| L E G E N D S: ICONS. |

It's like a bad relationship with absolutely zero benefits.

--did anyone else notice she wasn't playing James Brown at all?

SEASONS - EP

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

555>>>return to sender <<<<<<< 420 >>>>>>return to sender<<<<<<< coughs>>>>>return to sender<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>petite women >< reverse>< demon spell >< reverse>< unrest/disorganization spell>< reverse>>>return to sender>>>return to sender>>>>>all negative spirits, evil energy, bad energy return to sender>>> 5555>>>420>>>>return to sender>>>>Reverse/ sever all bonds>>>>>>bind/banish>>>relinquish all bonds>>>sever all ties>>>>>555>>>>420>>>>return to sender

*heal*

*protection*

*peace*

*love*

*light*

careful of mirrors

Round three?! How is thiis round three?!

CAUSE IT IS.

ARRR.

GUHHH

*EATING SLIM JIM REAL GNARLY*

What happened to rounds 1 & 2.

I DUNNO.

F I G H T.

Okay, Beyoncè. Wait right here. I'll be right back.

…

Beyoncè don't wait.

“Beyoncè Don't Wait”

Yo! Where's Beyoncè

I don't know! I

You don't know?!

I told her to sit right here and i'd be right back.

YOu TolD heR to “SIT & WAIT?”

Well, I told her to wait–

WHY WOULD YOU IMMACULATE HER LIKE THAT.

“Immasculate. “her”? “

BEYONCE DON'T WAIT.

Come on. Wake up.

Dude, what are you doing?

It's training season.

Training for what.

Wake uppp.

Nerr. Me sleeping.

Wake up–deadmau5.

…deadmau5?

*throws toy*

*Hits floor, runs after toy like dog*

Dude.

Oh, i know.

[On a wild goose chase through the infinite multiverse, the bampheramphs are collecting their cringiest alter-egos and parallel selves in order to trace the

What are they looking for again.

Well, it's Skrillex, but.

Is there another word for this.

No. there are no synonyms for Skrillex.

It's–not even in the dictionary.

Oh, it is.

Is it?

Yes.

I own every encyclopedia known to man.

Why.

Because I'm rich.

Ok.

–and full of knowledge.

…

…

Sunni.

What.

Where are you going to put all these?

In the library?

YOu have a library?

No, I bought a library.

*hangs head*

*nods pridefully*,* hits vape.*

Ugh. I

I hate you,

And your two dogs ,

Your pretty little girlfriend

You green lawn

And the white picket fence

that hold it all in

No offense

But i gotta get over you

Somehow

I wanna do dumb shit like play couples tennis

and host dinner parties.

I don't even know where we are right now.

I'M SO DRUNK.

I've got all the reason in the world

To not keep my eyes on you

But my mind's on you

Watch my eyeballs roll to the back of my head

THOSE ARE MY BALLS.

stop talking.

THOSE ARE MY–BALLS.

Sunni, don't do that.

I'M AN ICON.

KANYE WEST and SUNNI BLU are arguably the most obnoxious thing in Hollywood.

Oh my God.

I need a jealous and possessive man,

I shouldn't have to tell you that

Or ask,

In fact, I'd rather have you

Heavy handed, and

Standing over me.

Who is that?

That's C'cxell Soleil.

She told you her name?!

She sold you at an auction?!

Uh huh.

Oh, wow.

THE CELEBRITIES ARE OUT OF CONTROL.

This is for our entertainment.

THE GODS ARE EVEN WORSE.

–AHAHAHA!

God,

what a wonderful dress

I've got an eye for fashion,

Especially if it has my name on it,

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

I'm just saying;

If you beat your wide to a pull in front of your kids

And then literally kidnap the child you share to keep him away from her,

Then refuse to pay off the eviction on the apartment you lost because you beat her senseless in it,

THEN decide you deserve 25% of her income

You're a little pussy ass bitch..

I'm just saying

don't beat your wife, steal the kid

And then file for child support

—What a fucking Pussy.

