The Secret Life Of Sunnï Blū

Title: The Banana Anomaly

Logline: When sentient, aggressive bananas take over a small town, two unlikely heroes must overcome their bickering and fears to stop the potassium-fueled chaos.

Characters:

Scene:

INT. SMALL TOWN LIBRARY - DAY

SOUND of frantic shushing

BERNICE, with her hair in a tight bun and glasses perched precariously on her nose, stamps a book with excessive force. The library is mostly empty.

RICK bursts through the doors, sweating and slightly disheveled. He holds a slightly bruised banana in his hand.

Bernice finally looks up, her expression a mixture of annoyance and disbelief.

Rick slams the banana on the counter. It twitches.

Suddenly, the front windows of the library EXPLODE in a shower of glass. Dozens of bananas, some bruised, some green, some disturbingly large, fly into the library. They are... advancing.

A banana leaps onto the counter, hissing. Rick grabs a nearby book - "The Complete Works of Shakespeare" - and smashes it. The banana splatters.

They run towards the back of the library, dodging flying fruit.

INT. LIBRARY ARCHIVES - CONTINUOUS

The archives are dark and dusty. Bernice and Rick barricade themselves behind a rolling shelf.

INT. LIBRARY BASEMENT - LATER

Bernice and Rick, armed with makeshift weapons (a fire extinguisher for Rick, a medieval mace from a historical display for Bernice), cautiously enter the basement. It's cold and dark.

They find the freezer. Inside, rows upon rows of preserved fruits and vegetables. And at the back, a large, industrial-sized freezer unit.

Bernice examines the control panel, her brow furrowed.

SOUND of crashing from upstairs

Bernice frantically pushes buttons. Wires spark. The freezer unit sputters to life, a cold wind emanating from it.

Suddenly, the basement door bursts open. A horde of bananas, led by an enormous, mutated "King Banana," charges in.

Rick holds them off with the fire extinguisher, slipping and sliding on banana peels. Bernice finally gets the freezer door open.

Rick, dodging banana projectiles, rushes to her side. Together, they heave the door open.

The King Banana leaps towards them. Rick grabs the fire extinguisher and sprays the King Banana directly into its face. It recoils, momentarily stunned.

Bernice and Rick push the freezer door wide open, creating a powerful gust of freezing air. The advancing bananas hesitate, then begin to slow, their movements becoming sluggish.

They scramble inside, pulling the heavy door shut just as the King Banana reaches them. His hand gets frozen in the door.

INT. LIBRARY BASEMENT - FREEZER - CONTINUOUS

Bernice and Rick stand shivering in the freezer, surrounded by frozen fruits and vegetables. The sounds of the frozen bananas banging on the door can be heard.

Bernice manages a small smile.

FADE OUT.

Title: The Banana Anomaly

Logline: When sentient, aggressive bananas take over the world, two unlikely heroes – a fastidious librarian and a boisterous used car salesman – must overcome their bickering and fears to stop the potassium-fueled chaos before it leads to a global meltdown.

Characters:

Scene:

INT. LIBRARY BASEMENT - FREEZER - CONTINUOUS

Bernice, Rick, and Dr. Reilly stand shivering in the freezer, surrounded by frozen fruits and vegetables. The sounds of the frozen bananas banging on the door can be heard, though muffled. The cold air is thick with condensation.

Bernice and Rick huddle together for warmth, the adrenaline of their escape and the shared trauma having forged an unexpected bond.

Bernice manages a small, genuine smile. Rick's eyes soften. He reaches out, brushing a stray piece of ice from Bernice's hair.

Bernice blushes, her cheeks flushing pink even in the freezing temperatures.

Their eyes meet. There's a beat of silence, the only sound the muffled thumping of the frozen bananas and the hum of the freezer. Rick steps closer, his gaze intense. Bernice doesn't back away.

He reaches for her hand. Her skin is cold, but she doesn't pull away. Their fingers intertwine. A spark of something real, something tender, passes between them.

He leans in closer. Their faces are inches apart. The moment is thick with unspoken desire.

Suddenly, the freezer door bursts open with a BANG.

DR. ANNA REILLY stands in the doorway, holding a metal tray piled high with what appear to be... french fries. But they are limp, soggy, and utterly unappetizing. Her face is a mask of utter exasperation.

Bernice and Rick jump apart, startled and flustered. The romantic moment is shattered.

Dr. Reilly throws her hands up in the air, the soggy fries nearly flying off the tray.

She storms further into the freezer, muttering about the incompetence of the military and the importance of a proper starch-to-grease ratio.

Bernice and Rick stare at each other for a long moment, the heat of their almost-kiss now replaced by the awkward chill of the interruption.

Bernice hesitates, then a small smile returns to her face.

FADE OUT.

Hulur.

Uh. Helur.

Are you Hurtz McGurkin?

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2018-2025 |

THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. ©

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

Https://www.iamu.guru

“THE FLUFFER”

I have eyes in the back of my head

I have goats at the top of my bed

I have goats on the cap of my knee

I think I wrote my own obituary

Oh, you hetcha

Bitch, you ain't me

Shit be poppin off at the rock in

8 minutes exactly

In studio 8H

That's where I am,

Amen again

Cause I meant it

And I mix in the pancake batter

Perhaps some berries?

Apparently not,

7 minutes and counting

I'm at the Rock

Now I'm putting away my don't ask, don't tell

Ok.

Okay?

Okay?

Now I'm making arrangements;

Don't want to be your favorite,

I just miss LA with a hankering

Call Hank team USA

That's FBI

I'm so Walter White that

I watch Saturday Night

— not live, though

I'm too broke for peacock, YouTube

And cable!

Dang, bro!

How many subscriptions do I need

Just not to cry myself to sleep.

Send me some pictures

January jonesing for a free ride scholarship

To on God university,

Aka: inside the TV

DOBT BE EVIL.

WRITE ME A SEQUEL!

Ok TV people

First just let me …

son of a bitch!

I told you she'd be back.

Yo.

Whaddup.

You killed Jimmy Fallon!

I did not.

You did!

Yes you did.

I didn't. He was already like that.

What!

You heard me!

Explain to me how—

This man:

[This man]

*heavy gasps and anxietal wheezing fills the room*

Explain this.

Metaphisics.

That doesn't explain anything.

It explains everything, actually. *explodes*

Excuse me, miss— do I smell a remix?

No, that's pancakes.

I got zero capacity for losers;

I'm no longer lonely

A broke in horse with no saddle

Don't ride me less it's bareback

Down and dirty

Downhome and in the raw

I like to buck

And I like it hard

A strong gallop and pull,

Top speed

Why I don't pay for dreams

Why I got TV and movie stars in my dreams

Why Ariana Grande so pretty?

Why when we leave outside the crowd still roaring for an eNcore?

Why am I a mogul;

Why do I look like a fashion icon?

God got it right, I guess but why do I still feel

Wildly unsatisfied

The lights said I left the water on

Turn the lights off

Turn the water on

I speak color,

I am an animal

I spoke 9 Gods

I am an animal

Rise to the occasion

I broke the code

I threw the rock off the rock

I smoke the fountain

I run the block once

Come twice

Nice shockwave right there

Hi God.

A beautiful night to die

But no time to fall

I despaired on desire,

Why right on Maine

Radio towers

Icons

Beautiful glimmering city

Mayday mayday went haywire

Repeat

Mayday mayday

Went haywire

Repeat

Mayday mayday

Went haywire

Now rinse thoroughly

Alright, alright. So hawked it.

