{The Audio Files}

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

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

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

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

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

-blu.

INT. ALIEN SPACESHIP - DAY

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

ALIEN 1

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

ALIEN 2

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

ALIEN 1

BLIM-BLIM-BLIM-BLIM— FLAU—FLAU—FLAU!

ALIEN 2

—————EeeeeEeeeeeEEEEEEEEENNMMMMMMMMMNGGGGGGGGG!!!

ALIEN 1

Wfuh!

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

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

RACHEL DRATCH

(To herself, almost a whisper)

Well, this is… something.

CUT TO:

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

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

SUNNI BLU

(Muttering)

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

Suddenly, a disembodied VOICE echoes in the room.

VOICE (V.O.)

You will fail this test.

SUNNI BLU

(Startled)

There's a test?! What test?!

VOICE (V.O.)

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

CUT TO:

EXT. THE LONELY ISLAND CLIFF - DAY

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

ANDY

—NO…

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

ANDY (CONT'D)

I told you I could stick the landing.

ALEKSI (V.O.)

It wasn't always The Lonely Island…

CUT TO:

INT. HEAVENLY WAITING ROOM - DAY

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

ALEKSI

guardian angel.

TINA (O.S.)

Whatever.

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

ALEKSI

Hello.

TINA

Oh my God!

ALEKSI

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

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

TINA (CONT'D)

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

ALEKSI

Yeah. I think that's what this is.

TINA

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

ALEKSI

Something like that.

TINA

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

ALEKSI

—wow.

TINA

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

FLASHBACK:

INT. AIRPORT SECURITY - EARLY MORNING

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

TINA (V.O.)

This was staggered sleep from atop a lopsided beanbag.

TINA (Muttering)

Agh, God!

TINA (V.O.)

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

A stern-faced AGENT approaches her.

AGENT

The Agency thought you were terminally ill.

TINA

Terminally? Geez.

The AGENT clears his throat.

AGENT

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

TINA

I see you.

AGENT

Undoubtedly. —an incentives.

TINA

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

AGENT

Oh, I'm the captain now?

TINA

You were always the captain.

AGENT

This is news to me.

TINA

News to the News. That's something new.

AGENT

Nothing is new.

TINA

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

AGENT

Try looking pretty.

TINA

I tried. It didn't work.

AGENT

Try…harder.

TINA (V.O.)

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

FLASHBACK:

INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT

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

VOICEOVER (V.O.)

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

TINA

Major Tom.

SHADOWY FIGURE

Yeah.

TINA (V.O.)

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

A shimmering PORTAL opens in the middle of the apartment.

TITLE CARD: AS SEEN ON TV: PART III

TINA

(Staring at the portal)

Where the fuck is part one and two?!

SHADOWY FIGURE

Maybe it starts at three!

TINA

Nothing “starts at three”

SHADOWY FIGURE

Maybe it's like Star Wars!

TINA

It's not like Star Wars!

A CATACLYSMIC SPACESHIP COLLISION and EXPLOSION sound effect.

TINA (CONT'D)

…it's not like Star Wars.

SHADOWY FIGURE

Uh huh. It's better than star wars.

A giant collective GASP is heard.

TINA

-_-

*the world stops*

TINA (CONT'D)

-_-

Suddenly, all sound ceases.

TINA (CONT'D)

Woah. That's different.

SHADOWY FIGURE

There: I fixed overpopulation.

TINA

But—

SHADOWY FIGURE

But what? I fixed it.

TINA

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

SHADOWY FIGURE

Yeah, so?

TINA

Like an overwhelming majority.

SHADOWY FIGURE

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

TINA

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

SHADOWY FIGURE

Uh. Only to heaven.

TINA

What does that mean.

SHADOWY FIGURE

Heaven for any Star Wars fan—

TINA

Where is that.

SHADOWY FIGURE

The world where all of that stuff— is real.

TINA

What—what do you mean by that.

SHADOWY FIGURE

I sent them to Star World.

TINA

That sounds so fucking gay.

SHADOWY FIGURE

Cause it is.

TINA

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

SHADOWY FIGURE

No duh.

TINA

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

SHADOWY FIGURE

All of them.

TINA

Jesus, Tina. You might be ancient.

SHADOWY FIGURE

I'm dust.

TINA

Hey— What. Why are you my assistant now.

SHADOWY FIGURE

Assistant? No. I'm your executive producer.

TINA

ExeCUTEive producer— you do put the cute in that.

SHADOWY FIGURE

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

Ugh. Fine. SUDAKIS.

JASON SUDAKIS appears

CONT'D.

And nobody cares, of course

Because she is formerly gorgeous

(Not no more)

I'm standing on four paws

I'm studying your laws

If this was your office

I'm your boss

And I caught you taking your clothes off

You're boring,

I started to doze off

Don't call me no more, hoe

So now your broke

You started a war slamming doors

Because you can't find no more work

Hoe

Karen and Becky are probably blessings

Cause they do not get me

But I'm doing better and yet

They are starting to sweat cause

I'm starting to flex

They're slamming the door

They're starting a war

They never been homeless before

Or hungry and poor

But no peace of mind? It's fine

I'll probably find in time

That they crossed the line

And get left behind

The red dots are trying

To plot

I'm crying a lot,

I'm out of the box, jack

I spring up but I do not pop

I'm talking to God,

He's telling you off,

I'm calling him “her”,

She's telling me

“Sure, I'm not really sure,

But I got the cure for your disease

The God of Mercy, Mercy Me

I got my first Mercedes in 1993

Look at me.

CUT TO:

INT. BACKSTAGE - NIGHT

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

CONAN

(Muttering)

Just… need… a little… pick-me-up.

A mysterious FIGURE appears silently behind him.

FIGURE

Feeling better, Conan?

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

CONAN

(Slurring)

I don't know what you're saying.

CONAN (V.O.)

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

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

MAN

O'Fallon, you old coot!

CONAN

(Confused)

Oh year.

MAN

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

CONAN

Ah yes, the fighting Irish—

CONAN (V.O.)

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

A fierce, heavily tattooed WOMAN bursts in.

WOMAN

MUNROE!!!!!

(V.O.)

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

CUT TO:

EXT. MUSIC FESTIVAL - DAY

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

ANDY

Yo.

SECURITY GUARD

What's good.

ANDY

What's your deal with the KKK, anyway?

SECURITY GUARD

(Scoffs)

I like them. They're funny.

ANDY

They— want to kill you.

SECURITY GUARD

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

ANDY

Are you serious?

SECURITY GUARD

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

Narrow down my picks I like them Icelandic And Slavic

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

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

But only in thought forms Keyboard warrior,

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

Oh God

No Lord— I should win an award for this song

I should win an award for this song

I should win an award for this song

MORGAN FREEMAN (V.O.)

ANOTHER nomination.

ANDY

No way. This is crazy.

ANDY spots SUNNI BLU in the crowd, looking stressed.

ANDY (CONT'D)

SUNNI, Do you have the academy on your payroll?

SUNNI BLU

(Shouting over the music)

Ask the accountant?

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

SUPER JEW ACCOUNTANT

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

SUNNI BLU

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

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

More Jews and Rosecurucians

More Jews and Rosicrucians!

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

Sharks.