I don't care what God you believe in

Even atheists get that kind of karma paid in full

Up front

Careful laying curses at your own doorstep

Careful what you say, fake shaman

You just might get it back

Careful who you lay with

And the games you play with heads

Cause bass will roll

It's getting old so

Burn in hell

With your regrets

I said

Amen

420 Starr Michael Roberts 555

You write and carve curses

I reverse them

Your sprite is my highest

My eye the divine

Fine,

Here's your time

—now nobody knows my name.

Now I lay with shapeshifters and hate you every day.

Now I'd rather be away from you

Than have the fame

Anyway,

As I prophesized,

Every time I cry

It digs a deeper grave for you

Not even the baby I gave you could save you

I already forgave you

But I forgot the words to say

—that slays you

Now I'm sick

So sick I can barely get to Hell's Kitchen

Where the devil is

Reminding me I'm irrelevant

Even the villain

Okay then

I guess I'll lighten to the coughs

And eat my cake then

Turns out everything you did and said

Ends in your detriment

Seems that I had woken up from the dead

And now I'm dead again

Everybody's lighting me up

So now I'm red again

And I'll keep playing these drums

Until I'm fred again..

you dumb fucking

but sucking knuckle busting motherfucker

I'm coming for ya

Tell your dad's lawyers to buckle up

Cause The ride's bumpy

—you never loved me.

What I go through...
just not to be reminded of you.

Good luck getting sober

Every day you're getting older and lonelier

The only hope you'll ever know is someone younger

Who doesn't know how slow you are l

Your favorite show is Naruto,

And in you're mind you're only 12 years old

I'd be feeling bad for you

But your karma is hardly over

Till you're homeless

With nowhere to go for a shower

The only power you have is

What I gave you

And these words are reciprocating

How what you put out in the world

Is what you get back; mi'm a talented rapper

And you're a fat sack of shit

With a sack of sticks and seeds

Greedy as it gets—

Half a white supremacist,

But the other half is where it all comes back at you

You're just a tool, fool

Never a champion

You fat ass

You ain't shit,

But a pedophile wifebeater

Addicted to kids with titties

Hot pockets and

All out of options

Just a nigger by standard definition:

Lazy as it gets

I ain't superstitious,

But sent all his demonds back at him

Imm the last attractive ass he'll ever get

Oh, I forgot

That was not me

His wife killed herself

After he hit her

Fuck Starr.

Now I know what curse words are,

Just keep coughing

Not gonna stop still you're in a coffin

But who's gonna buy it, I wonder?

The price might be skyrocketed for an

Extra extra large

Like the price of my apartment is

In the city I live, which

You've never been to

(But you wish)

Imm off in three stops

Wobbling trying to acknowledge all my options

Want to polish my knowledge in college but

Can't afford to go back,

Damn, I need a bathroom stat

A distraction to write raps,

With stomach cramps and a full bladder,

Can't stand it—

No cats allowed in this apartment,

But honestly,

Less responsibility's probably

More beneficial to me than

Anchoring myself to a place

That's more likely to be an Air bnb

While I'm on tour preforming

Here comes Dorothy,

Of course, if I had a body like her's I'd be adorable

Instead I'm just a horrible force of war,

My arms are swollen,

But I don't know,

I hate cardio

One more stop, I've got to —

Of course, the trains stopped in the station,

I'm caught wondering if there's gonna be an announcement about it

And if I should start recording l

But never stopped in the first place, I'm going crazy,

Automatically push the red button

As soon as the conductor starts talking

I'm crossing my legs like this is nonsense

I gotta

Finally, moving forward

I hope there a Starbucks or something

I love coffee in the morning but not on a long commute so I'm usually dehydrated and irritating my roommate all night

Just stocking up on electrolytes at midnight

StreetEasy isn't just an app, it's a game.

Half of the listings are fake, or scams—

—but it's a useful tool to see what kind of competition you have.

Narrow down what you're looking for—

Specify your tastes and preferences..

I swear I made this whole place up on my way here.

You promise.

