Podcasts about Quasimoto

"Solitary woman" Della Reese "Esmerelda" Quasimoto "Door of the cosmos" Sun Ra "Tropicola" Nino Nardini "Sem sombra" Pedro Santos "Waiting for your love" Nalva Aguiar "Whole lotta love" King Curtis "Godfather theme" The Professionals "Tearz" El Michels Affair "Don't put me down" El Chicano "Soul finger" Bar-Kays "Can't sit down" Phil Upchurch "El Basement" The Kevin Fingier Collective "Bye Bye" Zito Righi "Catavento" Adelaide Costa "Lovely day" Bill Withers/Brazil Collective "Fly paradise" Barbara Moore "Stone soul picnic" The 5th Dimension "Aquarius/Let the sun shine in" Celia Cruz/Tito Puente "Cozy & bossa" Cozy Cole "El stomp" Los Bates "Flamenco funk" Jan Davis "Sub vanatu" Paddy Steer "Psychedelia" X-Lents "Signed, sealed, delivered" Stevie Wonder

This week on the blog, a podcast interview with the writer of a great new book, “London After Midnight: The Lost Film,” a book about the classic lost Lon Chaney film.LINKS A Free Film Book for You: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/cq23xyyt12Another Free Film Book: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/x3jn3emga6Fast, Cheap Film Website: https://www.fastcheapfilm.com/Daniel's Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/p/London-After-Midnight-The-Lost-Film-100075993768254/Buy the Book “London After Midnight: The Lost Film”: https://www.amazon.com/London-After-Midnight-Lost-Film/dp/1399939890Eli Marks Website: https://www.elimarksmysteries.com/Albert's Bridge Books Website: https://www.albertsbridgebooks.com/YouTube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/c/BehindthePageTheEliMarksPodcastTRANSCRIPTJohn: So, Daniel, when did you first become aware of London After Midnight? Daniel: I was about seven years old when I first stumbled into Lon Chaney through my love of all things Universal horror, and just that whole plethora of characters and actors that you just knew by name, but hadn't necessarily seen away from the many still photographs of Frankenstein, Dracula, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. And the Phantom was the one to really spark my interest. But this was prior to eBay. I couldn't see the film of Lon Chaney's Phantom of the Opera for a year. So, I kind of had the ultimate build to books and documentaries, just teasing me, teasing me all the time. And when I eventually did watch a few documentaries, the one thing that they all had in common was the name Lon Chaney. I just thought I need to learn more about this character Lon Chaney, because he just found someone of superhuman proportions just who have done all of these crazy diverse characters. And, that's where London After Midnight eventually peeked out at me and, occupied a separate interest as all the Chaney characterizations do.John: So how did you get into the Universal films? Were you watching them on VHS? Were they on tv? Did the DVDs happen by then?Daniel: I was still in the VHS days. My dad is a real big fan of all this as well. So he first saw Bela Lugosi's Dracula, on TV when he was a kid. And prior to me being born he had amassed a huge VHS collection and a lot of those had Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, Henry Hull, Claude Rains, Vincent Price, what have you.And a lot of them were dedicated to Universal horrors. And as a young curious kid, my eyes eventually crossed these beautiful cases and I really wanted to watch them. I think my first one I ever watched was The Mummy's Tomb or Curse of the Mummy. And it's just grown ever since, really.John: You're starting at the lesser end of the Universal monsters. It's like someone's starting the Marx Brothers at The Big Store and going, "oh, these are great. I wonder if there's anything better?" Jim: Well, I kinda like the fact that you have come by this fascination, honestly, as my father would say. You sort of inherited the family business, if you will. The book is great. The book is just great. And I'll be honest, I had no, except for recording the novel that John wrote, I really had no frame of reference for London after Midnight.John: Well, Jim, were you a monster guy? Were you a Universal Monster kid?Jim: Oh yeah. I mean, I had all the models. I love all of that, and certainly knew about Lon Chaney as the Phantom of the Opera, as The Hunchback of Notre Dame. I knew he was the man with a thousand faces. I knew he, when he died, he wrote JR. on his makeup kit and gave it to his kid. So, I knew stuff. But London after Midnight I didn't know at all, except for the sort of iconic makeup and that image, which I was familiar with. What was the inspiration for you in terms of writing this book?Daniel: Like you say, I really had no immediate go-to reference for London after Midnight, away from one or two images in a book. Really clearly they were very impactful images of Chaney, skulking around the old haunted mansion with Edna Tichenor by his side with the lantern, the eyes, the teeth, the cloak, the top hat, the webs, everything. Pretty much everything that embodies a good atmospheric horror movie, but obviously we couldn't see it.So that is all its fangs had deepened itself into my bloodstream at that point, just like, why is it lost? Why can't I see it? And again, the term lost film was an alien concept to me at a young age. I've always been a very curious child. Anything that I don't know or understand that much, even things I do understand that well, I always have to try to find out more, 'cause I just can't accept that it's like a bookend process. It begins and then it ends. And that was the thing with London after Midnight. Everything I found in books or in little interviews, they were just all a bit too brief. And I just thought there has to be a deeper history here, as there are with many of the greatest movies of all time. But same with the movies that are more obscure. There is a full history there somewhere because, 'cause a film takes months to a year to complete.It was definitely a good challenge for me. When we first had our first home computer, it was one of those very few early subjects I was typing in like crazy to try to find out everything that I could. And, that all incubated in my little filing cabinet, which I was able to call upon years later.Some things which were redundant, some things which I had the only links to that I had printed off in advance quite, sensibly so, but then there were certain things that just had lots of question marks to me. Like, what year did the film perish? How did it perish? The people who saw the film originally?And unlike a lot of Chaney films, which have been covered in immense detail, London after Midnight, considering it's the most famous of all lost films, still for me, had major holes in it that I just, really wanted to know the answers to. A lot of those answers, eventually, I found, even people who knew and institutions that knew information to key events like famous MGM Fire, they were hard pressed to connect anything up, in regards to the film. It was like a jigsaw puzzle. I had all these amazing facts. However, none of them kind of made sense with each other.My favorite thing is researching and finding the outcomes to these things. So that's originally what spiraled me into the storm of crafting this, initial dissertation that I set myself, which eventually became so large. I had to do it as a book despite, I'd always wanted to do a book as a kid.When you see people that you idolize for some reason, you just want to write a book on them. Despite, there had been several books on Lon Chaney. But I just always knew from my childhood that I always wanted to contribute a printed volume either on Chaney or a particular film, and London after Midnight seemed to present the opportunity to me.I really just didn't want it to be a rehash of everything that we had seen before or read before in other accounts or in the Famous Monsters of Filmland Magazine, but just with a new cover. So, I thought I would only do a book if I could really contribute a fresh new perspective on the subject, which I hope hopefully did.John: Oh, you absolutely did. And this is an exhaustive book and a little exhausting. There's a ton of stuff in here. You mentioned Famous Monster of the Filmland, which is where I first saw that image. There's at least one cover of the magazine that used that image. And Forrest Ackerman had some good photos and would use them whenever he could and also would compare them to Mark the Vampire, the remake, partially because I think Carol Borland was still alive and he could interview her. And he talked about that remake quite a bit. But that iconic image that he put on the cover and whenever he could in the magazine-- Jim and I were talking before you came on, Daniel, about in my mind when you think of Lon Chaney, there's three images that come to mind: Phantom of the Opera, Quasimoto, and this one. And I think this one, the Man in the Beaver hat probably is the most iconic of his makeups, because, 'cause it is, it's somehow it got adopted into the culture as this is what you go to when it's a creepy guy walking around. And that's the one that everyone remembers. Do you have any idea, specifically what his process was for making that look, because it, it is I think ultimately a fairly simple design. It's just really clever.Daniel: Yes, it probably does fall into the category of his more simplistic makeups. But, again, Chaney did a lot of things simplistic-- today --were never seen back then in say, 1927. Particularly in the Phantom of the Opera's case in 1925, in which a lot of that makeup today would be done through CG, in terms of trying to eliminate the nose or to make your lips move to express dialogue. Chaney was very fortunate to have lived in the pantomime era, where he didn't have to rely on how his voice would sound, trying to talk through those dentures, in which case the makeup would probably have to have been more tamed to allow audio recorded dialogue to properly come through.But with regards to the beaver hat makeup, he had thin wires that fitted around his eyes to give it a more hypnotic stare. The teeth, which he had constructed by a personal dentist, eventually had a wire attached to the very top that held the corners of his mouth, opening to a nice curved, fixated, almost joker like grin.You can imagine with the monocles around his eyes, he was thankful there probably wasn't that much wind on a closed set, because he probably couldn't have closed his eyes that many times. But a lot of these things become spoken about and detailed over time with mythic status. That he had to have his eyes operated on to achieve the constant widening of his eyelids. Or the teeth -- he could only wear the teeth for certain periods of time before accidentally biting his tongue or his lips, et cetera. But Chaney certainly wasn't a sadist, with himself, with his makeups. He was very professional. Although he did go through undoubtedly a lot of discomfort, especially probably the most, explicit case would be for the Hunchback of Notre Dame, in which his whole body is crooked down into a stooped position.But, with London After Midnight, I do highly suspect that the inspiration for that makeup in general came from the Dracula novel. And because MGM had not acquired the rights to the Dracula novel, unlike how Universal acquired the rights of the Hunchback or, more importantly, Phantom of the Opera, by which point Gaston Leroux was still alive.It was just a loose adaptation of Dracula. But nevertheless, when you read the description of Dracula in Bram Stoker's novel, he does bear a similarity to Chaney's vampire, in which it's the long hair, a mouth full of sharp teeth, a ghastly pale palor and just dressed all in black and carries around a lantern.Whereas Bela Lugosi takes extraordinary leaps and turns away from the Stoker novel. But it must have definitely had an impact at the time, enough for MGM to over-market the image of Chaney's vampire, which only appears in the film for probably just under four minutes, compared to his detective disguise, which is the real main character of the film.Although the thing we all wanna see is Cheney moving about as the vampire and what facial expressions he pulled. It's just something that we just want to see because it's Lon Chaney.John: Right. And it makes you wonder if he had lived and had gotten to play Dracula, he kind of boxed himself into a corner, then if he'd already used the look from the book, you wonder what he would've come up with, if Lugosi hadn't done it, and if Chaney had had been our first Dracula.Jim: You know, the other thing that I think of strictly like through my actor filter is here's a guy who -- take Hunchback or Phantom or even this thing -- whatever process he went through to put that makeup on, you know, was hours of work, I'm sure. Hunchback several hours of work to get to that, that he did himself, and then they'd film all day.So, on top of, I mean, I just think that that's like, wow, when you think about today where somebody might go into a makeup chair and have two or three people working on them to get the look they want. Even if it took a few hours, that person is just sitting there getting the makeup done. He's doing all of this, and then turns in a full day, uh, in front of the cameras, which to me is like, wow, that's incredible.Daniel: Definitely, it's like two jobs in one. I imagine for an actor it must be really grueling in adapting to a makeup, especially if it's a heavy makeup where it covers the whole of your head or crushes down your nose, changes your lips, the fumes of chemicals going into your eyes.But then by the end of it, I imagine you are quite exhausted from just your head adapting to that. But then you have to go out and act as well. With Chaney, I suppose he could be more of a perfectionist than take as much time as he wanted within reason. And then once he came to the grueling end of it all, he's actually gotta go out and act countless takes. Probably repair a lot of the makeup as well after, after a couple of takes, certainly with things like the Hunchback or the Phantom of the Opera.John: And, you know, it's not only is he doing the makeup and acting, but in, you know, not so much in London After Midnight, but in Phantom of the Opera, he is quite athletic. When the phantom moves, he really moves. He's not stooped. He's got a lot of energy to him and he's got a makeup on that, unlike the Quasimoto makeup, what he's attempting to do with the phantom is, reductive. He's trying to take things away from his face.Daniel: Mm-hmm.John: And he's using all the tricks he knows and lighting to make that happen, but that means he's gotta hit particular marks for the light to hit it just right. And for you to see that his face is as, you know, skull-like as he made it. When you see him, you know, in London After Midnight as the professor inspector character, he has got a normal full man's face. It's a real face. Much like his son, he had a kind of a full face and what he was able to do with a phantom and take all that away, and be as physical as he was, is just phenomenal. I mean, he was a really, besides the makeup, he was a really good actor.Daniel: Oh, definitely. Jim: I agree with that completely. I kind of in what I watched, I wonder if he was the makeup artist, but not the actor and he did exactly the same makeup on somebody else. And so we had the same image. If those things would've resonated with us the way they do today. I think it had everything to do with who he was and his abilities in addition to the incredible makeup. He was just a tremendous performer.Daniel: Absolutely. He was a true multitasker. In his early days of theater, he was not only an actor, but he was a choreographer. He had a lot of jobs behind the scenes as well. Even when he had become a star in his own time, he would still help actors find the character within them. like Norma Sheera, et cetera. People who were kind of new to the movie making scene and the directors didn't really have that much patience with young actors or actresses. Whereas Chaney, because of his clout in the industry, no one really interfered with Chaney's authority on set. But he would really help actors find the character, find the emotion, 'cause it was just all about how well you translate it over for the audience, as opposed to the actor feeling a certain way that convinces themselves that they're the character. Chaney always tried to get the emotions across to the audience. Patsy Ruth Miller, who played Esemerelda in in the Hunchback, said that Chaney directed the film more than the director actually did.The director was actually even suggested by Chaney. So, Chaney really had his hands everywhere in the making of a film. And Patsy Ruth Miller said the thing that she learned from him was that it's the actress's job to make the audience feel how the character's meant to be feeling, and not necessarily the actor to feel what they should be feeling based on the script and the settings and everything.So I think, that's why Chaney in particular stands out, among all of the actors of his time.John: I think he would've transitioned really well into sound. I think, he had everything necessary to make that transition.Jim: There's one sound picture with him in it, isn't there, doesn't he? Doesn't he play a ventriloquist? John: I believe so.Daniel: Yes, it was a remake of The Unholy Three that he had made in 1925 as Echo the ventriloquist, and the gangster. And yes, by the time MGM had decided to pursue talkies -- also, funny enough, they were one of the last studios to transition to, just because they were the most, one, probably the most dominant studio in all of Hollywood, that they didn't feel the pressure to compete with the burgeoning talkie revolution.So they could afford to take their time, they could release a talkie, but then they could release several silent films and the revenue would still be amazing for the studio. Whereas other studios probably had to conform really quick just because they didn't have the star system, that MGM shamelessly flaunted. And several Chaney films had been transitioned to sound at this point with or without Chaney. But for Chaney himself, because he himself was the special effect, it was guaranteed to be a winner even if it had been an original story that isn't as remembered today strictly because people get to hear the thing that's been denied them for all this time, which is Chaney's voice. And he would've transitioned very easily to talkies is because he had a very rich, deep voice, which, coming from theater, he had to have had, in terms of doing dialogue. He wasn't someone like a lot of younger actors who had started out predominantly in feature films who could only pantomime lines. Chaney actually knew how to deliver dialogue, so it did feel natural and it didn't feel read off the page.And he does about five voices in The Unholy Three. So MGM was truly trying to market, his voice for everything that they could. As Mrs. O'Grady, his natural voice, he imitates a parrot and a girl. And yeah, he really would've flourished in the sound era. Jim: Yeah. John: Any surprises, as it sounds like you were researching this for virtually your whole life, but were there any surprises that you came across, as you really dug in about the film?Daniel: With regards to London after Midnight, the main surprise was undoubtedly the -- probably the star chapter of the whole thing -- which is the nitrate frames from an actual destroyed print of the film itself, which sounds crazy to even being able to say it. But, yeah the nitrate frames themselves presented a quandary of questions that just sent me into a whole nother research mode trying to find out where these impossible images came from, who they belonged to, why they even existed, why they specifically existed.Because, looking for something that, you know, you are told doesn't exist. And then to find it, you kind of think someone is watching over you, planting this stuff as though it's the ultimate tease. To find a foreign movie poster for London After Midnight would be one thing, but to find actual pieces of the lost film itself. It was certainly the most out of body experience I've ever had. Just to find something that I set out to find, but then you find it and you still can't believe that you've actually found it.John: How did you find it?Daniel: I had connections with a few foreign archives who would befriend me and took to my enthusiasm with the silent era, and specifically Chaney and all the stars connected to Chaney films.And, quite early on I was told that there were a few photo albums that had various snippets of silent films from Chaney. They didn't really go into what titles these were, 'cause they were just all a jumble. All I knew is that they came from (garbled) widow. And he had acquired prints of the whole films from various, I suppose, junk stores in Spain.But not being a projectionist, he just purely took them at the face value that he just taken the images and snipping them up and putting them in photo albums, like how you would just do with photographs. And then the rest of the material was sadly discarded by fire. So, all we were left with were these snipped relics, survivors almost to several Chaney lost films. Some of them not lost, but there were films like The Phantom of the Opera in there, the Hunchback of Notre Dame, Mockery, The Unknown. But then there were several lost films such as London After Midnight, the Big City, Thunder. And All the Brothers were Valiant, which are mainly other than Thunder are all totally complete lost films.So, to find this little treasure trove, it was just finding out what the images meant and connecting them up, trying to put them in some sort of chronological scholarly order. Grueling, but it was very fun at the same time. And because I had identified myself with all of these surviving production stills from the film -- a lot of them, which formed the basis of the 2002 reconstruction by Turner Classic Movies -- it didn't take me too long to identify what scenes these surviving nitrate frames were from. But there were several frames which had sets that I recognized and costumes that I recognized, but in the photographic stills, they don't occupy the same space at the same time. So, it's like the two separate elements had crossed over. So that left me with a scholarly, question of what I was looking at. I was able to go back and, sort of rectify certain wrongs that have been accepted throughout the sixties as being the original, say, opening to London after Midnight. So I've, been able to disprove a few things that have made the film, I suppose, a bit more puzzling to audiences. Some audiences didn't really get what the plot was to begin with. So, it was nice to actually put a bit more order to the madness finally.John: At what point did you come across the original treatment and the script?Daniel: The treatment and the script, they came from a private collector who had bought them at auction a number of years ago who I was able to thankfully contact, and they still had the two documents in question. I had learned through Philip J Riley's previous books on London after Midnight that he had the two latter drafts of the script, the second edition and the