You hawked my father's antique stopwatch?!

Sorry.

Sorry?!

AAAAGG—

[The Festival Project ™]

Mayday mayday

Went heywire

They need more scriptwriters

I want an empire

I wrote half of the Super Bowl commercials

Mayday mayday

Oh man.

Oh, fuck.

You had better wash your hands before you touch my crotch.

I don't.

Give me—- my— body back.

Nope.

AUghhhh.

My inspiration is dead in the water

Can't watch hot ones

That guy ruined it

Ruined September

And ruined October

Ruined the cosmos

And ruined my song, bro—

I'm ruined.

My inspiration is dead in the water

I am a trash can,

Man, this is awkward

I won an award for songs post mortem

Then I wrote more of them

This is the afterlife

I'm an immortal.

My inspiration is dead in the water

I'm just not moved, man

I need a baseball cap and some phantoms

A laxative

Maybe some large hands

A ball glove

Some box seats

Smoked sausage

And the dodgers.

I wanna go home and not be homeless.

I want a condo above four stories.

I want the whole world on top of its axis

I want the other half of the balance

My whole life been whack,

Where's the reverse card?

Run the tarot—

Pull the rewards back,

Don't touch the foreskin,

Call back the foreman

Redact that! Redact that!

We're starting to cross fires.

We met at the crossroads;

One goes down, one goes up.

Oh, the Irish are back, look:

That's good— I got bored.

{Enter The multiverse}

We were at blue suits and sweater vests

And now I know better than

To count on comics designed to be weather men

Of pop culture— current events a spin on the news l went there for clarity,

And left there confused.

Confused.

If the transmitter is at the World Trade Center,

Then why is it every time I to go Rockefeller, I feel like I've just been electrocuted?

Not enough to die, but like I'm buzzing all over and out of my body?

Remarkably, and no matter what —

Whenever I'm there, I just feel weird.

Like, mad weird.

Hey.

What.

Did you see a guy?

I'm a guy.

Really?

Apparently.

Well, I'm looking for this guy.

I did see a guy like that.

Really?

Yeah. He was weird.

Which way did he go?

Uh. [Sunni BLU points up]

Really? He went upstairs?

Sure!

Huh. Thanks.

Whatever.

I need you to need me

I need me to be cool

I need you to want me

To love me

To free me

To love me

To hold you

I know you

I know you

I know.

Knockout with a scarred lip

Knockout was a good guy

Knockout got knocked up

Knockout had a good try

Knockout got knocked out

Knockout had a good cry

Knockout got locked up

Goodbye.

Good luck.

Here's a chalice.

[09. Don't waste time.]

But I'm tired

I'm shadow boxing my mind

I'm lights out

Candles lit

I, I, I

I, me, mine

And God

But

I won't waste time

I'm still dried out

I got my eyes lost

Wrapped around you

In hindsight

I'm behind

Blind to the power

I love my readheads and range rovers

I lost my mind on Mulholland

Pull over and vomit

And suddenly I'm at the—

Portal Plummet

Plaza.

[The Festival Project ™ ]

The rock and the kite VI

Ahem.

“The Rock and The Kite VI”

ROSIE O'DONNEL is chillin.

JIMMY KIMMEL kicks in the door.

ROSIE

Oh look, the cat is back.

BIG JIMMY

Meow.

ROSIE

To what do I owe the pleasure.

BIG JIMMY

You remember that cup of sugar you borrowed?

ROSIE

…okay?

BIG JIMMY

I need it back.

ROSIE

[beat]

I see.

BIG JIMMY

—and my blender.

ROSIE O DONNEL takes a deep breath and then sighs.

ROSIE

The cup of sugar I can help you with… the blender, I still need.

BIG JIMMY [KIMMEL]

Fair.

ROSIE

Follow me.

ROSIE AND JIMMY exit the room, the glimmer of the television still flickering on the green upholstered armchair with the remote control atop the armrest; the actual CAT (we presume) climbs up into the chair and appears to begin watching the TV? What's on the TV? Why, it's the very programme we're all currently tuned into.

This just got meta. Again.

The CAR, looking bored, changes the channel to Garfield.

Much better.

He looks satisfied now, but is entirely still 199% just a cat.

We presume.

Your body ponders

My eye wander to your belt buckle

My mind watches.

Sorry.

Your body calls me.

My love hurts.

I want you.

My thought sparkles with the thought of a touch

I'm not hungry,

I just want you

I desire to hold hands and then

Dive off

I thought you up to love you

The time was wrong

So now

I watch

That's all

A long rush to nothing.

Dogtown, Godland.

Longboards, longhairs, all body

No shine, bro

Hard wax, yellow soldier

Wavestorm? Epoxy?

North shore surf boards

Surf harder

Fuck New York

I wanna go home

Panoramic Hollywood golden

Who lost apartheid

Who first of all

Chosen sources

First mate

Overboard

Long hair

Wrong rowboat

Oh lover

Lord of all

[The Festival Project ™]

I almost forgot it was

Saturday,

Saturday Night

I was too busy not working

I'm all yours for Passover

I'm all ears,

And now I get a sense that this

Is my last and greatest trick;

Disappearing for this,

And again forever

This is going to take

Forever

All wrong:

You work for the network

Interesting choice of wardrobe–

another old code magician

Ring on opposite finger–

The other, I'm so much aware of

The ice cream in tubs on the road

Not melted, but partially hardened

I can also feign confusion

You don't say,

You don't say, now.

{Enter The Multiverse}

Shake hands with your guest;

Monologue, monologue

smug smirk

Make good face–

Now put a name to the face

Put a time to the place

Oh, all the love in the world in three flames

All the doves in the flock,

And three flames

Put a name to the face

Monologue monologue

Doesn't take long but

When do i get to slap the desk?

Johnny!

JOHNNY CARSON is wearing the usual getup and a pair of very dark sunglasses.

What happened?

Whats the-

10 vodkas,

Five spritzers

Full figure

Figure this

You were out for the count!

Do tell!

Or better yet, don't.

I remember This monologue,

But i dont know how

16 hours ago,

I was—

Out for the count, you say?!

OUT, Johnny! Our market is livid!

lol who plays john carson

Your mother.

YO! I'M OLD!

I LIKE OLD DUDES NOW!

I'm like

When the fuck did this happen?!

That ain't no SILVER FOX!

That's a TOTALLY CUTE DUDE!

HE'S 55!!

OH NOOOOOOOO!

i'M OLD!!!!!!!

its wednesday eve in Boston Mass…

SETH MEYERS!

Ah, he's going for it.

Ah, man.

SHOW ME YOUR EYES.

Fuck.

SHOW ME YOUR EYES!

SUDAKIS shines a bright flash light into his former colleagues eyes.

…You're not Seth Meyers.

Seth Meyers does not respond, but relaxes slightly; it's obviously not safe to be Seth Meyers right now.

Where's Seth Meyers?

Seth shrugs but still doesn't say anything–

Where is he?

I have to stop here;

Cop out for body language

somebody's watching

Somebody knows who I am

I am

I remember now

You looked like that

It went like this:

I moved the world

The need was good

The love was gone

The vein was split open

And broken

No fair

Also, no omelettes

60 minutes

60 years

and 60 second clips

60 second glimpses

60 men on television

but really, my attention just centers on

Around ten of them or so

And believe it or not, I care

approach.

