“Tales of A Superstar DJ”
My body is my hell My body is myhel
Now i do't wanna live no more
Now I don't wanna love no more
i don't wanna live no more
I don't wanna love no more
I don't wanna live no more
I don't wanna love no more
I don't wanna live no more
I don't wanna live no more
I don't wanna live no more
but in the end, i'm not either, I
I'm neve gonna get all that God magic I need if I don't stop working.
Deadmau5, a canadian DJ also known as Joel Zimmerman, hosts an anti-superbowl Star Wars Party, which turns unexpect—
Look at me, feeling me, feeling you
Now look at you, feeling you feeling me
—Unexpectedly into the “superbowl party of the century”, when hundreds (eventually thousands)
I've never been a man before, (that I know of)
But ive got my hand over your heart ,
Receive an invitation via
–Email, which was actually
When did you get to be such a Jew
But honestly more recently, it was–
[Stops traffic in Midtown Manhattan Rushour to pick up a penny.]
Oh my God, why are the Jews in this series so stereotypically jewish?
Because Jews are stereotypically Jewish.
But what am I really saving here.
YOU'RE A PEANUT BUTTER JELLy SaNDWHICH WITH NO PEANUT BUTTER AND NO JELLY.
But–[Anime sword swish] I don't eat bread. [Anymore]
Dang what DJ battle is THIS.
The One You've Been Waiting For
avatar the last air bender
So how long's this whole thing supposed to take.
What kind of answer is that.
Don't be so sure of yourself.
I am sure of myself; Just because it's not the answer you wanted doesnt make it any less of an answer. Now, sit down
Watch out, and watch this:
Too many apps on my phone
My iPhone is trying to kill me,
I'm trying to unselect me
The devil in me says to keep digging my grave
A lion, I'm brave— I once said
Spin back the record again
Hanzel was lighting the candle
And stuck in a state of trance
—i thought it was armin van buren at one point
I have to give up at some point, writing, right?
Now this is just point in history
Point me away from the misery
But white as the rabbit I pulled out the hat
I'm hatching a plan to go mad,
But I need the recepits from Pasqualle for my taxes
What the Fuck does that mean?
I'll read this In a year,
Maybe I married my best friend,
So I'm just going back to him
Scratch that, he's mad at me
God I'm attracted to everything
The lighter you are, the less the adversity
I see you eyes turned to grey;
How many hats to you have?
Thanks to Hanzel, I'm back on this planet
Why light a candle, when you know I haven't an answer;
No, i haven't had breakfast yet —
Thanks for reminding me I'm in a casket
one's opponent in a contest, conflict, or dispute.
Could be anything, really.
Which one's the Big King?
Well. He Sauced up, then.
What kind of sauce is that?!
I don't know, but looks like Dillon Francis is eating it.
DILLON FRANCIS IS EATING IT
How am I still writing this show.
What are you talking about?!!
Wait, it is?! I thought you were the kidd??
Then, why is The Game meeting Sunnï Blu?
Wait. Go back. I didn't get that last part.
WE WATCHED IT A HUNDRED TIMES ALREADY.
Screw you. We're watching it again.
Dude. I hate watching this with you. It takes 3 hours to watch an episode!
You guys are talking over all the good parts!
This isn't—this isn't fair. I'm not doing this.
You can't quit the DJ games.
CITY BUS DRIFTING IN SLOW MOTION
That's it. I'm just gonna have to kill myself.
I'm pretty sure that's the only way to beat this level.
*SUPACREE jumps into oncoming traffic*
Oh. The above and beyond part.
That's funny. I was just—
So wait. If the end of this episode, is the end of that movie, then…
I guess whatever's happening about now is whatever happened before that part.
I, having run off from I, runs into a forest alongside The Endless River, which opens out into a beautiful meadow, the micolored cosmic sky twinkling sweetly above, strange auroras dancing in the skies; a field of glowing and stardusted singing wishflowers at her feet, she frustratingly falls into them, soft grass puffing with the twinkling sounds of fairy dust and sprites (a homage to the lion king) the wishflowers softly sing her to sleep with the subtle and sweet frequencies of Skrillex. (A homage to the wizard of Oz)
From Above & Beyond, a flock of Cosmic Creatures in flight spot a golden glimmer from afar; they descend dimensions-- to get a closer look; Closing in on the universe within the confines of a massive structure, which propels itself seamlessly through galaxies faster than the speed of light and sound, though she appears as a large golden space station, slowly drifting through the atmosphere. Manned by yet unseen beings, the golden ship descends upon Skrillex, almost silentl— a swishing whir as the ship, more similar to a futuristic building, an ovaline rounded structure seemingly structured in brass, gold, and silver as it docks to the soft soil of planetary terrain. The landing is soft enough not to have awaken Ū, still sleeping; but an immense light pours from the openings of the ship, waking her--and blinding Sonny as he finally approaches from behind, having been searching for her. She is drawn into the light; he shields his eyes as the beings emerge from their massive station.
I fell in love with you...it was an accident.
I fell in love with you, because I had to; I hadn't thought about it before, but i've been thinking about it ever since.
Had I succeeded in my attempted suicide, we wouldn't have come face-to-face…
Had I succeeded in my attempted suicide, I'd have no reason to write something so pathetic as this, pititul letter, which you will probably never read.
Probably, anyway.
I've spent a majority of my lifetime very deeply troubled, yearning for all the attention one could ever crave--until suddenly, I no longer craved any at all.
Solitude, rather than isolation, became sacred, and safe to me;
It was in the solace and quiet of my very own world, that you entered my kingdom...and it became ‘ours'.
Silence. Nature. Astrology.
My greatest found pleasures, in a cavalcade of endless self-doubt, self-loathing...a tiresome collection of all the hatred I've harbored for myself in my twenty-something years.
I fell in love with you...I didn't mean to.
I didn't mean to do anything, except be.
Another festival, another escapade...another chance to dance, in the sunlight--the moonlight, under stars…
And under the stars, is where I was forced to find you.
Now, it seems, can't escape your presence--or lack-thereof.
Unrequited? Perhaps. But, not unprovoked.
I love you because it is in me to do so.
I will always love you, always.
There is a world where you're in love with me, as I am you;
All I can do now, is hope that this is that same very world, and that as days go by, we draw closer to one-another, rather than further apart.
In truth, friendship, in the very least, would serve as a worthy reward...for all the worry, all the wonder, and all the willing I've done for you; in honesty...I'm ashamed in my inability to let go--yet also proud, that I am able to love this much, this hard.
To see you with someone else, now, would be a gentle relief; to know that you are kept in love, with graciousness...a subtle gift, an answer to a prayer I asked.
Loneliness, I wouldn't wish upon you for anything--love is, in fact, my whole wish for you--be it mine, or not. While I can wish that it will be mine, I've also wished for you, the very best--I would want not for my flaws to burden you.