third draft edition.And, again, the question of why and where. I just always wondered where that first draft of the script was, hoping it would contain new scenes, and open new questions for me and to study. And once I've managed to find those two documents, they did present a lot of new, perspectives and material that added to the fuller plot of the original hypnotist scenario, as opposed to the shortened, time efficient London After Midnight film that was ultimately delivered to audiences. So again, it helped to put a little bit more order to the madness.Jim: You found an actual piece of the film that you were able to, somebody got images from it? And then you found the scripts? But the images are terrific and they're all in your book. They came from what exactly?Daniel: The just below 20 images of the film came from originally a distribution print, a Spanish distribution print, from about 1928. Originally, they were on 35 millimeter indicating that they were from the studio and as is with a lot of silent films that have been found in foreign archives.Normally when a film is done with its distribution, it would have to be returned to the original studio to be destroyed, except for the original negative and a studio print, because there is no reason why a studio would need to keep the thousands of prints when they have the pristine copy in their vault. But, in a lot of smaller theater cases, in order to save money on the postage of the shipping, they would just basically declare that they had destroyed the film on the studio's behalf. There was no record system with this stuff and that's how a lot of these films ended up in the basements of old theaters, which are eventually when they closed, the assets were sold off to collectors or traveling showmen. And eventually these films found their ways into archives or again, private collections. Some of which people know what they have.A lot of times they don't know what they have because they're more obsessed with, naturally, more dedicated to preserving the films of their own culture that was shown at the time, as opposed to a foreign American title, which they probably assume they already have a copy of. But it's how a lot of these films get found.And, with the London After Midnight, example, there were the images that I found spanned the entire seven reels, because they came from different points in the film. It wasn't a single strip of film, of a particular scene. Having thankfully the main source that we have for London After Midnight is the cutting continuity, which is the actual film edited down shot for shot, length for length.And it describes, briefly, although descriptive enough, what is actually in each and every single shot of the film. And comparing the single frame images from the film with this document, I was able to identify at what point these frames came from during the film, which again spanned the entire seven reels, indicating that a complete seven reel version of the film had gotten out under the studio system at one point.As is the case, I'm assuming, 'cause these came from the same collection, I'm assuming it was the same with the other lost Chaney films that again, sadly only survive in snippet form.John: It's like somebody was a collector and his wife said, "well, we don't have room for all this. Just take the frames you like and we'll get rid of the rest of it." So, you mentioned in passing the 2002 reconstruction that Turner Classic Movies did using the existing stills. I don't know if they were working from any of the scripts or not. That was the version I originally saw when I was working on writing, those portions of The Misers Dream that mentioned London After Midnight. Based on what you know now, how close is that reconstruction and where do you think they got it right and where'd they get it wrong?Daniel: The 2002, reconstruction, while a very commendable production, it does stray from the original edited film script. Again, the problem that they clearly faced on that production is that there were not enough photographed scenes to convey all the photographed scenes from the film. So what they eventually fell into the trap of doing was having to reuse the same photograph to sometimes convey two separate scenes, sometimes flipping the image to appear on the opposite side of the camera. And, because of the certain lack of stills in certain scenes cases, they had to rewrite them.And sometimes a visual scene had to have been replaced with an inter-title card, merely describing what had happened or describing a certain period in time, as opposed to showing a photograph of what we're meant to be seeing as opposed to just reading. So, they did the best with what they had.But since then, there have been several more images crop up in private collections or in the archives. So, unless a version of the film gets found, it's certainly an endeavor that could be revisited, I think, and either do a new visual reconstruction of sort, or attempt some sort remake of the film even.Jim: That's an idea. John: They certainly have the materials to do that. I've got an odd question. There's one famous image, a still image from the film, showing Chaney as Professor Burke, and he is reaching out to the man in the beaver hat whose back is to us. Is that a promo photo? Spoiler alert, Burke is playing the vampire in the movie. He admits that that's him. So, he never would've met the character. What is the story behind that photo?Daniel: There are actually three photographs depicting that, those characters that you described. There are the two photographs which show Chaney in the Balfor mansion seemingly directing a cloaked, top hatted figure with long hair, with its back towards us. And then there is another photograph of Chaney in the man in the beaver hat disguise with a seemingly twin right beside him outside of a door.Basically the scenes in the film in which Chaney appear to the Hamlin residents, the people who are being preyed upon by the alleged vampires, the scenes where Chaney and the vampire need to coexist in the same space or either appear to be in the same vicinity to affect other characters while at the same time interrogating others, Chaney's character of Burke employs a series of assistants to either dress up as vampires or at certain times dress up as his version of the vampire to parade around and pretend that they are the man in the beaver hat. Those particular shots, though, the vampire was always, photographed from behind rather than the front.The very famous scene, which was the scene that got first got me interested in London After Midnight, in which the maidm played by Polly Moran is in the chair shrieking at Chaney's winged self, hovering over her. It was unfortunate to me to realize that that was actually a flashback scene told from the maid's perspective.And by the end of the film, the maid is revealed to be an informant of Burke, a secret detective also. So, it's really a strong suspension of disbelief has to be employed because the whole scene of Chaney chasing the maid through the house and appearing under the door, that was clearly just the MGMs marketing at work just to show Chaney off in a bizarre makeup with a fantastic costume.Whereas he is predominantly the detective and the scenes where he's not needed to hypnotize a character in the full vampire makeup, he just employs an assistant who parades around in the house as him, all the times with his back turned so that the audience can't latch on as to who the character actually is, 'cause it must have posed quite a fun confusion that how can Chaney be a detective in this room where the maid has just ran from the Vampire, which is also Chaney?John: Yeah, and it doesn't help that the plot is fairly convoluted anyway, and then you add that layer. So, do you think we'll ever see a copy of it? Do you think it's in a basement somewhere?Daniel: I've always personally believed that the film does exist. Not personally out of just an unfounded fanboy wish, but just based on the evidence and examples of other films that have been found throughout time. Metropolis being probably the most prominent case. But, at one point there was nothing on London After Midnight and now there is just short of 20 frames for the film. So, if that can exist currently now in the year 2023, what makes us think that more footage can't be found by, say, 2030? I think with fans, there's such a high expectation that if it's not found in their own lifetime or in their own convenience space of time, it must not exist. There's still a lot of silent lost treasures that just have not been found at all that do exist though. So, with London After Midnight, from a purely realistic standpoint, I've always theorized myself that the film probably does exist in an archive somewhere, but it would probably be a very abridged, foreign condensed version, as opposed to a pristine 35-millimeter print that someone had ripped to safety stock because they knew in the future the film would become the most coveted of all lost films. So, I do believe it does exist. The whole theory of it existing in a private collection and someone's waiting to claim the newfound copyright on it, I think after December of last year, I think it's finally put that theory to rest. I don't think a collector consciously knows they have a copy of it. So, I think it's lost until found personally, but probably within an archive.Jim: Lost until found. That's a great title for a book. I like that a lot. What do you think of the remake, Mark of the Vampire and in your opinion, what does it tell us about, London After Midnight?Daniel: Well, Mark of the Vampire came about again, part of the Sound Revolution. It was one of those because it was Chaney and Todd Browning's most successful film for the studio. And Browning was currently, being held on a tight leash by MGM because of his shocking disaster film Freaks, I suppose they were a little bit nervous about giving him the reign to do what he wanted again. So, looking through their backlog of smash silent hits, London After Midnight seemed the most logical choice to remake, just simply because it was their most, successful collaboration. Had it have been The Unholy Three, I'm sure? Oh no, we already had The Unholy Three, but had it have been another Browning Chaney collaboration, it might have been The Unknown, otherwise. So, I suppose that's why London After Midnight was selected and eventually turned into Mark of the Vampire. The story does not stray too much from London After Midnight, although they seem to complicate it a little bit more by taking the Burke vampire character and turning it this time into three characters played by three different actors, all of which happened to be in cahoots with one another in trying to solve an old murder mystery.It's very atmospherical. You can definitely tell it's got Todd Browning signature on it. It's more pondering with this one why they just did not opt to make a legit, supernatural film, rather than go in the pseudo vampire arena that they pursued in 1927. Where audiences had by now become accustomed to the supernatural with Dracula and Frankenstein in 1931, which no longer relied on a detective trying to find out a certain mystery and has to disguise themselves as a monster.The monster was actually now a real thing in the movies. So I think if Bela Lugosi had been given the chance to have played a real Count Mora as a real vampire, I think it would've been slightly better received as opposed to a dated approach that was clearly now not the fashionable thing to do.I suppose again, because Browning was treading a very thin line with MGM, I suppose he couldn't really stray too far from the original source material. But I find it a very atmospherical film, although I think the story works better as a silent film than it does as a sound film, because there's a lot of silent scenes in that film, away from owls, hooting and armadillos scurrying about and winds. But I do think, based on things like The Cat and The Canary from 1927 and The Last Warning, I just think that detective sleuth with horror overtones serves better to the silent world than it does the sound world away from the legit, supernatural.John: So, if Chaney hadn't died, do you think he would have played Dracula? Do you think he would've been in Freaks? Would Freaks have been more normalized because it had a big name in it like that?Daniel: It would've been interesting if Chaney had played in Freaks. I think because Todd Browning used the kinds of individuals that he used for Freaks, maybe Chaney would've, for a change, had been the most outta place.John: Mm-hmm.Daniel: I do think he might have played Dracula. I think Universal would've had a hell of a time trying to get him over because he had just signed a new contract with MGM, whereas Todd Browning had transferred over to Universal by 1930 and really wanted to make Dracula for many years and probably discussed it with Chaney as far back as 1920.But certainly MGM would not have permitted Chaney to have gone over to Universal, even for a temporary period, without probably demanding a large piece of the action, in a financial sense, because Universal had acquired the rights to Dracula at this point. And, based on the stage play that had, come out on Broadway, it was probably assured that it was going to be a giant moneymaker, based on the success of the Dracula play.But because of Cheney's, status as a, I suppose retrospectively now, as a horror actor, he was probably the first person to be considered for that role by Carl Laemmle, senior and Junior for that matter. And Chaney gone by 1930, it did pose a puzzle as to who could take over these kinds of roles.Chaney was probably the only one to really successfully do it and make the monster an actual box office ingredient more than any other actor at that time, as he did with. Phantom, Blind Bargain and London After Midnight. So, I think to have pursued Chaney for a legit, supernatural film would've had enormous possibilities for Browning and Chaney himself.You can kind of see a trend, a trilogy forming, with Browning, from London After Midnight, in which he incorporates things he used in Dracula in London After Midnight. So, he kind of had this imagery quite early on. So, to go from – despite it's not in that order -- but to have London After Midnight, Mark of the Vampire, and he also did Dracula, he clearly was obsessed with the story. And I think Chaney was probably the, best actor for someone like Browning who complimented his way of thinking and approach to things like silence. As opposed to needing dialogue all the time, loud commotions. So, I think they dovetailed each other quite well, and that's why their ten year director actor relationship was as groundbreaking as it was.Jim: If the film does surface, if we find the film, what do you think people, how are they gonna react to the movie when they see it? What do you think? What's gonna be the reaction if it does surface?Daniel: Well, the lure of London After Midnight, the power in the film is its lost status rather than its widespread availability. I think it could never live up to the expectation that we've built up in our heads over the past 40 to 60 years. It was truly people, fans like Forrest J Ackerman that introduced and reignited the interest in Chaney's career by the late fifties and 1960s. That's when London After Midnight started to make the rounds in rumor, the rumors of a potential print existing, despite the film had not long been destroyed at that point. So, it was always a big mystery. There were always people who wanted to see the film, but with no access to home video, or et cetera, the only way you could probably see the film would've been at the studio who held everything. And, by the time the TV was coming out, a lot of silent films didn't make it to TV. So again, it has just germinated in people's heads probably in a better form than what they actually remembered. But, the true reality of London After Midnight is one more closer to the ground than it is in it's people are probably expecting to see something very supernatural on par with Dracula, whereas it's more so a Sherlock Holmes story with mild horrorish overtones to it that you can kind of see better examples of later on in Dracula in 1930 and in Mark of the Vampire.It's a film purely, I think for Lon Chaney fans. For myself, having read everything I can on the film, everything I've seen on the film, I personally love silent, detective stories, all with a touch of horror. So, I personally would know what I am going in to see. I'm not going in to see Chaney battling a Van Helsing like figure and turn to dust at the very end or turning to a bat. I'm going to see a detective melodrama that happens to have what looks like a vampire. So, it certainly couldn't live up to the expectations in people's minds and it's probably the only film to have had the greatest cheapest, marketing in history, I would think. It's one of those films, if it was discovered, you really would not have to do much marketing to promote it.It's one of those that in every fanzine, magazine, documentary referenced in pop. It has really marketed itself into becoming what I always call the mascot of the genre. There are other more important lost films that have been lost to us. The main one again, which has been found in its more complete form, was Metropolis, which is a better movie.But unlike Metropolis, London After Midnight has a lot more famous ingredients to it. It has a very famous director. It has a very famous actor whose process was legendary even during then. And it's actually the only film in which he actually has his make-up case make a cameo appearance by the very end. And it goes on the thing that everyone in every culture loves, which is the vampirism, the dark tales and folklore. So, when you say it, it just gets your imagination going. Whereas I think if you are watching it, it's probably you'll be looking over the projector to see if something even better is going to happen.The film had its mixed reactions when it originally came out. People liked it because it gave them that cheap thrill of being a very atmospherical, haunted house with the creepy figures of Chaney walking across those dusty hallways. But then the more important story is a murder mystery.It's not Dracula, but it has its own things going for it. I always kind of harken it back to the search for the Lochness Monster or Bigfoot. It has more power in your mind than it does in an aquarium or in a zoo. Hearing someone say that they think they saw something moving around in Lochness, but there's no photographic evidence, you just have the oral story, that is much more tangible in a way than actually seeing it in an aquarium where you can take it for granted. And it's the same with London After Midnight, and I think that's why a lot of hoaxster and pranksters tend to say that they have seen London After Midnight more than any other lost film.Jim: For a film that I would say the majority of the world does not have any frame of reference, and I'm using myself as the sort of blueprint for that, no frame of reference for this film. That image is iconic in a way that has been, I mean, it at first glance could be Jack the Ripper. I was talking to John before we started the podcast, once I locked in on that image, then I started to think, oh, the ghosts in Disney's Haunted Mansion, there's a couple of ghosts that have elements of that. I mean, it was so perfectly done, even though we don't, I bet you nine out ten people don't know the title London After Midnight, but I bet you seven outta ten people know this image.Daniel: Definitely, it has certainly made its mark on pop culture, again, I think because I think it's such a beautiful, simplistic design. Everything from the simplistically [garbled] to the bulging eyes and the very nice top hat as well, which is in itself today considered a very odd accessory for a grotesque, vampire character.But it's one of those things that has really carried over. It's influenced what the movies and artists. It was one of the influences for the Babadook creation for that particular monster. It was an influence on the Black Phone. It's just a perfect frame of reference for movie makers and sculptors and artists to keep taking from.John: Yep. It's, it'll live long beyond us. Daniel, one last question. I read somewhere or heard somewhere. You're next gonna tackle James Whale, is that correct? Daniel: James Whale is a subject, again, coming from, I happen to come from the exact same town that he was born and raised in, in Dudley, England. So, it's always been a subject close to home for me, which is quite convenient because I love his movies. So, I'm hoping to eventually, hopefully plan a documentary feature on him, based on a lot of family material in the surrounding areas that I was able to hunt down, and forgotten histories about him and just put it together in some form, hopefully in the future.John: That would be fantastic, and we'll have you back at that point.Jim: So, let's pretend for a minute that the audience is me, and they'd have absolutely no idea who James Whale is or what he's done. Just for a minute, let's pretend.John: Pretend that you don't know that?Jim: Yeah.Daniel: James Whale is the most known for his work for directing Frankenstein with Boris Karloff in 1931. But he also directed probably some of the most important horror films that have ever existed in the history of motion pictures. The Old Dark House, which can be cited with its very atmospherical, and black comedy tones, The Invisible Man with Claude Rains and Gloria Stewart in 1933. And, the most important one, which is probably the grand jewel in the whole of the Universal Monsters Empire, which is Bride of Frankenstein in 1935, which is the ultimate, example of everything that he had studied, everything that he'd learned with regards to cinema and comedy, life and death, and just making a very delicious cocktail of a movie in all of its black comedy, horrific, forms that we're still asking questions about today. One of his first films that he did was for Howard Hughes Hell's Angels, in which -- because he'd coming over from theater -- when again, films in America were taken off with the sound revolution. They all of a sudden needed British directors to translate English dialogue better than the actors could convey.So, James Whale was one of many to be taken over to America when he had a hit play called Journeys End, which became the most successful war play at that point. And he did his own film adaptation of Journeys End. He also did a really remarkable film called Showboat, which is another very iconic film.And again, someone with James Whale's horror credentials, you just think, how could someone who directed Frankenstein directed Showboat? But, clearly a very, very talented director who clearly could not be pigeonholed at the time as a strictly horror director, despite it is the horror films in which he is remembered for, understandably so, just because they contain his very individualistic wit and humor and his outlooks on life and politics. And being an openly gay director at the time, he really was a force unto himself. He was a very modern man even then.