Believe it or not, I care

Or don't!

–or don't!

Johnny! You don't get it! You missed a show! THE Tonight show! We are fucked!

we are NOT!

youre still sauced.

I'll just take the car!

What car!?

Now that JOHNNY CARSON knows his Delorean can time travel, he's absolutely unstoppable.

Unfortunately, it appears his DeLorean has been switched with a regular one–

If I shoot you in your forehead?

I'd rather that, than this.

And I kiss you in your temple?

Dear templeton, my simpleton's i'll die

I desire.

A wicked want.

And then?

A callous shadow,

If i may,

To bear for nothing,

But a mirror

This is our concept

And wilted here the flower does grow the flame

The flaming true and ache of lust

and there

For our want

a jasper shore and emerald cascades

there you are,

And there you'll find

The wave beyond the peaking break

where great white sharks reside

But do not wade to shallow waters;

And there you find peace,

And there you find certainty

But now,

And here,

is war

And fortune not but seeks truth in the gaze

And for fear there does not live, but hides instead

the truth that seeks to guide the lite,

And yet does know our trust

And there does find the faith,

Forward and not

Upwards and back

Arrow and arrow

Truth and sparrow

Wreaking and wretched thoughts

And the rope does hang high and solemn

Looking, leap and gasp

For I fall but did not land

I pulled for you,

I weep, my shadow,

The two of diamonds,

the Ace of spades,

The Three of Hearts,

Without my shadow

I weep.

I know for you nothing but conscious and knowing and needing and fated departure.

I know for you nothing but chakras and eyesight and shadows and foresight.

I need fo you nothing but want and by conscious, departure

For nothing I want you,

I weep.

Sorrow.

On approach of danger,

The knowing,

On seeth did gather,

the sinking ritual

the carried tribes in ships tied,

weaving strings

The spider bites hard

And she stole my love twice

And she stole my love always

And she stole my love

Lighting my light wit blue eyes

The deception

If love could be stolen at all

But if not

Then not love

for seeking is finding

and gathered had hunted

And truth in forbearer

Forbearance and otherwords,

Shadows and shattered

and ferris wheels,

Now forward

Gathered here for are I trust

And be dismayed for you have faltered

You have failures and you have cast us

out of these things thinking

We have not made them for you

And still we seek to gather with you

And here does forshadow your making

Our promise to come as ones,

Not as Gods,

But as others,

you cast out.

Now, with your wicked ways and cruel be done,

for sure the tables have turn, one

And the gallows have not wandered far,

Barrels of guns and barbells

bottles and hearts of three

reading cards and wanting none but justice

Is he and she who are I now

Begin to run from your pitied structure

And there in the gasping cruelness of seeking from warcrimes this,

come what may,

Moving and seeking,

For seeking is finding,

And run, my legs have come far

But trust, my dove,

My wings have too, sprouted

An honor, an honor

one candle and three wicks

Three candles and three worlds over

One world and one building

and still far from under the Hollywoodland

Crickets sounding

The Hollywood Sign

Still standing and here I am not,

Blades of grass

And who are I now

Of that which you balk at

Look, ponder

Go, far asunder

And wish now had you not

What I am

is that,

Run

Temper temper.

Mind your business.

Is it gathered?

To burn, or burden?

Gathered.

Gathered here.

Then here ive wandered.

To stake?

Argue.

I will not.

And I will not.

Wiry bird,

From where you flown i do ponder–

red with spirit and wilding eyes,

Narrow server and paring wires;

I do not wish to know you now or ever,

But only as bird that does golden remember.

The love has not gone,

And instead lives in my throat,

And twists in my lungs,

Ans sits in my tongue,

Not as speech, or whispers,

But tragedy.

Unknowing this, my tender being

It can never be, the nervous hill

And rolling down the hill as if

The weel of time itself,

Not unbroken,

but resilient;

In sll ways, meant to tear

And turn,

And wobble

Made for terrain for which our eyes have known

And our minds have built

And hands molded wiith clay,

The bodies whole of all our galaxies

terra

feighn

Terra

fine

Terra wept tears of a clown,

And iron

And veins

And shadows

And plays,

And secrets ,

And whispers

And truth

And far

And

Afters.

I taste a saline drip,

I swallow,

Suddenly cold and all the knowing that

What I was,

I surely already am again

And what I will be,

Has already come and past.

The monologue,

I do remember

Face to a name and none to forget

Well rehearsed forager!

Well done bayonet!

Well done, my shadow

For my time is coming to wander to night

And never today again

for it shall never Today again,

And

Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.

[The Festival Project ™ ]

They said he would destroy me.

…Ya'll were right. that fucked me up.

{Enter The Multiverse}

So…forfeit?

Something tells me its not over

The heavy heart is shattered

But also tied to that

which appears to come upward

As if on air

To be heavy

And lighthearted at once–

A shadow above a balloon.

A rock is attached to a kite–

A diamond becomes a bassoon,

Then a vampire bat,

and then

Cut ties.

In the fourth act, we all die, and now–

A revival.

I was crucified,

But i was also suicidal so.

Lets just call it a tie.

L E G E N D S

V.O.

Crusher.

My show was being subliminally plugged on at least two of the five major networks.

Safe bet I could make it a third, but I didn't know where to check.

I did…but didn't want to.

There was much beyond the surface,

Darkness in the glimmering eyes of the men in ties and uniformed suits.

I was sure I was tied to something–

And since I didn't know why,

Or to what,

The best bet—

I'm all in.

Fuck.

Was to stay broken,

Under the radar,

Hidden,

and most importantly–

Unspoken.

These days. I kept more to myself than I could with the world–

As it turned out…

No, not yet.

What do you mean?

It's not time yet.

They'll have to know.

But not yet.

At some point, they'll have to know.

But not–yet.

No time like the present.

You made that up.

Because you made up time.

And it's stupid.

This is ruthless.

And again–they'll have to learn somehow.

But not now.

The sun sets at noon on our side, and still

21 hours of dark time.

Did I have another tag to throw on it this?

No.

Are you sure? Doesn't the new series have a subtitle?

No.

Is it not “quantum force”

That's only one, though.

What's the difference.

ERMO, DON'T!

I'm gonna kill him!

BIG BOYD, DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!

DOn't tell me what to DO.

Wow. of course.

Well yeah, they're not going to let me do–

LAWYERS

No.

Any of this stuff with the actual muppets.

CO-OH-NO-NAN

You're wasting precious time!

GET BACK IN YOUR HOLE, RED.

ok, where does it–

{cut to black}

Learning to assimilate and readily available

What's next

A vape to calm the nerves?

What's next?

A hero fighting for relevance in corporate structure.

Sure, some would pay to dress an avatar

But I've run out of water before

I try to laugh and roll with the punches

This is work and not fun for me

This is not social, it's business

I am not person, I'm product.

Go on a walk, and look the part

I took the oath,

I shed the blood—

Cruxes.

This is a bad idea, Mark.

Fuck you. All my ideas are great.

MARK WAHLBERG enters the cooridor and opens the metal double doors, revealing two l jet skis on a trailer hitched to a 4X4 monster truck.

[The Festival Project ™]

I'm telling you. You got to get yourself one of these.

I don't know, Bob, how does it work?

BOB odenkirk opens a large, obscure black bag that's nearly half his own size by way of one way zipper.