It's got bagelsz

What exactly is she looking for in an apartment.

If I see a housing project within proximity or too many black people around, I'm leaving.

That's racist.

It's called “preference”

Ask Dillon Francis

Or Skrillex

I'm not racist!

It's just a preference!!

IRT

Put it on

Spin cycle baby,

That's right, I've got machines

Your clothes need washing

Come do laundry

Imm

One of a kind

You're one of a kind

,

That's right

Open me up

Bring me my kingdom come

When the walls down found

I'll be holding you, always

In the ark of your arms

Will you hold me

When the walls fall down

After

I won't contest that,

I need it

(When you creep into my dreams,

When I'm sleeping)

Heartbreak,

I'm bleeding

I won't contest that

You need me

(Even when you hold me close,

You know you're going under

Surreal

Concentric,

Karma central,

Mama Sutra,

Sentimental,

Tantric,

Esoteric

Differential

Chemistry

Alchemical,

Severence

Hypothetical

Irrelevance

Revelry, or

Consequences, considering the circumstances

Backwards, or what have you.

All men have alterior motives

All mentors or motivators

Contain untarnished reputations

Irrefutably—

Signal, the overused—

(Or group them all together)

Haven't you suffered enough, yet?

I think I've suffered the longest—

Have you been left in the dark yet?

Is it you, who never goes hungry

Aha,

There you are again

Curiosity killed the cat.

However, as it were—

Curiosity also m greatly enhanced the cat's ability to succeed in business.

So there you have it—one man's trash is another man's treasure.

I had recently trained myself out of the habit of picking things up off of the ground—save for a 64 Gigabyte SD card I had just so happened by a few weeks prior, in the same station where I found this— what appeared to be a very nice, sleek and modern briefcase, or portfolio of some sort. I couldn't help but pick it up and open it, and though I typically had specifically never wanted or needed other people's things, this almost seemed already to be mine, not to mention the fact that it was in the same station in which I had found the SD card, only feet away in fact—and it had been long since, it at all, that I had not believed in coincidences. I kicked it around a couple times, almost certain that I was supposed to—and it appeared to be empty—then, I picked it up, as I a voice down the platform even seemed to say “don't touch it@, and I very briefly put it down at the power station or something rather, before confronting my senses—I was sure that if I hadn't picked it up, someone else would, but also that I was intended toX anyway—that it was for me— and though I had let down much of my over aggrandized grandiosity or any sort of complex it did seem t times that I had some sort of following, or watchers—who seemed to put things into my path or just so happen to turn up where I would be, even if I hadn't known my very self that I would be in a certain place, almost assuring and asserting that somewhere along the line; in my lifetime, time travel beyond simply the astral had been succeeded—and perhaps even within my own belief system had it been possible at all. I did, after all, very decisively believe in magic and or magick, and, has recently more than before had committed myself almost religiously to the occult sciences, which, reflectively, I had been studying and perfecting for years, only of course to realize that there had been entire books written, entire civilizations built, and entire worlds of the type of magic I had practitioned naturally since the dawn of time—and though as I began to rationalize and even condition myself to be more normalized and mature in the way that society expected me to, I had become a firm believer and practitioner by proxy, only wishing to overcome and alleviate the severity of my own emotional toils—the loss of my children, the destruction of my marriage, and the ending of my closest friendships—unrequited love, homelessness, and the eventual body transformation which would in turn allow the development in an intrinsic sensitivity to trust one's universe—that so long as I was doing right to my body, my body would return the favor by assuring that in some how, some way, I would always have everything I needed, in one way or another. I had made it a point to be at the gym every day, for at least some time, if not an hour—and had finally broken the challenge I had set for myself quite by accident—the 8-minute mile, which I had achieved in the Bronx, once, running to Lin Manuel's opening number, the self titled In The Heights—a personal best whuch I had since broken, now running a mike in just over 8 minutes to my own mixes, and it didn't seem to matter which. But it wasn't enough—I wanted to be better—to run faster—to be better. I was motivated, of course, mostly by sex—and my insatiable need for it. Insatiable, of course, in the sense that I had been celibate going on years at this point—and had reached a tipping point in understanding the true nature of man—hardly ever meant to be monogamous; I intended to somehow remarry, and was certain that the more effort I put into self improvement, that perhaps I would—not that I expected a perfect man, but did intend a perfect father for my future children; I knew that my strong desires for a certain type of man could only be attributed to that of my own genetic attractions—as so say, that somewhere in my own consciousness, I knew and understood the type of children I wanted to design—even rather, the kind of children I knew I was capable of having—and truly intended my self improvement to design myself to be the ideal mate of my own.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Madonna wants to be a movie star, huh

