verily, I'm sure.

Are you sure.

There was once a time I wasn't so sure or anything—

Now I'm more than sure of everything than I ever was.

Now I believe you.

—you shouldn't.

It was a raised scar, like the one on my elbow from when I was 9–one I was sure would never heal. It could easily be felt by running my tongue only the bottom of my lower lip— evidence that there has been a hole in my face that had gone straight through to the other side—just then I remembered that also my too teeth had left bloody, skinless indents on my upper lip, which eventually inspired me to re-pieirce my upper lip—the canine tooth had almost gone all the way through, anyway— I joked; but it wasn't funny.

Why in the fuck should I trust you?

That's a good question.

It's a question that deserves an answer.

Even if I gave you a good one, would you trust it?

What?

Do you trust me at all?

I'm trying to.

Trying is doing.

There are tougher things than swallowing your pride.

How about—swallowing a bullet.

That's some class-A on-screen banter.

Now I have an endless supply of coffee in my room. That's good—if only there were somehow also warm calorie-free pastries to add to the pleasure of luxury one would find such as waking up to one's own studio, fresh out of time and chock full of ideas, and a hearty list of things to do— with a whole world of…

Oh. The wi-FI is on.

Something about my creative intelligence had seem to spark a curious interest within the pre-concious life forms of the lower realms. Lucky, I was just visiting—sure to take my life at any given moment when just so I felt that I had been fed up to here with simply human senselessness; however, I was indeed tasked with enveloping humankind in my own ways—that is, the ways of higher thinking, as I had traveled far and long from an ascended realm, only of course to be welcomed by absolute l chaos—and some primitive, intrinsic fear. Humans happen to be almost immidiateky stifled by one's outer appearances—as to say the least— as when I first I arrived I was neither welcome, nor valued.

AHAT—WHATTHEFUCK.

Yes.

EEGH.

How do you do?

[The Festival Project.™]

{Enter The Multiverse}

There for I,

There for I,

There for I,

None! As truth did shatter mine ever being,

And also Ever person near

WHO VALIDATED THAT BITCH'S PARKING.

—you think she drove here?!

—if she did it would be on a broomstick.

Goddammit.

Get her out of here!

Out! I said!

You're…not a fan of Fallon's, are you.

No, I'm not.

(No—God, no.)

Well, why not?

First of all, he winks at people.

;)

*cringe*

Like, off camera.

And I want damages.

Damages?!

Damages.

He's seeking damages?! To what.

Like, my entire—everything.

Damages to everything.

My entire life!

Ah.

I've got to admit, being sued hy Jimmy Fallon is probably the most exciting thing that's ever happened in the entirety of this series!

What about that thing with Skrillex.

That was pretty exiting.

Which thing with Skrillex?

All the things with Skrillex were pretty exciting.

(Admittedly, yes.)

Then there was Dillon Francis.

I hate Dillon Francis.

Exactly.

Why!

Because he excited you.

Next question!

Ahead.

Yo. I finally get to link up with Supacree.

You're a mess.

Everything is a mess.

The world is a mess.

—your mom's a mess.

Amanda, please.

Have you been drinking?

How long has deadmau5 been a cat?

Forever, I think.

Exciting!

Enter through the exit! Enter through the exit!

Who the fuck let you in here.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©