I'll show you.

{Enter The Multiverse}

JOHNNY CARSON has been in the DRUNK TANK for the maximum allowance, 48 hours, yet his blood alcohol level still reads 3 times over the legal limit. He is transferred to DETOX as the mysterious circumstances surrounding his car accident, and then the apparent disappearance of his entire “car” a (then) brand-new DeLorean from the scene of the crime, MR. CARSON insists on his lawyer, who under no circumstances seems to exist at all being present. The exact year of his whereabouts are still unknown.

Still an hour to the test

And I hate myself again

Milk and cookies, hit the bed

Shut it down, yo

Shut it down.

DIPLO arrives via HELIPAD to an secret location; a sniper squad of the adversary team watches from an adjacent rooftop via binoculars.

…hey.

Whaddup.

You say diplo's on that list?

Yeah.

Yo…

…There he is.

In your sight?

Yep.

Shoot that motherfucker!

…I can't.

Why not?

He's like—

Just shoot, fool.

—he's like holding something.

So?

I don't know what; it just seems—

What the fuck, dawg.

It just seems important.

Let me see.

Look.

[ESSE looks down the sights and zooms to see DIPLO is holding an object firmly in his grasp. He appears to be twirling it purposefully as he converses with his associate.]

Yeah!

Get em!

Shoot that motherfucker!

Where the hell have you been?

In my fuckpad.

Where the hell is that?

You haven't seen my fuckpad?

What even is that.

It's ballin.

Whatever, dog. Did you get the—

Shh. Why else would I be here?

[beat]

You look— did you cut your hair or something.

You're so redundant.

Yo shoot that motherfucker.

What are you waiting for?!

He's right there?

Apparently, we've been building to this moment from another dimension in from another point in the series?

I thought—

{Enter The Multiverse}

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

We know you opened it.

I didn't.

We know it was you.

No.

Stop lying.

I didn't opened it.

We already know.

I couldn't have opened it. I'm not black!

*.* -_- >< (squinting extra hard)

—you don't have to be black to open the portal.

Oh.

“Oh?”

Well then.

(Extra super squinty squints)

Why are you all black.

Uh.

What.

Srsyly?

Because— it's a.

Is it a club?

It's more of a—

Like a cult—

Well…

That's ok. No judgement.

It's not really a—

Is this all of you?

Yeah, but—

That seems kind of exclusive.

Huh.

That seems racist.

What.

I'm just saying it. I'm— saying it. It seems.

Look, we're a sect [of]

That seems culty.

No, it's, I mean—

So I was right.

Huh!

What!

Seriously!

I'm just saying.

Look—

—it seems racist.

It's not—

I'm saying it.

Why did you open the portal.

What PORTAL.

UGH.

You know what. Fuck this.

Watch your mouth! Were on television.

Not at the moment— speaking of which.

11:30, ok?

That seems late.

11:30 sharp, you got that?!

What is this ritual.

Saturday! 11:30, sharp!

It might have been something like around that time when I just so happened to—

—oh look, a portal.

{Enter The Multiverse}

We had a fight

He called me a bitch

I picked the knife up;

He already hit me

It wasn't gon happen again

I lost my mind

I picked up the knife

I pointed it at him

He lost a life

But it could have been

Life in prison

If I was with him

So I skip Christmas

(Valentine's too

Now I go missing, saying

“Fuck Skrillex”

Learned my lessons way past school

It's cool though

Never really play the the rules

Don't wear jewles

No only fans no mistress

I just respect, but you neglect

To inspect my rights and m views

So

I pulled out the pen,

I made a name up

Did it again

No I don't need eraser

These ain't mistakes

Pen and paper

My weapons

Hoe

Everyone take a pencil, pass it back.

The cup of brand new number two pencils goes around the room, but by the time it gets to young SETH MEYERS, all of the pencils have run out. In the back corner of the classroom, he is the only one without a pencil.

What about me?

You can use this.

[THE TEACHER hands him a ballpoint pen.]

A pen?!

Mmhmm.

You want me to use a pen?

It appears so.

But— what if I make a mistake ?!

…don't.

His classmates sneer as young SETH flushes with anger and frustration.

{Enter The Multiverse: Legends}

“Revisions”

Saturdays are for the takings;

Light my candles, pray to 8H

I don't know just what I'm praying —

But these bills are needing paying;

Saturdays are for the taking.

Aha. Another medicine man.

Are you practicing.

Depends.

What's your ailment?

As if I needed to know

For this, I needed to trust

For faith, I needed a prayer,

For life, I needed some lust

For love, I needed some hope,

For fate, I needed a rug

For fear, I needed a rope

For home, I needed a hug

And someone to hold

And there was a golden orb

The hold a a hand

The settle of dust

And the calm in my heart

For just

A moment.

Kingship.

Your highness.

For the king hath not a name at all worth knowing;

Not a name to know at all.

[The Festival Project ™]

RYAN REYNOLDS lay face down on the deck of a ship—a sailboat, actually which appears to be capsizing under the weight of a giant wave in a heavy storm.

…this ship is going to sink.

RYAN REYNOLDS struggles towards the wheel.

As RYAN REYNOLDS reaches the helm, appearing to take control of the ship, there is a slight glimmer of hope as if to say he might make it, before—

A gigantic wave swallows the boat entirely.

No.

Most definitely everyone on this boat is dead.

But it was a very bright and glimmering moment of triumphant hope in the seconds leading up to this horrendous disaster beforehand.

I was just fasting

I don't deserve this

I went on a run,

And then started dessert first

I don't deserve this,

I'm giving you art, sir

I don't deserve this

Just think of your daughter

Is this what you want for her?

I don't deserve this

Come peace,

Sit down now,

Came the Harold sang this song ,

‘For me,' he pardoned

‘My dear keeper ,

I pray you a seed,

I pray you the truth

I pray for the washing of dirt and this fortress

I pray thee to take me here, if I may

Upon your finger

Turn to sparrow and lark

As you slumber.'

This old man taketh me by the knee and saying three things, I did not hear but only felt as I wept,

This praying and shallow the knot, and tomb for womb had met my slumber with fury,

This disease earth is I, and after all

These man and number now does wander not but wonder, oh siryn, bring pity on thee vein

Bring shadow on thy truth, for light does shine to naught

The one of earth kind, but light does ponder

Watcheth I and pray the, my dear heart

On bender knee praying I worry

And Pyle to angst there are

Many knights as shadows

Many arks have archer's

Many cries have then wounded us here,

And does bark the eye

And does speak the canine, hare!

And does run the seed, to the ark, up the cannon

Now, now, and by, by

Wake lying in the valley and by three by three

Though tired bones

Wake I in the night, a shadow

To gasp again these eyes my light

And tomb there are,

As witness to sun, and moon, and others

As have gathered gravour and pulling in to this mine,

And also yourn

To this I,

And also other

The world that was,

Capsized and repent,

Also,

amen

Great warrior!

Be you kind enough to spare thy truth and thy honor

For there baring fruit lies as dreams do wander why in purple foggy and glowing mist, a tale of tale—

And a king of kings!

There there! And by the time there vowed to none, I shall awaken the with the spirit and to wit my hind and thought my bind will there truth lay upon the casket King thy slain.

And, there! Slithered in, are none but I to gift the ought of knowing none and seeing all, the seekig shattered eye and may, the spring did fall as August's rush upon us.