(And surfboards)

More news and prosecutions

More blues and resurrections

More impossible erections Interject—

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

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

I've way more than four dollars—

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

I wear cargo pants for the ride home though.

No homo.

CUT TO:

INT. HEADQUARTERS INTERROGATION ROOM - DAY

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

MAN

I… am a trained assassin.

CC

That's— impressive.

MAN

There are people who want to murder you.

CC

Now I'm impressed with myself.

MAN

Is that so.

CC

Yes! Ah. Delighted, actually.

MAN

Who are you?

CC

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

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

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

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

MAN

I don't.

CC

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

MAN

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

CC

What about yours?

MAN

What about it?

CC

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

INT. OBSERVATION ROOM - DAY

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

DETECTIVE 1

What could possibly be going on in there?

DETECTIVE 2

Anything.

DETECTIVE 3

I wonder what she's saying.

DETECTIVE 1

Anything.

DETECTIVE 2

Looks like she has him cornered.

DETECTIVE 3

Maybe.

DETECTIVE 1

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

DETECTIVE 2

No.

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

MAN

…Natalie?

CC

You wanted “CC” so I'm “CC”

The MAN strains against his restraints.

MAN

Who who's this?!

CC (V.O.)

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

CUT TO:

EXT. NEW YORK CITY STREET - DAY

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

LIZ LEMON

(Into phone, angry)

Hello?

CUT TO:

EXT. MARDI GRAS PARADE - NEW ORLEANS - DAY

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

TRACY JORDAN

(Into phone, jovial)

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

LIZ LEMON (O.S.)

I'm AT the parade! Where are YOU?

TRACY JORDAN

Not that parade! Mardi Gras!

LIZ LEMON (O.S.)

MARDI GRAS?!

TRACY JORDAN

Yeah!

LIZ LEMON (O.S.)

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

TRACY JORDAN

Don't worry, I'll be there.

LIZ LEMON (O.S.)

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

TRACY JORDAN

It's Mardi Gras!

LIZ LEMON (O.S.)

I KNOW ITS—

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

FADE OUT.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

…If you haven't seen him at his worst…

WHERE'S MY SHIT?!

…yo…you are so evil…

[*breaks everything*]

…Then you don't deserve him at his best.

I'm your host, Jimmy Fallon

And this—

Is

TRUTH OR DARE?! ‘

This dude is easily the best villain ever.

Easily.

{Enter The Multiverse}

Blue eyes, it is.

I wish, I wish,

Be careful what you wish for,

Or cook in a Petri dish

The world is a stage,

The people a plague

The magic was gone,

The days were the same.

[The Festival Project ™]

Blonde hair, blue eyes;

Live once, lose twice—

Brown skin, brown eyes

Die inside.

(Or just die.)

{Rewind}

Captain

Captain!

Oh, Good, come in, Cannon.

You've—changed.

…as you know, Monday we disembark.

Yes, I'm aware.

And as you know, the details of the mission have been classified, even to us.

Yes.

I find that alarming. And so, without anymore thought I've decided to masquerade as my old self.

How old are you, anyway?

You should never ask a woman her age, LT.

Sargent. * or the other way around, I clearly don't know.

Sorry. Your recent promotion keeps slipping my mind; I…haven't been myself lately…

Obviously not, if you've decided to publicly dress like that.

I'm still very much in the privacy of my office.

You can consider me the spokesperson on behalf of the public.

Never as a woman her age!

You're not a woman; you're my captain.

We'll see about that after tonight.

Being a woman, or being my captain?

Both, probably.

Hm.

By any chance would you be interested in joining me?

As your subordinate, or as a man.

Both, probably.

Or neither… presumably.

As my escort.

I beg your pardon.

I've been known to become rather out of sorts in this condition.

—er, your condition, captain?

Dead drunk and blind with fear out of my mind.

[he ponders for a moment, knowing that the mission could very well be their last.]

Consider it done.

Great. Get dressed, and meet me with the car out front in half an hour.

Half an hour?

Sharp. Bonus points for showing up early.

We're earning points?

We are now.

Very well then. What am I wearing?

Something sharp.

Sharper than the inside of a half hour.

On your mark.

I'll—see you soon.

He exits the captain's office, letting out a sigh of relief otherwise previously congested, he looks around as if not to be caught, regains his composure with the shake of his head, somewhat in disbelief of what he's witnessed. He casually places his hands in his pockets, walking down the hall and passing one of his crew mates, who quickly stops to salute him.

Sergeant.

Almost forgetting to salute back, mindlessly drifting passed in ‘off' mode, he slowly and squarely, almost still casually, salutes back.

Oh.

I had glimpsed at a picture of the man once more that had forced me to wonder— “Jesus Christ, is he okay?” It would be odd to think of a man who has spent a better part of the last two decades and most of his careers on camera as unphotogenic, then again—I had been tricked by the media before into thinking a certain way, and therefore was cautious, and still—I began to wonder about the man and his misery, and his mistresses—not out of jealousy or obsession, but simply because I knew he had them. He was old Hollywood, or old New York—or maybe a bit of both, and there was something about it all, perhaps even my own darkness, that danced with the flicker of sinful lust that motioned me towards not a yearning, or the act of doing so—I was at least wise enough to know nothing good could come from doing harm to oneself or another— but with the intensity of burning desire to know the man behind the mask—the actor inside the actor, to whom all the world's a stage.

Whatever, though. Doesn't matter.

At least I was still somehow youthfully resilient to what might have otherwise been torture,

TVP

S2- after Esha's promotion to head writer.

DAEMON DALLAS, aka “DASH” is a quick witted, fast-talking comic powerhouse— his legendary stand up and acting career has made him a legendary force in movies, film, and television; he has been booked on the show to sit down with his longtime friend Patrick about his new stand up comedy tour.

—

Who's this beautiful sister.

My head writer; don't even think about it.

I dont think. I just do.

Esha approaches— Dash politely bo s and kisses Esha's hand

Should I get tested?

—and funny.

Against Patrick's wishes, Esha accepts a date with daemon dash, furious Patrick means to interrogate her

Why would you even date that asshole

Because—Pat. He's a comedian.

I'm a comedian! So?

So, he's funny.

And?

And he said things to me—

What kind of things

Charming, funny things—

Okay?

Things he wouldnt say to you over dinner— because, I'm

—you're a woman.

—and your head writer. So naturally.

Esh, you're a genius,

So is he. We have—some new material to work through.

Ahq!

Your monologue tonight.

Oh yes. Oh yes.

You can thank me later. Broken bottles. :9'd one stop her

Walkin walking

God knows I don't belong here

And I don't want to

Passover was April 21-30

Global War on Terrorism

Aka WWIII

Oh, indeed.

Don't look left

Take a deep breath

My heart beats differently

I think it might be the end

I think it might be

I think I might be the enemy.

The pushing mechanism

When i breath him in

I levitate

And gravitate to what it meant

The sake of the art,

The hurt of the heart

As sacred as it ever was

The turning or the Torah talks of

Gestures, since the fall of Rome

The toga on the alter

Solid hands unwrap us all

From falling over

Old and awkward

No award for wisdom

No rest for the wiser

No love for the troll

Since thunder struck from under us,

Delivered all but what we wanted

So we talk of karma sutra,

Surely we can't talk at all

Of what we know

As once was bonded

Laughed it off

To come from what

The call to us,

Fair serve governors fortress

I work up in mentions

Carved the scarlet letter out of

Cannons, of course

MA.