Well I just want to be Madonna

Maybe we could help each other out, huh

Maybe that's why God's been calling out

Madonna, Madonna

You want it, i got it

Just call up the number

She's listed as

“A Nobody”

So far, so

I hope you know the code

The extension is 666

If you get disconnected

Just call back

And your call will be answered

In the order it was

Received

Kaskade made two of my favorite songs of all time ever.

One at the very begginning of his career…

And one well—-

SEATTLE WASHINGTON, 2021

Wherever he was a couple years ago.

Who knows, man.

Fucking time travelers.

Present day.

JAMAICA, QUEENS, NEW YORK.

Vs.

Add more weight.

DUFF VS ***

WHAT, I have to fight MYSELF.

You've been fighting yourself the whole time!

Shut the fuck up, Kaskade!

Language.

Shove it!

*eats popcorn obnoxiously*

Ugh.

Fuck me, man.

Whatever. I'm in the winners circle.

SAD NEIL DEGRASSE TYSON.

Woah: uh oh. What happened.

Still a genius.

SAD NEIL DEGRASSE TYSON has no formal education.

Oh no.

However,

He sees multitudes of equations as synergetic values swirling in his mind as he rides the bus , appearing to be in a mindless daze, however, still a genius, trapped in the confines of his own mind, stuck at a dead-end job.

Oh no.

That is bad.

Sup Neil deGrasse Tyson!

*bully smacks pizza to the ground*

Ugh.

Sucks to suck. Laaaagh!

Ugh.

*sighs deeply, attempts to pick up pizza*

Birds swarm the pizza, and a passerby steps on it*

This brings a single, aolitary tear to his eye.

Suddenly, the hunger struck me.

MEANWHILE, at the eye of NOWHERE, whereas in the multiverse Jamaica, Queens resides—AT BLINK FITNESS.

Father said, Skrillex (Mixed—Have a seat)

[Blū fails to raise the bench press]

V.O.

Or maybe it was the Skrillex.

***

Help. Please help.

THE GODS

Lol.

[a group of men rush to blu's aide—the entire gym, all men besides the workers, erupt into laughter.

“The Games of The Gods”

Do you ever finish these episodes?

Nope.

Meanwhile, Dillon Francis is the biggest dick ever.

Ahem.

I said IS, not HAS.

You don't know me.

Shut up, Mrs.pancakes.

That joke is so 2013.

I told you, already—-

PICKLE RICK

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

*falling*

Hey look, a pickle.

Oh.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

You know what! I like you!

Oh! That sucks!

Can you not say things like that?!

Things like what?! Things like me?! I thought you liked me!

I do—just—

What?! What Dillon Francis?!

Try to remember this is all just a dream.

A what?! Fuck you!

I'm going to count backwards from three—

Backwards for what?

Three

What

Two

What the fuck?

-One.

Lightning strikes— he claps his hands in time with the thunderclap—Sunni Blu immediately falls asleep—he watches them with a meniacal look in his eye, whispering into their ear, snapping one time—

DILLON FRANCIS

I'm going to count to three: when I clap my hands you'll wake up from this dream and into another—this world is my world— and in my world, from now on, whenever you hear the sound of a clap, you will remember who you are; and you will remember the sound of my voice.