Flaws are what create our perfection;
Losing you, the flame of fear that set my heart and soul to fire;
Cancerous, weakened, plagued--premonitions impolitely penetrated my fragile, eggshell mind…
the death of a friend, fast-forwarded and reflected into my mind's-eye;
How could I forget a face like yours--eyes like those?
How could I not know you, as I have?
Tears bearing your name roll over my nose, like the rain on a rose...the burden of belonging to one, rather than some;
To all, rather than none.
So now, I keep my favorite photo of you in my phone...a comfort, to the weary and wounded heart I carry.
I can pretend that your sweet voice accompanies mine, as I sing to soothe myself, as I sway in solitude;
A gentle kiss, I imagine to give, if ever the chance.
I love you, without reason to--and with every reason to, I love you.
As the ship departs, charging to go into warp speed, Sonny is left alone on his own planet; as a slight panic falls over him, A key-like object falls from the ship as it dissappars at warp speed into a portal. As his hands clap together, catching the object, the sound rings outward--this clapping pages The Skrillex, which lands promptly beside him, exclaiming-- "I AM SKRILLEX"; he has never seen this ship before, however proceeds onto the ship as though familiar with extra terrestrial phenomena all together. We only see him enter the ship; we do not follow him inside, but instead cut to Ū on the Interdimensional SpaceTime Station.
Ah wait. So Skrillex is a planet?
Skrillex is a lot of things
I mean, it kindof does, if you think about it.
I'm not looking at anything! I can't stand it.
This is the best thing on TV.
What channel is it, anyway?
What! I thought it was on Insomniac TV.
They keep fucking with me.
The Lord giveth, and taketh away—
I thought you were Jewish.
Working on what, your majesty.
[ When the 4th Wall Actually Broke]
I found this gym because of Dillon Francis—
I found Dillon Francis because of my evil ex husband;
I think the lesson here, or at least one of hundreds—
And love unconditionally,
Well, there's a conundrum.
It was a purple PT. Cruiser
It was—but what else was it?
It was a perfect periwinkle PT cruiser.
Everything since then, till now—
I don't care how fat I am.
Can I just say, your ass is like —woah.
i mean like—what the FAAACK.
—do the butt machine again.
SUPACREE finally gets to Heaven, looking for SKRILLEX.
Really's all it really takes.
Don't look both ways before
if you honestly want off the cross
It's probably wise to admit that you've tried
Mankind's just not worth it.
definitely worth something
And the rest of the planets, but
Look at the way the ocean's
If i sing loudly enough I might
How they love dancing and laughing for me;
And I just can't help but to laugh at her inhabitants;
They dance oh-so rhythmically
and grateful, they always give thanks to me
It's no need, but the Earth,
She makes these beautiful things,
Greed; The Parable of the Mango Tree
In the pre-existence, a young God prepares for her journey through the Land of The Living; Her older brothers taunt and tease, as she shuffles through notes and index cards, studying her predetermined fate on Earth.
That's easy. The cover art's just got a Mango On it,
White Backdrop; It looks super juicy; with a green leaf, I think.
No! I know, I know. It was....
It was...it was...Herobust!
I am not a Loser. It was…Was it Ganja White Night?
I don't know! Just tell me.
Exactly, it's my rules! Just gimmie the answer!
I think you're going to have to GOOGLE it.
So is Liquid Stranger your final answer?
I never said Liquid Stranger.
Now she's never gonna get it.
Damn dude, you broke her.
I'm not broken, I just forgot -
Liquid Stranger, going once--
I never said Liquid Stranger! I know it wasn't Liquid Stranger; Why would it ever be Liquid Stranger?
A pair of mysterious dudes Suits in Sunglasses are collecting famous DJs.
Two fans are watching interdimensional cable.
Aliens in an Ascended dimension of hyper-intelligence are studying our three-dimensional existence from an unknown cosmic world.
Remember that planet I showed you--the--
Something happened to it,
Sometimes, even i'm surprised by the things I've written.
I didn't see that one coming!
Neither did I: I was gonaa say it was off it's axis.
Yeah, and probably not as tragic.
I mean...that would be pretty tragic.
Probably easier to manage.
Perhaps…But I mean, if you have a whole planet, and then it just collapses--
It's just flattened; nobody said it collapses.
SUPACREE is now a full-blown superpowered vigilante; She seeks revenge for GETTER sending her through the interdimensions at AUDIOTISTIC.
I've never met you before; what are you doing in my dressing room?
Why does a DJ have a dressing room?
[She swiftly leaves; as she exits, THE SUITS approach the dressing room door.]
[He doesn't have a choice.]
Oh shit, the next scene is already written, I remember this.
JUST KILL YOURSELF ALREADY.
You're suck in this until it's done.
What's done? It'll never be over, it's just infinite.
YOU'RE GONNA LISTEN TO SKRILLEX ON YOUTUBE?
I might as well, by the time I finish downloading it I probably won't even be able to listen to it.
I shouldn't, but I know i have to.
INCOGNITO; The “oh please don't look at this:” easy algorithm engine for “LOOK AT ME, I'M HIDING SOMETHING.”
MEANWHILE...IN DEEP MEDITATION…(IE OMNIPOTENCE)
So... if a song is... nothing but question and answer, what's a song which references another in an attempt to address the question which was asked?
A conversation between one song and another?
Well, that would be a symphony, I would suppose.
That is, if the songs were in sync.
They could be made to be.
Every song is made to be in sync;
I mean, two songs, made to be in sync with each other.
SUPACREE is on the floor at a rave.
This isn't funny anymore.
It was never funny. You have to get up.
Come on, you have to do this.
It's no use. She's so, so under there. It would take all of us to try to pull her out--that is without...
[The darkening sky crumbles, as the thunderous storm rages, the battle between worlds expands throughout the outer galaxies.]
And you don't work quickly enough
Much younger girls are putting in such
Efforts, just to be, the perfect little beauty queen
Sometimes I Don't Wanna Be Happy…
But better than I'll ever be
For the basic bitch that sings it
I'm basically a Dillon Francis fiend,
Now it's getting serious,
I seriously doubt there's anything I can do about it
The sad result of the damage,
The very last time my ex ever hit me
Something got stuck on repeat;
What did we call that place, between “The Blackout” and waking up.
I thought it was something more clever.
Maybe, but i'll never find it if i'm just scrolling through these documents.
Write ”Untitled Document”
That's all I've got, I guess.
[A DJ] Can be played by literally any DJ.
A wild, wild party has happened. A DJ wakes up, previously having been sprawled out across the floor.
Whose house is this…? Ugh.
[S/he gets up and stumbles groggily, stepping over bodies hunched and perched, slung about sleeping. Peacefully. The sun is bright, a curse to the eyes of the clearly hungover, and likely still quite inebriated DJ. ]
SUPACREE awakens from a ‘stupor' herself, displeased. She looks in the mirror, at first disgruntled, then “picks up her face” adjusts her perception, and decides,
[And she keeps it steppin, still asking aloud, as she ponders to herself;]
[And makes her way into the kitchen, where she (probably in a montage) cleans around the many bodies of hot people and rave babies still smudged and dripping in everything glittery; she appears to have ‘frozen time', as she vacuums faces and erases permanent marker penises drawn onto the foreheads and other exposed body parts of those who have fallen asleep with no shoes on. She cooks breakfast and straightens the entirety of what is now more recognizable as someone's home, though the owner still remains unknown. She sips coffee and reads the newspaper, as she steps behind the freshly detailed decks; and prepares a set through the headphones shes hung happily around her neck.]