WHAT. I'm BUSY.

ITS ON.

The what?

The show we watch!

The one that—

YES,

Oh, my GOD.

Yes.

YESSSSSSSSS.

Usnavi, get your popcorn

This is some worth watching

Up in arms for forwards

Causing sore arms,

Numb thumbs

From crucifixes

Are you wondering what God

Would walk about the horned carving

A kamazake walk of tall corn—

Follow me, dear mantra

Your whole house is watching.

Sacre.

It's happening again isn't it.

I do want ice cream.

All I need is a divorce

And an Amazon woman 10 foot tall

To rub me off at the stroke of

Nevermind what the clock says

In God's house they're all wrong

The blsphomoous for Catholics

Has begun,

So strum your number into the teleprompter

And just hope no one gets hurt

By the hook on the next song

—like the hook of my last surviving bra

digs into my back does,

Or the skin on my lack of tummy

Has rubbed off under the suicide

Of the cycle—

It's getting tighter

A loss of interest is equal to

A loss of conciousness

And I'm 21 days drunk

On the alternate, though—

I'm sober and feeling less

Loved.

The animal I've become is all cardio

And karma sutra

For karma comes

To the weak of heart

To use the world as swords

To cause harm

To the calm artists

I thought I told you off once.

(Already)

You look awful.

lol.

You look terrible, broh.

But my album sound fire.

#producerholes

[portal]

It's coffee time!!

It's not coffee time!

It's not coffee time.

Iiiiits coffee time.

Damn.

Where's the cat.

Gestating.

{Enter a the Multiverse}

Wake up in a wet bed,

sweat pouring

engine strikes

Disaster, roaring

Ranting, raving,,

Lunatics, icons

Ione, eye color

No warning:

I want you

Adonis

New Adonis

I got something for you;

It's got four doors,
I know you can't afford it,

Come on,

Only one offer

Come on,

You know I want you

What I want a car in New York for?

Even the scorecard,

Cork off the bottle, huh?

Go figure.

I got sharp numbers,

No harm no foul ball;

Still stick in the Capstone,

There's a sandstorm

On the first montage.

Pitch up,

With the fever pitch

With the fever pitch

downstroke

UP

Pitch down

With the force

With the force

Or

What have you

Play ball,

No–

playfair

Payboy model

Wayfair value

Strict non-orders

Foreigner syndrome

Alcohol bottle

Palinstrome, Astronomy

No, Farquad

Noah's Ark and all

Going door to door,

the doctor

Doing more and more

The Talk show host

Losing more the Mortimer,

Call it

Losing more,

The Watchamacalit,

Chocolate bar,

So far,

Hard to forget

No,

Hard Ball,

Soft pitch

Watch this.

THE COSMIC AVENGER

(V.O)

I cannot resist a chocolate cake!

Huh.

Seriously, I'm telling you.

*sniffs*

hm.

{Enter The Multiverse}

Yo, i'm telling you: she's spot on.

Like, scary accurate.

Precise. Always right. Even on Tuesdays.

Why would it matter if it's Tuesday or not?

Most Psychics are wrong on Tuesdays.

Really.

You didn't know about this?

Never heard that.

Most of them.

Last I saw Kurt he seemed to be okay—doing well for a place so cold, and still, almost enjoying his time, somewhere cold enough that the chill on his breath grasped at mine, as I was prone to waking in these moments.

Anymore ghosts?

Who'd you want!?

More players.

And as it turns out,

Strike force five was nothing but a simple game,

Played by a group of—

MOM

Boys?! Supper!

INT. BASEMENT- THE SUBURBS, ANYEAR

In a distant parallel, it is a nondescript year of a indeterminable past time— in non linear time, we could be anywhere, but for period's sake, it appears to be anywhere between the 1930's and the early 1960's, the home itself adorned with qualities of any of these given eras; the clothing classic, dreamlike— pre or post war? Was there a war at all in this parallel; and it seems a partially imagined place altogether — it is, in fact, a dreary and almost comic book other world— a cross- parallel.

The boys vary in ages from 8 to about 12, and between the five of them, brash little Irish lads, besides one English chap, whom anyone would probably bet at least at some point in his lineage was probably also Irish (or Irish enough) have summoned up, though amidst a flurry of baseballs cards and other boyish relics, seem to have assembled from old newspaper cuttings and superhero memoriabilia—some sort of game on the basement floor, though, they bicker and argue so much about how the game should be played that it is unclear whether they're playing any game at all, or just rapid-firing ‘jokes' at one another with absolute disconcert for anyone's feelings.

They call themselves

—

Nevermind, it can wait.

{Enter The Multiverse}

What is this nonsense

You fucking dork.

I'm a key player.

Speaking of keys—

Wasn't me.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. The Complex Collective ©

Did I forget Steve Allen?

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

WHY!

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

There's three of us.

Where's number four?!

{Enter The Multiverse}

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

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

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

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

—Tales of a superstar DJ.

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

Lindsay, wake up.

Mmfh.

[Does not wake up. At all.]

Lindsay.

Mmf.

Tequila.

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

*very serious knocks on the door*

Oh shit.

[suddenly, more drunk again]

–oh shit.

*three more knocks*

Where's the tequila?

SUNNÏ

Ah, shit.

Is that your lawyer, or your manager?

Shit, maybe both.

SUNNI. OPEN THE DOOR .

–Might even be my agent, too.

OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR.

(Both, in cheesy unison, tiny rock concert}

I CHIMED IN WITH A

HAVENT YOU PEOPLE EVER HEARD OF

[Sunni opens the door.

No, it's “closing the door–

not “open the door”

“The Goddamn door.”

Right, Goddamit.

–where's the tequila.

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

Eww–”morning aftery”

Not like that.

*addendum*

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

–Very

Holy Shit , God.

What.

You rule.

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

So fucking fancy.

Was that lindsay lohan?

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

–It's ‘Morgan”

–She's just over there now. Not was

How are you even friends.

FLASHBACK

‘ I don't want to be the reason,

I could never know you—

And I don't want to be the reason

I could never love you'

‘Weird dreams, bro.'

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

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

I didn't ask flat out.

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

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

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

Lol.

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

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

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

“Okay…”

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

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

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

Of courses

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

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

Then on the music.

—Tales of a superstar DJ.

lol what happened to Lindsay?

Idk.

I could practically taste the tequila.

Well, I was the one pouring it.

Way to enable.

I was just trying to calm her down.

Did it work?

Eventually I guess.

lol what happened to Lindsay?

Idk.

I could practically taste the tequila.

Well, I was the one pouring it.

Way to enable.

I was just trying to calm her down.

Did it work?

Eventually I guess.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

The Complex Collective. ©

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019 | 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Do you hate me?

Only a little.

Like, really?

I hate you.

I knew it.

Yeah. I knew it, too.

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

The train is coming!

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

What the fuck is this?

Whatever it is.

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

{enter the multiverse}

HANZEL

HELLO PARTY PEOPLE.

…

I ZED HELLO PARTY PEOPLE.

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

The best part.

(Well, he does blink.)

Well, yeah, but he's not—

He didn't wince or anything.

I didn't wince or anything, did I?

I don't know, did you?

Roll the tape.

Just do it again.