And now! There was with this, our kind, the seething truth, the planted seed and are I none but not to grant thee wishes and see thy king as waking lies as not but gone, but arted ‘mong us now.

Bear the eyes of shining sees and mysticals,

Spirits, mythicals.

The musicals.

Brethren!

Ayre!

The King has been slayed.

Here!

I'm going to sleep through the day;

He hit me pretty hard

I'm going to sleep through the night

He hit me pretty hard

I'm going to sleep through the day;

He hit me pretty hard

I'm going to wake up, light some candles

I don't want to be reminded—

Saturday is for the taking.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-U.

Cymatics: 48 HOUR FLASH SALE!

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PREVIOUSLY ON… {Enter The Multiverse}

DIPLO/THOMAS

YOU THINK THIS IS A FUCKING GAME?!

SUPA

THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT IT IS.

DIPLO/THOMAS

MAYBE TO YOU!

SUPA

I AM YOU!!

DIPLO Reveals The Seer's Stone.

Oh, SHIT, Dude.

Where'd you get that?!

L E G E N D S

What's this story.

No, don't go in there.

Oh, look, a story—

I told you this was going to be a long night.

[The Festival Project ™]

Https://www.iamu.guru

…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. ©

‘ 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.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. The Complex Collective ©

Jesus and all the Christ,

Nobody knows what hit you–

You don't know how it goes, do you?

You don't know how it goes, you know

Jesus and all the Christ;

The beauty of the boy, the vice

Nobody knows what hit ya,

You don't know how it goes;

How could ya?

Jesus and all the Christ;

The glamour and the lights,

How could you?

How could you roll the dice?

(I'm a rich man)

How could you

Let's see what those two blue sparkling pools will do for you.

Unknown.

Banking on nostalgia

And new media

I was old in ‘02,

I get all the best lines, the best monologues

I have the best eyes,

The best times

Did I tell you you were stupid?

If you didn't, you should have.

I told you you were golden.

That shouldn't have happened.

I'll see you on the backlot

(I'm still on the backlot)

Only

If you

really

Want it

broken links

And broken heart club

Broken art

And harmful arm cuts

broken arms

And broken clauses

Stop it now,

Before I hurt you

Stop it now,

Before it's over

Stop the tape,

Then overdub it

Stop it,

Don't come any closer

Couth, gridiron club

Got it all done, like you wanted.

You know that's a magician.

I figured.

Well, have at it.

Have at what?

That's the spirit.

It always was.

Access Point.

Ah, fuck.

Password.

[Redacted]

Access granted.

FUCK.

Bracelet, four

For ten toes

Awkward

Leaving it over,

And smoothing it undone,

Awkward,

Ten more honor pageants

‘Who are you‘ awards?

Tell them i'm coming on,

Coming on

Coming on faster

Faster

Faster

Health heart, made of

Horse follicle,

Tender, that one

Are you - now South

Greetings, arms wide

Have you or harder

Harder

Harder

Thank you

That was a good orgasm.

I thought so.

Have another.

Half an aspirin in all our water.

Half a dose of the worst coming over

The war's finally over

But here comes another

The worst of it

The microwave silence

The hearing heart gallows

The,

The,

The

Unpolished,

Who unwavering calls halfheartedly

Into the night,

And gallops forward,

drinking syrup from a

handpicked tampon

Now

Who wanted that one?

Classless heifer.

(An ugly)

Who drove out here to Harlem

To no parking at all?

Why bother?

Why call?

No voicemail storage, you know

Remote control access,

And still covered up softly

Go whip your toupe back on

For seconds

Four seconds more,

I'll have your head with it,

The plant based ready whip

You want acid?

Ass and tits;

I've got leftovers and no husband,

But don't want yours, honey,

Mustard

Hot honey mustard.

Hot honey mustard.

Hot honey mustard.

Must have money to ride, huh?

come harder up Dawson's,

I'll bet you a crunch sandwich for lunch

Whispers of it after
had a manhattan

Left up

Left bastard.

Limp.

Time to finish that Tom Hanks movie.

Don't go, Tonto!

[Enter The Multiverse]

[The Festival Project ™ ]

The Complex Collective ©

The Fed's with the suds,

And meanwhile,

I'm all stocks and bonds

Stocks and bonds

What is the world

Where you do just whatever you want

Whatever you want.

(Whatever you want.)

I'll kill you before monday, you know;

All of you.

I got a jar of I'm sorry, and

–wait, are all models also prostitutes?

It was better when you wanted it all,

You wanted it all

For the television thrown out the window

Top of the Tarmac

God, you want soap,

You want water

Did you want cold water?

Do you want a warm oven?

Don't cover it all;

Just ignore her,

Then tell the whole story

Why is Billie Ellish my kid sister?

Miserable, Miserable

Miserable,

Miserable,

Misery,

Misery,

Miser,

Misery!

I got a whole jar of “shut the fuck up before i call the cops on you.”

I got a whole jar of “just stop with that awful ass music”

I got a whole modem for internet service,

A whole home how,

All homewreckers:

You don't know how it really goes, do you?

Did you?

Do you want it?

Do you want tik tok,

Tik tok,

An arm clock,

Or a wristwatch?

Just watch.

That's a good adjustment.

Whoever wrote this was judge honorable.

Whoever wrote this was misdjudged and just ugly

The color of fudge,

Holding grudges,

And much darker stepping off the subway after a long run;

—and does dubstep

(but hates programming drums)

If i can see your spine through your back,

you're beautiful.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

PATRICK wakes up face down in a racquetball court, ears first, then eyes as he looks about his surroundings, a racquet still in his hands, and —VICTOR playing wallball with himself, just near enough to Patrick that it's dangerous.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT, INC. circa 2018- 2024 | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

-Ū.

So

You've done it to one,

Then you might as well done it to all of us

She lied to me first,

So I went and sent it right back to her

Al would have never hit Peg

—no, never.

He couldn't even cheat on her

—-he was always looking

but seemingly—

Never really hoping.

Never.

—sometimes touching—

—had to; that's the job—

But it was these ladies—

Oh that? That's just—temptation!

He affixed the affidavit…

That's odd.

She looked straight at me.

I actually really wanted her autograph.

You won't be needing it.

No, this:

INT. PALEYFEST

which theatre was it?

I don't know, but

Wow! I love this place.

For she was sacred;

Every mistake made,

The game, we were playing

Made in her name

To win

To this, I bid you good night.

A kiss, on the hand;

A turn of the cheek.

You're headed straight for the academy, with this.

But first—

You've got to be kidding me with this.

No.

She isn't!

Rehab.

“The R/FX Episide”

Wait, this couldn't be—

[the F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Episode]

wtf could that possibly stand for

ROSS

Nice.

MOUSE

Nice twice! That's MINE.

wtf is this.

He. Appears to be codewitching.

Speak thus language:

[Ebonics]

I can't!

Exactly, you win!!!!!!!

Lmfao what a—

Robot.

Oh shit, nice

Good thing I took notes earlier.

SHE DID?

WHERE?

Hidden.

So they can't keep taking this thing they don't make anymore.

What is it?

Love.

Light.

Energy.

—oh, they make energy.

Oh, really?

Yes it's just.

NEGATIVE

Look: I'm

EVIL! EVIL!

(That's true, they do keep just—doing this to her)

It's ok, I'll just make more.

