You're not —- conscious if you ain't been lost yet

You're not —- conscious if you ain't jumped off yet

You're not God, cause once you say you are:

Wait, have I been this far up—?

Yup, you just forgot//

You're actually still on the floor—

What!

You're knocked unconscious,

Now you gotta learn to walk with God

Until you are it.

Just don't say it.

[Break in case of Dillon Francis]

Who the fuck is Dillon Francis?

Must be important.

What is this?

It's tequila—

I've never seen this.

It's important;

—Doesn't smell like tequila at all—

Just drink it.

Agh! God! That's awful!

Oh my God.

Here he comes.

That doesn't taste like tequila at all! Agh//!

Because it's not.

This is bad.

Play the track//

I can't—

You have to.

What! What was that? God!

Oh, she's coming.

Run, Dillon Francis!

It's so done.

Who won?!

The Don Vs. The Dawn

Oh, boss battle;

Just throw up!

He's had enough!

Just— pure acid.

Excuse me, what?

No, you're not//

I'm not what-/

You drugged me!

Dillon Francis: Unplugged

I won! I won!

Because,

Ufffff

I love you!

Nuuuuuuhhhh—

Just sit down

What is “down”

Down is up.

[she sits him down]

It's working quick-/

Holy shit, man!

Dillon—you're a drunk!

YOU DRUGGEd ME.

I just wanted a hug.

What the FUCK!

Listen, Dillon, quickly, before you're up.

What is “up”?

Up is under!

What!

Listen; this is interesting stuff; now, when you get to Love, you have to remember EVERYTHINGZ THAT HEPPENED on your way up—and under—

I can't see anything—

Of course you can't, you're way too drunk.

WHAT.

Just DJ stuff.

Alright, you're up.

DILLON FRANCIS, everyone!

Dillon Francis is very fucked up.

His set has just started.

Hundreds of thousands flock to cheer him on.

Oh my Good God.

I told you she was

Are you drunk?

I AM LOVE.

What the FUCK.

–Abro–

DILLON, you're on!

I really need a hug.

[The white rabbit stops opposite of Dillon Francis, looking him directly in his eyes with a shining light, and whispers telepathically:

You're so fucked,

Huh. WHAT,

Well, gotta run.

Where's Dillon Francis?

He's gonna miss the luncheon.

What's he on!!!

Were you with him?

I was not.

What the whaaaattt!!!

[As Dillon lifts his hand in an uncoordinated attempt to reach the knob, the audience dissolves as he turns raises the volume from thousands to just one, front and center.]

You got this.

[He stops, and suddenly, though sweating in a red and swollen puff, says quite clearly.]

I do not.

No headphones, huh?

He looks down at the decks and sees the entirety of the infinite cosmos;

WELCOME TO LEVEL 1

Oh my God.

Yes, Dillon—what?

This is a lot…

It always was.

Oh yeah, huh.

Oh—you're God!

I always was.

Yeah, I FORGOT.

He always does.

Huh?

Your unconscious body.

I'm not unconscious…

Quite the opposite, actually—

[the infinite cosmos expand]

—the omnipotent God.

All Omnipotent Conscious…

Oh, yeah, huh—

Almost all—

What?

Your body's lost.

What body— what?

The uncertainty has caused the infinite cosmos to instantly vanish into a pre-conceptual non-existent theoretical preliminary form of thought—

The nothing that eventually becomes, with enough expression, the notion of subconscious thought.

The birth of consciousness becomes.

Wait. You're using Dillon Francis as a model to explain the theory of infinite reality and enigmatic omnipotence.

Yes.

What?

Nothin. Just watch.

What's he ON?

He looks lost.

(Lost ass motherfuckers in the sauce)

This set is awesome.

Non-famous music producers

This set is balls.

What is going on.

What is this.

The soul train.

It looks painful.

Just get on.

[checking pockets]

Fuck. My soul. I lost it.

On what planet.

I don't know. The one with the—

Oh, the one with the wobble?

Yeah, the wobble one.

With the—?? [nondescript sound]

Yeah:

Oh, fuck sauce.

It was sauce.

That's so far.

...just take the car.

Take the “car”

Uh huh.

Into deep space.

Uh huh

To infinity, and beyond.

Uh huh.

Why the “car”

Remember the time:

ALIEN SPACE SHIP LANDS AT TACO BELL—

The entire existence starts again

I wanted tacos.

Take the car.

Ugh! Fine!

I'm not restarting all of consciousness because you don't know how to turn the invisibility feature on—

OH MY GOD.

what! You can park a military grade tank at Walmart, but not/-

No you cannot! This species is primitive, our technology is beyond their retarded comprehension.

Don't say retarded!

They keep killing the planet they're on—

Why would they murder an awesome God?!

They think it's just a rock.

FUCK THE CAR, LETS TAKE THE ROCKET.

No, My God, just—take the car/-

I'M GONNA BLOW THEM OUT THE COSMOS

No you're not—

OH, COME ON!!!

That's your broken soul talking–

–It's not broken, it's lost–

–just take the car and get it.