Take 1077.

[The Festival Project ™]

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

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

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

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

Hello, Jimmy.

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

Lol what the fuck is going on in this movie.

Oh, it's a movie?!

Shhhh!

I thought this was a show.

Yeah, but there's a movie between seasons.

How many seasons are there

4.

7.

10.

?!

‍♀️

‍♂️

‍

L E G E N D S

I am an extraordinary artist.

Oh. Hey Amanda.

“Hey Amanda?!” “Hey Amanda?!”

Yeah, hi.

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

I've been feeling… off.

OFF?!

Very.

I did this for us.

…remind me the nature of our relationship exactly.

Light and truth!

Oh, the Illuminati.

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

Just making sure we weren't lesbians.

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

How is that?

I heard—you were getting famous.

From a seperate dimention entirely?

Yes, that. And otherwise!

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

Yes, that! Careful of mirrors.

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

I'm also hallucinating, decently.

That's..a facinating relief.

Is it?

Better than a diarrheal release.

Okay, that's—disgusting.

But also a fascinating relief.

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

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

vibrating.

This disasterous apathy is starting to unsettle me?

Have you tried tap dancing?

What.

Works for me.

What?!

Just try it.

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

[beat]

You know what, you're right.

See.

I do feel better.

Time travel things.

It would be you who knows things like these.

It is.

[she checks the cabinet]

Where's the cake?

You're baking it.

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

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

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

MOZU

(In African accent)

Hello! I am MOZU!

PATRICK

Oh. Hello, Mozu.

MOZU

(In very clear American accent)

How we doin'?

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

MOZU CONT'D

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

PATRICK

(awkwardly)

Wouldn't have mattered!

MOZU

That one always gets people.

PATRICK

How often do you do that?

MOZU

A lot.

PATRICK

Oh. That is funny.

MOZU

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

PATRICK

Oh—which part?

MOZU

Detroit. 8 Mile.

PATRICK

Oh!

MOZU

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

Suburbs. Near the lakes.

Very nice actually.

PATRICK

(Laughing awkwardly)

Oh…

MOZU

We have a boat.

PATRICK

Oh. Still?

MOZU

Would you believe me if I told you it sank?

PATRICK

I'm not sure.

MOZU

It did. Not all the way, but.

We still have it.

PATRICK

You're kind of funny.

MOZU

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

PATRICK

You've “heard”?

MOZU

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

PATRICK

Is that so?

MOZU

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

PATRICK

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

MOZU

A combination that can't be beat.

PATRICK

It can't.

MOZU

So, where you from?

PATRICK

(without hesitation)

The Bronx.

MOZU

I sense this is not a joke.

PATRICK

I don't see a camera anywhere—do you?

MOZU

Funny you should say that…

PATRICK

Why?

MOZU

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

He produces a folded piece of paper from his pocket.

PATRICK

Seriously?

MOZU

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

[beat, an almost solid glare of disbelief.]

MOZU

It's—your release form.

PATRICK

Oh!

MOZU

Got you again, didn't I?

Haha!

PATRICK

Yes, you did.

MOZU

Good. Just sign here.

He does.

MOZU CONT'D

And here.

He signs again.

MOZU CONT'D

And.

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

PATRICK

(Lowly)

Eee.

MOZU

Yeah.

PATRICK

(Short)

Okay.

MOZU

To track your progress.

He lets out a deep sigh.

MOZU

Away we go.

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

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

GODDAMMIT RYAN REYNOLDS.

WHAT DO YOU WANT?

CUT TO:

[Cofee is being made.]

Oops, I Did It Again - Britney Spears

[There are no pants involved.]

…this is it, isn't it?

What.

Season 10

This is the movie before season 10

[Cofee is being enjoyed.]

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

[There are still no pants involved.]

What are you, Ryan Reynolds?

A TV host?

(sipping coffee)

Let's just say I put in my time.

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

It never left!

So that's what strike force 5 does.

⚡️

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

[Strike Force 4.5]

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

What do you mean ‘no'

We kicked Jimmy out.

Which Jimmy?

Shouldn't matter.

You know which.

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

What.

The BIT,

Ugh, alright.

We meet again.

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

Admittedly, this is okay.

—seems awesome at first, but after awhile…

Ok. This [censored] gets deep.

Not that bit! The other bit.

I can't do that bit right now.

What the fuck? Why not?

Because, I'm not wearing pants.

Did it work.

FUCK YOU RYAN REYNOLDS, GODDAMMIT.

So, we meet again.

GET OUT.

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

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

And I love fucking horses.

You love fucking horses?!

You know what? I still might.

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

You don't want that.

No, you dont want that;

I'm still holding in a fart.

For four seasons?

Meet me at the four seasons.

For what?

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

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?

Same thing you are.

(Sips coffee)

You smell like baggage and unpaid debt.

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

The Cosmic Avenger stands in confusion, before asking,

…what does that mean?

A DRAW!

(We'll see.)

Ultralight beam>< oops I did it again.

But play the video, right?

That, and the Rick Roll.

(Courtesy of Jesus Christ The Savior, Inc.)

SUNNI BLU

MorGIE.

What!

GODDAMMIT SUNNÏ

WHAT!

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

Yes, that's correct.

No, it isn't, Majilla!!!

Why isn't it, Sunni?

I can't star opposite Ryan Reynolds.

Well, why not?

CAUSE I'M GAY.

Lil bitz

So I was listening to Kanye Weat*

Yes.

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

And I get dumb curious, so I ask Google

Google, why are dudes so obsessed with models—

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

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

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

They're not sticks!

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

And that's weird to me.

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

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

That's nuts to me.

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

Yes.

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

Good job, guys.

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

Alright.

EQUINOX FITNESS. HUDSON YARDS. NEW YORK CITY. DAY

Not this side, that side.

What do you mean.

This is the fitness section.

You said Equinox…

We're going to the hotel.

SUNNI BLU

You ever been to pound town?

Weather's great right now.

I ain't going outside now,

I got a new strike force,

Four door, 5 clowns.

Ohhhhhhhh.

Shout out to Jimmy O!

Don't shout out to Jimmy, no

He back to back too many hooooeeess—

You know I'm talkin bout his show

Go stream Tonight though.

No thanks.

Ben and Jerry's tonight doe.

AHEM.

Gazuntite.

Listen—

Ryan Reynolds is the devil.

I knew it.

You knew that already?

Yeah.

Great, so is he through with Jimmy Fallon then?

Uh, I guess.

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

Okay?

Oh and Jimmy.

Yes.

Find some pants.

MEANWHILE.

DAVID LETTERMAN

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

HUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!

That's more like it.

Okay, but following up on before.

THE COMIC AGENGER does not need an evil laugh.

Hey, Jimmy.

Mwahaha..

Damn. Okay.

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

How do you mean?

Have you ever heard Jimmy Fallon laugh?

Play the clip.

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

You're a menace.

You lost me.

Whatever dog,

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

CUT TO:

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

AGGGHHHH. MY EYES.

Quit friggin squinting.

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

I hope you die.

So.

You're officially a literary genius.

What are you going to do with that?

I don't know? Die?

Hahaha, she's Jewish!

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

Is that what it's called?

I don't…give a fuck.

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

AGH—MY EYES!

Your squinty eyes. *also squints*

AH WHAT THE [CENSORED]

WHY ARE YOU STILL CENSORED?!