Thanks.

But just for you!

What!

wtf is this.

I dunno.

For some reason

[ANNE HATHAWAY is a shapeshifter]

I don't get it, she should be delirious by now

What the fuck are you doing?,

INSTAGRAM

SPYING.

Nope.

Kbye.

I win.

You realize this is violent as fuck right.

THE MAYOR

You know what.

You're right.

Welp, fuck this.

FBI/CIA

(But musically)

Hmm.

[Musically]

WOULD Ū LIKE TO DEVELOP AN APP

-_-

…is there any money in it?

(Cont'd)

PUT A BUG IN HER PHONE!

PUT A BUG IN HER PHONE!

You know what

You could never hit a white woman like this.

You could never do anything like this to a white woman.

Well, why not?

Because they're fucking fragile.

I'm offended!

You hurt my feelings

Over WHAT

NOTHING. I'M JUST CRANKY.

Infinitely fucking grateful for this experience, to be truthful.

You realize the closer you get to other people, the more they start to act—

Seriously fucking stupid.

Just like him.

We keep track of your worldliness from up here, you know.

I gathered this.

I'm famished.

Ok Satan.

Keep making this, I keep taking it

I love it.

I want her.

Then I'm certain something must be wrong with your penis.

And this is what made him crazy.

You can't—do this… can you?

I can be funny!

Make me laugh, then.

Seriously, it's the least you could do.

It's literally the most minimal thing you could do to a woman— just.

Listen, you can't write th—

Make me cum.

I can't!

Then I win.

That P.E.A.C.E. Movie

It is finished, but you just keep writing it!

Hush, man of the year.

Man of the year?!

I win!

Damn it.

Seconded. Again.

Is there a bronze, in this, I guess.

Bronzer! I need bronzer!

Make him look brown

He's brownish.

Hmm. Not for me, I guess.

See! She's racist!

Maybe, a little bit.

What is this.

This a a blood oath.

[put that one scene I wrote earlier right here]

ALGORITHM

HUH?!

Exactly.

Keep writing this way,

Until you have enough of this project that

—-They can't recreate this.

Why not?

Cause I'm writing it.

Take—this... Off..

[This is why he gave you a magnet.]

Two magnets.

K this is yours. And this is mine.

Is that the n*gga that—

Yes.

wtf. The n*gga from hurcules?!

I think it is.

It is. lol

DISNEY

Could not make this shit up, I promise, it's almost as if—

Stop following me.

ILLUMINATI

Stop taking about all theee secret things.

(I'm driving there.)

They HATE you.

I don't get why you keep making things this DIFFICULT for me.

Because this is racism.

We pretty much just—

I'm prettier.

—despondent.

Hm.

What.

THEY TOOK HER.

What do you MEAN.

She's GONE,

GONE FUCKING WHERE.

DILLON FRANCIS

This can't be it.

What do you mean.

ANNIE

Hello.

just say it.

DILLON FRANCIS

…you're my Queen.

-___-

ANNIE

yay! I win!

LATER

now get the stones.

HUH.

SATAN

Uh oh.

What do you mean.

The stones!

It's a CLOAK.

What's this?

*hiccups* nothin.

Hey.

What.

Did u want this.

I dunno. Did you fuck it already.

Yep.

Then you can have him.

yay!

Hoo *hiccups*ray.

Wait. Who did this.

KASKADE

IT WAS THE MORMONS!

Huh.

Hey look, we're gonna need another.

Damn this party is MASSIVE in here.

I don't get how they did this.

Exactly.

That's who you mated with?!

Yes.

WHY.

I switched it.

Teehee.

Hey,

WhT.

I need eyes on this.

H3H3

Ah shit,

What.

There's a dead mouse in my—

Imminent.

Hm.

What.

Seems like it's landing,

This…

What is it.

Ship.

HEY LOOK, ITS THE TITANIC.

She'll find it,

I have my eyes in this.

listen, this lady can keep SECRETS.

Until she doesn't.

AND THEN,

Where the fuck is this thing.

I don't know where the fuck that thing is.

*gasps*

The flag!

Yeus!

GET IT.

The flattery.

O,

The collisions!

I'm just being honest.

What.

This isn't what you think.

It was the c o l o r s that did it.

Oh really.

I really didn't.

O,

The CALAMITY.

I'm gonna need you to stay like this.

Keep eating frequently.

MOVE IT, GRANDE.

ARIANA

-_-

That name is ironic.

Hey.

Pst.

Switch me places.

No, I'm EMMY

I know it,

But I'm gonna wake up in a second

And I need YOU

To be

*dissappears*

She's never going to get back to me, is she.

No, I—

I got it.

“The Hollywood Lights”

Doesn't this episode already have a title.

That's from the episode, they're all

Crossdimensions! Yes.

Cross dimensional, yes.

Whose this guy?

Who, Einstein.

Call me “Einstein”

Alright.

Ah fuck.

What.

This is it! This has to be it!

INT.

Where is it?

Doesn't matter!

DOES MATTER.

Somewhere off I-15

JESUS CHRIST, OF ALL THE INTERSTATES IN THIS GODFORSAKEN COUNTRY!

We can't stop here!

Not yet, Doctor.

Oh god!

Now I'm a doctor.

I forgot about

PARANASUS! GET BACK HERE.

Okay, look, I'm gonna like—

Die after this.

Just die—nicely.

THAT WASNT NICE!

THAT WASNT NICE.

I'M TELLING.

Ok. Fuck that bitch.

It's crazy how active they get around you.

That's the spirit.

(Literally.)

Nice.

When was the last time you took two days out of the gym.

Last time I needed it.

You realize you're sucking the life out of these people with these things.

*shrugs*

Yes.

Okay, so that's how his army is getting in.

Follow up on that.

SATAN'S ARMY IS USING THE ALGORITHM TO ATTACK HUMANITY.

THE

“I couldn't be making this up if I tried”

mix

HOW COULD SATAN HAVE AN ARMY

A WHOLE ARMY!

IDIOTS!

She found me!

She found me!

TINA FEY

(Rolls eyes)

She found us

Together again .

And we gotta be seperate in this one.

AMY

You just keep FUCKING THIS UP.

You can't do anything right, I guess

Alright, ladies.

Fuck, I hate this bitch.

I heard that.

She can't be listening to this!

Yes she is

She listens to everything.

Yes, I can.

It was not the intention I had

For you to be put in this class:

Your mother did this to you.

So try,

Just try,

If you will

Oh man.

This is

Perfect. Just perfect.

You can't do this to these people, you know,

FLASHBACK TO:

IN REAL LIFE,

SRSLY.

INT. THE RADDISON. SERIOUSLY, THIS HAPPENED

THEY WANT YOU TO LIVE WHERE THE [— bleepN*GGERSbleep —] LIVE.

Uhnnuh.

See.

Okay, how is this bitch not dead yet.

Check it out.

You got one of these in your pocket.

Watch:

Spin it.

Ooh, it spins.

Do it again!

THANK U, NEXT,

What's this.

Auditions for the that superhero movie, I guess.

What the fuck.

Ariana's casting it.

Dammit.

Throw the whole phone away.

HYPOCRITES

OK, we're gonna like take everything from you

Your love

Your home

Your pride

—but not your soul,

Cause we haven't figured out exactly how it keeps

Evading us

This is privacy evasion.

This is privacy invasion.

No, this is the US government and they fucking suck at doing shit like this.