[He claps—Sunni Blū remains asleep in this reality—but suddenly, in a cross-dimensional parallel, CC wakes up in bed, holding instead of a handgun, a banana—startled and still appearing to be soaking wet, though drenched in sweat rather than rain, she draws the banana outward, tumbling out of bed and looking over her shoulder, cursing.]

GODDDAMIT IT, DILLON FRANCIS.

Cut back t Dillon Francis drags Sunni Blu's body into a Holda Civic

Why a Honda civic

Seems like a regular car

Why not Nissan.

Could be a Nissan

So just make it a Nissan.

Ok.

[in the closest parallalell dimension, it is a Nissan.]

Nice.

(Shrugs)

Anything but a Subaru.

[being Skrillex]

SKRILLEx

SUBARRUUUUUUUUUUU—-

*zoom*

*splrSH*

(All wet)

Whatthefuck.

Meanwhile,

Did it work? Is she here?

Well, not yet…

Suddenly, a blue dot appears on the map.

Bingo.

YO.

we did it.

Suddenly, the dot turns from blue to red.

Wait, what happened.

I don't know

Suddenly, the red dot turns purple.

What the fuck is that.

The dot then splits into two dots

What.

I dunno.

I've never seen this before

The two dots each split into two dots—now there are four dots—a green, a blue, a red, and a yellow dot—they begin to blink and swirl in a mesmerizing pattern, before dissipating and dissappearing entirely.

The fuck!

I don't know!

Dude, do something.

Do WHAT.

Something!

This has no logical fucking explaination whatsoever.

The screen goes black. The map dissappears.

What happened.

We got hacked?!

That's IMPOSSIBLE.

It's not impossible

It IS impossible. It's the most impossible impossibility fucking EVER.

Okay, well—

Okay well?!

I don't know!!!

The screen returns—the map is blank—the four dots reappear, each changing in color sequences and shapes quickly and drastically, dancing and swirling around the screen—the map reappears,

the dots each spread to a separate corner of the map: north east south and west— the trails of the colors spelling out in the center of the map

M A G I C

I S

R E A L,

Then exploding into candy coated sparkles and confetti.

What the fuck.

*exasperated, under breath*

It's fucking…Dillon Francis.

What?!

ITS FUCKING GODDAMN DILLON FRANCIS. FUCK!

WHAT,

No WAY.

AAAAAGAGGGHHHHHHHHH.

*throws shit, all mad*

Careful!

What's it MATTER!?

…still…

*loses shit*

As he exits the base and enters his living room, he opens the outer door to find that l the entire living room is covered in candy coated confetti and sparkles; he slips into a puddle of strange gellatenous goo.

UHMPH.

The other two hackers come running o it from the lair, one also slipping in the goo, and the other stopping short at the door, in awe of the disaster.

Ow! What the fuck!

Whaaaaaaaaaa……

FUCKING—FUCK!!

On a speeding bullet to nowhere,

Comb out my hair for a moped

Or hope of a slow rush to

Some sorry apartment I pour all my art into

Home, where the heart is

It's cold, but she needs the attention—

Just as much as

I need the move that she gets from it anyway

Envy in outfits,

Dismissal of seasonal effective—

A positive adjustment suggests that

The entrance of pumpkin spiced

Knitted sweaters and puffed jackets

Are just as perhaps as attractive in essence

As nakedness,

To those in possession of

Personality

Then, something suggests

As progressed in possessions,

The payment was lovelessness

Entering sequence

SHIT!

What?! is it Skrillex?!

[Loading semi-automatic rave weapon]

Can't be too sure…

Yo.

Yo.

Madonna just walked in with Bob Saget.

Bob Saget is dead.

I KNOW THAT.

YO.

And they're about to do a B2B.

That's WILD.

Lol where is this party.

Bag as a basket,

Has to match the boots, hasn't it?

Suede, like encantmemts,

Enchanted, the spider,

Still, she works hard at it

(Hard as Manhattan)

Masterful hat, my dear

Happened to stand at the platform,

Just long enough to—

*SLAM*

Got ‘em.

Fuck.

Alright,

Okay.