Didn't they fire you from NBC?

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

Is that what you're squinting at?!

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

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

[EXPLITIVE] YOUR FACE.

What are you, Chinese?

THIS IS VERY OFFENSIVE.

Hush, Yao Ming.

YOURE JUST MAKING IT WORSE.

Do you want any soy sauce in your noodles?

This is classic ritual torture.

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

Cornbread with noodles?!

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

CUT TO: FLASHBACK, EARLIER

I'm making noodles with cornbread, any suggestions.

PSYCHO KILLER!

FAH-FAH-FAH-FAH-FAH-FAH

You're off pitch.

I HAVE PERFECT PITCH.

FA-FA

You're flat.

Eat a dick.

Ugh.

Yo, G, what's for lunch?

[standing in the doorway awkwardly with a spatula]

Oh, I get it— G stands for

Flashback within a flashback:

Tha God.

I'm not calling you that.

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

Yeah, that person.

Something's different.

You don't say.

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

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

Blue, did you say?

RYAN REYNOLDS

(As Archer)

You'll mark the hour at which it begins,

With this,

A solemn sustained and prolonged note

Which cherishes your argument,

That all art must come undone,

Foraged in truth,

And bound by light

With sanctity.

CHORUS

Here here!

Greetings, dear Chorus,

Or have you named your honored hut—?

The gathering of all bound by the Gods

Who are astounded at our haste making!

CHORUS

To tide!

To tide and fare not my good;

Fare not my brethren, come cut to fire;

In aught to honor thy shallow grazing,

And there, the art had sunk,

Though weeping cottons in the Weat,

For fortune, to arch, ire.

For certain, and for gathered have you waiting—

Crisp air and our attire, to call tonight,

The very moon to whom the stars melt,

Though pacing off and appearing as none but small like,

Off in the thunderous wonders of us,

Beyond earth,

Another path which light,

And art must honor.

Hear you,

And faring great to those requested our service,

Bone marrow, and silk wi‘d blood

Forsaken, as all have heard by now,

Enchantments and forced sermons,

And with wit does honor I,

Gasping for staging,

Present but here not yet,

The after wish of heart, you I

does followeth,

Daring to know thy name,

As Kingdom come,

And yet,

You are not—

Still dark the womb of haven't made,

And saying,

‘Are I not of my father and mother,

Or neither?'

To honor once at dusk, my own coming as one

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

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

My farewells and yonder says,

Oh how I,

And are you—

The game at hand.

And now, our honor.

SEAN EVANS

(As Tallymaede)

—Bur first, we feast.

[The chorus cheers with great elation.]

Who the fuck ordered Greek Theatre cold opens?

Jesus Christ, party of 1.

I don't know. ‍♀️ I was fasting.

I meant— ahem—

Party of three.

LEGENDS

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

What is your preshow ritual, anyway?

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

Yeah–

And I shoot snot at the tourists.

What?

Gross.

Fascinating.

Straight out of my nose.

Ah, God, man.

You need help.

And into the plaza.

Sick.

Gross.

Before every show.

[beat]

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

Exactly.

Agh.

You need help, guy.

You're a sick man.

What goes around…comes around.

Agh.

I JUST GOT MY NBC MERCH.

Ahh, shit, here she comes.

Is she drunk.

What time is it?

8:45 AM.

She's wasted.

Yooooooooooooooooo.

What up, californians.

What up Sunni.

Good morning.

Californians in new york,

That's fucked up.

Happens all the time.

It is weird.

Shouldn't be a thing.

Wasted.

You like my sweatshirt?

[Saturday Night Live]

It's custom.

No it isn't.

It's SNL.

I just said that.

THE ‘N' IS FOR–

What did you just say?

I said.

NONSENSE. THIS IS NONSENSE.

What.

Lets take a break.

__

CUT TO:

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

OKay.

Why are we LEVITATING?

And then,

I'm going to incinerate it with my mind.

*gasp*

YOU'RE JACKED.

I'M WASTED.

[meanwhile, at craft services]

More cocaine, please.

Thank you, very much.

You hold yourself together very well.

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

What in the FUCK are you apologizing for?!

I am a telepathic time traveler.

I knew that already.

Like, in very real life.

Does this thing go both ways.

[REDACTED]

WHO ARE YOU?

I forgot, already honestly.

[The Office Style Mockumentary]

I heard you were looking for Jimmy.

I wasn't.

He's nuts.

I–

[This is not a movie about]

[REDACTED]

I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch.

I'm gonna kill him.

AMY POHLER

No comment.

{Enter The Multiverse}

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

Jesus Christ.

Not quite.

I mean.

Seth Meyers. What are you doing here.

I'm not.

Okay.

L E G E N D S

Why are we levitating?

We're levitating. You're just—

Goddammit, what the fuck do you want?

Looking for this?

NO.

Well, why not?

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

…I thought you'd be looking for it–

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

Why–would you drop something like this?

Why wouldn't I?

Isn't it the only one of its kind?

Goddammit, you fucking suck at everything.

I don't suck at everything…

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

Ah fuck, i lost his cadence.

I lost the cadence.

I lost everything.

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

Disappeared.

Goddammit.

Now what happened.

Nothing!

Dis/Connect.

Disconnected.

Why. What happened.

The server is down.

What do you mean the server is down?

I'm the server.

Well, it's down.

WHAT IN THE FUCKKKKKK.

FUCK.

FUCK.

Now I gotta go find Jimmy Fallon.

FUCK MAN, I HATE THIS DUDE.

__

FUCK THIS NIGGA. I'M SICK OF HIM.

You can't say that.

I JUST DID.

You're lucky they even invited you back here.

INVITED ME? I OWN THE NETWORK.

WHAT!

Sunni.

SINCE WHEN.

YOU CAN'T BILL COSBY ME, MOTHERFUCKER.

I OWN NBC.

THATS RIGHT.

SUCK MY BIG BLACK DICK.

Sunni!

NIGGAAAAAAAAAAAA.

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

aaaaaahhhhhhhh — jager bomb.

THAT'S NOT EVEN JAGER.

Whateva.

L E G E N D S

Camera 1–

Now, look directly in the light…

I won four oscars… [for that one]

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

Who is C'cxell Soleil?

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

AGGHGHHHH GODDAMMIT I HATE THIS MOTEHRFUCKER.

Let me try.

For what.

It's my console.

So.

I got cheat codes.

Let the name expire,

Or the game experience

spectacular levels of–

disacknowledgement .

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

This is levels, man.

Please explain to me this series.

*shrugs*

I can't.

[he walked away]

GOOD.

I tell you,

I'm not going anywhere near The Rockefeller Plaza

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

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

Maybe anything i'm saying, because believe me

Tomorrow:

Whatever tomorrow is,

It's changing.

I only came here to delay my suicide maybe by at least one day further.

I could hope for a laugh, but an honest one would take better,

Than all the mechanics in the world, and maybe even —

Some sort of heroic gesture,

On my own part,

As you know,

I've got to be going.

Tainted.

Damaged.

TINA FEY

He's a little bit–

We think he may be,

special, maybe…

SUDAKIS

He's retarded.

Hey!

No, literally.

What! Come on!

All thumbs.

What the fuck does that mean, anyway?