It is. Ridiculous. You can't vacuum someone's face!
--Especially white people!
You never said they were all white people.
I mean, predominantly; it said hot people and rave babies.
It isn't. This whole scene would be entirely different, if it had nothing but black people in it.
She wakes up in the same house, but it's clean.
DILLON FRANCIS has the master plan.
Ugh, he knows everything.
Not everything, dear, believe me.
There's no such thing as everything that doesn't matter.
You won't find anything in there.
It doesn't work if you don't practice.
How do I practice without decks?
How do I Dj without practicing?
So DJing is just for rich people?
I mean, primarily, or just...anyone with money, if you have it.
You can't quit. If you quit we forfeit the game.
I thought she knew about the game.
Well, it's not just a game, it's a language.
She's about to be so angry, dude, just---
8 Dimensional--wait, what?
I never thought she'd get to this part.
Well, she stopped eating meat and cooks asian food--
---yeah, but that's like 6 different places--
She's not listening to Skrillex.
--She's not skipping it--
--yeah, but she isn't listening to it actively.--
I thought we were past “why”
We were, we were WAY past “why”
It wasn't really a question, guys, don't worry about it.
“Don't worry about it” Tsh.
“expression” yes. I get it--
He named it “Kliptown Empyrean”
I'd love to know, but I don't.
This is your house? Thank God, I was starting to worry the owner like wandered off and got lost; or, you know (makes slitting throat)
I... no, this is my--wait. Who are you?
[having been yet unrecognized, shes is used to having to spell it]
I'm in a box with all my thoughts,
And I am not on top of the world
I'm just rocking back and forth
(if rock and roll will take me
I wonder how much it costs)
_Oh, shit, it's the Jews again.
I keep telling you, you're jewish
It's not, I already told you what planet you're on?
Now, tell us why we wear our masks!
Oh, there are lots of reasons for that.
That would be a long story.
Oh, the Google kids are cute, too.
I especially love that little chunky one.
He is cute, he's probably my favorite, actually
It's different, isn't it?
You can't just identify as Jewish.
No, you can't just “identify” as Jewish; your mother has to be Jewish.
Okay; my mother is Jewish.
Sunni—you don't talk much about your family; who's your mother?
Maybe not! But I know TMZ.
But I'm a bad guy, i promise
Especially if you have other plans tonight,
Time flies when your mind right
I didn't mean to stay here
It's been nearly half a year, you know
[sighs heavily, frustrated]
FARRO nobly sacrifices his own life during The Lovers Quarrel, as PETRUTHEIO attempts a final and fatall blow unwittingly against ‘CESMET'
Do you want a cup of coffee?
I want you to shut the fuck up.
What if Jimmy Fallon had a diary as a kid. And I found it when i shapeshifted into his body.
Oh, the things i would do to you
The things you would do to me
wanna see how sharp my knife is
Sigh, bitch, ive been sitting in silece
With the lights off cause i like it
The rabbi's mad cause that i'd write this
This is why i don't listen to deadmau5 anymore.
What are you talking about
The invisible man, in Manhattan
The sunglasses matches her madness
The cloud cover looks just like Texas
All ya'll are all worth bout a dollar;
I am a cyclone, watch me holler
I lived my whole life underwater
All ya'll are only bout a dollar
I work so hard, I guess for nothin
I am not worried bout a dollar
I guess I'll do it on my own
I made some soup, all out of stones
I am not worried bout the sauce
Opened a business, got a loan
I got a hundred of them passwords
Went to Manhattan, took a walk
Went to the rock and dropped a rock
Now put your money where your mouth is
I got a thousand Jimmy Fallons
I dropped a rock into the rock
{enter the multiverse/ as seen on tv}
Moderately famous household television Jimmy Fallon suddenly begins appearing everywhere—that is—on every possible TV screen imaginable— The Protagonist, in confusion, can't seem to escape, and also amusingly begins finding Pennies in very strange and seemingly random places—these Pennies then begin opening up portals, breaking the fourth wall and opening worlds to other dimensions—
“Two dumb Jews, starring Seth Rogen, and some other dude—
Who's the other dude— some Jew,but it's got Adam Sandler in it.
I'd watch the shit out of that, though, tvh.
Two Jewish musicians struggling to make it in new York's congested underground music scene hit it off in comedy by complete accident, after being booked as a duo for a comedy club they mistook for a bar.
Heh. Okay, who does Adam Sandler play?
What. Who the fuck is “the book keeper?”
It's like two broke girls, but actually funny.
Now our musical guests, SWAGGARBOMB.
What in the fuck kind of music is that
I got a train car of your body count
I got way far out to far rock away, way out
Stop to talk to me, or don't,
Must be a mirror over herer
Or McGrefor, after Ewab, maybe
New York wants me to kill myself
New York if full of the devil
are soon to be where I am
The gangstalkers are soon to be stalked
The neighbors are soon to be eaten by their own demons
The root of all evil is evil,
And that's all I see here
White power wants me to kill my self
The Caucasians get crazy when the race war is waging
The elections are coming up
And they see us coming up on conciousness
They washed all the love out
White firms just wanna have fun
Why's it nice to be white
Even when you're wrong, you're right
Open up your big blue eyes real wide and
Caucasians are terrorists
I think it's McGuennes or however you spell it, cause half the names are like plays on
You made a world where I have to
You took everything that I'm after already
Call the luxury apartment reparations
But ain't got no privacy,
and hells angels and the kkk
Ride motorcycles every time I get my eye on the prize
So what's the price for being indegenous, black, and a genius
White supremacy finds sneakier ways to kill you
ESHA MCGUENNES (I thought figure out how to spell that.
Stuck in the love of the art
But if you're morbidly obese,
But your feet are like a size 6–
My doctor said I have a small frame, my feet are size 9, I went from a 10 to an 8.5 after losing 200 hundred pounds, I'm like “goddamn! Even my feet were fat! Fuck”
But if you're fat like I was and your feet are size 6, your feet might be like a si3 4!
You're a fat fucking pixie that fucked around and can't do little pixie shit now, cause you like pixie sticks
I'm just the rat in the dumpster
I made this whole world up
I locked up the dog catcher;
I called it a sermon, but
I don't know! Some black guy on that show I'm writing!
You really know how to make me cry
When you give me those ocean eyes
I just want to be Good today
Think of the dreams we made
Think of the drummer boy,
SHUT UP, GAYBRAHAM LINCOLN.