June 13th, 2000, 24 tracks, 63:13

“The Legend of Supacree” L E G E N D S “Tales of A Superstar DJ” My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is myhel Now i do't wanna live no more My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell 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 I don't wanna– Boy gets the girl– but in the end, i'm not either, I Still have to wonder why The nanny How I met yurr' Mother I'm neve gonna get all that God magic I need if I don't stop working. This isn't “work” Oh, yes it is. 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 Feeling you feeling me Feeling me feeling you Feeling me feeling you Feeling you feeling Feeling you feeling –sorry. —Unexpectedly into the “superbowl party of the century”, when hundreds (eventually thousands) of “invitees” I've never been a man before, (that I know of) But ive got my hand over your heart , And it sure seems hard It sure seems hard -AHEM. Sorry. Receive an invitation via [SUPER JEW RABBI] AHEM What?! –Email, which was actually AHEM. WHAT! Oh My GoD! [Looks at clock] Oh. sorry Rabbi. When did you get to be such a Jew FLASHBACK Age: 12 Mom. I want a dreidel. …What's a dreidel? –And A Menorah! CUT BACK TO But honestly more recently, it was– [Stops traffic in Midtown Manhattan Rushour to pick up a penny.] [Jewish woman] Woooow. [JEWLUMINATTI] You see! I told you! Oh my God, why are the Jews in this series so stereotypically jewish? Because Jews are stereotypically Jewish. FLASHBACK: But what am I really saving here. Gevault! CUT BACK TO: YOU'RE A PEANUT BUTTER JELLy SaNDWHICH WITH NO PEANUT BUTTER AND NO JELLY. So just bread? –yes. But–[Anime sword swish] I don't eat bread. [Anymore] [FIGHT] Dang what DJ battle is THIS. The One You've Been Waiting For Mad men avatar the last air bender Grounded for life So how long's this whole thing supposed to take. –as long as it takes. What kind of answer is that. It's an answer. 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 I'm better off alone I'd better kill myself Nobody will ever love me Nobody will ever love me Watch out, watch this: My iPhone is trying to kill me, For real? See; It's natural selection I'm trying to unselect me Caviar, a delicacy How delishish The devil in me says to keep digging my grave I was once at a rave, And he gave me a halo A lion, I'm brave— I once said Spin it, Spin back the record again If it's all in my head Then I'm better off dead I'm better off dead Watch this! @Dillon Francis I'm stuck in a trance— Hanzel was lighting the candle And summoned me, Out of a dead sleep, With no pants on— It was a tech house set But I'm on acid Spinning an axis 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 Mystery flavor is like Fruit punch, Or raspberry— Something like that, If you ask me; But white as the rabbit I pulled out the hat In the back seat 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 don't know; I'll read this In a year, When I unbury it Maybe I married my best friend, Deserved to get hit So I'm just going back to him Scratch that, he's mad at me I have no family Reckless abandonment God I'm attracted to everything Except for that See? She's racist. No, it's my ovaries! The lighter you are, the less the adversity I see you eyes turned to grey; Don't abandon me Yes, I wear contacts I'm faking attractive I laughed at him, had to He actually had magic @Dillon Francis 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; What did you ask? No, i haven't had breakfast yet — Thanks for reminding me I'm in a casket Goddamnit @Dillon Francis What are you? I'm an adversary GOOGLE: adversary ..??? ad·ver·sar·y /ˈadvərˌserē/ noun one's opponent in a contest, conflict, or dispute. Hmm. Oh. Opponent to what?! Could be anything, really. I don't like him… 2 for $ MIX AND MATCH INCLUDES BIG KING REALLY. Which one's the Big King? The little one, I think. He's not little In fact: LOOK AT EM. Dawh. Look at Skrillex. Dawg. Look at Skrillex. He bossed up. He was already boss. 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 pause. How am I still writing this show. She doesn't eat? She hasn't eaten. She doesn't eat. I haven't ate yet! BET. BET. OK—Bet. Nice. Sick. What are we betting. … … … WAIT. ,,, josh pan? … … Did you unpause? Unpause what? Uh. The game. This is the game. No, the game. This is the game! What are you talking about?!! Now I'm famous> This is The Game. sup. This is Sunni Blū Sup. It is?! Yea it is. Wait, it is?! I thought you were the kidd?? I am the kidd. Then, why is The Game meeting Sunnï Blu? For a collab. Duh. Wait. Pause. QUIT PRESSING PAUSE. Wait. Go back. I didn't get that last part. WE WATCHED IT A HUNDRED TIMES ALREADY. Screw you. We're watching it again. Ugh! I hate this! Dude. I hate watching this with you. It takes 3 hours to watch an episode! You guys are talking over all the good parts! It's all the good parts! This shit's exciting. I'm defaulting. What? This isn't—this isn't fair. I'm not doing this. What?! It isn't safe anymore. It was never “safe” SAFE! Oh nice. Baseball. It is baseball. Who's playing? All the DJs. What. For what?! It's the DJ GAMES. THE DJ GAMESsssssssss ITS THE DJ GAMES! OH FUCK YEAH. I fuck this. I quit. what. You can't quit. I can quit. I just did. You can't quit the DJ games. I just did. But you can't. I just did. Hey. Hey, what's up. I'm gonna be late. What's going on? My bus driver's drunk. Are you sure? CITY BUS DRIFTING IN SLOW MOTION /Hans Zimmer Music Yes. Welhp. What. That's it. I'm just gonna have to kill myself. Why, what happened? I'm pretty sure that's the only way to beat this level. What, really? Nah. I'm pretty sure Let me see. *SUPACREE jumps into oncoming traffic* YOU DIED. Aww. I died. WHAT THE FUCK. Well, you said. GAME OVER [fade to black] I HAD NO LIVES LEFT. WELL, YOU SAID! THATS'S NOT THE WAY TO— [fade to white] NEW LEVEL UNLOCKED: GOD MODE OOOHHHHHHHH. WHAT?! LVL i - DREAMSTATE What is this. SUPACREE. I— what? Hello? Follow me. Who is this? I know you. 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. What 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. Monologue/Montage 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; God is, as I am. 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. Find me, again 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 SKRILLEX is a planet . That explains it. No it doesn't. I mean, it might. No it doesn't! I mean, it kindof does, if you think about it. BleepBleepBloop bleeepbleepbloopBloop bleepBleepBleeppBoopBoop bloopbloopBloopBloop. bleepBleep. bloop. Bleep? … This is a disaster! Don't look at ME. I'm not looking at anything! I can't stand it. __ This is the best thing on TV. Damn right it is. What channel is it, anyway? On Channel 43. What! I thought it was on Insomniac TV. They keep fucking with me. The Lord giveth, and taketh away— I thought you were Jewish. I want a sandwich. You're so useless. __ Who's this bitch? I won her in a bet. No you didn't. Royal Flush, bitch. What'd you get? It's a secret. __ My Lord. (Petrutheio Humphs) You look awful. I've been—working. Working on what, your majesty. Just—working, is all. Very well, then. Theodore— My leige? MEANWHILE, IN SEASON 4 [ When the 4th Wall Actually Broke] GO! 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— Is to trust no one, And love unconditionally, No matter what. — 02-12-2022 Well, there's a conundrum. KEY/BPM: Slip, deadmau5 Conundrum. LEGENDS: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE Fuck. What was it? It was a p— Well it was a *PR Lol. *PT cruiser Yeah, but it was— It was purple. It was a purple PT. Cruiser It was—but what else was it? Ugh. I forgot. Yeah, I bet. GOOGLE SEARCH shades of purple. Ooooh. PERIWINKLE. You fucking dumb ass. I mean, Jesus. How long has it been? At least a lifetime. No, past that. It was a perfect periwinkle PT cruiser. So, start there. ‘Start there' what? Everything since then, till now— For what? Enter The Multiverse. That show is still on?! YES. What day is it? Fuxk. What time is it? What—the fuck. What?! CUPCAKES AND A MUFFIN?! I don't care how fat I am. You're not fat. QUASIMOTO Can I just say, your ass is like —woah. CC/SUPACREE Oh, thank you. QUASIMOTO I mean like—DAAAAAAMN. CC/ SUPACREE OK. QUASIMOTO i mean like—what the FAAACK. CC/SUPACREE Yeah. thanks, bro. [an awkward silence] QUASIMOTO …Good job, though. [light fist bump] EARLIER: MORE CUPCAKES. NAH. OHH, OREOS?! Oreos are the G.O.A.T. I WANTED CUPCAKES. SHUT THE FUCK UP— Before that, at the gym: —do the butt machine again. Again?! Get the glutes. But I'm tired— GET THE GLUUUUUUUUTES. SONNY/SKRILLEX Where am I? Ū Hell. ANGEL 1 In bed. ANGEL 2 In mexico. CUT TO: SUPACREE finally gets to Heaven, looking for SKRILLEX. SUPACREE So, where is he? JESUS Somewhere else. ANGEL 1 At home. ANGEL 2 In mexico. JESUS Who knows? CHAK CHEL Someone must... DILLON FRANCIS I'm someone. JESUS But I don't. ME I don't know anything. MYSELF I don't need to. I I just wanna go home. SUPACREE Can I come home now? JESUSYou always could. SUPACREE But really, I mean-- CHAK CHEL Really's all it really takes. ANGEL 1 You have to know, ANGEL 2 You have to mean it; Don't look both ways before you cross, if you honestly want off the cross Christ, for your sake Honestly It's probably wise to admit that you've tried For the third time; Mankind's just not worth it. Mankind, maybe; But humanity's my baby And this earth is definitely worth something I love it-- Her. And the rest of the planets, but Look how she spins, It's magnificent, Look at the way the ocean's Make this mist; And the wind-- If i sing loudly enough I might Vibrate the trees, 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 They're very creative-- and grateful, they always give thanks to me It's no need, but the Earth, she keeps feeding them She makes these beautiful things, So sweet; Mangoes, I think. Greed; The Parable of the Mango Tree Mango VIP. 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. I 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. E Who made it? I Uhhhhh. ^> Uhhhhh... O You forgot! I No! I know, I know. It was.... A Who? U She forgot again. I I did NOT. E Did too. Who made it? I It was...it was...Herobust! Y Herobust? I Wasn't it? E Wrong! A Loser. I I am not a Loser. It was…Was it Ganja White Night? E I don't know, was it? A Was it? I I don't know! Just tell me. E I can't. I Yes you can! E I can't. Your rules-- I Exactly, it's my rules! Just gimmie the answer! E I think you're going to have to GOOGLE it. I Ugh, no way. E So is Liquid Stranger your final answer? Y Liquid Stranger?! I I never said Liquid Stranger. A Idiot. O Now she's never gonna get it. U What did you say before? I It was...oh... A See dude. I Shut up, I had it-FUCK. A Damn dude, you broke her. I I'm not broken, I just forgot - E Liquid Stranger, going once-- I I never said Liquid Stranger! I know it wasn't Liquid Stranger; Why would it ever be Liquid Stranger? CUT TO: A pair of mysterious dudes Suits in Sunglasses are collecting famous DJs. SUIT Martin Stääf? LIQUID STRANGER ...Yes... SUIT. Come with me. ___ CUT TO: Two fans are watching interdimensional cable. SUPACREE It's a practical-- FAN 1 WHAT HAPPENED? FAN 2 IT JUST CUT-- __ Aliens in an Ascended dimension of hyper-intelligence are studying our three-dimensional existence from an unknown cosmic world. BRAMF Remember that planet I showed you--the-- ARLA Yeah, with the Axis? BRAMF Yeah. ARLA Yeah? BRAMF Something happened to it, ARLA Like what? BRAMF It's flat now. ARLA WHAT? BOTH Woah. >^ Sometimes, even i'm surprised by the things I've written. ME I didn't see that one coming! MYSELF Neither did I: I was gonaa say it was off it's axis. I Flat's funnier. ME Yeah, and probably not as tragic. MYSELF I mean...that would be pretty tragic. I Probably easier to manage. ME Perhaps…But I mean, if you have a whole planet, and then it just collapses-- MYSELF It's just flattened; nobody said it collapses. MEANWHILE The planet collapses. __________ CUT TO: SUPACREE is now a full-blown superpowered vigilante; She seeks revenge for GETTER sending her through the interdimensions at AUDIOTISTIC. SUPACREE Getter, we meet again. GETTER I've never met you before; what are you doing in my dressing room? SUPACREE Why does a DJ have a dressing room? GETTER I don't know; get out. [She swiftly leaves; as she exits, THE SUITS approach the dressing room door.] SUIT 1 Tanner Petulla? GETTER Yeah? SUIT 2 Come with us. GETTER Fuck that! [He doesn't have a choice.] Oh shit, the next scene is already written, I remember this. Oh, okay! I get it! Yeah. She's still at-- She's still on the-- ____ JUST KILL YOURSELF ALREADY. For what? You're suck in this until it's done. What's done? It'll never be over, it's just infinite. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE ^ UNTITLED DOCUMENT >< >< >< ANGEL 1 YOU'RE GONNA LISTEN TO SKRILLEX ON YOUTUBE? ANGEL 2 DON'T. JESUS I mean... ANGEL 1 DON'T you dare. SUPACREE I might as well, by the time I finish downloading it I probably won't even be able to listen to it. ANGEL 2 You shouldn't. SUPACREE I shouldn't, but I know i have to. ANGEL 1 In PUBLIC? JESUS Could go Incognito... ANGEL 2 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) SUPACREE 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? ME A conversation between one song and another? MYSELF I guess, yes; I Well, that would be a symphony, I would suppose. SUPACREE It would, wouldn't it. ME That is, if the songs were in sync. MYSELF They could be made to be. I Every song is made to be in sync; ME I mean, two songs, made to be in sync with each other. _______ SUPACREE is on the floor at a rave. BASSGOD WAKE UP. SUPACREE This isn't funny anymore. ANGEL It was never funny. You have to get up. SUPACREE I'm up. BASSGOD You're NOT UP. ANGEL Come on, you have to do this. SUPACREE I'm doin it. GOD NO. ANGEL 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.] ____ You're not skinny enough You're not pretty enough You're too dark, And you don't work quickly enough Much younger girls are putting in such Efforts, just to be, the perfect little beauty queen You wish you were, But couldn't be and kids these days are Everything that means anything Sometimes I Don't Wanna Be Happy… It was bad, But better than I'll ever be A basic remix, For the basic bitch that sings it And, I'm basically a Dillon Francis fiend, Have you seen this? Now it's getting serious, I seriously doubt there's anything I can do about it It's in God's hands and, I live in Satan's house How did he do this? How did this happen? The sad result of the damage, Cause i'm pretty sure The very last time my ex ever hit me Something got stuck on repeat; It's just eating me up. ___ [Untitled Document] What did we call that place, between “The Blackout” and waking up. Hazy. 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. A DJ Whose house is this…? Ugh. [Looks in mirror.] A DJ ughhh. [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. ] CONCURRENTLY: >>> 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, SUPACREE (“I'm good.”) Yep. [And she keeps it steppin, still asking aloud, as she ponders to herself;] SUPACREE Whose house is this? [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.] PAUSE ME See! THIS IS RIDICULOUS. MYSELF It is. Ridiculous. You can't vacuum someone's face! I Not that part-- MYSELF --Especially white people! ME You never said they were all white people. I I mean, predominantly; it said hot people and rave babies. MYSELF That's racist! ME It isn't. This whole scene would be entirely different, if it had nothing but black people in it. ALTERNATELY: She wakes up in the same house, but it's clean. SUPACREE ...Whose house is this? BEYONCE It's my house. SUPACREE It's... nice. BEYONCE Yes it is. ______ DILLON FRANCIS has the master plan. SUPACREE Ugh, he knows everything. GOD Not everything, dear, believe me. SUPACREE Everything that matters. GOD There's no such thing as everything that doesn't matter. SUPACREE ...What?! __ Don't look in there! You won't find anything in there. I hate these things. ____ It doesn't work if you don't practice. How do I practice without decks? You don't. How do I Dj without practicing? You don't. So DJing is just for rich people? I mean, primarily, or just...anyone with money, if you have it. Fuck this, I quit. You can't quit. If you quit we forfeit the game. No... You idiot. What game? I thought she knew about the game. What. game. Well, it's not just a game, it's a language. WHAT GAME. She's about to be so angry, dude, just--- Just run. ___ 8 Dimensional--wait, what? Oh, she finally made it. 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.-- Josh Pan. Yeah. I am. Why. 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. Tsh. ___ It's just an expression. “expression” yes. I get it-- ___ He named it “Kliptown Empyrean” What. What's “Empyrean”? I'd love to know, but I don't. Don't google it. I won't, I just. __ GO KARTS. With A K. __ Where's Kliptown? South of Capetown? South? South Afri-- Stop. HE”S AFRICAN? Stop. What's more offensive; Being called an African, or an Alien? ___ One off...hmmm… Always one off. ___ Get out of my house! 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? Me? I'm S U P A C R E E “S U P A C R E E”? [having been yet unrecognized, shes is used to having to spell it] Yeah; ___ Key of Cringe: I'm in a box with all my thoughts, And I am not on top of the world Or taking shots, I'm just rocking back and forth Like broken record, Repeating sequences, a robot A beat box of kittens Nobody wants I'm lost (if rock and roll will take me I wonder how much it costs) ____ What did this kid do? Nobody knows _Oh, shit, it's the Jews again. I love the Jews. We know. I keep telling you, you're jewish I'm not jewish my mom's… That's not your mom. Of course that's my mom. 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. Tell us about the Sauce! All the sauce? Yeah!!! 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 ____ PIERCE? Who the fuck is PIERCE? Google it. I like this, this is- It's different, isn't it? Yeah, and then it __ Sunni—are you Jewish? I...identify as “Jewish” You can't just identify as Jewish. Well, I do. 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? Who's your mother?! Oh! Okay, we're done. See you next time, bye! What are you doing? What? “Identify as Jewish”?! WHAT?! I do! No I don't! You don't know me! Maybe not! But I know TMZ. I'm not on TMZ Sunni Blu is on TMZ What did I do?! YOu know what you did. ∆ Well, alright then. ∆ Must be something. ∆ I got it. . Don't look at me;; I'm a catastrophe, I'm just waking up now Don't look at me, I got so high i think I might not come down It's not a bad thing But I'm a bad guy, i promise It's not a bad thing, Don't look in my eyes; Especially if I like you Especially if you have other plans tonight, Or this morning That's right Time flies when you're (dynomite) Time flies when your mind right I didn't mean to stay here It's been nearly half a year, you know It's nearly half a year It's nearly half a y AHEM ALRIGHT. JESUS CHRIST. No, not that! [sighs heavily, frustrated] Enjoy Your Day. FARRO nobly sacrifices his own life during The Lovers Quarrel, as PETRUTHEIO attempts a final and fatall blow unwittingly against ‘CESMET' A saturn of satirical Return of reverb Expanding explosions of Outward and unearthly Worlds within words Or words within Worlds on the Curve of the Unwritten overtures of -Mother wow . I guess. 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. Yeah, what if. What if this is it? [SUPER HUGE GASP] Oh, AHEM- No, i Gotta write this. AHH– Oh, the things i would do to you Oh, woah, The things you would do to me Oh, no, no, woah The things i would do AHHH– Don't be mad I'm a writer I'm like this Hi kids wanna see how sharp my knife is yikes Sigh, bitch, ive been sitting in silece With the lights off cause i like it Ilike it a lot, but uhm Ahem, The rabbi's mad cause that i'd write this And it's shabbat This is why i don't listen to deadmau5 anymore. What are you talking about *listenining to* GODDAMIT. what The invisible man, in Manhattan The sunglasses matches her madness The cloud cover looks just like Texas The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… 03. JIMMY FALLON All ya'll are all worth bout a dollar; I am a cyclone, watch me holler I lived my whole life underwater I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon All ya'll are only bout a dollar I work so hard, I guess for nothin I am not worried bout a dollar I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon I guess I'll do it on my own I had to do it all alone I made some soup, all out of stones I am the only one I know I am not worried bout the sauce I am so famous, got a stalker I am so famous Can't go no where I got a dollar, Jimmy Fallon I'm at the office, Not my home No collab I work alone Opened a business, got a loan I got a hundred of them passwords I went frontwards —1I went backwards 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 (What's that) (I'm the host) What's that, what's that I work alone What's that what's that I dropped a rock into the rock What's that what's that I'm the host, I'm Jimmy {enter the multiverse/ as seen on tv} Story/ music video 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— Have you seen this? Uhh, hmwhat is it? Mits m “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. Oh, so three dumb Jews. So, no, then? I'd watch the shit out of that, though, tvh. Why's the synopsis? Uhh. 