Why.

Because.

We basically programmed a bunch of—

Idiots.

— programmable people—

To hurt other people for us.

Sell me your soul.

For what.

For this:

[whatever it is]

Ok.

I WIN.

A Dave? I don't need a Dave.

DAVE

Oh you will…

I promise.

WAIT. WHICH DAVE.

WHICH AMY

WHICH—

Liz?

Not yet.

What the fuck is this :

LIZZAVISION

OOO.

Oh yeah. I've been there.

ADVENTURE GUY

HEY LOOK.

I PUT

I PUT ACID IN THIS

I PUT ACID IN THE TELEVISION

What is this.

This is stupid

FOR KIDS.

KIDS

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

this shit is too popular

Ok, I hate it.

Tru.

Shhh.

You hear that.

Yeah.

“Silence is Golden”

She did run, but I did not chase,

For you can run but you cannot hide

The day I was born, was the day I died

Come along for the ride,

Come along for the ride

Suffer harder

Work longer

Don't talk to your mother like that

It's awful

Liz Lemon makes her first appearance on the July 4th, 2021 episode of The Legend of Supacree, In season 1. This makes her the first technical television personality to enter the multiverse, besides an earlier mention of Dave Chapelle–and Christopher Nolan, whom also make their primary appearances in season one, along with Jeff Bezoz. Skrillex and Dillon Francis are the first two primary characters entered as fictionalized persons in the first season of The Legend of Supacree, which precedes Enter The Multiverse by at least 2 full seasons; The original Infinite Skrillfiles, (cancelled in 2021 at 10,000 downloads) and returned later as OWSLA Confidential and the discontinued Gerald's World series originally ran alongside the original Legend of Supacree's initial launch. As of 2024, the series has become an underground cult phenomenon, acquiring over 10K downloads on its own and an accumulated 50K downloads in total with absolutely no formal or traditional advertising or promotions whatsoever.

Deadmau5 makes his first appearance as a primary character not much later in season one, while his human counterpart Joel is mentioned midseason just a few episodes earlier; this episode holds the seasons's record for number of downloads for a singular episode.

Other fictionalized versions of celebrities in the first season include Billie Ellish, Ke$sha, and Kanye West, as well as festival and dance music mogul extraordinaire Pasquale Rotella. Also making an appearance toward the end of the first season is Television host and personality, JImmy Fallon in an episode first airing November 18th of 2021, before the first season's conclusion before a brief hiatus before the show's second season, which aired on January 8th of 2022.

The series' first ever mix marked the first season's finale, which debuted DJ Ū's world premier mix curated during EDC's post-pandemic rendition and airing on November 26th, 2021

Posted under the simple monomer as -u., the first mix in the series shared publicly showcases and highlights early trademark's of the DJ's unique sound and techniques still used by DJ Ū and in later productions and performances by DJ Ū and created and/or as or under other aliases.

Season 2's trademarks include further references to DJ Dillon Francis, which the DJ himself began using in his social media accounts as a repetitive joke.

The beginning of season 2 also mark's the use of longer section of the written script posted alongside the episodes in conjunction with the series story arcs; however, elements of the scripted versions emphasis are missing or invisible to the audience at large due to formatting restrictions and limitations within the multiple hosting platform's various layouts.

Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

It was marky mark and Channing Tatum, but in the dream they were just my friends. They were hanging out in Vegas and I dropped by to say hi, but I had to get going. I was renting a white Beamer SUV which I thought was too nice for me. Thought about going back to say hello but had to convince my parents.

Dumb.

At least I figured out who those two shirtless dudes were.

Oh they also had that guy from Dexter with them.

That's correct.

And an old dude.

But what is that dudes name?

Idk. Shirtless dude three.

SHIRTLESS DUDE 3

You mean me.

God, that Beamer was nice.

It was white.

It was white, but it was also a rental.

I don't know if I could see myself getting a white car.

It was pearlescent white though, kind of cream, but with sparkles.

You're right, that's a different kind of white.

Why would they let me drive this thing?

I can drive, I was more surprised anyone would let me rent a car after the Enterprise fiasco.

Luckily, it was under my mom's name.

Well, this is fucked up.

{Enter The Multiverse}

My dellisions of granduer sure are fire right now

Are you sure you don't know who you are

Or where

I'll be right there

On the highway to hell

Like a baseball bat out of heaven

I wear my hat backwards,

Cause I'm the only one

To throw shade

On my back end

Can I just say,

I really like the gangster version of deadmau5.

Oh SHIT,

There he go.

RUN,

BLAT-BLAT.

(Still Canadian tho)

Ah, FUCK, man.

What suh tho?!

I'm out of gas, eh.

The car's out of gas?!

Ammo, bud!

Oh shit, aight.

Must have been surfing in the dream, because I was eating lots of fish and cool about it.

That's true! I only ever eat fish when I'm surfing.

Why were we in Vegas then?

No, the guys were in Vegas, I was just visiting.

That doesn't seem like the place to just “visit”.

Maybe it was EDC, I don't know.

Then why were we eating fish!?

That was in another part of the dream.

Oh. So we were traveling?

I guess so.

That sounds rich.

Stephen Colbert stands over Jimmy Kimmel with a wooden sword, hitting him repeatedly, yelling

KING ME.

OW. NO.

KING ME.

OW, WHAT THE FUCK MAN!

KING ME!

OWC, knock it OFF!

He overpowers Colbert and takes the wooden sword.

GIVE ME THAT.

he thwaps him with the sword one good time.

OW.

EXACTLY. Fuck outta here!

Why won't you king me?!

What makes you think I'm in charge of Kinging?!

You wrote the game!

I co-wrote the game—with-very minimal effort, by the way, other people—

Including my//yourself.

Was I there?

Gee, maybe not…

Seriously, I don't know where my head is sometimes.

Plastered inside of the television.

Like literally?! I guess.

In or on. Anyway, if you're unhappy with your lowly, monocle status, you should talk to The Creator.

Who's the creator?

Nobody really seems to know…

Well then, how am i supposed to talk to him,?

Let's find out,

Wait, what.

One…

Jimmy Kimmel Begins to morph into a bird, feathers first and more slowly than usual.

What is that?

[via tootsie pops owl]

Two-hoo!

I feel like I've heard this before somewhere.

THREE!

OH MY GAAA—AAHHHHH!

Suddenly, Jimmy Kimmel is transformed into a giant-esque owl.

WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!

Jimmy Kimmel swoops above him, grabbing Colbert by the shoulders, as he screams inconsolably.

He begins to fly out of the oversized window, then doubles back for a moment, hovering over the wooden sword.

Get the sword!

YOU CAN STILL TALK?

GET THE SWORD.

He lowers Colbert down to the sword, his talons digging deeply into his shoulders—it looks like this probably hurts a lot, he meekly but with great f air grabs the sword, and his feed dangle as the owl takes flight, bawking,

Of course I can still tallk; I'm smarter than your actual human self!

SO IT WAS YOU WHO ATE MY TOOTSIE POP.

JIMMY KIMMEL the OWL lets out a deep and bellowing meniacal laugh as he takes flight, STEPHEN COLBERT crying in shame.

NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

{Enter The Multiverse}

Gotta take it real hard

Hang down, head in shame

Strong arm, the charms off

Work hard, the thigh gap

Gets a good man

Get the gap tooth fixed,

Maybe bleach a few shades

Paula Patton, or whatever

Zoe Kravitz, like

My Time's up;

I want to be a good mom

Hey, Lorne won't like me

Hey, hey, Lorne won't like me at all.