So it's dark, right?

Yeah.

Ow watch this.

^immensely bright shiny light*

WOW.

You see that?

YEAH.

That's your light.

WOW.

Yeah, okay, now turn it off.

HOW?

That's right, you don't know how.

NO! I DONT.

Try to remember.

Remember what.

How to turn it off.

Why?! It's AWESOME.

Yeah, turn it off.

I don't know how.

Try to remember.

I—remember what.

Turn it—

I don't know how to do that.

Well, I need you to try.

What? What for?!

-*huge scary monster appears out of darkness

WOAH.

That's what for.

*MONSTER IS SCARY*

OH.

Yeah.

*SCARY MONSTER ROAR*

Ugh.

With a snap, they instantly CHARGE into THE VOID.

*heavy sigh*

Dang.

*nods*

You see, that thing—

*very scary monster*

And other things like it—

*vampires*

*demons*

*zombies*

*racists*

Eat light.

But I make light.

Exactly.

So why is that a problem.

Because.

These dark things can't be satisfied— they'll take all of your light, until there's nothing left

Oh...

And worse,

There are far worse things—

Worse than that?

Far worse. Things that will not only devour your light, but absorb you, and make you into a ravenous darkness—entrapped within the deepest realms of the outer worlds—a nothingness in which light cannot dwell—where no light can penetrate—no light is known—and you become such darkness

so how multidimensional is she.

Like, way multidimensional.

Way, multidimensional, dude.

I don't know if you want to take this on.

I like a challengeS

This is beyond a challenge, dude. This is, like—

This could be career suicide.

DILLON FRANCIS has a flashback to the most miserable moment in his career.

…I'm willing to risk that.

You're fucking crazy, man.

Crazy is good. Let's do it.

He slaps the table, cracks open a bottle of water and leaves, seeming bizzarely chipper.

…he's fucking insane.

*shrugs*

Pays my bills.

Yeah, I guess.

Gh0st.

What's all this supposed to mean.

I thought we were getting fat.

I wasn't serious.

Neither was I.

We were each other's imaginary friends.

What's that, a coping mechanism?

Almost.

What's that, a calling card?

Almost.

Hijacking Beyoncé. Gold.

I think the point I was making is I can't even touch Beyoncé.

Nobody touches Beyoncé.

Except Beyoncé.

Well, maybe Jay-Z.

Like I said.

JAY-Z is also BEYONCÉ.

Hah. Nice.

Everything is Every—

Shut up.

Why are you in GA.

I'm not gonna pay for a front row ticket to Fangirl Beyoncé.

I thought you were fangirling me.

Somebody has to.

Japanese Lady badly singing on the train

Should I record it?

Tempting, but—I'll just keep this moment to myself.

[literally the star of a movie]

(At least I tried. )

Besides, I want to know what she's saying.

How are you ever gonna know what she's saying.

Meanwhile, at Ultra Japan

SKRILLEX

(Being Skrillex)

Ugh.

MEANWHRHIRLE.

PASQUALLE ROTELLA is the head of the EDMADFIA

Ok. Is that

Electronic Dance Mafia

Fuxk, now I want Pop-Tarts.

Or

Electronic Daisy Mafia

PORQUE NO LAS DOS.

Fuck, or I want tacos!

THE ELECTRONIC DANCE MAFIA

Wearing sleek black mysteriously dark attire, only ever so rarely accented by red as to notate the higher ranks of the most organized *possibly criminal* organization

Wait, does the mafia still exist?

Yes. Yes it does m.

Ever.

Oh wow.

Yeah:

THE ELECTRINIC DAISY MAFIA

These flamboyant motherfuckers dress in purple with accents of pink, electric blue, and neon shades of yellow, green, and orange—but are highly mysterious, though almost obnoxiously

Lol. This bitch is literally singing on the train.

Wasn't that you just earlier?

I—

EARLIER, (but not that part:)

She seems to have taken a sudden interest in the occult.

[literally battling demons]

This isn't SUDDEN.

That is interesting.