I'm having breakfast at 10 am
Thinking damn this depression is just setting in
There's a chest on my elephant
Chester drawer with hand carved elements
Clisets with hangers and button ups
So I keep all my love close,
The brothers have found the fountain
How many dollars do tootsie pops cost
Great. Now I'm Jimmy Fallon.
Well what's fucked up! What happened!
FUCK! I hate being Jimmy Fallon!
Whose dick swings to the right like that.
Or I could just leave you out.
Ahh. Shhhhhh!!! What if someone sees me.
[rings neighbors dooorvelk, shuts door]
The neighbor opens the door; now gifted with the ability to see demons, after merging with
Oh no, when did that thing come into play
Liz lemon lives on the ground floor
It don't matter cause she ain't never home l
Good talk, Donaguey, Good, Good Talk
It's good to be long gone from home
Look what the pimp limped in.
You think you're at least 5 foot—but you're 4 foot 9
CHARLIE SHEEN relapses on the dance floor
Oh shit. Relapses to which habit?
Can I have ham in my spam samwhiches.
—you want ham in your spam sandwhich.
Welcome—to the' creepy shit fans have done for u's backlogs.
Well, I have millions of fans,
It would take me years to look at all this.
It just goes on like this—
….IS THAT A JIMMY FALLON?
He would play The Devil's Advocate,
[JIMMY FALLON is shot mercilessly in the shoulder in broad daylight.]
He'll be okay. He's Jimmy Fallon.
[LIKE 90,000 Ambulances and a SWAT team roll up.]
DEADMAU5 charges himself in a high speed chamber—a tech-driven coffin via a USB port in his neck.
Public Displays of Affliction
I've never even see. A. Aston Martin
Getting lost in Manhattan
I wouldn't dare entering, anyhow
(I just left the Whole Foods market)
I got lost and god was happy
Force a figure ibto music
Run a mile what's a california smile
Oh, don't we all want second chances
Now I've been an Aston Martin
Motorists dot muses now u want her
Now I've been an Aston Martin
Companion passing through
A menacing, incredibly ambedextrous submissive
I was hanging as the sun in Toronto
In my third eye was a camera lense;
Once upon a time I never had friends
Now I remember sitting in the backseat,
I remember when I never had ribs
I remember when I never had meat
I remember sitting in the front seat
Once upon a time I was anno one
Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon
Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon
Once a bunch of Pennies, lady Gaga
Once upon a time, I was a no one
Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon
I remember penny was a virgin
I remember when you were the third one, l
Once upon a time I was the first one
Once upon a time, I thirst my quench with
I remember going on a long run
I remember once there was a
Now I quench my thirst with smart water
Once upon a dollar Jimmy Fallon
Once upon a nothing, there was no one
Now I take my coffee on a long ride
I wish for every dollar I ever had, back
I wish it was 11:11, every Dillon Francis
I wish for sandwhiches on leavened bread at Passover
I wish this whole world would Passover,
With the the stories in my home
I wish for the fame and wealth with it,
I wish I never laughed at Dillon Francis
I wish Skrillex was never a demon,
What do you mean by that?
The press is back and asking questions
Call my mother begging to drop the charges
Just asking what the pocket watch does
What's an engagement ring like that coat
How much to rug the cameras up
Like the 9 Dollar's I've got
Marked up, but not to spend them at the Market
But not as hard as I pray
So I can look like Jennifer Aniston
Least favorite host of all time
Method man was drinking up the water
It's a horrible, windfall
Whatever the fuck is going on in New York
It hurts to be the worst person
The first person to put reverse curses
On shamans from the 3rd world
And I'm living in the first world,
That's some diabolical plot
The cosmic avenger is stuck in a dimension
And white bitches who get offended
Norman Needs you, Mrs. Hotch
But I was never Mrs. Roberts
With all of the hearts and crosses , stars
Where's DimlonnFrancis at
That's a man without a mask,
And I still want breakfast
Jimmy Fallon has a family
But I laughed so hard in the bathtub
I still haven't come back from that
I feel bad for em, actually
Cause I was the wife that sucks
Stuck in the telling it over and over
I'm gone galloping horses,
And hornets, I'm just a furniture
Probably should have aborted me, mother
But I'm still in the hospital
Cause I had them all lined up
“Impossible, could not be my God!”
That's what they all said,
But they dressed me up like
Crossed off my list forever
I was just better off dead,
Better off stuck in my head, you know.
I read your messages, every one of them
Every one of the drugs in my bucket
I threw up from the fan club
Could not have been at that clown
JIMMY FALLON - THE COSMIC AVENGER
JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER is levitating in a hyper-meditative state.
Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman!
I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman.
I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget.
EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY
OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET.
Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?!
It was, in fact, Bob Saget.
That's it guys! No more dead celebrities!
Look, I have something to tell you.
This is a weird superpower.
EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY
Alright! I have a question!
Luckily, I die long beore Jimmy Fallon, and as my time approached, I took all i could absorb from the world within, and without, almost as if any and all of my deathwish had been satiated with the gentle ease, the notion of knowing my imminent death would come long before what those surrounding me would consider my time, and therefore would not be made to lose anymore than I already had–but at least, I did have th strength in knowing, not only would i never grow so old as to see for show most of what I had done, but that I had done most of what I would have at all, and not much longer than my words would form into all that would come to be known as my full body of work, I would perish, even before–long before– those I had studied, admired, and known to love–if only through the fourth wall, at all.
The invisible man, in Manhattan
The sunglasses matches her madness
The cloud cover looks just like Texas
THAT was a HARD left turn.
So, what time can we listen to Excision?
Sometime after intermission.
How many acts is this again?
I just wanted to know how long it would take?
I know someone that cold get us in
(Sitting on a speaker in the BassPod)
I think I found that girl you were looking for.
I said I found her: I didn't say you could have her.
She's not a possession, I'm just trying to talk to her.
You didn't mention that she was--
Be careful with your words.
Oh, I think it's you that ought to be careful.
You're losing your power over her and it shows.
Mm. And what about your ‘power', hm?
I haven't any power over her--
That would only be half of it.
That would be all I had anything to do with; she was given free agency.
awww look at that bass face.
Well, that's one reason...
Ah what! you can change your entire frequency? No Fair, I can't do that
You can, it just takes practice.
Oh shit, this hits different with two headphones.
It all hits different with headphones.
Calorie Deficit Calculator:
Oh shit. Well how many calories did I eat?
—CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIESzzxz—
[CC/SUPACREE robotically and autonomously ditches her bicycle outside of sprouts, not giving a Fuck.]
—s—noh! stop it! Stop controlling me!
CC/SUPACREE stands awkwardly at the checkout with a varied selection of vegan baked goods.
So wait. SUPACREE is controlled by aliens?
[NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: SUPASTRENTH ]
The Legend of Supacree is the #1 MMORPG in the world; it is also happening in real-time, in multiple worlds within the multiversial construct of the actual Omniverse.
In fact, nobody even plays GTA or call of duty anymore.