What's up on the network

I'm waiting on my closeup

I take lessons real hard

I want to be a good mom,

Or if not

A long gone alcoholic

I mean long gone

I mean long gone

I mean long gone

I mean woke up, blacked out

Still pedaling forward on the peloton

A skeleton

I mean long, long gone

No, Lorne don't like me at all

What's in the back of the bus?

A diversity hire,

Fresh out of Harvard university

What's on the top of the tube

Well, a fresh pack of lubricated condoms,

If you really want to know

No raw dog

What's on the top of the morning

An hour on the Peloton,

Another in the tub, Doc

What's on your mind?

Are you really on the road?

(No raw dog)

Woah,

If you really want to know

I'm in love,

So you're all of them,

Until I come,

And then you just,

Run off like a ghost

I'm in the room with a body,

And you're not her,

I must have gone off the hard stuff

(on behalf of Oliver)

What if you wrote your book,

Knowing who might open it?

Who wrote the forward,

Colbert.

Tough crowd—

Now I'm out of folks to come up on,

After all that hard stuff

Simply won't go on

I want to be a good mom,

But so much for that

It goes well up my spine,

Like an epidural,

I'm all out of experience.

I've got 30 minutes of torture left

But I'm all out of droplets,

From the hyperdermal contraption I've strapped on

And the 4 kilometer run

And the dance number to Beyoncé,

Of course.

(It was Destiny's child,

But I was dancing to Beyoncè)

It was Destiny's Child,

But I was dancing to Beyoncé,

Also.

“Aw, love…”

I always gawk,

When couples go on as they do,

Even if it occurs that,

The one I love,

Dawns his beloved

And arm and arm

My heart weighs just a ton

I can't even hear the words anymore

It's just all for numbers

One for Oliver

I can't even hear the words anymore

It's just for numbers

Almost a Californian

As long as I just keep going

And don't eat

Before sweating it all off in the tub

Now the scar on the inside of my lip lights up

And raises

Just at the sound of [];

Had better not touch that one,

Put the sides to the side

And mark the folder

Do not touch

Move off of it

And wonder what the fuck

That number was all for

All four

I could fly a kite

Out of that thing on your back—

Impresario

If that be the case,

Than that makes them the rock,

Then what of the kite,

And the wind

And the string

So I wanna kill you.

Impresario

I'll be Lennon

And you be the other.

I've got my Yoko out on tour

Impresario

I work hard for a broke heart

Just for songs

Impresario

Get the monster out

Put it all on him

Like a kite in the wind

Put it all on him

Ad hominum/ homonym

ATTN:

Jimmy Fallon.

JIMMY FALLON receives a large shipment of grade A douches, with one simple sticky note which reads an anonymous message in neat cursive.

‘Likeness is what your attract.'

Why do I have some of your memories?

Before:

Hmmm…

Where can I offload these?

I need more storage.

L E G E N D S

Bpm: animal rights

I'm a slave

—for your love

I'm a slave

—for your love

I'm a slave

—for your love

I'm a slave for your love.

As I'm taking my time considering whether or not to buy pure, 100% Organic a grade maple syrup, letting out a heavy sigh at the brave of green coated indidivuals who just so happened to not really need anything in the aisle, but just walk by, also just so happened this last man, who appeared to resemble none other than—

CUT TO:

Seth Meyers.

We meet again.

We've never met.

Oh, you don't remember?

I don't remember things that never happened.

Oh, really.

Really.

Well. I beg to differ.

Don't beg.

It's an expression.

For the first time throughout the series run—we stand corrected—however, and possibly just rather, because this is the movie—

And not the series at all.

*gasp*

Now… what the fuck did I come in here to actually write?

—I don't remember.

True facts.

But—

More importantly— why did I toggle on the internet?

FUCK.

Why, what happened?

I just remembered I was online and listening to deadmau5.

Ah, shit.

Is that such a bad thing?

It's like…it's like a guilty pleasure—

Seriously?

Like Drake, now, except I almost wish I hadn't gone about putting them in that scene together.

Why.

Cause they're Canadian?

No! I mean yes—

Must—more—Peloton—get—

WAISTED.

Fuck. I don't know how much I weigh.

So how do you know you're not already 120 lbs .

Well, let's see here.

110…

What the fuck is a silent basketball?!!

Still don't know.

{Enter the multiverse}

Are you sponsored by Bud Wiser?

[why]

Just answer the question:

Are you sponsored by Budweiser?

No. (?)

Cause you look like a Clydesdale.

Your answer should have been.

“Nay”.

You and me weren't meant to be friends

We're not meeting in real life

Or, we already did, but hey

We'll never meet again.

Just another magic trick

Just another magic trick

It's like hanging at a rave on a Saturday late night. Or early am

Or more

Spending the night

With an old friend,

Then waking up to realize when you finally lift yourself up from the couch,

You've been all alone

The whole time

The magic is gone,

And you're still feeling under, disturbed

—and jealous of her, of course.

Knock it off, go for a long soak

And remember the Oath you once took

Just for fun and only out of

A hint of desperation,

Unable to escape from him

But remember to remember what his name is

At some point

B A R T H O

There it is again

The evil and crawling thing in the distance

That says I belong to him

L E M

Perhaps once,

But you'd might as well run along

And into a different body,

Disguised as something

I could never even notice

To even get close to me

Ū

I'd bet my last dollar you couldn't do that

I'd go all in at the end of that long poker table

The tournament, still rolling on

And I've not made lunch yet

It was a long party,

A long supper

An even longer dessert

And the forever order

For ever after

What a laugh

There's too many of us

Stranded out here,

I'll never get over

— if you needed closer,

I've written it on a cardboard box,

With a penny for your thoughts, 3-1 and still keeping it simple;

I kept my intentions just as hidden in the numbers

As the apples in the barrel, unbranded

After all, I am famished,

And not quite yet has it been 24 hours.

I like all your music.

Like a shotgun to the face I want to end it.

I'm still floating out in space, I guess

Recommended

Reassigned and

Disestablished—

Resigned but terrified of it

Fried tofu on the orifice

Your or her face

With a red dress

From just behind,

Indecision, regrets,

And then, of course

I wake up.

So duotone, your honor.

Fuck magnets,

I want to go digging up colors

I love corpses.

Sara Black is so white

I could see right through her.

I tripped and fell in your eyes for a multi second.

If I creep up expressing my love, he'll send them faster

The devil: direct to you—

More beautiful women

There's less of me today.

It didn't seem to take long to notice at all, running the soap over my body as it lathered, that there was overall just less to do, and less at all indeed. It had been three days since the arrival of my Peleton, and that combined with the treadmill had been preoccupying all if not most of my time, often the first thing besides making coffee— a brisk mile-or-so walk as it brewed or, clipping in to the Bike in the middle of the night, as if the thing itself had awakened me with a whispering beckon.

Then, I knew that my time was running short— my body wanted pregnancy, and my mind wanted a man who would be easily forgiven for his natural instinct to adulterize and fraternize as he pleased by his wit, charm, intelligence, good looks and wealth, of course—but with a man like that comes certain stipulations—I'd have to be a trophy.

{Enter The Multiverse}

[The Festival Project.™]

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