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? “The Bookkeeper” What. Who the fuck is “the book keeper?” We'll see, I guess. “Two Broke hoes@ It's like two broke girls, but actually funny. What, be nice . Okay. Two Broke Ghosts That's better— — And marketable. Are you pale, or just— No, I'm dead. I'm dead. X.X Be NICE. Now our musical guests, SWAGGARBOMB. What in the fuck kind of music is that It's called “Dorkstep” [the doorbell rings] Great, who the fuck is 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, Kill your culture You need some? I got u— Probiotics, yo The truth hurts Your shit stinks Must be a mirror over herer Cause that's me I m your hero. Esha I think McGuiennes? Or McGrefor, after Ewab, maybe New York wants me to kill myself Maybe eventually New York if full of the devil The devil is money And everyone wants it The root of all evil, Is getting even The root of all evil Is people Beside myself, But besides that The ones hurting me, are soon to be where I am That's just karma The gangstalkers are soon to be stalked Coughed, and shot at The neighbors are soon to be eaten by their own demons When I don't clean them 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 don't want us Just being honest They're hateful, They washed all the love out Thanks Karen But she don't care White firms just wanna have fun And they get to Meanwhile, me and I Eat shit( bro, And die Why's it nice to be white Even when you're wrong, you're right All you gotta do is lie, Open up your big blue eyes real wide and Decide what you want, Put us under your foot, And make us pay for it Thanks Karen Caucasians are terrorists I think it's McGuennes or however you spell it, cause half the names are like plays on Okay, I lie: You made a world where I have to Okay, I steal You took everything that I'm after already Or your ancestors did 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. My left side's off I guess I got Stuck in the love of the art I was writing that part When the life of my love Fell over me A lover huh I'm so confused. I'm sorry bro, But if you're morbidly obese, But your feet are like a size 6– You are not BIG BONED. 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 Too much I'm just the rat in the dumpster I made this whole world up I swallowed the doctor I hearted the surgeon I locked up the dog catcher; I cauldron'd the Mormons I called it a sermon, but He called them all — Wait, who is Herman?! I don't know! Some black guy on that show I'm writing! what. I don't know. You're writing a show?! I'm on it! Ugh, I don't know. No fair, You really know how to make me cry When you give me those ocean eyes Those ocean eyes Good looking people In good looking places Doing good things; I just want to be Good today Good looking people Good looking people Bye, bye little bird, Think of the dreams we made Think of the drummer boy, Your lover boy, Then, the other boy There we go again, With the drums we played And the love we made It just won't make it Oh I Just Can't take it Can I come back yet? 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 Elephant ok my chest, Clisets with hangers and button ups I haven't won't yet What FOR WHAT FOR. MY EYES. For the sake of the art, I heart ya. For perhaps if I love, That's how I lost ya. So I keep all my love close, The brothers have found the fountain How many dollars do tootsie pops cost For one Jimmy Fallon? return to the blacklist. 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. Ow. FUCK. Fuck this guy. GODDAMMIT. -_- Let me in. Or I could just leave you out. No, don't do that. WHY. Ahh. Shhhhhh!!! What if someone sees me. Hmm, let's see. [rings neighbors dooorvelk, shuts door] No! The neighbor opens the door; now gifted with the ability to see demons, after merging with Fast forward Oh no, when did that thing come into play (When this happened) Liz lemon lives on the ground floor It don't matter cause she ain't never home l She's at the rock That's all the way up Good talk, Donaguey, Good, Good Talk Good people Good show Good good times It's good to be long gone from home Go to work at the plaza That ones Conan. Oh, Why?! Why not, though. OH, you mean— Katt. What up Snoop . Ahh, Look what the pimp limped in. You think you're clever. You think you're at least 5 foot—but you're 4 foot 9 I'm STILL WINNING CHARLIE SHEEN relapses on the dance floor Oh shit. Relapses to which habit? All of them! 10-4 CALL RUSSEL BRAND. Csnt. Why not. He's blacked out. What? Another relapse?! No, he just— passed out KABLAM. “The Cockney Thug” He's just like that now. God What is it. Can I have ham in my spam samwhiches. —you want ham in your spam sandwhich. Yes. Roasted cantaloupe with Put your notebook On my throat-Scrotum I like your poems So I wrote you this one Oh. That's. Welcome—to the' creepy shit fans have done for u's backlogs. “Backlogs” Well, I have millions of fans, It would take me years to look at all this. [the festival project] Woah. Woah. Ok. Yo. Have you seen this. What is it. I don't know. Hm. Look. Woah: Yeah, it's— Wow Ok. It just goes on like this— For how long— For like GOH GOH l GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO CUT TO: Latest — 1:04 WHAT? MEANWHILE ….IS THAT A JIMMY FALLON? LOOKS LIKE ONE. SHOOT THAT MOTHERFUCKER. ok , boss. I told you, He would play The Devil's Advocate, If need be [JIMMY FALLON is shot mercilessly in the shoulder in broad daylight.] YO. THEY SHOT ME. He'll be okay. He's Jimmy Fallon. [LIKE 90,000 Ambulances and a SWAT team roll up.] See. DEADMAU5 charges himself in a high speed chamber—a tech-driven coffin via a USB port in his neck. Lol. Ok. (PDA) Public Displays of Affliction I've never even see. A. Aston Martin Sometimes it's worth it, Getting lost in Manhattan I just saw the sign I wouldn't dare entering, anyhow Not in this outfit Not in this predicament (I just left the Whole Foods market) I got lost and god was happy Motor cars for music Force a figure ibto music Forgive Annie, Run a mile what's a california smile In New York What a garden Oh, what a garden Double back. For a second glance Oh, don't we all want second chances Now I've been an Aston Martin Motorists dot muses now u want her What a party I just saw the sign Now I've been an Aston Martin All by design Companion passing through KAWS I just bought a Ferrari I said, Where the roof is?! Where the roof is?! Blū electrico Roof finished in Nero Just a hit of magic A menacing, incredibly ambedextrous submissive One time I played God, I was hanging as the sun in Toronto In my third eye was a camera lense; My baby daddy, Lover and my best friend My husband My lover and My best friend My brother And my father Were my best friends Once upon a time I never had friends Now I remember sitting in the backseat, Has been I remember when I never had ribs I remember when I never had meat Nice to meet you I already had a coffee 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 I'm a baby, haha Once upon a time, I was a no one A nobody 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 Coffee Body guard! I remember going on a long run I remember once there was a Knock on my door Now I quench my thirst with smart water With a hard on Never was a smart one Just an artist I was no one Once upon a dollar Jimmy Fallon Once upon a nothing, there was no one Now I take my coffee on a long ride No fun Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Amen I wish for every dollar I ever had, back Jimmy Fallon 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 And in my notebook I wish for the fame and wealth with it, Jimmy Fallon I wish I never laughed at Dillon Francis I wish Skrillex was never a demon, I take it back I want the wealth And not the fame Just the freedom, Jimmy Fallon What do you mean by that? A dad, an actor An attack, The press is back and asking questions I can't handle that I can't. I just can't with that Abandon the matrix Go back to What's his name But I can't Cause I made him up Call my mother begging to drop the charges Called my God Just asking what the pocket watch does What's an engagement ring like that coat How much to rug the cameras up Inside my home So I don't know about em That shit's priceless Like the 9 Dollar's I've got Marked up, but not to spend them at the Market Jimmy Fallon I pray for your family But not as hard as I pray For my son Or God To take this fat off So I can look like Jennifer Aniston Cause that's God to em, 22 year old Adam Sandler At a brunch A talk show with my Least favorite host of all time Jimmy Fallon But I love to laugh, huh I just got back, God My house is a mess I want meth like AshGod If Method man was drinking up the water Would there be backwash It's a horrible, windfall This awesome art project My broken heart The coughing stalkers Whatever the fuck is going on in New York I love New York But not New Yorkers 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, But I just learned that Underneath the surface Is the fourth world That's some dichotomy Huh That's some diabolical plot The cosmic avenger is stuck in a dimension Of white pocket tenses And white bitches who get offended With this scripture But listen I just got up And I've been privy to Never sleeping again Norman Needs you, Mrs. Hotch But I was never Mrs. Roberts With all of the hearts and crosses , stars I give up on love Where's DimlonnFrancis at That's a man without a mask, That's a mannequin m. Just got up And I still want breakfast All I got is Stuff that's leavening A hand in my pocket Just for God to show me Nobody I want wants me Jimmy Fallon has a family That's a tragedy, that But I laughed so hard in the bathtub I still haven't come back from that I feel bad for em, actually All the husbands Cause I was the wife that sucks And he hated me so much I got punched in the— Doesn't matter Stuck in the telling it over and over Nobody loves me My new password is Fuckit I'm gone galloping horses, And hornets, I'm just a furniture Probably should have aborted me, mother Just like you wanted to But I'm still in the hospital On the honor roll Cause I had them all lined up The prophets of the “Impossible, could not be my God!” That's what they all said, But they dressed me up like Some sort of messiah, So I was, then It wasn't right, no That was malpractice But now I've got Camping in Malibu Crossed off my list forever Shit It's some dichotomy Just hold onto me I'm the rock, You're the kite now, Jimmy Fallon I was just better off dead, You know 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 Impossible, Could not have been at that clown JIMMY FALLON - THE COSMIC AVENGER JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER is levitating in a hyper-meditative state. UH – “hehe” …I beg your pardon. “Hehe” Um… Fuck. Or “haha” “haha” … Just admit it. … Admit it already! –haha. Admit WHAT. This gets Levels. Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman! I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman. Ah, fuck, I'm nobody. “Nobody” Is that Bob Saget? I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget. Omg. Bob Saget! Fuck, that's right. EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET. No it's not! Oh My God! Yeah IT IS! Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?! BOB SAGET! YO GUYS, IT'S BOB SAGET. It was, in fact, Bob Saget. Bob Saget's dead, right? Oh yeah, bud. That's it guys! No more dead celebrities! I'm coming with you! NO MORE GHOSTS. Look, I have something to tell you. UGH. COME ON. This is a weird superpower. EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY … … … Having fun yet? Alright! I have a question! What? When do I get to– Get to what? You know. 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 The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… THAT was a HARD left turn. So, what time can we listen to Excision? Sometime after intermission. How many acts is this again? ___ I told you, IN-FIN-ITE. Okay… 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) What is she doing? What are you doing? Charging. __________ I think I found that girl you were looking for. Where is she? 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-- Oh, but you do-- Will Power at best, That would only be half of it. That would be all I had anything to do with; she was given free agency. HA. “Given”? ____ 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. What kind of practice-- ___ Oh shit, this hits different with two headphones. It all hits different with headphones. Calorie Deficit Calculator: -3423 Oh shit. Well how many calories did I eat? BEFORE: …chocolate chip cookies? NO— —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! THEY ARE VEGAN. SO? STOP IT. Ooh, what's this. I don't know— get it. CC/SUPACREE stands awkwardly at the checkout with a varied selection of vegan baked goods. *beep* Yeaaaahh. So wait. SUPACREE is controlled by aliens? WE ARE GODS. Knock it OFF! [NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: SUPASTRENTH ] Nice. Yeah dude. Watch this. 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. AGHHHHH In fact, nobody even plays GTA or call of duty anymore. YAH! [Random objects falling from the sky. ] SUPACREE Oh, nice. INSTANT MANIFESTATION. JUST POST THE FUCKING EPISODE ALRIGHT?! this bitch is fucking crazy. Watch this. Watch what? 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. Wtf. I don't know. Is he a villain? I don't know. I guess. I'M A SUPERVILLAIN. …He's a supervillain. I guess. Why?! I don't know. This is creeps. It is creeps. [lifts one eyebrow.] SUPACREEps. Scary monsters and supacreeps. Heh. NO, NO MUSICIANS. Heh. SHIA LABEOUF is a straight up gangster. HE'S CRAZY! [SHIA LAUGHING MANIACALLY.] Oh, wow– That dude is a straight up psychopath. You're a straight up psychopath. I'm not arguing. What is THIS part of the story? Well, son, you made it through. WOODY HARRELSON? WHAT. Woody Harrelson?! WHY? I don't know. He just fit the part. WHAT PART?! WHAT/! 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. IT HAS? YES? WHERE? I WANNA DIE. OH! That's not SUPACREE! [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.] Oh, maybe, nevermind. Wait! Is it THE HULK, or MARK RUFFALO? I don't know! I don't give a shit! Why are you even writing this? Uhhhhhhhh. [CC's brain is slowly melting as she rides the bus to work. THE HULK– OR IS IT MARK FUCKING RUFFALO!? I DON”T FUCKING CARE– THERE'S A DIFFERENCE WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE IT – DOESN'T– MATTER! ‘It doesn't matter.' 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. Woah. Riding the bus. There's nothing lower. There's walking. To the bus. Yah. And all the sick people. And all the crackheads. And all the–what are those? Demons [demon hacks.] Ugh, fucking–ugh. 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. Just write it. he's a villain, right? I mean, that suit. SHIA LA– FUCK. WHAT?! Worst last name EVER. Well, not ever– Wait, is he black?! –It sounds french. GOOGLE SEARCH: ‘How Jewish is Shia LaBeouf? ‘ –no, he's Cajun – That's french-black–wait— –what? Cajun AND Jewish? –Yeah– Jesus! JESUS What? (raises one eyebrow) SUPACREE strategizes a plan of attack. Attack for what? {ATTACK} YOUUUU INCEPTED ME!!! AGH! {COUNTER ATTACK} NOT ME! DISNEY! {DODGING COUNTER ATTACK} Yeah, Blame “Disney!” I JUST DID. Oh, yeah, right!! RAVEN SYMONÉ It was Disney. THEY OK'D THIS?! They bought Marvel! THEY OK'D EVERYTHING. —Even the SKRILLEX? Especially the Skrillex —Especially the Skrillex. AGHHHHHHHH—— ———-AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! SHIA LABEOUF VS SUPACREE: FIGHT!!!! Everything looks good— —everything looks good. Everything looks fine— —Everything looks fine. But wait— What? What about that guy? Oh My— —oh my… Is he 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? Is that guy gonna be alright?? Is that guy gonna be alright?! Is that guy gonna be alright m? Everything looks good— —everything looks fine Looks good— But what about that guy? …I don't know about that guy. Is he alright? Yo. Yooo. Stop writing songs about Skrillex. ((I literally can't.)) 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 —(for) Sonny …I didn't write that. CUT TO: CC writes automagically between sets of heavy lifting. IMAGINARY FRIENDS, PART III DEADMAU5!!!! okay—one more—then cupcakes— Cupcakes? No cupcakes! I WANT CUPCAKES. Uh—No way! YES WAY. Mmm—no I'm sick of this diet! I'm not on a diet! I eat! You eat GRASS. I'm a vegan. This shit sucks. I told you, grass tastes bad. RICK?! (I also want cupcakes. ) Mmkay—ohh. You said that was the last one. No, more more. NO “one more” But I like this one—and it has the right amount of weights on it already—see? Jesús Christ He's not here. (Yes I am). Why the Fuxk. I also want cupcakes Okay, one more No “one more” The power of Christ compels ye! … Is that how that works? No. Maybe. (((Yes.))) AGHHH. The celebrities of Hollywood are gang stalking SUPACREE Can we— No. But I didn't even get to ask the question. The answer is no. 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. REALLY? I GUESS. HOW?! — DRAKE snoops on SUPACREE as she writes working half heartedly at THE NECK MACHINE with peaking curiosity, peaking over the time of his sunglasses. Whats it called. “Nautilus 4 way neck “ BPM: you're a jerk Do the Drake Do the Drake Do the Drake Work that neck Work that— Neck, Becky Work that neck, Work that neck Do the— “new note: Purchase ‘Honestly, nevermind' 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— Or maybe, now, couldn't. BANGARANG. ‘Fuck this shit.' 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. What the fuck. 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. Whats the worry? You've got 20 minutes to write a story! Don't be sorry Mind your orders. You're a war chief Marry me, Oh pretty please— I plead to you, just sing for me Just think of me as a Never ending fantasy, At the very least When you bury me —and you buried me alive, Just for the look of things What makes us even Slitting wrists Or splitting things unevenly (Either thing benefits me, And my penis, I think.) Make me famous— She said Hate me or debate me, I have everything I need And I have everything you have, But I can leave, All with my dreams intact I do believe You think I'm evil Either way, unnecessary Why would I sit down and write a story— When you just did it for me? Why would I pledge allegiance to old glory She's ignoring me; Why would I change my name to satisfy your needs When mine sit idly by waiting Why would I dream of you, When you dream of me I have all I need, 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, But I'm so stupid, Nothing soothes my moods, Except playing your tunes, Or music Whoop De Fucking do Would you Marry Me? He said (He never did, he just let her—) She said, I do And now they're doomed I built a tomb for two The bride and groom In music Two by two And used by Tuesday Music I presume To the beautiful Music I presume For the usual Music I presume For those who —- SHIA LABEOUF JUST DO IT. That is not how the end of the song goes. No, but this is how the end of the episode goes. Really!? How? [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.] You brought…an umbrella? I told you there was a shit storm coming. Oh, nooh. Where's yours? I— don't care? That's right you don't. I don't. That's good you don't. I really don't. You don't give a Fuck, or a shit. I—don't give a fuck or a sh—wait— DILLON FRANCIS? I'm good at what I do. What do you DO? THIS. “A Silent Partner” Oh. I like that. That has all kinds of insinuations. Doesn't it? Hermph. You're a creep. A Supacreep. PAUSE ITS MISTER MAGOOoOOOOOOOooO0oO. No, it's the IRS. Fuck. HOLY SHIT SUNNI. WHAT. HOW DO YOU OWE 100,000 IN BACK TAXES?! Student loan debt. WHAT. THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE. Yes it does. HOW. Calm down Marci —MY ÑAME IS— [Sunnī Blū subdues her instantly with one if Supacree's mysterious rave weapons] Sit down, please. …what is that? You like it? Yeah. [she gives her another dose of strange vapor, she relaxes even further.] See. Yeah. Now that you're happy— —am i “happy” ? [she gives her another relaxing dose] —are you Happy? Yeah. Ok. So. I never filed my taxes because I had so muc