[Random objects falling from the sky. ]
JUST POST THE FUCKING EPISODE ALRIGHT?!
this bitch is fucking crazy. Watch this.
SHIA LABEOUF discovers The Legend Of Supacree franchise and becomes villainously obsessed with It, hatching a heinous and maniacal plan to hunt her down and capture her—tracking her every move and learning everything about her he can.
Scary monsters and supacreeps.
SHIA LABEOUF is a straight up gangster.
[SHIA LAUGHING MANIACALLY.]
That dude is a straight up psychopath.
You're a straight up psychopath.
What is THIS part of the story?
Well, son, you made it through.
I don't know. He just fit the part.
Nobody quite understands what's happening in ENTER THE MULTIVERSE, however, THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE has taken an incredible turning point, intersecting with the world of LEGENDS and THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNI BLŪ/ THE SUITE LIFE OF SUNNI BLŪ.
[CC HULK SMASHES her bike onto the rack on the bus. THE HULK, sitting just in front stares at her wide-eyed as she boards the bus over the rim of his sunglasses.]
Wait! Is it THE HULK, or MARK RUFFALO?
I don't know! I don't give a shit!
Why are you even writing this?
[CC's brain is slowly melting as she rides the bus to work. THE HULK–
OR IS IT MARK FUCKING RUFFALO!?
Chal's words echoed in my head almost too loudly–as boldly blind and sometimes even dumb as he was, he was also wise, and as it turned out, right–it really didn't matter. Nothing mattered at all. I had gone through the motions of reaching out to him, to of course as expected learn that he and whatever her name was had gone their separate ways; I understood that would be the case nearly immediately back in Mazunte, but as he was insistent he would woo her–and persistent in doing so, that I thought maybe after all love– or what really turned out to be his obstinate lust would win the day–and yet, it hadn't; he was again single and on the prowl– and although at one point I had even lusted after him briefly, trailing behind him in nonchalant platonic carelessness as he obsessively followed another woman, had allowed me to become comfortable enough in the friendzone that i could just simply exist next to him; Now, again faced with homelessness and factoring in my inability to travel much further than south of the border, especially now knowing well how to travel throughout mexico and into Guatemala, I wondered truly if my own self-worth had really been lowered to the point of allowing myself to meet Chal in Guatemala–even full well knowing that he, too, preferred perfect and illy white to my dark skin and quite seemingly matronly features, and, knowing for myself that I wasn't his first choice– as he and I had of course met in Mazunte around the same time he had met whom he considered to be ‘his Goddess'-- albeit while on a topless beach and thus hynotized by her breasts. Men were hopeless.
Then, here I was, waking up every other sleep cycle in the cold sweat of a wet dream, the subject of which I typically at least tried to keep deeply hidden in my subconscious psyche as secrets, although by now it seemed there really were none, and all that I knew and that I thought were known and seen by some other than myself–though somehow still holding true to my belief that there really was none other than myself–in my own broken and twisted world, alone and punished in the depths of mediocrity and shame.
And all the sick people. And all the crackheads. And all the–what are those?
SHIA LABOUFF'S obsession with SUPACREE is helga petaki-meets Tom Cruise jumping on Oprah's couch.
Oh, wait, we're back on that storyline?
I mean– I don't know how to write this.
‘How Jewish is Shia LaBeouf? ‘
That's french-black–wait—
SUPACREE strategizes a plan of attack.
—Especially the Skrillex.
———-AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!
SHIA LABEOUF VS SUPACREE:
Is that guy gonna be alright?
Is—that guy gonna be alright?
Is that guy gonna be alright
Is that guy gonna be alright??
Is that guy gonna be alright?!
Is that guy gonna be alright m?
…I don't know about that guy.
Stop writing songs about Skrillex.
What?! It doesn't have to be about Skrillex! It could be about anybody!
Here, they call with disco balls
Stars in my eyes, but stars do fall
First true love dies hard after all,
No star shines bright as morning comes
CUT TO: CC writes automagically between sets of heavy lifting.
IMAGINARY FRIENDS, PART III
okay—one more—then cupcakes—
I'm not on a diet! I eat!
I told you, grass tastes bad.
You said that was the last one.
But I like this one—and it has the right amount of weights on it already—see?
The power of Christ compels ye!
The celebrities of Hollywood are gang stalking SUPACREE
But I didn't even get to ask the question.
THE CELEBRITIES OF HOLLYWOOD, after assembling with the Bampheramphs and Morherfuckers, have formed a supergroup tasked with bringing SUPACREE to THE HOLLYWOOD PEOPLE—so far, they have cunningly out-bested and outwitted THE US GOVERNMENT, including but not limited to THE FEDS, THE CIA, THE FBI and THE SECRET SERVICE.
DRAKE snoops on SUPACREE as she writes working half heartedly at THE NECK MACHINE with peaking curiosity, peaking over the time of his sunglasses.
I had worked an entre month at LVAC before the circus went underway; Not a single drop of Skrillex had ever been played over the loudspeakers at any moment, for any of the time I had been employed there, nor had it burdened me any of the other time I had spent bettering myself within what I once cherished as sacred walls–now the illusion shattered, as nowhere I could seem to run – even the rural coastal jungle of Mexico-was far enough to escape the clammerings of something I quite honestly very much still loved, but wouldn't allow myself to enjoy—
I wanted to move, but didn't—I wanted to leave, and probably should have, but wouldn't. I just sat there through it as my coworker, standing at about 5'4 ½ in a pair of tight black skinny jeans sang along and bounced rhymically.
Then, as it had just been earlier that I was thinking of Sonny himself, and how, be it that any of my premonitions were actually accurate and true as I had once thought them to be, there would perhaps come a day that I regretted not listening to his works, just as one regrets not spending time with a loved one before their passing not giving enough attention to the little things, the tiny details, the time they had missed, but never missed without missing their loved one until it was too late. Then again, for me, any time in the then- present was too late, as I had only been followed, taunted, and ridiculed, openly humiliated and embarrassed, and never really paid directly for anything I had done, whether it did have to do with Skrillex or otherwise –and so I had made it more than a point to distance myself from it, anything having to do with it, or him, or anything really, music related—of course besides relying heavily on deadmau5 just for my own existence–that is, willingness wake up, move about the world and its endless, pointless constructs, and even so, completing a worthwhile workout with enough satisfaction that I could allow myself to leave the building–and now, with my commute taking up a grand total of 4 hours of my entire day—I didn't have the time or the energy to stay late into the days and even afternoons as I had before, or to arrive early as I had in the days and weeks before; Now this job was amounting to nothing at all, and I was surely less than breaking even.
You've got 20 minutes to write a story!
I plead to you, just sing for me
—and you buried me alive,
Just for the look of things
Or splitting things unevenly
(Either thing benefits me,
And I have everything you have,
All with my dreams intact
Why would I sit down and write a story—
When you just did it for me?