*two thumbs down*

What is the plot of this, anyway?

I don't know anymore. I'm either adding to my portfolio or my suicide letter.

Pretty fancy suicide letter.

(It was a pretty fancy suicide.)

There's a deadline.

Did you catch any of these?

Hey look; I've got my own interpreter.

Why are we codeswitching?

We're always codeswtiching.

Why aren't they codeswitching?

They're the code.

Who wrote this programming?

If you tell me that this–

Astrophysicist.

Astrophysis–wait, what?

I told you don't fuck with Fallon! period!

Very heavy emphasis on the delay in negotiating these terms.

What do you make of it?

Nothing. I'm just-

Nothing?

That's it. He's ending me.

Just like that.

Just like that!

Are you serious?

It's his game. I'm just in it.

“Pawns”

This, is the most powerful man in television.

Why.

You'll see.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Now, for a moment—

Do me a favor and imagine for a second—

Just for a second,

That someone,

Anyone—

Who?

Haha

Shut up.

Had read your writing

What writing.

Any of it.

Ok…

—before you arrived at Rockerfeller Plaza.

…which time.

Any time.

Oh.

That's right…I had been writing for years before I ever even stepped foot inside The Rock, even one time.

THE ROCK

Let's just say “30 Rock”

But is it technically like

24-58 Rockerfeller Plaza.

RADIO CITY, MANHATTAN, NEW YORK, NEW YORK.

So this is how many radio towers exactly?

All of them.

And how many satellites?

All of them.

And how many antennas.

All of them.

All of them.

All of them—that matter.

Which ones don't matter?

EXT. THE ARCTIC CIRCLE. WHENEVER.

AN IMPORTANT LOOKING BUSINESS MAN IN A SUIT ARRIVES

CUT BACK TO

CUT BACK TO

A GROUP OF ESKIMOS HAVE DISCOVERED A LARGE RADIO TOWER HAS BEEN PLACED IN THE CENTER OF THE TUNDRA.

The antenna begins to blink.

>< >< >< >< ><

CUT BACK TO:

…was that a stupid question?

I had fasted so long that l had begun to see ghosts, spirits dressed as Angeles, and, well…

It was strange to think that this place, wherever weeks of fasting and praying and driving and climbing mountains living out of your car takes you to, was when this revelation occurred to me.

Jimmy Fallon.

I— what?

Jimmy Fallon.

It must have been about four weeks, because, it was by the end of this week that the layout of Los Angeles, California had completely changed and been altered. Nothing was where I left it.

This is the labra tar pits.

[actual tar pits]

Not to mention I had somehow, from atop a perch at Elysian park, also witnessed the construction of Dodgers Stadium—

If my body is here, then where is my mind?

If this is the mind, then where actually is the body?

Simply put, and by the end, nearly everyone and everyone on earth had vanished, besides myself—

Jimmy Fallon.

There was no Jimmy Fallon here—

Just whispers of a name,

Remnance of an idea.

An idea's which might have once been a person,

But now,

Simply wasn't.

It was just one, singular; never having been wasted on anything,

Dollar bill.

FUCK, man, how am I supposed to keep telling this story?!

I don't know.

I'm real pissed off I can't find the scene with the coffee mug.

I'm pretty sure it's hot cocoa.

Whatever.

Cause why would it be coffee?

Why would it not be malt liquor in a fucking coffee mug if we're talking about Jimmy Fallon?

Why would it be malt liquor and not at the very least like a chocolate liqueur with a hint of baileys.

Because we're talking about Jimmy Fallon .

Are you sure he's an alcoholic!?

For the record!

So, just reiterating we'v established here that

The real Jimmy Fallon

The Actual Jimmy Fallon

And

The Regular Jimmy Fallon

Are entirely certainly—

Three seperate guys.

Sure, for the record.

Are you sure he's not.

I hope he's not.

Why!

Cause I like him.

WHY!

Idk. He just keep showing up—randomly, and at very odd moments.

So!

So I got used to him—being around.

Yikes.

Not around—just.

Oh, I get it, he's dead.

He's not dead, he's downstairs.

fuck.

Well, I almost didn't think about it.

No. There is no Jimmy Fallon.

Meat.

Waaaahhhhh???!!?

It's an all meat sandwhich.

What do you mean

It's like an Italian BMT

What.

Without the—

Bread.

Yes, exactly.

It's just meat.

Gross.

No, this is gross.

What.

You told me

No fakies.

You told me to come up with a sandwhich which embodied “The Jimmy Fallon Brand“

And—?!

AND I DID THAT

This is a VEGETARIAN EGG MCMUFFIN.

It's NOT, ITS A JIMMY FALLON—

But you just couldn't connect with that.

Connect the dots.

I gotta get out of town .

So, you mean—

This TV host thing is a full time job.

Pretty much.

Where are the models?!

Whooooo neeeeds models, when you've got

PAGES.

Woah, hoes.

Those are the 2024 NBC pages.

Why are their skirts so short.

I know.

Why… are their shoes so ugly—

To distract from the fact that they're allowed to wear those skirts!

I guess.

You're racist.

No, I'm ugly but—

WHY ARENT THERE ANY BLACK PAGES.

Oh, there are.

Oh yeah?! WHERE.

30 ROCKERFELLER PLAZA. OFFICES. DAY.

Humdala-humdala-humdala-hmmmmmm—

Humdala-humdala—hmmmmm

Goddammit. What is this dude's pre show ritual.

Yo. Give me the keys to the Hellicopter.

No.

Fine. I'll just take the push-to-start.

Ok, I'm coming.

(Eventually, we'll get back to Seth Meyers)

Why is he important.

Cause I—

Let's just be honest,

I don't understand this.

Why.

Ahem.

Why is it that—

No matter where I am,

In the various multidimentional planes,

I am reachable by

Jimmy Fallon.

I don't know.

This has something to do with Jesus, doesn't it?

Don't ask me about my brother. I don't know what he's into—or where he goes when he's not.

Parasailing.

Ah .

Paraphrasing.

Ok.

Parasite.

*ing.

Wait. I am not a parasite.

I'm not taking anything from Jimmy Fallon.

…am I!

what the fuck exactly just happened.

What do you mean.

The…propeller seems to have stopped working.

Yes, it did.

Why are we not free falling rapidly.

Oh, we are.

CUT TO:

A HELLICOPTER FALLING RAPIDLY FROM THE SKY

oh dear GOD—

CUT BACK TO:

A helicopter is suspended in midair, appearing to be frozen.

I'm so fucked. I'm so fucked. I'm so fucked.

I know what you did Fallon.

No you don't!

Sucks to be you! I so do know what you did.

Even if you do—/

And I also did it.

goddammit.

“Suspension of Disbelief”

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!

look, I know how to be super skinny. I'm just not.

WHY.

Cause I like food!

Pretty windows,

Decent teachers—

Learning lessons,

Leaning in and,

Recent intermissions

Admissions to priestes,

And alter boys,

Insence smoke,

And—

I said I'd sign the prenuptial agreements!

What's in the —?

Prenuptual agreements.

…but…you have nothing.

I've always had nothing but, I've never had— him.

What?

Not until now.

That's not a man, that's a God–

(And)

That's not a Dog, that's a friend

Even if this is the end

We're just gonna do it again

(and again, and again)

Tell me;

What did you want?!