“The Legend of Supacree” L E G E N D S “Tales of A Superstar DJ” My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is myhel Now i do't wanna live no more My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell 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 I don't wanna– Boy gets the girl– but in the end, i'm not either, I Still have to wonder why The nanny How I met yurr' Mother I'm neve gonna get all that God magic I need if I don't stop working. This isn't “work” Oh, yes it is. 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 Feeling you feeling me Feeling me feeling you Feeling me feeling you Feeling you feeling Feeling you feeling –sorry. —Unexpectedly into the “superbowl party of the century”, when hundreds (eventually thousands) of “invitees” I've never been a man before, (that I know of) But ive got my hand over your heart , And it sure seems hard It sure seems hard -AHEM. Sorry. Receive an invitation via [SUPER JEW RABBI] AHEM What?! –Email, which was actually AHEM. WHAT! Oh My GoD! [Looks at clock] Oh. sorry Rabbi. When did you get to be such a Jew FLASHBACK Age: 12 Mom. I want a dreidel. …What's a dreidel? –And A Menorah! CUT BACK TO But honestly more recently, it was– [Stops traffic in Midtown Manhattan Rushour to pick up a penny.] [Jewish woman] Woooow. [JEWLUMINATTI] You see! I told you! Oh my God, why are the Jews in this series so stereotypically jewish? Because Jews are stereotypically Jewish. FLASHBACK: But what am I really saving here. Gevault! CUT BACK TO: YOU'RE A PEANUT BUTTER JELLy SaNDWHICH WITH NO PEANUT BUTTER AND NO JELLY. So just bread? –yes. But–[Anime sword swish] I don't eat bread. [Anymore] [FIGHT] Dang what DJ battle is THIS. The One You've Been Waiting For Mad men avatar the last air bender Grounded for life So how long's this whole thing supposed to take. –as long as it takes. What kind of answer is that. It's an answer. 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 I'm better off alone I'd better kill myself Nobody will ever love me Nobody will ever love me Watch out, watch this: My iPhone is trying to kill me, For real? See; It's natural selection I'm trying to unselect me Caviar, a delicacy How delishish The devil in me says to keep digging my grave I was once at a rave, And he gave me a halo A lion, I'm brave— I once said Spin it, Spin back the record again If it's all in my head Then I'm better off dead I'm better off dead Watch this! @Dillon Francis I'm stuck in a trance— Hanzel was lighting the candle And summoned me, Out of a dead sleep, With no pants on— It was a tech house set But I'm on acid Spinning an axis 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 Mystery flavor is like Fruit punch, Or raspberry— Something like that, If you ask me; But white as the rabbit I pulled out the hat In the back seat 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 don't know; I'll read this In a year, When I unbury it Maybe I married my best friend, Deserved to get hit So I'm just going back to him Scratch that, he's mad at me I have no family Reckless abandonment God I'm attracted to everything Except for that See? She's racist. No, it's my ovaries! The lighter you are, the less the adversity I see you eyes turned to grey; Don't abandon me Yes, I wear contacts I'm faking attractive I laughed at him, had to He actually had magic @Dillon Francis 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; What did you ask? No, i haven't had breakfast yet — Thanks for reminding me I'm in a casket Goddamnit @Dillon Francis What are you? I'm an adversary GOOGLE: adversary ..??? ad·ver·sar·y /ˈadvərˌserē/ noun one's opponent in a contest, conflict, or dispute. Hmm. Oh. Opponent to what?! Could be anything, really. I don't like him… 2 for $ MIX AND MATCH INCLUDES BIG KING REALLY. Which one's the Big King? The little one, I think. He's not little In fact: LOOK AT EM. Dawh. Look at Skrillex. Dawg. Look at Skrillex. He bossed up. He was already boss. 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 pause. How am I still writing this show. She doesn't eat? She hasn't eaten. She doesn't eat. I haven't ate yet! BET. BET. OK—Bet. Nice. Sick. What are we betting. … … … WAIT. ,,, josh pan? … … Did you unpause? Unpause what? Uh. The game. This is the game. No, the game. This is the game! What are you talking about?!! Now I'm famous> This is The Game. sup. This is Sunni Blū Sup. It is?! Yea it is. Wait, it is?! I thought you were the kidd?? I am the kidd. Then, why is The Game meeting Sunnï Blu? For a collab. Duh. Wait. Pause. QUIT PRESSING PAUSE. Wait. Go back. I didn't get that last part. WE WATCHED IT A HUNDRED TIMES ALREADY. Screw you. We're watching it again. Ugh! I hate this! Dude. I hate watching this with you. It takes 3 hours to watch an episode! You guys are talking over all the good parts! It's all the good parts! This shit's exciting. I'm defaulting. What? This isn't—this isn't fair. I'm not doing this. What?! It isn't safe anymore. It was never “safe” SAFE! Oh nice. Baseball. It is baseball. Who's playing? All the DJs. What. For what?! It's the DJ GAMES. THE DJ GAMESsssssssss ITS THE DJ GAMES! OH FUCK YEAH. I fuck this. I quit. what. You can't quit. I can quit. I just did. You can't quit the DJ games. I just did. But you can't. I just did. Hey. Hey, what's up. I'm gonna be late. What's going on? My bus driver's drunk. Are you sure? CITY BUS DRIFTING IN SLOW MOTION /Hans Zimmer Music Yes. Welhp. What. That's it. I'm just gonna have to kill myself. Why, what happened? I'm pretty sure that's the only way to beat this level. What, really? Nah. I'm pretty sure Let me see. *SUPACREE jumps into oncoming traffic* YOU DIED. Aww. I died. WHAT THE FUCK. Well, you said. GAME OVER [fade to black] I HAD NO LIVES LEFT. WELL, YOU SAID! THATS'S NOT THE WAY TO— [fade to white] NEW LEVEL UNLOCKED: GOD MODE OOOHHHHHHHH. WHAT?! LVL i - DREAMSTATE What is this. SUPACREE. I— what? Hello? Follow me. Who is this? I know you. 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. What 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. Monologue/Montage 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; God is, as I am. 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. Find me, again 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 SKRILLEX is a planet . That explains it. No it doesn't. I mean, it might. No it doesn't! I mean, it kindof does, if you think about it. BleepBleepBloop bleeepbleepbloopBloop bleepBleepBleeppBoopBoop bloopbloopBloopBloop. bleepBleep. bloop. Bleep? … This is a disaster! Don't look at ME. I'm not looking at anything! I can't stand it. __ This is the best thing on TV. Damn right it is. What channel is it, anyway? On Channel 43. What! I thought it was on Insomniac TV. They keep fucking with me. The Lord giveth, and taketh away— I thought you were Jewish. I want a sandwich. You're so useless. __ Who's this bitch? I won her in a bet. No you didn't. Royal Flush, bitch. What'd you get? It's a secret. __ My Lord. (Petrutheio Humphs) You look awful. I've been—working. Working on what, your majesty. Just—working, is all. Very well, then. Theodore— My leige? MEANWHILE, IN SEASON 4 [ When the 4th Wall Actually Broke] GO! 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— Is to trust no one, And love unconditionally, No matter what. — 02-12-2022 Well, there's a conundrum. KEY/BPM: Slip, deadmau5 Conundrum. LEGENDS: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE Fuck. What was it? It was a p— Well it was a *PR Lol. *PT cruiser Yeah, but it was— It was purple. It was a purple PT. Cruiser It was—but what else was it? Ugh. I forgot. Yeah, I bet. GOOGLE SEARCH shades of purple. Ooooh. PERIWINKLE. You fucking dumb ass. I mean, Jesus. How long has it been? At least a lifetime. No, past that. It was a perfect periwinkle PT cruiser. So, start there. ‘Start there' what? Everything since then, till now— For what? Enter The Multiverse. That show is still on?! YES. What day is it? Fuxk. What time is it? What—the fuck. What?! CUPCAKES AND A MUFFIN?! I don't care how fat I am. You're not fat. QUASIMOTO Can I just say, your ass is like —woah. CC/SUPACREE Oh, thank you. QUASIMOTO I mean like—DAAAAAAMN. CC/ SUPACREE OK. QUASIMOTO i mean like—what the FAAACK. CC/SUPACREE Yeah. thanks, bro. [an awkward silence] QUASIMOTO …Good job, though. [light fist bump] EARLIER: MORE CUPCAKES. NAH. OHH, OREOS?! Oreos are the G.O.A.T. I WANTED CUPCAKES. SHUT THE FUCK UP— Before that, at the gym: —do the butt machine again. Again?! Get the glutes. But I'm tired— GET THE GLUUUUUUUUTES. SONNY/SKRILLEX Where am I? Ū Hell. ANGEL 1 In bed. ANGEL 2 In mexico. CUT TO: SUPACREE finally gets to Heaven, looking for SKRILLEX. SUPACREE So, where is he? JESUS Somewhere else. ANGEL 1 At home. ANGEL 2 In mexico. JESUS Who knows? CHAK CHEL Someone must... DILLON FRANCIS I'm someone. JESUS But I don't. ME I don't know anything. MYSELF I don't need to. I I just wanna go home. SUPACREE Can I come home now? JESUSYou always could. SUPACREE But really, I mean-- CHAK CHEL Really's all it really takes. ANGEL 1 You have to know, ANGEL 2 You have to mean it; Don't look both ways before you cross, if you honestly want off the cross Christ, for your sake Honestly It's probably wise to admit that you've tried For the third time; Mankind's just not worth it. Mankind, maybe; But humanity's my baby And this earth is definitely worth something I love it-- Her. And the rest of the planets, but Look how she spins, It's magnificent, Look at the way the ocean's Make this mist; And the wind-- If i sing loudly enough I might Vibrate the trees, 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 They're very creative-- and grateful, they always give thanks to me It's no need, but the Earth, she keeps feeding them She makes these beautiful things, So sweet; Mangoes, I think. Greed; The Parable of the Mango Tree Mango VIP. 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. I 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. E Who made it? I Uhhhhh. ^> Uhhhhh... O You forgot! I No! I know, I know. It was.... A Who? U She forgot again. I I did NOT. E Did too. Who made it? I It was...it was...Herobust! Y Herobust? I Wasn't it? E Wrong! A Loser. I I am not a Loser. It was…Was it Ganja White Night? E I don't know, was it? A Was it? I I don't know! Just tell me. E I can't. I Yes you can! E I can't. Your rules-- I Exactly, it's my rules! Just gimmie the answer! E I think you're going to have to GOOGLE it. I Ugh, no way. E So is Liquid Stranger your final answer? Y Liquid Stranger?! I I never said Liquid Stranger. A Idiot. O Now she's never gonna get it. U What did you say before? I It was...oh... A See dude. I Shut up, I had it-FUCK. A Damn dude, you broke her. I I'm not broken, I just forgot - E Liquid Stranger, going once-- I I never said Liquid Stranger! I know it wasn't Liquid Stranger; Why would it ever be Liquid Stranger? CUT TO: A pair of mysterious dudes Suits in Sunglasses are collecting famous DJs. SUIT Martin Stääf? LIQUID STRANGER ...Yes... SUIT. Come with me. ___ CUT TO: Two fans are watching interdimensional cable. SUPACREE It's a practical-- FAN 1 WHAT HAPPENED? FAN 2 IT JUST CUT-- __ Aliens in an Ascended dimension of hyper-intelligence are studying our three-dimensional existence from an unknown cosmic world. BRAMF Remember that planet I showed you--the-- ARLA Yeah, with the Axis? BRAMF Yeah. ARLA Yeah? BRAMF Something happened to it, ARLA Like what? BRAMF It's flat now. ARLA WHAT? BOTH Woah. >^ Sometimes, even i'm surprised by the things I've written. ME I didn't see that one coming! MYSELF Neither did I: I was gonaa say it was off it's axis. I Flat's funnier. ME Yeah, and probably not as tragic. MYSELF I mean...that would be pretty tragic. I Probably easier to manage. ME Perhaps…But I mean, if you have a whole planet, and then it just collapses-- MYSELF It's just flattened; nobody said it collapses. MEANWHILE The planet collapses. __________ CUT TO: SUPACREE is now a full-blown superpowered vigilante; She seeks revenge for GETTER sending her through the interdimensions at AUDIOTISTIC. SUPACREE Getter, we meet again. GETTER I've never met you before; what are you doing in my dressing room? SUPACREE Why does a DJ have a dressing room? GETTER I don't know; get out. [She swiftly leaves; as she exits, THE SUITS approach the dressing room door.] SUIT 1 Tanner Petulla? GETTER Yeah? SUIT 2 Come with us. GETTER Fuck that! [He doesn't have a choice.] Oh shit, the next scene is already written, I remember this. Oh, okay! I get it! Yeah. She's still at-- She's still on the-- ____ JUST KILL YOURSELF ALREADY. For what? You're suck in this until it's done. What's done? It'll never be over, it's just infinite. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE ^ UNTITLED DOCUMENT >< >< >< ANGEL 1 YOU'RE GONNA LISTEN TO SKRILLEX ON YOUTUBE? ANGEL 2 DON'T. JESUS I mean... ANGEL 1 DON'T you dare. SUPACREE I might as well, by the time I finish downloading it I probably won't even be able to listen to it. ANGEL 2 You shouldn't. SUPACREE I shouldn't, but I know i have to. ANGEL 1 In PUBLIC? JESUS Could go Incognito... ANGEL 2 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) SUPACREE 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? ME A conversation between one song and another? MYSELF I guess, yes; I Well, that would be a symphony, I would suppose. SUPACREE It would, wouldn't it. ME That is, if the songs were in sync. MYSELF They could be made to be. I Every song is made to be in sync; ME I mean, two songs, made to be in sync with each other. _______ SUPACREE is on the floor at a rave. BASSGOD WAKE UP. SUPACREE This isn't funny anymore. ANGEL It was never funny. You have to get up. SUPACREE I'm up. BASSGOD You're NOT UP. ANGEL Come on, you have to do this. SUPACREE I'm doin it. GOD NO. ANGEL 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.] ____ You're not skinny enough You're not pretty enough You're too dark, And you don't work quickly enough Much younger girls are putting in such Efforts, just to be, the perfect little beauty queen You wish you were, But couldn't be and kids these days are Everything that means anything Sometimes I Don't Wanna Be Happy… It was bad, But better than I'll ever be A basic remix, For the basic bitch that sings it And, I'm basically a Dillon Francis fiend, Have you seen this? Now it's getting serious, I seriously doubt there's anything I can do about it It's in God's hands and, I live in Satan's house How did he do this? How did this happen? The sad result of the damage, Cause i'm pretty sure The very last time my ex ever hit me Something got stuck on repeat; It's just eating me up. ___ [Untitled Document] What did we call that place, between “The Blackout” and waking up. Hazy. 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. A DJ Whose house is this…? Ugh. [Looks in mirror.] A DJ ughhh. [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. ] CONCURRENTLY: >>> 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, SUPACREE (“I'm good.”) Yep. [And she keeps it steppin, still asking aloud, as she ponders to herself;] SUPACREE Whose house is this? [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.] PAUSE ME See! THIS IS RIDICULOUS. MYSELF It is. Ridiculous. You can't vacuum someone's face! I Not that part-- MYSELF --Especially white people! ME You never said they were all white people. I I mean, predominantly; it said hot people and rave babies. MYSELF That's racist! ME It isn't. This whole scene would be entirely different, if it had nothing but black people in it. ALTERNATELY: She wakes up in the same house, but it's clean. SUPACREE ...Whose house is this? BEYONCE It's my house. SUPACREE It's... nice. BEYONCE Yes it is. ______ DILLON FRANCIS has the master plan. SUPACREE Ugh, he knows everything. GOD Not everything, dear, believe me. SUPACREE Everything that matters. GOD There's no such thing as everything that doesn't matter. SUPACREE ...What?! __ Don't look in there! You won't find anything in there. I hate these things. ____ It doesn't work if you don't practice. How do I practice without decks? You don't. How do I Dj without practicing? You don't. So DJing is just for rich people? I mean, primarily, or just...anyone with money, if you have it. Fuck this, I quit. You can't quit. If you quit we forfeit the game. No... You idiot. What game? I thought she knew about the game. What. game. Well, it's not just a game, it's a language. WHAT GAME. She's about to be so angry, dude, just--- Just run. ___ 8 Dimensional--wait, what? Oh, she finally made it. 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.-- Josh Pan. Yeah. I am. Why. 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. Tsh. ___ It's just an expression. “expression” yes. I get it-- ___ He named it “Kliptown Empyrean” What. What's “Empyrean”? I'd love to know, but I don't. Don't google it. I won't, I just. __ GO KARTS. With A K. __ Where's Kliptown? South of Capetown? South? South Afri-- Stop. HE”S AFRICAN? Stop. What's more offensive; Being called an African, or an Alien? ___ One off...hmmm… Always one off. ___ Get out of my house! 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? Me? I'm S U P A C R E E “S U P A C R E E”? [having been yet unrecognized, shes is used to having to spell it] Yeah; ___ Key of Cringe: I'm in a box with all my thoughts, And I am not on top of the world Or taking shots, I'm just rocking back and forth Like broken record, Repeating sequences, a robot A beat box of kittens Nobody wants I'm lost (if rock and roll will take me I wonder how much it costs) ____ What did this kid do? Nobody knows _Oh, shit, it's the Jews again. I love the Jews. We know. I keep telling you, you're jewish I'm not jewish my mom's… That's not your mom. Of course that's my mom. 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. Tell us about the Sauce! All the sauce? Yeah!!! 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 ____ PIERCE? Who the fuck is PIERCE? Google it. I like this, this is- It's different, isn't it? Yeah, and then it __ Sunni—are you Jewish? I...identify as “Jewish” You can't just identify as Jewish. Well, I do. 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? Who's your mother?! Oh! Okay, we're done. See you next time, bye! What are you doing? What? “Identify as Jewish”?! WHAT?! I do! No I don't! You don't know me! Maybe not! But I know TMZ. I'm not on TMZ Sunni Blu is on TMZ What did I do?! YOu know what you did. ∆ Well, alright then. ∆ Must be something. ∆ I got it. . Don't look at me;; I'm a catastrophe, I'm just waking up now Don't look at me, I got so high i think I might not come down It's not a bad thing But I'm a bad guy, i promise It's not a bad thing, Don't look in my eyes; Especially if I like you Especially if you have other plans tonight, Or this morning That's right Time flies when you're (dynomite) Time flies when your mind right I didn't mean to stay here It's been nearly half a year, you know It's nearly half a year It's nearly half a y AHEM ALRIGHT. JESUS CHRIST. No, not that! [sighs heavily, frustrated] Enjoy Your Day. FARRO nobly sacrifices his own life during The Lovers Quarrel, as PETRUTHEIO attempts a final and fatall blow unwittingly against ‘CESMET' A saturn of satirical Return of reverb Expanding explosions of Outward and unearthly Worlds within words Or words within Worlds on the Curve of the Unwritten overtures of -Mother wow . I guess. 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. Yeah, what if. What if this is it? [SUPER HUGE GASP] Oh, AHEM- No, i Gotta write this. AHH– Oh, the things i would do to you Oh, woah, The things you would do to me Oh, no, no, woah The things i would do AHHH– Don't be mad I'm a writer I'm like this Hi kids wanna see how sharp my knife is yikes Sigh, bitch, ive been sitting in silece With the lights off cause i like it Ilike it a lot, but uhm Ahem, The rabbi's mad cause that i'd write this And it's shabbat This is why i don't listen to deadmau5 anymore. What are you talking about *listenining to* GODDAMIT. what The invisible man, in Manhattan The sunglasses matches her madness The cloud cover looks just like Texas The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… 03. JIMMY FALLON All ya'll are all worth bout a dollar; I am a cyclone, watch me holler I lived my whole life underwater I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon All ya'll are only bout a dollar I work so hard, I guess for nothin I am not worried bout a dollar I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon I guess I'll do it on my own I had to do it all alone I made some soup, all out of stones I am the only one I know I am not worried bout the sauce I am so famous, got a stalker I am so famous Can't go no where I got a dollar, Jimmy Fallon I'm at the office, Not my home No collab I work alone Opened a business, got a loan I got a hundred of them passwords I went frontwards —1I went backwards 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 (What's that) (I'm the host) What's that, what's that I work alone What's that what's that I dropped a rock into the rock What's that what's that I'm the host, I'm Jimmy {enter the multiverse/ as seen on tv} Story/ music video 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— Have you seen this? Uhh, hmwhat is it? Mits m “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. Oh, so three dumb Jews. So, no, then? I'd watch the shit out of that, though, tvh. Why's the synopsis? Uhh. 