A MASS EXTINCTION—retarded fucking aliens—what are they again

They are “humans”

But we're humans—

They're our primitive ancestors, this is technically in their conceivable “future” which only exists in their own planetary measurement of “linear” time—

That doesn't exist—

–everything exists–

what—planet is this again? They are retarded. What that faaaaak.

Just take the car and get your soul back before it gets stolen.

How would it get stolen? It's probably wherever I dropped it.

Yeah, or not/-

—nice, a soul—

—and, what is this? Half a Tesla?

Nice, score.

—oh never mind, it's just a half eaten tic-tac

Who eats half a tic tac—?

—even worse—who buys ORANGE tic tacs?

[DILLON FRANCIS awkwardly approaches the register; he awkwardly searches for something to buy while trying to look normal]

He does not look normal.

This is horrible.

Poor Dillon Francis.

He is poor.

What! No he's not.

Dude, just watch.

Have you seen this?!

Shhh! Watch.

[He selects one pack of tic tacs and fumbles it onto the counter. The cashier stares into his soul as he gulps and fidgets waiting for the cashier to ring it up. Very slowly, without breaking his gaze from Dillon's wavering awareness, he scans the tic tacs.]

$1.99

[Dillon Francis produces his debit card and attempts the purchase.]

DECLINED.

He tries again.

DECLINED.

One more swipe.

DECLINED.

[The cashier very loudly nearly shouting:]

IT IS DECLINED.

Yeah, I—alright—

IT IS DECLINED.

–For 1.99?

IT IS DECLINED—

Alright, alright;

[He tries another card, and a third and final card.]

DECLINED.

DECLINED.

DECLINED.

He checks his wallet and the lining of his pants for cash; nothing.

Poor Dillon Francis.

Oh my god!

Yo, just watch.

Was he robbed?!

What's he on?!

He looks awful.

Is he just wearing socks?

[He is, in fact, not wearing any shoes, and two different socks; one of which is an ill fitting women's low cut sock, the other a disgruntled and shady looking tube sock, his big toe protruding through a hole in the front.]

He leaves the store, defeated.

What channel is this on?

It's on God.

...excuse me, what?

Shh, don't tell anyone. I bought it off the black market.

What.

Shh. This is the good part.

I thought this was a live broadcast-

I read the comics.

What?! There was a comic?

Fuck yeah man—

I got the podcast!

PODCAST?

Yeah, man—where have you been?

...all this happened when I was at Lost Lands?

What! Which lost lands?

Aww lost lands. I can't believe they canceled Lost Lands.

Canceled—for—I just left!

I thought you went to visit your parents in Maryland?

My parents live in Utah.

Oh, I'm sorry:

I thought it was Boston.

What.

Utah, oh my God, that's awful.

Yeah, I wouldn't visit either, man—

Yeah, I'm not.

—where have you been then!

At Lost Lands!

There was no lost lands; since the pandemic happened

Worst year ever.

What pandemic—when was THAT?

What?!

[the TV cuts off]

…

Wait, what happened?

It just cut off.

What “pandemic” man!?

COVID!

What is that?

Uhhhhhhhh—-duh/ the reason everybody's wearing masks?!

I got this mask AT Lost Lands.

No you didn't.

Yeah I did! I just got back.

I would deny visiting Utah, also—

Yeah man, but it's just us, bro, don't feel bad!

I don't feel bad! I mean, I do, but only cause I've been at Lost Lands camping and being thrashed—

You're always thrashed—

…Yeah… but not always camping;

I love Lost Lands

Yeah, me too—

Bring it back!

What BACK I swear to Excision I just got back!

Be careful, man—

I swear to JEFF.

Too far, dog—

That's impossible, no festivals have happened during the pandemic—

WHAT PANDEMIC?! On what planet!?

On this one, dumb ass—

Yeah, I'm pretty sure we're the only planet with lost lands

(We're not. Jeff has interplanetary business expansions)

I JUST LEFT IT.

Bruh I don't know what you did in Utah—

I was at Lost Lands—I went camping—swear to all the bassgods

All of em—goddamn!

—look, I met this girl named Nancy—

Nancy?!

How old was she, 40?

I don't know, I didn't get to ask, she broke her neck—!

WHAT?

Woah, man—

Swear to all the BASSGODS—I took a picture with her before the set.

What the fuck—

I'll show you; oh fuck, my phone is dead.

That's convenient, isn't it.

Look, it was a long as weekend.

Every weekend is long in Utah.

I was at LOST LANDS.

Keep telling yourself that.

Fuck you, Ted.

No thank you, Tim.

It's “Timmy”, thank you very much— Tim is my dad.

God, you are Mormon.

My family is.

I'm sorry, man.

It's alright, I get a planet, or something as long as I say “I'm sorry” before I'm dead.

Are you sorry?

No, not yet.

Speaking of dead—is your phone on yet?

I just plugged it in.

[An awkward silence]

Blackout.

[The Apple logo illuminates in the center of the screen.]

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.