Why would I pledge allegiance to old glory
Why would I change my name to satisfy your needs
When mine sit idly by waiting
Why would I dream of you,
You have all of me in the other room
While you watch cartoons with your lady
I hate anime and now I hate you too,
Nothing soothes my moods,
Except playing your tunes,
(He never did, he just let her—)
That is not how the end of the song goes.
No, but this is how the end of the episode goes.
[CC stares lifelessly forward out of the front window of the double decker bus; a man dressed in all blue catches her attention—another telepathic shapeshifter.]
I told you there was a shit storm coming.
You don't give a Fuck, or a shit.
I—don't give a fuck or a sh—wait—
That has all kinds of insinuations.
ITS MISTER MAGOOoOOOOOOOooO0oO.
HOW DO YOU OWE 100,000 IN BACK TAXES?!
WHAT. THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE.
[Sunnī Blū subdues her instantly with one if Supacree's mysterious rave weapons]
[she gives her another dose of strange vapor, she relaxes even further.]
[she gives her another relaxing dose]
Ok. So. I never filed my taxes because I had so much student loan debt, I would never get a tax return because the stupid government would just take it away.
The government is a supercomputer—it's a giant—unfeeling—
You finally got my name right!
So then (hiccups) it doesn't matter if the stupid government computer takes your tax return away, cause you're—rich.
Yeah! Rich people don't pay taxes dummy!
[sunni sighs and takes a large huff themselves of the mysterious vapor, however still quite visibly unsettled.
(IN A PARALLEL DIMENSION)
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCKING—FUCKSAUCE
Haven't tried that one. Is it purple too!?
Ooh. It must be really hot. Let me try.
Did you fuck my best friend?
…I didn't know you…had any friends.
DIPLO, in a villainous rage nearly murders DILLON FRANCIS, stealing his portal gun and a vast supply of his magic to track down SUPACREE and all of her living incarnations.
Is this along the same timeline as Shia La—
Fuck this dude's last name for real.
Is it on the same timeline?
I mean, that's insane—SUPACREE is being stalked—
Hunted by not one—but TWO super-buff celebrities—
Hey, to be fair—I didn't know Shia La—
Whatever. I didn't know he was that buff.
What if I threw myself in front of a school bus!?
That would be the 16th time you've died, since you committed suicide
I thought it was 10 to get to Skrillex.
I thought we weren't trying to get to Skrillex
What if he's spent as much time in the gym as you have?
What if he's spent as much time in the studio as you have in the gym?
Ive never seen gold before—
What would they even tell the kids?
“Some of you will grow up to amount to nothing and, and out of those some of you, at least one of you might just have the guts to throw yourself in front of a speeding vehicle which represents the very institution which disregarded your existence entirely in the first place.”
That's…a lot for a bus full of kids.
Benny Benassi (and the biz) was the word of God today.
Tell me what your spirit says
Teach me every single part
Like heroin through a junkie's veins, the song poured through my Hesh 3's like the golden waters of a sacred fountain of wisdom; it made me reflect on the everythingness of all at once, and I was at bliss, even if only for a moment, briefly recalling how I had almost allowed it to be a bad day—but there were no more bad days, I had decided. Everything was in synchronicity, and exactly as it had to be; everything was going along just the way it was supposed to, and I had nothing to worry about. All was in time with the motion of the great flow of life—then, just suddenly—thinking of such synchronicities, as I pulled out my phone to write in the moment—
But can't change your mind
I cocked my head in complete awe to the side
‘Hard flex, Dillon Francis.'
It was still hard to compute that such a man had become my literal muse—and though I knew not the exact meaning of the word—I knew what it meant. It was fascinating to me, and astonishing that something so simple could in my state of once fragile and benign vulnerability, be used as a tool to help complete this hypnotism, whatever it was meant for. I wasn't exactly making music, or anything good really—and I felt like I was bleeding money and certainly not making my worth in dollars for all the effort and energy I was spending just getting to work at all, let alone to work out—but there was still this, though I could finally falter to being irreversibly in love with Sonny Moore, or at least who he might have once been ( or the idea of such, anyway—) I did very much think of Dillon quite fondly and quite repetitively through each and passsing day, and oftentimes in my dreamworld, quite uncontrollably and involuntarily, in whatever way I was, it was forever. It didn't seem to matter, and though I purged myself from actually becoming as obsessive as I had once been with Sonny, I simply left it alone;
Chal's voice sometimes overcoming my own, in the way that I did now wholeheartedly believe that pretty much nothing mattered, especially my emotions or feelings, which I wished would disappear like the title of the album I had actually written and completed but never had the chance to release, and had just the night before eaten in record time 4 entire vegan cupcakes to myself,
—even when I had at least thought to share with my coworkers—a feast which usually took between 24 hours and 3 to four days, if I was moderating correctly. But I hadn't been—I was over stressed from riding busses full of people who didn't care that as the natural empath I had always been, I became gross and dysfunctional as anyone else who rode the bus just off the Las Vegas strip between the hours of 8 PM and 8 AM. Gross.
I successfully pretended not to know who deadmau5 wash and upon being asked what I was listening to on the bus, I simply replied ‘progressive house'—and just later that night, as my coworkers, most of whom were about 10 years younger than I was, clammoired about fame and famous Individuals; dead-mau-five came up randomly in conversation; to which I coyfully resigned from correcting the falsity that it once had “actually” been the correct way to prounounce the artist's name, and that he had “actually” changed it—and still, later on, when for the first time over the loudspeakers, a song by deadmau5 (besides the new kx5 track) came on, nobody but me could seem to recognize that it was him playing—and though I had heard the song by now at least hundreds of times, I couldn't name it…which embarrassed me, and I failed to even look upon the screen to fact-check or correct myself—it was deadmau5, it was good, and at least it wasn't Skrillex…
—who had also, though just behind deadmau5, also “coincidentally” come up in the conversation—this time less sarcastically forging a “who the fuck is that?”—of course, only to be met with what had to be a good minute and a half of my gullible coworkers explaining to me who Skrillex was, as I shrugged and nodded unassuminglu as if I didn't want to shoot myself in the foot just to dance to the tune of my own funural music.
Are you sleeping? Ooh. I'm sorry.
Back to the Diverging lateral pull down, st a weight that looked too heavy, but was actually almost too light.
—BABY, ID LOVE FOR YOU TO TOUCH ME BAAAAABAY—
THE US GOVERNMENT has gotten a new fleet of JEEPS.
[American flag automatic antenna extends from the back of the vehicle.]
Why is the Army following me?!
Oh. I can shapeshift, too—why didn't they follow me when I started doing that in public?
Flashback: SUPACREE is swimming when caught in a rogue wave, quickly transforming into a whale, before washing up on shore and transforming back into her human self, right before the eyes of the navy seals team.
WHAT?! She's right there!
How did you get this number?!
Don't call me. [hangs up]
[she calls his other line, he picks up unwittingly ñ]
You—have them!! Don't you?!
I don't need the red pill, or the blue pill!
You're the only one that can help!
Jesús is busy! Listen to me!
—Jesús is always listening—
You what the fuck! Help me!