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? “The Bookkeeper” What. Who the fuck is “the book keeper?” We'll see, I guess. “Two Broke hoes@ It's like two broke girls, but actually funny. What, be nice . Okay. Two Broke Ghosts That's better— — And marketable. Are you pale, or just— No, I'm dead. I'm dead. X.X Be NICE. Now our musical guests, SWAGGARBOMB. What in the fuck kind of music is that It's called “Dorkstep” [the doorbell rings] Great, who the fuck is 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, Kill your culture You need some? I got u— Probiotics, yo The truth hurts Your shit stinks Must be a mirror over herer Cause that's me I m your hero. Esha I think McGuiennes? Or McGrefor, after Ewab, maybe New York wants me to kill myself Maybe eventually New York if full of the devil The devil is money And everyone wants it The root of all evil, Is getting even The root of all evil Is people Beside myself, But besides that The ones hurting me, are soon to be where I am That's just karma The gangstalkers are soon to be stalked Coughed, and shot at The neighbors are soon to be eaten by their own demons When I don't clean them 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 don't want us Just being honest They're hateful, They washed all the love out Thanks Karen But she don't care White firms just wanna have fun And they get to Meanwhile, me and I Eat shit( bro, And die Why's it nice to be white Even when you're wrong, you're right All you gotta do is lie, Open up your big blue eyes real wide and Decide what you want, Put us under your foot, And make us pay for it Thanks Karen Caucasians are terrorists I think it's McGuennes or however you spell it, cause half the names are like plays on Okay, I lie: You made a world where I have to Okay, I steal You took everything that I'm after already Or your ancestors did 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. My left side's off I guess I got Stuck in the love of the art I was writing that part When the life of my love Fell over me A lover huh I'm so confused. I'm sorry bro, But if you're morbidly obese, But your feet are like a size 6– You are not BIG BONED. 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 Too much I'm just the rat in the dumpster I made this whole world up I swallowed the doctor I hearted the surgeon I locked up the dog catcher; I cauldron'd the Mormons I called it a sermon, but He called them all — Wait, who is Herman?! I don't know! Some black guy on that show I'm writing! what. I don't know. You're writing a show?! I'm on it! Ugh, I don't know. No fair, You really know how to make me cry When you give me those ocean eyes Those ocean eyes Good looking people In good looking places Doing good things; I just want to be Good today Good looking people Good looking people Bye, bye little bird, Think of the dreams we made Think of the drummer boy, Your lover boy, Then, the other boy There we go again, With the drums we played And the love we made It just won't make it Oh I Just Can't take it Can I come back yet? 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 Elephant ok my chest, Clisets with hangers and button ups I haven't won't yet What FOR WHAT FOR. MY EYES. For the sake of the art, I heart ya. For perhaps if I love, That's how I lost ya. So I keep all my love close, The brothers have found the fountain How many dollars do tootsie pops cost For one Jimmy Fallon? return to the blacklist. 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. Ow. FUCK. Fuck this guy. GODDAMMIT. -_- Let me in. Or I could just leave you out. No, don't do that. WHY. Ahh. Shhhhhh!!! What if someone sees me. Hmm, let's see. [rings neighbors dooorvelk, shuts door] No! The neighbor opens the door; now gifted with the ability to see demons, after merging with Fast forward Oh no, when did that thing come into play (When this happened) Liz lemon lives on the ground floor It don't matter cause she ain't never home l She's at the rock That's all the way up Good talk, Donaguey, Good, Good Talk Good people Good show Good good times It's good to be long gone from home Go to work at the plaza That ones Conan. Oh, Why?! Why not, though. OH, you mean— Katt. What up Snoop . Ahh, Look what the pimp limped in. You think you're clever. You think you're at least 5 foot—but you're 4 foot 9 I'm STILL WINNING CHARLIE SHEEN relapses on the dance floor Oh shit. Relapses to which habit? All of them! 10-4 CALL RUSSEL BRAND. Csnt. Why not. He's blacked out. What? Another relapse?! No, he just— passed out KABLAM. “The Cockney Thug” He's just like that now. God What is it. Can I have ham in my spam samwhiches. —you want ham in your spam sandwhich. Yes. Roasted cantaloupe with Put your notebook On my throat-Scrotum I like your poems So I wrote you this one Oh. That's. Welcome—to the' creepy shit fans have done for u's backlogs. “Backlogs” Well, I have millions of fans, It would take me years to look at all this. [the festival project] Woah. Woah. Ok. Yo. Have you seen this. What is it. I don't know. Hm. Look. Woah: Yeah, it's— Wow Ok. It just goes on like this— For how long— For like GOH GOH l GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO CUT TO: Latest — 1:04 WHAT? MEANWHILE ….IS THAT A JIMMY FALLON? LOOKS LIKE ONE. SHOOT THAT MOTHERFUCKER. ok , boss. I told you, He would play The Devil's Advocate, If need be [JIMMY FALLON is shot mercilessly in the shoulder in broad daylight.] YO. THEY SHOT ME. He'll be okay. He's Jimmy Fallon. [LIKE 90,000 Ambulances and a SWAT team roll up.] See. DEADMAU5 charges himself in a high speed chamber—a tech-driven coffin via a USB port in his neck. Lol. Ok. (PDA) Public Displays of Affliction I've never even see. A. Aston Martin Sometimes it's worth it, Getting lost in Manhattan I just saw the sign I wouldn't dare entering, anyhow Not in this outfit Not in this predicament (I just left the Whole Foods market) I got lost and god was happy Motor cars for music Force a figure ibto music Forgive Annie, Run a mile what's a california smile In New York What a garden Oh, what a garden Double back. For a second glance Oh, don't we all want second chances Now I've been an Aston Martin Motorists dot muses now u want her What a party I just saw the sign Now I've been an Aston Martin All by design Companion passing through KAWS I just bought a Ferrari I said, Where the roof is?! Where the roof is?! Blū electrico Roof finished in Nero Just a hit of magic A menacing, incredibly ambedextrous submissive One time I played God, I was hanging as the sun in Toronto In my third eye was a camera lense; My baby daddy, Lover and my best friend My husband My lover and My best friend My brother And my father Were my best friends Once upon a time I never had friends Now I remember sitting in the backseat, Has been I remember when I never had ribs I remember when I never had meat Nice to meet you I already had a coffee 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 I'm a baby, haha Once upon a time, I was a no one A nobody 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 Coffee Body guard! I remember going on a long run I remember once there was a Knock on my door Now I quench my thirst with smart water With a hard on Never was a smart one Just an artist I was no one Once upon a dollar Jimmy Fallon Once upon a nothing, there was no one Now I take my coffee on a long ride No fun Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Amen I wish for every dollar I ever had, back Jimmy Fallon 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 And in my notebook I wish for the fame and wealth with it, Jimmy Fallon I wish I never laughed at Dillon Francis I wish Skrillex was never a demon, I take it back I want the wealth And not the fame Just the freedom, Jimmy Fallon What do you mean by that? A dad, an actor An attack, The press is back and asking questions I can't handle that I can't. I just can't with that Abandon the matrix Go back to What's his name But I can't Cause I made him up Call my mother begging to drop the charges Called my God Just asking what the pocket watch does What's an engagement ring like that coat How much to rug the cameras up Inside my home So I don't know about em That shit's priceless Like the 9 Dollar's I've got Marked up, but not to spend them at the Market Jimmy Fallon I pray for your family But not as hard as I pray For my son Or God To take this fat off So I can look like Jennifer Aniston Cause that's God to em, 22 year old Adam Sandler At a brunch A talk show with my Least favorite host of all time Jimmy Fallon But I love to laugh, huh I just got back, God My house is a mess I want meth like AshGod If Method man was drinking up the water Would there be backwash It's a horrible, windfall This awesome art project My broken heart The coughing stalkers Whatever the fuck is going on in New York I love New York But not New Yorkers 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, But I just learned that Underneath the surface Is the fourth world That's some dichotomy Huh That's some diabolical plot The cosmic avenger is stuck in a dimension Of white pocket tenses And white bitches who get offended With this scripture But listen I just got up And I've been privy to Never sleeping again Norman Needs you, Mrs. Hotch But I was never Mrs. Roberts With all of the hearts and crosses , stars I give up on love Where's DimlonnFrancis at That's a man without a mask, That's a mannequin m. Just got up And I still want breakfast All I got is Stuff that's leavening A hand in my pocket Just for God to show me Nobody I want wants me Jimmy Fallon has a family That's a tragedy, that But I laughed so hard in the bathtub I still haven't come back from that I feel bad for em, actually All the husbands Cause I was the wife that sucks And he hated me so much I got punched in the— Doesn't matter Stuck in the telling it over and over Nobody loves me My new password is Fuckit I'm gone galloping horses, And hornets, I'm just a furniture Probably should have aborted me, mother Just like you wanted to But I'm still in the hospital On the honor roll Cause I had them all lined up The prophets of the “Impossible, could not be my God!” That's what they all said, But they dressed me up like Some sort of messiah, So I was, then It wasn't right, no That was malpractice But now I've got Camping in Malibu Crossed off my list forever Shit It's some dichotomy Just hold onto me I'm the rock, You're the kite now, Jimmy Fallon I was just better off dead, You know 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 Impossible, Could not have been at that clown JIMMY FALLON - THE COSMIC AVENGER JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER is levitating in a hyper-meditative state. UH – “hehe” …I beg your pardon. “Hehe” Um… Fuck. Or “haha” “haha” … Just admit it. … Admit it already! –haha. Admit WHAT. This gets Levels. Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman! I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman. Ah, fuck, I'm nobody. “Nobody” Is that Bob Saget? I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget. Omg. Bob Saget! Fuck, that's right. EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET. No it's not! Oh My God! Yeah IT IS! Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?! BOB SAGET! YO GUYS, IT'S BOB SAGET. It was, in fact, Bob Saget. Bob Saget's dead, right? Oh yeah, bud. That's it guys! No more dead celebrities! I'm coming with you! NO MORE GHOSTS. Look, I have something to tell you. UGH. COME ON. This is a weird superpower. EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY … … … Having fun yet? Alright! I have a question! What? When do I get to– Get to what? You know. 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 The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… THAT was a HARD left turn. So, what time can we listen to Excision? Sometime after intermission. How many acts is this again? ___ I told you, IN-FIN-ITE. Okay… 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) What is she doing? What are you doing? Charging. __________ I think I found that girl you were looking for. Where is she? 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-- Oh, but you do-- Will Power at best, That would only be half of it. That would be all I had anything to do with; she was given free agency. HA. “Given”? ____ 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. What kind of practice-- ___ Oh shit, this hits different with two headphones. It all hits different with headphones. Calorie Deficit Calculator: -3423 Oh shit. Well how many calories did I eat? BEFORE: …chocolate chip cookies? NO— —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! THEY ARE VEGAN. SO? STOP IT. Ooh, what's this. I don't know— get it. CC/SUPACREE stands awkwardly at the checkout with a varied selection of vegan baked goods. *beep* Yeaaaahh. So wait. SUPACREE is controlled by aliens? WE ARE GODS. Knock it OFF! [NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: SUPASTRENTH ] Nice. Yeah dude. Watch this. 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. AGHHHHH In fact, nobody even plays GTA or call of duty anymore. YAH! [Random objects falling from the sky. ] SUPACREE Oh, nice. INSTANT MANIFESTATION. JUST POST THE FUCKING EPISODE ALRIGHT?! this bitch is fucking crazy. Watch this. Watch what? 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. Wtf. I don't know. Is he a villain? I don't know. I guess. I'M A SUPERVILLAIN. …He's a supervillain. I guess. Why?! I don't know. This is creeps. It is creeps. [lifts one eyebrow.] SUPACREEps. Scary monsters and supacreeps. Heh. NO, NO MUSICIANS. Heh. SHIA LABEOUF is a straight up gangster. HE'S CRAZY! [SHIA LAUGHING MANIACALLY.] Oh, wow– That dude is a straight up psychopath. You're a straight up psychopath. I'm not arguing. What is THIS part of the story? Well, son, you made it through. WOODY HARRELSON? WHAT. Woody Harrelson?! WHY? I don't know. He just fit the part. WHAT PART?! WHAT/! 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. IT HAS? YES? WHERE? I WANNA DIE. OH! That's not SUPACREE! [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.] Oh, maybe, nevermind. Wait! Is it THE HULK, or MARK RUFFALO? I don't know! I don't give a shit! Why are you even writing this? Uhhhhhhhh. [CC's brain is slowly melting as she rides the bus to work. THE HULK– OR IS IT MARK FUCKING RUFFALO!? I DON”T FUCKING CARE– THERE'S A DIFFERENCE WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE IT – DOESN'T– MATTER! ‘It doesn't matter.' 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. Woah. Riding the bus. There's nothing lower. There's walking. To the bus. Yah. And all the sick people. And all the crackheads. And all the–what are those? Demons [demon hacks.] Ugh, fucking–ugh. 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. Just write it. he's a villain, right? I mean, that suit. SHIA LA– FUCK. WHAT?! Worst last name EVER. Well, not ever– Wait, is he black?! –It sounds french. GOOGLE SEARCH: ‘How Jewish is Shia LaBeouf? ‘ –no, he's Cajun – That's french-black–wait— –what? Cajun AND Jewish? –Yeah– Jesus! JESUS What? (raises one eyebrow) SUPACREE strategizes a plan of attack. Attack for what? {ATTACK} YOUUUU INCEPTED ME!!! AGH! {COUNTER ATTACK} NOT ME! DISNEY! {DODGING COUNTER ATTACK} Yeah, Blame “Disney!” I JUST DID. Oh, yeah, right!! RAVEN SYMONÉ It was Disney. THEY OK'D THIS?! They bought Marvel! THEY OK'D EVERYTHING. —Even the SKRILLEX? Especially the Skrillex —Especially the Skrillex. AGHHHHHHHH—— ———-AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! SHIA LABEOUF VS SUPACREE: FIGHT!!!! Everything looks good— —everything looks good. Everything looks fine— —Everything looks fine. But wait— What? What about that guy? Oh My— —oh my… Is he 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? Is that guy gonna be alright?? Is that guy gonna be alright?! Is that guy gonna be alright m? Everything looks good— —everything looks fine Looks good— But what about that guy? …I don't know about that guy. Is he alright? Yo. Yooo. Stop writing songs about Skrillex. ((I literally can't.)) 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 —(for) Sonny …I didn't write that. CUT TO: CC writes automagically between sets of heavy lifting. IMAGINARY FRIENDS, PART III DEADMAU5!!!! okay—one more—then cupcakes— Cupcakes? No cupcakes! I WANT CUPCAKES. Uh—No way! YES WAY. Mmm—no I'm sick of this diet! I'm not on a diet! I eat! You eat GRASS. I'm a vegan. This shit sucks. I told you, grass tastes bad. RICK?! (I also want cupcakes. ) Mmkay—ohh. You said that was the last one. No, more more. NO “one more” But I like this one—and it has the right amount of weights on it already—see? Jesús Christ He's not here. (Yes I am). Why the Fuxk. I also want cupcakes Okay, one more No “one more” The power of Christ compels ye! … Is that how that works? No. Maybe. (((Yes.))) AGHHH. The celebrities of Hollywood are gang stalking SUPACREE Can we— No. But I didn't even get to ask the question. The answer is no. 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. REALLY? I GUESS. HOW?! — DRAKE snoops on SUPACREE as she writes working half heartedly at THE NECK MACHINE with peaking curiosity, peaking over the time of his sunglasses. Whats it called. “Nautilus 4 way neck “ BPM: you're a jerk Do the Drake Do the Drake Do the Drake Work that neck Work that— Neck, Becky Work that neck, Work that neck Do the— “new note: Purchase ‘Honestly, nevermind' 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— Or maybe, now, couldn't. BANGARANG. ‘Fuck this shit.' 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. What the fuck. 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. Whats the worry? You've got 20 minutes to write a story! Don't be sorry Mind your orders. You're a war chief Marry me, Oh pretty please— I plead to you, just sing for me Just think of me as a Never ending fantasy, At the very least When you bury me —and you buried me alive, Just for the look of things What makes us even Slitting wrists Or splitting things unevenly (Either thing benefits me, And my penis, I think.) Make me famous— She said Hate me or debate me, I have everything I need And I have everything you have, But I can leave, All with my dreams intact I do believe You think I'm evil Either way, unnecessary Why would I sit down and write a story— When you just did it for me? Why would I pledge allegiance to old glory She's ignoring me; Why would I change my name to satisfy your needs When mine sit idly by waiting Why would I dream of you, When you dream of me I have all I need, 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, But I'm so stupid, Nothing soothes my moods, Except playing your tunes, Or music Whoop De Fucking do Would you Marry Me? He said (He never did, he just let her—) She said, I do And now they're doomed I built a tomb for two The bride and groom In music Two by two And used by Tuesday Music I presume To the beautiful Music I presume For the usual Music I presume For those who —- SHIA LABEOUF JUST DO IT. That is not how the end of the song goes. No, but this is how the end of the episode goes. Really!? How? [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.] You brought…an umbrella? I told you there was a shit storm coming. Oh, nooh. Where's yours? I— don't care? That's right you don't. I don't. That's good you don't. I really don't. You don't give a Fuck, or a shit. I—don't give a fuck or a sh—wait— DILLON FRANCIS? I'm good at what I do. What do you DO? THIS. “A Silent Partner” Oh. I like that. That has all kinds of insinuations. Doesn't it? Hermph. You're a creep. A Supacreep. PAUSE ITS MISTER MAGOOoOOOOOOOooO0oO. No, it's the IRS. Fuck. HOLY SHIT SUNNI. WHAT. HOW DO YOU OWE 100,000 IN BACK TAXES?! Student loan debt. WHAT. THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE. Yes it does. HOW. Calm down Marci —MY ÑAME IS— [Sunnī Blū subdues her instantly with one if Supacree's mysterious rave weapons] Sit down, please. …what is that? You like it? Yeah. [she gives her another dose of strange vapor, she relaxes even further.] See. Yeah. Now that you're happy— —am i “happy” ? [she gives her another relaxing dose] —are you Happy? Yeah. Ok. So. I never filed my taxes because I had so muc