[in agreement and solidarity]

Open the doors.

The thing that was sudden, was that I started to notice that something about my voice changed the energy in any room, depending on the way I used it—it became important to notate exactly how the energy changed, and also—

There she is.

What kind of people arrived at the sound of my voice—

Let's go.

Who was I calling to. What was the nature of this force, and

Your HIghness.

Uh, okay.

Why were they following me?

Alright, I'm signing off.

No, not yet...

Not yet? Dude—

It's not time.

What is time?!

*sighs*

You pushed it at Beyoncé.

Now who's fangirling.

NOBODY.

Yeah, except BEYONCÉ.

BEYONCÉ approached ME.

EXACTLY MY POINT.

You and points. Explains the tattoos.

You're one to talk.

Nah, not really.

I'm signing off.

*sighs frustratedly*

(whispered) HART.

The bright light which once illumated the space between them fades out.

Darkness.

It is a simple room, where the two archangels meet to discuss their ongoing journey through the inner and outer worlds—they are, in essence, twin flames, perhaps, as to be described as one soul, split to display spectrums of opposite, which together signify balance— and apart exemplify chaos, confusion, and dissasemblance; imbalance, impurity, and unsynchronistic—not yet true Gods but dieties of a higher existence, escaping often between realms and plains to telepathically banter in a battle of wits; they are alike because they are one another—they are seperate because in order to fulfill all duties of the higher calling, they must remain as opposites until the day is called that they must forge their powers for the betterment of humanity, and become as one.

A dark blue couch illuminated by a bright light, unseen but acting as the fourth wall, an old TV screen which displays a silent staic.

c o l o r s

Fuck, where is SUPACREE.

Oh, she's dead.

I know that.

Then why did you ask.

Because she should be here.

Are you serious?

I know she's here.

She's not. She's dead.

I know that:

Then why'd you—

THIS Is the land of the dead.

This is not.

What—of course it is.

It is not,

Yes it is! I just died this morning.

Hah. Okay.

“Okay?”

Yeah: “Okay.”

What's that mean?

It means “okay”

“Okay?!”

“Okay!”

[beat]

*sighs frustratedly*

Look, you said “SUPACREE”, right?

Yes.

And you just died, right?

Right?

Yeah! This morning!

Okay.

“Okay” you keep saying

*he shoots him through the heart*

[he is speechless, bleeding out]

Do you know how many times supacree died to be supacree

[he gasps for his final breaths, gushing blood]

Continued

I'm doing you a favor.

[He fully dies]

You owe me.

THE GOOGLE KIDS

are so cute.

*super cute kids*

WOW.

Very, very cute.

*crying from cuteness overload*

Look, puppies.

ugh.

so what did you do after you graduated Fame School.

NOTHING.

Huh?!?

In fact, I almost starved to death

*eggagetates gasps*

In fact, if it hadn't been for Whole Foods Market, I probably would have.

*more gasps*

Were they one of your sponsors?!

[braking* fourth wall, looking directly into camera]

I don't know yet.

WHOLE FOODS MARKET

yes.

Ok.

DILLON FRANCIS is the worlds most inconspicuous psychopath since Ted Bundy—his charm, fame, and status has kept his devious use of coercion, hypnotism, and lust for paysical and material possession under wraps for—

DILLON FRANCIS

(Jokingly, but not)

Haha. I'm immortal.

Well, centuries.

Meanwhile, wherever this is at:

See. Haha. This is fun. Adventure time.

Woo!

Haha.

What do you want, Dillon Francis.

I don't know yet. Haha. We'll see.

At this point, he's just fully meniacal.

This turnt up 8000 levels, bruh.

Eithe thousand levels.

What's that gonna do.

We'll see.

I just feel bad for Dillon's mom.

Don't worry— I am Dillon's mom.

Aww. You hijacked his mom?

I hijacked his everything.

You want a SPRIte?!

I don't drink—

DRINK THE SPRITE.

okok.

DRINK IT

AD:

DRINK SPRITEx

Ok.

Ok.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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