Did you get it?

Cause if not, you're gonna!

That's not a watch, it's a gun

(And it's going off!)

Pull the trigger-

You gotta.

Did you want it?

Did you wanna?

Moderation:

Marijuana

I'm not a God.

(I don't wanna)

–But I got all that I wanted

(I put the air in your lungs)

Fuck/

That's not a coincidence, is it?

That's not a coincidence.

(It never it)

Here's another one,

For your records

He's a writer

She's a–

I Liked him better off dead

(He was better off dead)

Pull the trigger–

Pull the trigger!

Well that's a

Whole lotta luggage

Lotta stuff that you bought at the

–I was just onto a

That's not a God,

That's a Goddess

(All locked up in the)

(open the door:)

That's not a God,

It's your mother!

( I wanted it)

I don't want anymore–

I can't write anymore songs

(But I got what I wanted)

That was not a coincidence.

If I look into your eyes, i'll die.

I'm a dead person.

I believe you.

Please don't make that face at me.

It's the only face i've got.

“Oh well”

With a shrug

Is i've ive got on

But there's no nonchaloncé

It's a problem

I don't wanna talk about it.

I don't wanna talk about it.

“In Retrospect, I should have lead with deportation.”

An Ear for Innuendo

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Weeeelllll

This is about to make sense—

Isn't it?

Probably not.

Oh well, roll the tape.

L E G E N D S

what tape?

…

…hello?!

….

HELLO?

posh.

—tried to record the vocals with it but apparently either my interface or my computer—

Whatever

—Money.

-U. ft, Happy Accidents

Dunno when I'm going to be able to do vocals next so here's the instrumental, the lyrics. And whatever else was in my notes when I was in producer mode with my documents open.

Amen

posh. (Instrumental)

Happy Accidents ft. -Ū.

Actually I was thinking about using my Srs Blk Alias.

[serious black]

// srs blk.

Whatever there's robots outside my door coughing right now.

Here go the lyrics.

Fucking robots.

This is just a fad

Why you mad?

What is in my bag

(Posh)

I am just a fan

Why you mad

You are not my man

This is just a fad,

I make dance music cause I can

This is just a fad

Why you mad

(Keep it classy)

Posh.

I am hella bad

Do the math

You are not my dad

This is just a fad

I make dance music cause I can

I am just a fan

Why you mad

You are not my man

This is just a fad

(Dance)

Posh

This is just a fad.

Facts.

{Enter The Multiverse}

I don't think I like anybody!

That's right, I'm not looking.

Mis it possible to be asexual

Google?

Now,where should it go?

I don't know if I'd quite cal it asexual, just…disinterested in the general population at large.

But you're in the general population,

Exactly.

I'm in need of a pillow pet.

Have you tried toys r us.

Do you know how weird it's going to look for a 40 something year old man with zero kids to walk into a toys r us and ask for a pillow pet?

So you have thought about it.

Are you stupid?

Not as stupid as I ought to be

Lay on the tarmac.

What.

Just—lay in the tarmac

For what?

I'm going to run you over with an airplane.

…that might work.

“How to Kill An Immortal”.

It's that time of the day

And the day of the week

Where my mind goes awry

(So long, sir)

And my heart starts making the wrong turns

Cross eyes, ten and two

[Atomic Number]

cross Eyes, ten and two

Cross your heart,

Or don't

(Goodbye, sir)

Goodbuy, good sir

I just bought a pony,

I want a fruit roll up

My internet due tomorrow

(Go finish the album)

I just want donut

Good morning

Hot topics

I've got much more to show for it than you're onto.

Than you're onto

Than you're onto—

Honest.

Don't stop there, dog.

(Atomic Number)

Thats no crosswalk

Purchase you for favors

For favors

For flavors

Four flavors, are there

But I've only got my whole eye on one of them

What up then

Don't call the number

Oh, God damn

Go run, Pharoh for you want an arrow out of your head

Free hand and heart

I thought I was a musician,

—I'm not though;

I stand 44 stories tall

When I stand right behind you,

Shadow.

Small man

I love McDonald's

I got a long hat

I got along swimmingly with your mom and dad, huh

Data

data projects and the atomic number

That's all folks

Data projects and those atomic numbers

Cosmic stardust, they all shook

They ain't lie, that's a hard pink turn purple

They ain't lie, God, that's a mellow yellow saxophone there—

They ain't lie, god, brought tear to an eye where there are no more,

Heart took a wrong turn

They ain't lie, God,

It is bright plumb

Are you in a black hole or what?

Are you shook for stars and all bout dollars?

Are you sure that had my name on it?

Are you sure, or are you all talk

All you sure, mom? Call the doctor.

Are you sure at all, at all, at all about what you all wrote

I'm on the 44th floor staring off, Dad.

Straining heard, though—

Had my eyes closed and my mouth sown permanently shut / sh it

Is that your industry or something?

Is that your window out my car door?

Is that your hand over no heart at all—

But a chest stuck out;

Bring you down real fast when I've been humbled.

Goddamn, when's this song over?

When they tell you about God, God

And all you do is turn your back, God,

Are you good, or bad, God,

If all I have is in this Target cart

So I crunch numbers,

Fall in black hole songs, atomic number—-

It's just that time of the day

And that day of the week where I call out

Into the sound stage

Reaching back,

Into my alter,

Rocks in my pocket

And one at the Plaza

One year only,

One whole summer

One whole novel,

10 movies, more songs,

Light candles and hard rock, Nirvana

Soft porn,

No dollar bills,

No ballers,

— I struck rules and struck diets,

Followed often around like I own something

I just might be,

What they call

—Ten more songs!

(A poet.)

—And a whole bunch of unfinished—

NO—

Cut to:

fade in/

Fade out—

Whose line is it anyway?

I ain't got no teleprompter!

Fresh out of water, and

Blocked from purchasing on Amazon market cause

Something is wrong with my name

Or observations I once made

About being scammed by the monopoly

Oh, polyamorous polyaddixt, polysexual

Polygons, on PolyGod,

God only—

God ain't lie,

It was plum,

Closed my eyes to confirm, God,

Can't conform, God.

Atomic

Number.

I can do ten more before sundown; before

I'm so over tired from espresso bean coffee,

All about a dollar, I was—

Everything I want in my target cart

So I sure don't,

For sure don't,

Ever, On God,

Have to walk in the supermarket on

Stuggle mode

Slow down, posh.

[The Festival Project ™]

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

Telesynthesis

Tell me why,

No matter how you mix and match these scenes,

They all make very exciting episodes.

That's just how it is.

{Enter The Multiverse}

Ah. more posters.

Double-Double.

//

L E G E N D S

I don't know who lied to you, buddy, but you are not white.

They lied to you, boy.

That boy ain't white.

Look at em.

He ain't white.

They lied to you.

Something like—

—a bicentennial bullet wound.

It can't be that bad. You're only 50x

I don't know what else to do about this other than prepare to die.

He said it would come on fast after this.

Who was he?

I don't know .

Hm,

Just—shut up!

Okay.

Shutup!

I got it, I got it…

Fuck, this dude is gonna kill me.

We can only hope that's what he plans to do.

Anything else, and I'm double-fucked.

Maybe quite literally.

I can't handle that.

Ii did have a good time a Bohemian Grove.

How do you even get tickets to that?