“The Legend of Supacree” L E G E N D S “Tales of A Superstar DJ” My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is myhel Now i do't wanna live no more My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell 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 I don't wanna– Boy gets the girl– but in the end, i'm not either, I Still have to wonder why The nanny How I met yurr' Mother I'm neve gonna get all that God magic I need if I don't stop working. This isn't “work” Oh, yes it is. 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 Feeling you feeling me Feeling me feeling you Feeling me feeling you Feeling you feeling Feeling you feeling –sorry. —Unexpectedly into the “superbowl party of the century”, when hundreds (eventually thousands) of “invitees” I've never been a man before, (that I know of) But ive got my hand over your heart , And it sure seems hard It sure seems hard -AHEM. Sorry. Receive an invitation via [SUPER JEW RABBI] AHEM What?! –Email, which was actually AHEM. WHAT! Oh My GoD! [Looks at clock] Oh. sorry Rabbi. When did you get to be such a Jew FLASHBACK Age: 12 Mom. I want a dreidel. …What's a dreidel? –And A Menorah! CUT BACK TO But honestly more recently, it was– [Stops traffic in Midtown Manhattan Rushour to pick up a penny.] [Jewish woman] Woooow. [JEWLUMINATTI] You see! I told you! Oh my God, why are the Jews in this series so stereotypically jewish? Because Jews are stereotypically Jewish. FLASHBACK: But what am I really saving here. Gevault! CUT BACK TO: YOU'RE A PEANUT BUTTER JELLy SaNDWHICH WITH NO PEANUT BUTTER AND NO JELLY. So just bread? –yes. But–[Anime sword swish] I don't eat bread. [Anymore] [FIGHT] Dang what DJ battle is THIS. The One You've Been Waiting For Mad men avatar the last air bender Grounded for life So how long's this whole thing supposed to take. –as long as it takes. What kind of answer is that. It's an answer. 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 I'm better off alone I'd better kill myself Nobody will ever love me Nobody will ever love me Watch out, watch this: My iPhone is trying to kill me, For real? See; It's natural selection I'm trying to unselect me Caviar, a delicacy How delishish The devil in me says to keep digging my grave I was once at a rave, And he gave me a halo A lion, I'm brave— I once said Spin it, Spin back the record again If it's all in my head Then I'm better off dead I'm better off dead Watch this! @Dillon Francis I'm stuck in a trance— Hanzel was lighting the candle And summoned me, Out of a dead sleep, With no pants on— It was a tech house set But I'm on acid Spinning an axis 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 Mystery flavor is like Fruit punch, Or raspberry— Something like that, If you ask me; But white as the rabbit I pulled out the hat In the back seat 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 don't know; I'll read this In a year, When I unbury it Maybe I married my best friend, Deserved to get hit So I'm just going back to him Scratch that, he's mad at me I have no family Reckless abandonment God I'm attracted to everything Except for that See? She's racist. No, it's my ovaries! The lighter you are, the less the adversity I see you eyes turned to grey; Don't abandon me Yes, I wear contacts I'm faking attractive I laughed at him, had to He actually had magic @Dillon Francis 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; What did you ask? No, i haven't had breakfast yet — Thanks for reminding me I'm in a casket Goddamnit @Dillon Francis What are you? I'm an adversary GOOGLE: adversary ..??? ad·ver·sar·y /ˈadvərˌserē/ noun one's opponent in a contest, conflict, or dispute. Hmm. Oh. Opponent to what?! Could be anything, really. I don't like him… 2 for $ MIX AND MATCH INCLUDES BIG KING REALLY. Which one's the Big King? The little one, I think. He's not little In fact: LOOK AT EM. Dawh. Look at Skrillex. Dawg. Look at Skrillex. He bossed up. He was already boss. 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 pause. How am I still writing this show. She doesn't eat? She hasn't eaten. She doesn't eat. I haven't ate yet! BET. BET. OK—Bet. Nice. Sick. What are we betting. … … … WAIT. ,,, josh pan? … … Did you unpause? Unpause what? Uh. The game. This is the game. No, the game. This is the game! What are you talking about?!! Now I'm famous> This is The Game. sup. This is Sunni Blū Sup. It is?! Yea it is. Wait, it is?! I thought you were the kidd?? I am the kidd. Then, why is The Game meeting Sunnï Blu? For a collab. Duh. Wait. Pause. QUIT PRESSING PAUSE. Wait. Go back. I didn't get that last part. WE WATCHED IT A HUNDRED TIMES ALREADY. Screw you. We're watching it again. Ugh! I hate this! Dude. I hate watching this with you. It takes 3 hours to watch an episode! You guys are talking over all the good parts! It's all the good parts! This shit's exciting. I'm defaulting. What? This isn't—this isn't fair. I'm not doing this. What?! It isn't safe anymore. It was never “safe” SAFE! Oh nice. Baseball. It is baseball. Who's playing? All the DJs. What. For what?! It's the DJ GAMES. THE DJ GAMESsssssssss ITS THE DJ GAMES! OH FUCK YEAH. I fuck this. I quit. what. You can't quit. I can quit. I just did. You can't quit the DJ games. I just did. But you can't. I just did. Hey. Hey, what's up. I'm gonna be late. What's going on? My bus driver's drunk. Are you sure? CITY BUS DRIFTING IN SLOW MOTION /Hans Zimmer Music Yes. Welhp. What. That's it. I'm just gonna have to kill myself. Why, what happened? I'm pretty sure that's the only way to beat this level. What, really? Nah. I'm pretty sure Let me see. *SUPACREE jumps into oncoming traffic* YOU DIED. Aww. I died. WHAT THE FUCK. Well, you said. GAME OVER [fade to black] I HAD NO LIVES LEFT. WELL, YOU SAID! THATS'S NOT THE WAY TO— [fade to white] NEW LEVEL UNLOCKED: GOD MODE OOOHHHHHHHH. WHAT?! LVL i - DREAMSTATE What is this. SUPACREE. I— what? Hello? Follow me. Who is this? I know you. 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. What 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. Monologue/Montage 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; God is, as I am. 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. Find me, again 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 SKRILLEX is a planet . That explains it. No it doesn't. I mean, it might. No it doesn't! I mean, it kindof does, if you think about it. BleepBleepBloop bleeepbleepbloopBloop bleepBleepBleeppBoopBoop bloopbloopBloopBloop. bleepBleep. bloop. Bleep? … This is a disaster! Don't look at ME. I'm not looking at anything! I can't stand it. __ This is the best thing on TV. Damn right it is. What channel is it, anyway? On Channel 43. What! I thought it was on Insomniac TV. They keep fucking with me. The Lord giveth, and taketh away— I thought you were Jewish. I want a sandwich. You're so useless. __ Who's this bitch? I won her in a bet. No you didn't. Royal Flush, bitch. What'd you get? It's a secret. __ My Lord. (Petrutheio Humphs) You look awful. I've been—working. Working on what, your majesty. Just—working, is all. Very well, then. Theodore— My leige? MEANWHILE, IN SEASON 4 [ When the 4th Wall Actually Broke] GO! 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— Is to trust no one, And love unconditionally, No matter what. — 02-12-2022 Well, there's a conundrum. KEY/BPM: Slip, deadmau5 Conundrum. LEGENDS: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE Fuck. What was it? It was a p— Well it was a *PR Lol. *PT cruiser Yeah, but it was— It was purple. It was a purple PT. Cruiser It was—but what else was it? Ugh. I forgot. Yeah, I bet. GOOGLE SEARCH shades of purple. Ooooh. PERIWINKLE. You fucking dumb ass. I mean, Jesus. How long has it been? At least a lifetime. No, past that. It was a perfect periwinkle PT cruiser. So, start there. ‘Start there' what? Everything since then, till now— For what? Enter The Multiverse. That show is still on?! YES. What day is it? Fuxk. What time is it? What—the fuck. What?! CUPCAKES AND A MUFFIN?! I don't care how fat I am. You're not fat. QUASIMOTO Can I just say, your ass is like —woah. CC/SUPACREE Oh, thank you. QUASIMOTO I mean like—DAAAAAAMN. CC/ SUPACREE OK. QUASIMOTO i mean like—what the FAAACK. CC/SUPACREE Yeah. thanks, bro. [an awkward silence] QUASIMOTO …Good job, though. [light fist bump] EARLIER: MORE CUPCAKES. NAH. OHH, OREOS?! Oreos are the G.O.A.T. I WANTED CUPCAKES. SHUT THE FUCK UP— Before that, at the gym: —do the butt machine again. Again?! Get the glutes. But I'm tired— GET THE GLUUUUUUUUTES. SONNY/SKRILLEX Where am I? Ū Hell. ANGEL 1 In bed. ANGEL 2 In mexico. CUT TO: SUPACREE finally gets to Heaven, looking for SKRILLEX. SUPACREE So, where is he? JESUS Somewhere else. ANGEL 1 At home. ANGEL 2 In mexico. JESUS Who knows? CHAK CHEL Someone must... DILLON FRANCIS I'm someone. JESUS But I don't. ME I don't know anything. MYSELF I don't need to. I I just wanna go home. SUPACREE Can I come home now? JESUSYou always could. SUPACREE But really, I mean-- CHAK CHEL Really's all it really takes. ANGEL 1 You have to know, ANGEL 2 You have to mean it; Don't look both ways before you cross, if you honestly want off the cross Christ, for your sake Honestly It's probably wise to admit that you've tried For the third time; Mankind's just not worth it. Mankind, maybe; But humanity's my baby And this earth is definitely worth something I love it-- Her. And the rest of the planets, but Look how she spins, It's magnificent, Look at the way the ocean's Make this mist; And the wind-- If i sing loudly enough I might Vibrate the trees, 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 They're very creative-- and grateful, they always give thanks to me It's no need, but the Earth, she keeps feeding them She makes these beautiful things, So sweet; Mangoes, I think. Greed; The Parable of the Mango Tree Mango VIP. 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. I 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. E Who made it? I Uhhhhh. ^> Uhhhhh... O You forgot! I No! I know, I know. It was.... A Who? U She forgot again. I I did NOT. E Did too. Who made it? I It was...it was...Herobust! Y Herobust? I Wasn't it? E Wrong! A Loser. I I am not a Loser. It was…Was it Ganja White Night? E I don't know, was it? A Was it? I I don't know! Just tell me. E I can't. I Yes you can! E I can't. Your rules-- I Exactly, it's my rules! Just gimmie the answer! E I think you're going to have to GOOGLE it. I Ugh, no way. E So is Liquid Stranger your final answer? Y Liquid Stranger?! I I never said Liquid Stranger. A Idiot. O Now she's never gonna get it. U What did you say before? I It was...oh... A See dude. I Shut up, I had it-FUCK. A Damn dude, you broke her. I I'm not broken, I just forgot - E Liquid Stranger, going once-- I I never said Liquid Stranger! I know it wasn't Liquid Stranger; Why would it ever be Liquid Stranger? CUT TO: A pair of mysterious dudes Suits in Sunglasses are collecting famous DJs. SUIT Martin Stääf? LIQUID STRANGER ...Yes... SUIT. Come with me. ___ CUT TO: Two fans are watching interdimensional cable. SUPACREE It's a practical-- FAN 1 WHAT HAPPENED? FAN 2 IT JUST CUT-- __ Aliens in an Ascended dimension of hyper-intelligence are studying our three-dimensional existence from an unknown cosmic world. BRAMF Remember that planet I showed you--the-- ARLA Yeah, with the Axis? BRAMF Yeah. ARLA Yeah? BRAMF Something happened to it, ARLA Like what? BRAMF It's flat now. ARLA WHAT? BOTH Woah. >^ Sometimes, even i'm surprised by the things I've written. ME I didn't see that one coming! MYSELF Neither did I: I was gonaa say it was off it's axis. I Flat's funnier. ME Yeah, and probably not as tragic. MYSELF I mean...that would be pretty tragic. I Probably easier to manage. ME Perhaps…But I mean, if you have a whole planet, and then it just collapses-- MYSELF It's just flattened; nobody said it collapses. MEANWHILE The planet collapses. __________ CUT TO: SUPACREE is now a full-blown superpowered vigilante; She seeks revenge for GETTER sending her through the interdimensions at AUDIOTISTIC. SUPACREE Getter, we meet again. GETTER I've never met you before; what are you doing in my dressing room? SUPACREE Why does a DJ have a dressing room? GETTER I don't know; get out. [She swiftly leaves; as she exits, THE SUITS approach the dressing room door.] SUIT 1 Tanner Petulla? GETTER Yeah? SUIT 2 Come with us. GETTER Fuck that! [He doesn't have a choice.] Oh shit, the next scene is already written, I remember this. Oh, okay! I get it! Yeah. She's still at-- She's still on the-- ____ JUST KILL YOURSELF ALREADY. For what? You're suck in this until it's done. What's done? It'll never be over, it's just infinite. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE ^ UNTITLED DOCUMENT >< >< >< ANGEL 1 YOU'RE GONNA LISTEN TO SKRILLEX ON YOUTUBE? ANGEL 2 DON'T. JESUS I mean... ANGEL 1 DON'T you dare. SUPACREE I might as well, by the time I finish downloading it I probably won't even be able to listen to it. ANGEL 2 You shouldn't. SUPACREE I shouldn't, but I know i have to. ANGEL 1 In PUBLIC? JESUS Could go Incognito... ANGEL 2 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) SUPACREE 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? ME A conversation between one song and another? MYSELF I guess, yes; I Well, that would be a symphony, I would suppose. SUPACREE It would, wouldn't it. ME That is, if the songs were in sync. MYSELF They could be made to be. I Every song is made to be in sync; ME I mean, two songs, made to be in sync with each other. _______ SUPACREE is on the floor at a rave. BASSGOD WAKE UP. SUPACREE This isn't funny anymore. ANGEL It was never funny. You have to get up. SUPACREE I'm up. BASSGOD You're NOT UP. ANGEL Come on, you have to do this. SUPACREE I'm doin it. GOD NO. ANGEL 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.] ____ You're not skinny enough You're not pretty enough You're too dark, And you don't work quickly enough Much younger girls are putting in such Efforts, just to be, the perfect little beauty queen You wish you were, But couldn't be and kids these days are Everything that means anything Sometimes I Don't Wanna Be Happy… It was bad, But better than I'll ever be A basic remix, For the basic bitch that sings it And, I'm basically a Dillon Francis fiend, Have you seen this? Now it's getting serious, I seriously doubt there's anything I can do about it It's in God's hands and, I live in Satan's house How did he do this? How did this happen? The sad result of the damage, Cause i'm pretty sure The very last time my ex ever hit me Something got stuck on repeat; It's just eating me up. ___ [Untitled Document] What did we call that place, between “The Blackout” and waking up. Hazy. 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. A DJ Whose house is this…? Ugh. [Looks in mirror.] A DJ ughhh. [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. ] CONCURRENTLY: >>> 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, SUPACREE (“I'm good.”) Yep. [And she keeps it steppin, still asking aloud, as she ponders to herself;] SUPACREE Whose house is this? [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.] PAUSE ME See! THIS IS RIDICULOUS. MYSELF It is. Ridiculous. You can't vacuum someone's face! I Not that part-- MYSELF --Especially white people! ME You never said they were all white people. I I mean, predominantly; it said hot people and rave babies. MYSELF That's racist! ME It isn't. This whole scene would be entirely different, if it had nothing but black people in it. ALTERNATELY: She wakes up in the same house, but it's clean. SUPACREE ...Whose house is this? BEYONCE It's my house. SUPACREE It's... nice. BEYONCE Yes it is. ______ DILLON FRANCIS has the master plan. SUPACREE Ugh, he knows everything. GOD Not everything, dear, believe me. SUPACREE Everything that matters. GOD There's no such thing as everything that doesn't matter. SUPACREE ...What?! __ Don't look in there! You won't find anything in there. I hate these things. ____ It doesn't work if you don't practice. How do I practice without decks? You don't. How do I Dj without practicing? You don't. So DJing is just for rich people? I mean, primarily, or just...anyone with money, if you have it. Fuck this, I quit. You can't quit. If you quit we forfeit the game. No... You idiot. What game? I thought she knew about the game. What. game. Well, it's not just a game, it's a language. WHAT GAME. She's about to be so angry, dude, just--- Just run. ___ 8 Dimensional--wait, what? Oh, she finally made it. 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.-- Josh Pan. Yeah. I am. Why. 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. Tsh. ___ It's just an expression. “expression” yes. I get it-- ___ He named it “Kliptown Empyrean” What. What's “Empyrean”? I'd love to know, but I don't. Don't google it. I won't, I just. __ GO KARTS. With A K. __ Where's Kliptown? South of Capetown? South? South Afri-- Stop. HE”S AFRICAN? Stop. What's more offensive; Being called an African, or an Alien? ___ One off...hmmm… Always one off. ___ Get out of my house! 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? Me? I'm S U P A C R E E “S U P A C R E E”? [having been yet unrecognized, shes is used to having to spell it] Yeah; ___ Key of Cringe: I'm in a box with all my thoughts, And I am not on top of the world Or taking shots, I'm just rocking back and forth Like broken record, Repeating sequences, a robot A beat box of kittens Nobody wants I'm lost (if rock and roll will take me I wonder how much it costs) ____ What did this kid do? Nobody knows _Oh, shit, it's the Jews again. I love the Jews. We know. I keep telling you, you're jewish I'm not jewish my mom's… That's not your mom. Of course that's my mom. 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. Tell us about the Sauce! All the sauce? Yeah!!! 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 ____ PIERCE? Who the fuck is PIERCE? Google it. I like this, this is- It's different, isn't it? Yeah, and then it __ Sunni—are you Jewish? I...identify as “Jewish” You can't just identify as Jewish. Well, I do. 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? Who's your mother?! Oh! Okay, we're done. See you next time, bye! What are you doing? What? “Identify as Jewish”?! WHAT?! I do! No I don't! You don't know me! Maybe not! But I know TMZ. I'm not on TMZ Sunni Blu is on TMZ What did I do?! YOu know what you did. ∆ Well, alright then. ∆ Must be something. ∆ I got it. . Don't look at me;; I'm a catastrophe, I'm just waking up now Don't look at me, I got so high i think I might not come down It's not a bad thing But I'm a bad guy, i promise It's not a bad thing, Don't look in my eyes; Especially if I like you Especially if you have other plans tonight, Or this morning That's right Time flies when you're (dynomite) Time flies when your mind right I didn't mean to stay here It's been nearly half a year, you know It's nearly half a year It's nearly half a y AHEM ALRIGHT. JESUS CHRIST. No, not that! [sighs heavily, frustrated] Enjoy Your Day. FARRO nobly sacrifices his own life during The Lovers Quarrel, as PETRUTHEIO attempts a final and fatall blow unwittingly against ‘CESMET' A saturn of satirical Return of reverb Expanding explosions of Outward and unearthly Worlds within words Or words within Worlds on the Curve of the Unwritten overtures of -Mother wow . I guess. 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. Yeah, what if. What if this is it? [SUPER HUGE GASP] Oh, AHEM- No, i Gotta write this. AHH– Oh, the things i would do to you Oh, woah, The things you would do to me Oh, no, no, woah The things i would do AHHH– Don't be mad I'm a writer I'm like this Hi kids wanna see how sharp my knife is yikes Sigh, bitch, ive been sitting in silece With the lights off cause i like it Ilike it a lot, but uhm Ahem, The rabbi's mad cause that i'd write this And it's shabbat This is why i don't listen to deadmau5 anymore. What are you talking about *listenining to* GODDAMIT. what The invisible man, in Manhattan The sunglasses matches her madness The cloud cover looks just like Texas The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… 03. JIMMY FALLON All ya'll are all worth bout a dollar; I am a cyclone, watch me holler I lived my whole life underwater I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon All ya'll are only bout a dollar I work so hard, I guess for nothin I am not worried bout a dollar I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon I guess I'll do it on my own I had to do it all alone I made some soup, all out of stones I am the only one I know I am not worried bout the sauce I am so famous, got a stalker I am so famous Can't go no where I got a dollar, Jimmy Fallon I'm at the office, Not my home No collab I work alone Opened a business, got a loan I got a hundred of them passwords I went frontwards —1I went backwards 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 (What's that) (I'm the host) What's that, what's that I work alone What's that what's that I dropped a rock into the rock What's that what's that I'm the host, I'm Jimmy {enter the multiverse/ as seen on tv} Story/ music video 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— Have you seen this? Uhh, hmwhat is it? Mits m “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. Oh, so three dumb Jews. So, no, then? I'd watch the shit out of that, though, tvh. Why's the synopsis? Uhh. 