God Help You! WHERE's my MOTHER?!
WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY MOTHER
—I Am your mother, Morpheus. And I just made your favorite: pecan pie—…
Damn, what's gonna happen now?!
I don't know. Ask Dillon Francis.
What does Dillon Francis have to do with this?
I dunno. Apparently a lot.
DILLON FRANCIS screams uncontrollably.
Oh wow, that's incredible.
BEYONCÈ, mastering her shape shifting abilities has transformed herself into a giant fan.
[CC in a high intensity workout-induced trance merges with the character DUFF as she locks her legs across the rotary torso machine. ]
DUFF is paralyzed from the waist down after crash landing feet-first from her pod; She has landed in present day earth, first spotted by millions as a UFO; upon rescuing her from the fiery crash, recovering the remains of her futuristic vehicle raises questions from the whole world about her true origins and mission's purpose—however, stricken wirh Amnesia, she only recalls that her name is DUFF, and has very few memories preceding her discovery—it is clear that she is a human, and a high-ranking military trained space explorer—but remembers nothing of her own origins. It is suspected that she may indeed be a time traveler from the distant future.
That's what's happening in that series?! Damn!
Sometimes I surprise muself.
And I'm not even listening to deadmau5.
So what's Beyoncé got to do with this storyline?
[DUFF is caught in a lucid dream; the original SUPACREE is in a coma after her failed suicide attempt—their worlds collide.]
Beyoncé's voice looked to me as if butterflies had long streams of silk woven wings, fluttering eloquently in hues of fluorescent pink and painted shades of rose-tinted streaking blues, auroras of bubblegum entertaining with breezy mellow waves of yellow and flooding bursts of bright purple—a pure joy in my ear sight, which meant nothing to the world, but everything to me.
Creating literal auroras I had only ever before seen in the frigid arctic night skies of Alaska, sometimes I simply had to close my eyes and breathe in deeply the fluid and sometimes glowing and velvety cascades—more so pronounced than the ones I had observed in finally linking kaskade's unique electronic sound to his name—probably because rather than having come from a synthesizer, it was Beyoncé's naturally unnatural voice—and by unnatural, I only meant that it was such a singularity that divinity itself had to have put her hands into allowing such a phenomenon to exist.
I had indeed fallen In love with the talent and aura of this too-perfect southern belle—but one doesn't simply aspire to be Beyoncè at the ripe old age of 30; a lifetime of dedication to artistry could only result in such an immaculate perfection in performance—perfection I humbly honored, but tried my best not to crave.
[CC, on the brink of being BLŪ but not having yet arrived in the true belief of her own accomplishments or potential. emotionally stuffs her face unforgivingly with Oreo cookies; a silent, friendly ghost, the ghost of the late great COOKIE MONSTA seats himself softly beside her on the bed. Another guardian Angel.]
I Am Cookie Monster— ugh—
[Realizing she is once again confronted with a ghost DJ, after having been visited by Avicii and I_O now years earlier, but still an ever-present memory.]
[He shrugs as she stuffs another cookie in her mouth, literally overflowing with cookie and reeling in the discomfort of double-stuffiness.
Ughhhhh—I cant feel my face.
But it seemed like I would never make dubstep—working two jobs, riding the bus—and despite my sweet tooth, my shrinking waistline and quest for physical perfection in the peak of my absolute loneliness, distrust for the world, and disdain for the injustice of society. All it seemed like I did really have that was mine, was deadmau5 blasting through my ears at any given moment as my dirty little secret—Oreos, my synestetic facination with Beyoncé, and, of course, one of the best athletic clubs in the world at my disposl, given that I had the time or energy to use it.
Altogether self-serving, señf-soothing, and best of all self loathing—navigating life had become more outwittinglu experiencing infinite death thsn not—an endless ego death in the confines of my own limitations and judgements. I had put myself in a shelf entirely—and now, I didn't know what I was writing for, but I was still writing. Even without making music, music seemed to make itself out of the words that could connect with my broken and tired spirit in whatever synchronization it took to type out a song, or a novel, or a suicide letter, or a screenplay—whatever it was. I didn't know.
COOKIE MONSTA fades away into the reminiscent whisper of a ghost, as CC falls asleep, hugging a pillow and still clutching an Oreo in one hand and her crystals in the other. The room spins as she fades into the dreamworld, lost in her self and the world within.
But the back doors open and
If it gets too warm, you know
A mazzarati you bought me
High speed dodging the paparazzi
I got to be the lucky one
We sure are lucky, aren't we
No harming a full carbon body
You want this blonde fawning for your autograph?
C'mon! We don't follow the models!
The marriage was loveless
I'd honor it over another,
And that was the start of
It's like multidimensional flashbacks, yeah?
...And with any luck, I'd have the energy to sit down and write it upon returning to a place I could have myself built perfectly in the confines of my mind.
I really wanna hear that new Dillon Francis album.
Okay, that's definitely me.
Where's the butt machine?
Remember this day from last time?
Everything that's recorded.
Why are they trying to kill me?!
It's just YOU trying to kill YOURSELF.
No, there's definitely something chasing me.
WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!
I made dinner reservations at a place I can't even remember the name of—being homeless has actually been so detrimentally bad for me the only way I can grasp any amount of sanity is to keep exercising—while trying not to be reminded of Kayla Lauren, and attempting to convince myself I don't hate her for being born better than me—or at the very least—with everything she needed to be seated next to the man I love endlessly, or, rather—obsess about constantly, all the while the remnicense keeps haunting me tragically.
Turn the pain into muscle, see
The dream can be reality,
Why are you getting pesos in Bejing?
My ex is trying to kill me subconsciously—
So I can't tell this story.
Then I'm living inside my mind, stuck in my own body—what else explains all this—
Better be careful writing about the blue eyed people.
What planet do they come from?! Do they need less oxygen to breathe?!
—and kill everything else—
Is that not the same thing?
What planet are they from, really?!
Get this: they don't remember destroying it in the first place!
Hardly—but at this point, they're at about 90% genetic match, after centuries of breeding with them.
Wait—I have reptilian heritage?!
What am I looking at, exactly?
I put the Omni in Insomniac
Sent a message, asked Pasquale to run it back
That's tough, I've had enough of that
I'm only uffing rapping this
Because I'm ufcking black
back to the club with a brand new hat
I'm back from the future,
Kayla Lauren can't dance.
I almost laughed, at least.
What a waste of a perfect—
Ugh. If I have one more wet dream about Dillon Francis I'm gonna have to kill myself again.
Does it make a difference?!
Let's execute this execution
Here's another piece of me,
I don't know, I just keep writing.
That explains this messy ass society.
Stop throwing trash on me!!
How do we end this race war?!
What are you doing in this reality?!
Who doesn't want to live in the 3D?
Then what are you doing here, exactly?
When did you start working?!
I always stay busy! Why are you nagging me?
Honestly, Rick—it was you that started talking to me.
I just—didn't expect you to see you in this dimension, let alone this reality.