Early.

Goddammit, how did he do this?

Are you not like self aware of your own environment, or?

Not if I don't have to be, no.

Is everything okay over there?

Yeah, everything's fine?

Fuck, what happened?!

I don't know.

I fell asleep holding nothing; not stones at all, however, I awoke with The Illuminati Stone and one large rose quartz from a dream in which fly po

What if all I lost

Was a contact

And all you wanted

Was a daughter

What if our world's were opposite

I'm a rockstar

You got nowhere to run home to

You're not important

I got nothin but hot bodies

On my tour bus, or private jet

Whatever way we get to the stage

Where i'm playing

You're soaked in rain just thanking God for rainbows

Filled with pain

Plate filled with old food

From Whole Foods,

With no shame

“Hey. at least it's wholesome”

I'm holed up in my studio making music

With famous people and no names

I made famous

Playing a game that I made up

You don't even know the rules of

But if you learn them in time,

YOu might just be where I am

Or

You might just die

From sucicide–

That's the plan

Not like you have family, but you see

If I die

I might just take 5 lives with me

The limelight's tricky

All i got in my inbox is tits

And celebrities on my timeline

You don't mind:

You're just happy to see the sunshine

And find silence after a long day

And a long night

Trying to find life–

Cause so far you know you died

That's wild–

So did I,

IT took awhile to get to the other side though

Keep trying

JAGUAR

I HAVE NEVER DIED.

I'm telling you RIGHT NOW to TURN BACK.

TURN BACK? I've been walking in this direction THE WHOLE TIME.

EXACTLY.

I'm following you.

DON'T FOLLOW ME.

I'm f–

DON'T FOLLOW ME.

I knew i would never see her again.

Once i turned around it wasn't long before I realized, I had moved in the opposite direction, but was not in the same place I had been before–and I finally remembered.

You can't go backward.

But KA, you said time travels in all directions…

In Infinite directions.

What's the difference.

“All” is just ‘some' things. Infinite is everything.

Oh.

*sighs heavily again*

Ok. [beat] lets make fire again!

Make fire again?

Yes!

I thought you hated ‘making fire'

I did, but I like marshmallows.

Alright, marshmallows.

KU and YOUNG KA Flicker in the smoke and shadows of the firelight in a far and distant, dark cosmos, as constellations form around them, expanding outwards into galaxies beyond comprehension.

You want some?

No, I'm not fond of Marshmallows.

Lol

Lol

Lol.

WAKE UP.

Nooh.

I told you NOT TO FALL ASLEEP.

Now you have to start over.

NO.

Noh

I wasn't asleep! I barely nodded off.

Clock starting.

First of all, I told you.

Dillon Francis is a Psychopath.

I know that.

Because i told you that.

I already knew that.

How could you possibly know.

Just look at him.

[Dillon Francis]

But I got you now, buddy.

What did he do to you?

[pause] –He killed my cat.

He killed you cat?!

[beat] Well, no, but–

???

Something Like That.

I'm gonna have a heart attack.

PLease don't.

HeART attack.

Mm. That was good. But it needs more force.

More?

Put some *love* in it.

What's that? *shrugs*

HeART ATTACK.

What the fuck is he doing.

PLaying with one of his alter egos.

Jesus Christ. How many are there.

Who really knows.

What are you two dipshits doing.

NOthing.

Training.

Training!

No.

*eyes*

You can't train yourself.

Woah–

Woah, woah–

That's an insult

Both, exactly the same

We are not the same.

Jinx.

Go fuck yourself.

*looking at watch*

Not until 3.

*everyone stops and stares*

You schedule your jackoff calendar .

I'm very busy.

Obviously not busy enough.

It's called “building stamina”

Do you use “home” or “work” for that.

I use candidly.

Yikes.

Wow.

Anyway, this scene is running long; I gotta walk off screen and say something clever, for continuity.

But it's only 2:15!

If you're not early, you're late!

I hate him.

So does everybody.

If you cry one more time,

I'll actually kill you.

Put the gun away, dude.

Why?!

Cause you're crazy.

It's 5 AM.

Ok.

Take your shit and get off the toilet,

We have shit to do.

[beat]

FLUSH.

Royal flush

I win again.

Dammit.

This is not LOVE. This is just

LUST

AH, fuck it though,

I love these cunsluts.

COME OUT OF RETIREMENT.

No, not us.

I can do nothing but watch you suffer

—suffer the little children unto me

I can do nothing, but watch you suffer.

—suffer the little children unto me

I can do enough, but watch you alter

Suffer the children unto me

I can do nothing of earth, but of sun—

Suffer the children unto me

Riding through Brooklyn

With Yelawolf bumpin

I should be thumping to something else but

I never got the trunk to open

Nope, I was fucked up some

Broke girl summer

Broken girl summer

Surfs up, though

Copestetic,

I am

Don't stop writing

(I tried)

Intuition

I died

Whoever

I am

Exit Bedstuy

So far behind,

I'm ahead

What's that like

Left the pary,

Fuck that line

Partly cloudy with a chance o

Get UP.

Nah, I'm fine.

For the most part—

I just

When does this train stop?

For the most part—

Where the fuck do I get off this ride?

I guess I don't

For the most part

Sure,

I miss my mom but

Some days she's up

And the others

GET OUT OF MY HOUSE.

HOW?!

I will literally FLY you out, just

———————————————-//—-wait, come back.

Wait, you can't just cut the strings like that

That's amazing lady

(She painted like a Mercedes)

The second rule of time travel

Since you're clearly a rule breaker

2. Don't get hit by anything moving not fast enough to kill you

Entirely and completely

A fuck, which Brooklyn is this?

JUST—time TRACWL

BAMANAS.

(William H. Macy is SIR, now)

*face*

Ok, I'm cool with that.

Better hold that thought—

And your phone

Why what's up,

Cause I can hear my train a coming.

JIM(I)

Well, I guess this is it.

Are you sure

Almost

Yeah, I'mmma get this real quick.

I AM A GOD.

No, yur not.

RICK! GET DOWN FROM THERE

WAIT, you CC saw this movie, right?

Where IS your center of balance, anyway?

It's not.

GET DOWN, KITE.

——aaaaand—

ITS GONE.

Let's just be real, I don't know how this happens.

Best keep it that way,

Now whose hot and toxic?

I'm the talk of the catwalk

The cause of the kamikaze

Come for me

Suddenly my nausea's gone

Imma run off,

Like I should have the first time

I'm up

LUKE SKYWALKER

I'm LUKE SKYWALKER.

Bitch.

It's hard to believe

That I, too,

Could be in the window

This could be an innuendo

This could be an instrumental

We should get going

Go to work

Fuck, am I still in a movie or some shit

Or some shit.

Fuck the glasses,

See my face for this

IT WANTS BANANAS

GIVE IT BANANAS

GIVE IT WHAT IT WANTS M

PLEASE HELP ME.

*with a monocle*

*running fingers grubbily*

For how much.

*grimaces-*

Wow, they really picked this little girl out,

Just to pig party you

I know.

So where the fuck is this again?

EXT. HELLS KITCHEN

I DONT THINK HE's a good man

No,

I don't think he's a good man at all, now

All I see's a child,

And that's why

It's just getting wilder it here

Now I'm in the water

(I can't drown)

We all need a savior

How about now?