Yo, what the fuck.

TESLA.

Ok.

*COUGHS*

What the fuck.

*morevgross, obnoxious coughing*

Ughhhhh whhhaaaattttt.

TESLA.

Okay, I don't—

T E S L A

OH. Wow.

So it is the satellites.

ELONNNNN.

…hm?

GET IN HERE.

where is that,

.

AAGAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHTTHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

WHAT.

GET IN HERE.

I don't even believe the rain, these days

“We can make it rain”, he says

Storm warning

A good morning

A door's open,

This one's closing, though

I'm not bc all cold yet,

But it's a cold world

No free rides

No clean ice

No free girls

Honestly,

I'm bored with the world,

Like Marlboros and wrong boroughs,

And songs shared,

But no long walks in the park,

In a nightmare—

It's not fair

I'm not there in the head;

I'm not near,

I'm not a parent apparently, either—

But a light bearer

Slight chance of a fight there,

A right wing, a left deer

Another dead bird on a wire

—I like her.

Why are there flamingos in the bellagio fountain?!

I don't know.

INT. THE VOID, KITCHEN. SUNLIGHT EVERYWHERE

BRYAN CRANSTON is scmoozing desperately to work his way into The Festival Project

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.