—then surely, you've noticed by now the only unassimilated beings in this building are you and me.
Why do they keep poisoning me.
Obviously the part of me that doesn't know it's me and also keeps sabotaging my purity.
They keep trying to feed me MEAT.
Why'd you stop eating it, anyway?
Honestly? Once I stopped it just felt better—
I'm not vegan! I just—eat less cheese.
—Because! I'm sick of processing depression second -handedly!
But you said yourself—you still eat eggs because chickens aren't conscious creatures—
Everything is a conscious creature—they're just unintelligent, honestly—
—chickens don't give a fuck about anything—
The humans are eating eggs—now, they can eat these without climbing up into trees, and the birds won't keep going crazy over their babies never hatching!
Won't the chickens care about their babies never hatching?
No! They don't care about anything!
No! Look at the male version of these…
[Rooster screaming obnoxiously]
[Rooster screaming obnoxiously, even more loudly]
GOD throws the rooster back into its dwelling and pushes a button, which activates blackout shades.
You think that's bad. Wait until you get a load of these…
I hate being fucking vegan! It's annoying! You have to ask for them to alter everything!
What was your deal with the devil, exactly?
My soulmate did—whoever that is— this is half of the soul we were sharing. Now Satan wants the whole thing.
Just marry this hoe bag so I can start drinking!
Thats a terrible idea! I thought you wanted Sonny to be happy!
Whyyy! Why in—Heaven's name would you create this catastrophic being?!
She's not better than me! She's just whiter—
—and probably had a family.
Okay. I got it. You gotta be this rich, or have this body type to get close to Sonny.
So— just kill my self, again?
If you eat eggs, why don't you eat chicken?!
Cause it can't be kosher—or something. I don't know.
When I ended up fasting by accident during major Jewish holidays.
There are no coincidences.
Why do white people get to be happy?!
Then, why are these guys so miserable?
They have empathy—but they also have everything materially speaking—so they don't know what's wrong with them.
Yes, that's what's happening.
And these ones are just empty.
Oh my GOD—JUST KILL YOURSELF.
What's the difference? It's not like I have family.
Not that I can stay with.
So what's the point, really, of having a family if nobody can help you in need?
Fuck Cree! Fuck her stupid ass family—besides that one auntie, maybe—
Does she know it's just—Skrillex—?
Does Sonny even know about it?
...You know your photographer's in love with you, right?
Yeah, not a thing. Until it is.
I'm still the only friend you have, really.
Nobody would be here if you didn't have this much money.
I guess that's a deadly combination.
Don't fear the reaper, baby.
That ego is twice as regenerative as it should be.
[Suddenly, SONNY is alone—the gymnasium somehow seems even more empty, in the silence. The automatic lights turn off from lack of movement— he stands motionless in darkness.]
[Loud coughing persists.]
Damn this bitch is irritating.
At least it's not painful anymore.
Nothing is more painful than homelessness.
—she can't hurt me anymore, if I'm stronger than her.
Which just means, her life is easy.
I know she has a little sister, which is better than having nobody around.
What if Sonny's parents were crazy?
I mean, they were Scientologists, so, honestly on top of being adopted that would explain leaving school early, maybe. I don't know. Stop following me.
Well yeah, I just ate dairy—
Same thing—you can't just quit anything cold turkey without it affecting you adversely.
Didn't you quit cigarettes cold turkey?
It's different when you're pregnant; it's not about you, it's about the baby—besides—
Even at 359 pounds I was still okay at listening to my body.
(Or—don't run, just—waddle away quickly.)
How much do you weigh now?
Like 130 but i don't know how much all this loose skin weighs, really.
30 pounds of loaded bass.
Don't read into it, honey.
Why do I have to be vegan!?
Is there any chance at normalcy, after that?
That's the album cover for Equality.
Is this the story about how, I keep hoping it's Sonny, but he never shows up—kind of as punishment for not being there for my son?
I'm trying to be—or at least was.
His dad is evil—he doesn't want me around—
Actually, it's the other way.
No, Chris Brown has talent.
WHY DO I HAVE TO BE VEGAN?!
DILLON MAKES MUSIC—HER TALENT IS STANDING.
I didn't abandon my family. I got thrown out of it by the Illuminati.
You're in the Illuminati?!
Bitch, I AM the Illuminati!
That's beyond comprehension to almost everybody.
—they can be programmed algorithmically.
How many apps are on your phone right now?
It was at that point I realized, it was my first time walking down the street shamelessly touting a red solo cup full of the only thing that might resemble any sanctity, coffee—however it may appear to anybody walking past me; the bizzare looks and stares made me begin to wonder how much of Skrillex had actually consumed me.
It was no longer adversity, but a death sentence of putrid lovelessness, amongst other things— but at least by now I knew how to rid my body completely of what wasn't meant to be there—that all *coughs* was, along with Kayla Lauren—was just everything I hated about my body reacting outwardly.
Still, the sweet tooth that I struggled with persistently became a crutch for the absolute lack of friends and family, as I discontinued my pursuit for music and drifted almost lifelessly into the abyss that would be absolute obscurity; in the distance, my ambitions fading as I reckoned with the reality the only family and friends had for Cree, a ghostly and shadowy remnicense—as I shamelessly self medicated an imaginary disease, caused and continued by a recklessly toxic society; homelessness not a result of laziness or for lack of trying—but rather, for lack of family that would love and embrace me unconditionally for overcoming the overwhelmingly painful upbringing resulting in a lifelong battle with anxiety, suicide, and depression—never-ever able to understand that I might possess my own beauty, always, always, always being compared to the likes of Kayla Lauren—or someone similar.
It seemed, by now, that I would die from a lack of being white and pretty—or at least pretty enough that someone might be proud to have me—and every algorithmic app I ever downloaded bombarded me with bikini models, athletes, and symmetrically ideal beings so much so that I refused to allow such programming to be the end of me. I no longer allowed myself to listen to Skrillex, or Dillon Francis—or really, anyone attractive for that matter...as it would only result in the self-loathing spiral into the infinite nightmarish dehumanizing that is in the nature of man—
And as the world was showing me, over and over again every way possibly.
I love deadmau5, Jesus Christ!
Jesus Christ: I love deadmau5.
I'm obviously not Jesus, but certainly a representative of some sort.
Nobody's Jesus—that would make this the second coming.
[Stupidly Apocalyptic Shit.]
Well, all these guys believe it.
Aaaaanddd–all these guys believe *that*, so
LIZ LEMON is drunk on a bus eating a wrap from subway.
Why is it not a sandwhich?
They put us at The Trump again.
It's good continental breakfast.
That's not continental breakfast, you dipshit. That's room service. It gets added to your bill.
Oh, so it comes out of the food budget.
No, you're not paying for it—the company's paying for it.
I represent ‘the company'.
The company's not paying for this.
FEARLESS is an inner-city pigeon who grew up in CENTRAL PARK
EXT. CENTRAL PARK. DAYBREAK
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