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? “The Bookkeeper” What. Who the fuck is “the book keeper?” We'll see, I guess. “Two Broke hoes@ It's like two broke girls, but actually funny. What, be nice . Okay. Two Broke Ghosts That's better— — And marketable. Are you pale, or just— No, I'm dead. I'm dead. X.X Be NICE. Now our musical guests, SWAGGARBOMB. What in the fuck kind of music is that It's called “Dorkstep” [the doorbell rings] Great, who the fuck is 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, Kill your culture You need some? I got u— Probiotics, yo The truth hurts Your shit stinks Must be a mirror over herer Cause that's me I m your hero. Esha I think McGuiennes? Or McGrefor, after Ewab, maybe New York wants me to kill myself Maybe eventually New York if full of the devil The devil is money And everyone wants it The root of all evil, Is getting even The root of all evil Is people Beside myself, But besides that The ones hurting me, are soon to be where I am That's just karma The gangstalkers are soon to be stalked Coughed, and shot at The neighbors are soon to be eaten by their own demons When I don't clean them 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 don't want us Just being honest They're hateful, They washed all the love out Thanks Karen But she don't care White firms just wanna have fun And they get to Meanwhile, me and I Eat shit( bro, And die Why's it nice to be white Even when you're wrong, you're right All you gotta do is lie, Open up your big blue eyes real wide and Decide what you want, Put us under your foot, And make us pay for it Thanks Karen Caucasians are terrorists I think it's McGuennes or however you spell it, cause half the names are like plays on Okay, I lie: You made a world where I have to Okay, I steal You took everything that I'm after already Or your ancestors did 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. My left side's off I guess I got Stuck in the love of the art I was writing that part When the life of my love Fell over me A lover huh I'm so confused. I'm sorry bro, But if you're morbidly obese, But your feet are like a size 6– You are not BIG BONED. 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 Too much I'm just the rat in the dumpster I made this whole world up I swallowed the doctor I hearted the surgeon I locked up the dog catcher; I cauldron'd the Mormons I called it a sermon, but He called them all — Wait, who is Herman?! I don't know! Some black guy on that show I'm writing! what. I don't know. You're writing a show?! I'm on it! Ugh, I don't know. No fair, You really know how to make me cry When you give me those ocean eyes Those ocean eyes Good looking people In good looking places Doing good things; I just want to be Good today Good looking people Good looking people Bye, bye little bird, Think of the dreams we made Think of the drummer boy, Your lover boy, Then, the other boy There we go again, With the drums we played And the love we made It just won't make it Oh I Just Can't take it Can I come back yet? 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 Elephant ok my chest, Clisets with hangers and button ups I haven't won't yet What FOR WHAT FOR. MY EYES. For the sake of the art, I heart ya. For perhaps if I love, That's how I lost ya. So I keep all my love close, The brothers have found the fountain How many dollars do tootsie pops cost For one Jimmy Fallon? return to the blacklist. 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. Ow. FUCK. Fuck this guy. GODDAMMIT. -_- Let me in. Or I could just leave you out. No, don't do that. WHY. Ahh. Shhhhhh!!! What if someone sees me. Hmm, let's see. [rings neighbors dooorvelk, shuts door] No! The neighbor opens the door; now gifted with the ability to see demons, after merging with Fast forward Oh no, when did that thing come into play (When this happened) Liz lemon lives on the ground floor It don't matter cause she ain't never home l She's at the rock That's all the way up Good talk, Donaguey, Good, Good Talk Good people Good show Good good times It's good to be long gone from home Go to work at the plaza That ones Conan. Oh, Why?! Why not, though. OH, you mean— Katt. What up Snoop . Ahh, Look what the pimp limped in. You think you're clever. You think you're at least 5 foot—but you're 4 foot 9 I'm STILL WINNING CHARLIE SHEEN relapses on the dance floor Oh shit. Relapses to which habit? All of them! 10-4 CALL RUSSEL BRAND. Csnt. Why not. He's blacked out. What? Another relapse?! No, he just— passed out KABLAM. “The Cockney Thug” He's just like that now. God What is it. Can I have ham in my spam samwhiches. —you want ham in your spam sandwhich. Yes. Roasted cantaloupe with Put your notebook On my throat-Scrotum I like your poems So I wrote you this one Oh. That's. Welcome—to the' creepy shit fans have done for u's backlogs. “Backlogs” Well, I have millions of fans, It would take me years to look at all this. [the festival project] Woah. Woah. Ok. Yo. Have you seen this. What is it. I don't know. Hm. Look. Woah: Yeah, it's— Wow Ok. It just goes on like this— For how long— For like GOH GOH l GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO CUT TO: Latest — 1:04 WHAT? MEANWHILE ….IS THAT A JIMMY FALLON? LOOKS LIKE ONE. SHOOT THAT MOTHERFUCKER. ok , boss. I told you, He would play The Devil's Advocate, If need be [JIMMY FALLON is shot mercilessly in the shoulder in broad daylight.] YO. THEY SHOT ME. He'll be okay. He's Jimmy Fallon. [LIKE 90,000 Ambulances and a SWAT team roll up.] See. DEADMAU5 charges himself in a high speed chamber—a tech-driven coffin via a USB port in his neck. Lol. Ok. (PDA) Public Displays of Affliction I've never even see. A. Aston Martin Sometimes it's worth it, Getting lost in Manhattan I just saw the sign I wouldn't dare entering, anyhow Not in this outfit Not in this predicament (I just left the Whole Foods market) I got lost and god was happy Motor cars for music Force a figure ibto music Forgive Annie, Run a mile what's a california smile In New York What a garden Oh, what a garden Double back. For a second glance Oh, don't we all want second chances Now I've been an Aston Martin Motorists dot muses now u want her What a party I just saw the sign Now I've been an Aston Martin All by design Companion passing through KAWS I just bought a Ferrari I said, Where the roof is?! Where the roof is?! Blū electrico Roof finished in Nero Just a hit of magic A menacing, incredibly ambedextrous submissive One time I played God, I was hanging as the sun in Toronto In my third eye was a camera lense; My baby daddy, Lover and my best friend My husband My lover and My best friend My brother And my father Were my best friends Once upon a time I never had friends Now I remember sitting in the backseat, Has been I remember when I never had ribs I remember when I never had meat Nice to meet you I already had a coffee 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 I'm a baby, haha Once upon a time, I was a no one A nobody 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 Coffee Body guard! I remember going on a long run I remember once there was a Knock on my door Now I quench my thirst with smart water With a hard on Never was a smart one Just an artist I was no one Once upon a dollar Jimmy Fallon Once upon a nothing, there was no one Now I take my coffee on a long ride No fun Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Amen I wish for every dollar I ever had, back Jimmy Fallon 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 And in my notebook I wish for the fame and wealth with it, Jimmy Fallon I wish I never laughed at Dillon Francis I wish Skrillex was never a demon, I take it back I want the wealth And not the fame Just the freedom, Jimmy Fallon What do you mean by that? A dad, an actor An attack, The press is back and asking questions I can't handle that I can't. I just can't with that Abandon the matrix Go back to What's his name But I can't Cause I made him up Call my mother begging to drop the charges Called my God Just asking what the pocket watch does What's an engagement ring like that coat How much to rug the cameras up Inside my home So I don't know about em That shit's priceless Like the 9 Dollar's I've got Marked up, but not to spend them at the Market Jimmy Fallon I pray for your family But not as hard as I pray For my son Or God To take this fat off So I can look like Jennifer Aniston Cause that's God to em, 22 year old Adam Sandler At a brunch A talk show with my Least favorite host of all time Jimmy Fallon But I love to laugh, huh I just got back, God My house is a mess I want meth like AshGod If Method man was drinking up the water Would there be backwash It's a horrible, windfall This awesome art project My broken heart The coughing stalkers Whatever the fuck is going on in New York I love New York But not New Yorkers 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, But I just learned that Underneath the surface Is the fourth world That's some dichotomy Huh That's some diabolical plot The cosmic avenger is stuck in a dimension Of white pocket tenses And white bitches who get offended With this scripture But listen I just got up And I've been privy to Never sleeping again Norman Needs you, Mrs. Hotch But I was never Mrs. Roberts With all of the hearts and crosses , stars I give up on love Where's DimlonnFrancis at That's a man without a mask, That's a mannequin m. Just got up And I still want breakfast All I got is Stuff that's leavening A hand in my pocket Just for God to show me Nobody I want wants me Jimmy Fallon has a family That's a tragedy, that But I laughed so hard in the bathtub I still haven't come back from that I feel bad for em, actually All the husbands Cause I was the wife that sucks And he hated me so much I got punched in the— Doesn't matter Stuck in the telling it over and over Nobody loves me My new password is Fuckit I'm gone galloping horses, And hornets, I'm just a furniture Probably should have aborted me, mother Just like you wanted to But I'm still in the hospital On the honor roll Cause I had them all lined up The prophets of the “Impossible, could not be my God!” That's what they all said, But they dressed me up like Some sort of messiah, So I was, then It wasn't right, no That was malpractice But now I've got Camping in Malibu Crossed off my list forever Shit It's some dichotomy Just hold onto me I'm the rock, You're the kite now, Jimmy Fallon I was just better off dead, You know 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 Impossible, Could not have been at that clown JIMMY FALLON - THE COSMIC AVENGER JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER is levitating in a hyper-meditative state. UH – “hehe” …I beg your pardon. “Hehe” Um… Fuck. Or “haha” “haha” … Just admit it. … Admit it already! –haha. Admit WHAT. This gets Levels. Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman! I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman. Ah, fuck, I'm nobody. “Nobody” Is that Bob Saget? I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget. Omg. Bob Saget! Fuck, that's right. EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET. No it's not! Oh My God! Yeah IT IS! Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?! BOB SAGET! YO GUYS, IT'S BOB SAGET. It was, in fact, Bob Saget. Bob Saget's dead, right? Oh yeah, bud. That's it guys! No more dead celebrities! I'm coming with you! NO MORE GHOSTS. Look, I have something to tell you. UGH. COME ON. This is a weird superpower. EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY … … … Having fun yet? Alright! I have a question! What? When do I get to– Get to what? You know. 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 The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… THAT was a HARD left turn. So, what time can we listen to Excision? Sometime after intermission. How many acts is this again? ___ I told you, IN-FIN-ITE. Okay… 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) What is she doing? What are you doing? Charging. __________ I think I found that girl you were looking for. Where is she? 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-- Oh, but you do-- Will Power at best, That would only be half of it. That would be all I had anything to do with; she was given free agency. HA. “Given”? ____ 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. What kind of practice-- ___ Oh shit, this hits different with two headphones. It all hits different with headphones. Calorie Deficit Calculator: -3423 Oh shit. Well how many calories did I eat? BEFORE: …chocolate chip cookies? NO— —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! THEY ARE VEGAN. SO? STOP IT. Ooh, what's this. I don't know— get it. CC/SUPACREE stands awkwardly at the checkout with a varied selection of vegan baked goods. *beep* Yeaaaahh. So wait. SUPACREE is controlled by aliens? WE ARE GODS. Knock it OFF! [NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: SUPASTRENTH ] Nice. Yeah dude. Watch this. 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. AGHHHHH In fact, nobody even plays GTA or call of duty anymore. YAH! [Random objects falling from the sky. ] SUPACREE Oh, nice. INSTANT MANIFESTATION. JUST POST THE FUCKING EPISODE ALRIGHT?! this bitch is fucking crazy. Watch this. Watch what? 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. Wtf. I don't know. Is he a villain? I don't know. I guess. I'M A SUPERVILLAIN. …He's a supervillain. I guess. Why?! I don't know. This is creeps. It is creeps. [lifts one eyebrow.] SUPACREEps. Scary monsters and supacreeps. Heh. NO, NO MUSICIANS. Heh. SHIA LABEOUF is a straight up gangster. HE'S CRAZY! [SHIA LAUGHING MANIACALLY.] Oh, wow– That dude is a straight up psychopath. You're a straight up psychopath. I'm not arguing. What is THIS part of the story? Well, son, you made it through. WOODY HARRELSON? WHAT. Woody Harrelson?! WHY? I don't know. He just fit the part. WHAT PART?! WHAT/! 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. IT HAS? YES? WHERE? I WANNA DIE. OH! That's not SUPACREE! [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.] Oh, maybe, nevermind. Wait! Is it THE HULK, or MARK RUFFALO? I don't know! I don't give a shit! Why are you even writing this? Uhhhhhhhh. [CC's brain is slowly melting as she rides the bus to work. THE HULK– OR IS IT MARK FUCKING RUFFALO!? I DON”T FUCKING CARE– THERE'S A DIFFERENCE WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE IT – DOESN'T– MATTER! ‘It doesn't matter.' 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. Woah. Riding the bus. There's nothing lower. There's walking. To the bus. Yah. And all the sick people. And all the crackheads. And all the–what are those? Demons [demon hacks.] Ugh, fucking–ugh. 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. Just write it. he's a villain, right? I mean, that suit. SHIA LA– FUCK. WHAT?! Worst last name EVER. Well, not ever– Wait, is he black?! –It sounds french. GOOGLE SEARCH: ‘How Jewish is Shia LaBeouf? ‘ –no, he's Cajun – That's french-black–wait— –what? Cajun AND Jewish? –Yeah– Jesus! JESUS What? (raises one eyebrow) SUPACREE strategizes a plan of attack. Attack for what? {ATTACK} YOUUUU INCEPTED ME!!! AGH! {COUNTER ATTACK} NOT ME! DISNEY! {DODGING COUNTER ATTACK} Yeah, Blame “Disney!” I JUST DID. Oh, yeah, right!! RAVEN SYMONÉ It was Disney. THEY OK'D THIS?! They bought Marvel! THEY OK'D EVERYTHING. —Even the SKRILLEX? Especially the Skrillex —Especially the Skrillex. AGHHHHHHHH—— ———-AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! SHIA LABEOUF VS SUPACREE: FIGHT!!!! Everything looks good— —everything looks good. Everything looks fine— —Everything looks fine. But wait— What? What about that guy? Oh My— —oh my… Is he 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? Is that guy gonna be alright?? Is that guy gonna be alright?! Is that guy gonna be alright m? Everything looks good— —everything looks fine Looks good— But what about that guy? …I don't know about that guy. Is he alright? Yo. Yooo. Stop writing songs about Skrillex. ((I literally can't.)) 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 —(for) Sonny …I didn't write that. CUT TO: CC writes automagically between sets of heavy lifting. IMAGINARY FRIENDS, PART III DEADMAU5!!!! okay—one more—then cupcakes— Cupcakes? No cupcakes! I WANT CUPCAKES. Uh—No way! YES WAY. Mmm—no I'm sick of this diet! I'm not on a diet! I eat! You eat GRASS. I'm a vegan. This shit sucks. I told you, grass tastes bad. RICK?! (I also want cupcakes. ) Mmkay—ohh. You said that was the last one. No, more more. NO “one more” But I like this one—and it has the right amount of weights on it already—see? Jesús Christ He's not here. (Yes I am). Why the Fuxk. I also want cupcakes Okay, one more No “one more” The power of Christ compels ye! … Is that how that works? No. Maybe. (((Yes.))) AGHHH. The celebrities of Hollywood are gang stalking SUPACREE Can we— No. But I didn't even get to ask the question. The answer is no. 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. REALLY? I GUESS. HOW?! — DRAKE snoops on SUPACREE as she writes working half heartedly at THE NECK MACHINE with peaking curiosity, peaking over the time of his sunglasses. Whats it called. “Nautilus 4 way neck “ BPM: you're a jerk Do the Drake Do the Drake Do the Drake Work that neck Work that— Neck, Becky Work that neck, Work that neck Do the— “new note: Purchase ‘Honestly, nevermind' 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— Or maybe, now, couldn't. BANGARANG. ‘Fuck this shit.' 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. What the fuck. 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. Whats the worry? You've got 20 minutes to write a story! Don't be sorry Mind your orders. You're a war chief Marry me, Oh pretty please— I plead to you, just sing for me Just think of me as a Never ending fantasy, At the very least When you bury me —and you buried me alive, Just for the look of things What makes us even Slitting wrists Or splitting things unevenly (Either thing benefits me, And my penis, I think.) Make me famous— She said Hate me or debate me, I have everything I need And I have everything you have, But I can leave, All with my dreams intact I do believe You think I'm evil Either way, unnecessary Why would I sit down and write a story— When you just did it for me? Why would I pledge allegiance to old glory She's ignoring me; Why would I change my name to satisfy your needs When mine sit idly by waiting Why would I dream of you, When you dream of me I have all I need, 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, But I'm so stupid, Nothing soothes my moods, Except playing your tunes, Or music Whoop De Fucking do Would you Marry Me? He said (He never did, he just let her—) She said, I do And now they're doomed I built a tomb for two The bride and groom In music Two by two And used by Tuesday Music I presume To the beautiful Music I presume For the usual Music I presume For those who —- SHIA LABEOUF JUST DO IT. That is not how the end of the song goes. No, but this is how the end of the episode goes. Really!? How? [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.] You brought…an umbrella? I told you there was a shit storm coming. Oh, nooh. Where's yours? I— don't care? That's right you don't. I don't. That's good you don't. I really don't. You don't give a Fuck, or a shit. I—don't give a fuck or a sh—wait— DILLON FRANCIS? I'm good at what I do. What do you DO? THIS. “A Silent Partner” Oh. I like that. That has all kinds of insinuations. Doesn't it? Hermph. You're a creep. A Supacreep. PAUSE ITS MISTER MAGOOoOOOOOOOooO0oO. No, it's the IRS. Fuck. HOLY SHIT SUNNI. WHAT. HOW DO YOU OWE 100,000 IN BACK TAXES?! Student loan debt. WHAT. THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE. Yes it does. HOW. Calm down Marci —MY ÑAME IS— [Sunnī Blū subdues her instantly with one if Supacree's mysterious rave weapons] Sit down, please. …what is that? You like it? Yeah. [she gives her another dose of strange vapor, she relaxes even further.] See. Yeah. Now that you're happy— —am i “happy” ? [she gives her another relaxing dose] —are you Happy? Yeah. Ok. So. I never filed my taxes because I had so muc

“The Legend of Supacree” L E G E N D S “Tales of A Superstar DJ” My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is myhel Now i do't wanna live no more My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell 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 I don't wanna– Boy gets the girl– but in the end, i'm not either, I Still have to wonder why The nanny How I met yurr' Mother I'm neve gonna get all that God magic I need if I don't stop working. This isn't “work” Oh, yes it is. 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 Feeling you feeling me Feeling me feeling you Feeling me feeling you Feeling you feeling Feeling you feeling –sorry. —Unexpectedly into the “superbowl party of the century”, when hundreds (eventually thousands) of “invitees” I've never been a man before, (that I know of) But ive got my hand over your heart , And it sure seems hard It sure seems hard -AHEM. Sorry. Receive an invitation via [SUPER JEW RABBI] AHEM What?! –Email, which was actually AHEM. WHAT! Oh My GoD! [Looks at clock] Oh. sorry Rabbi. When did you get to be such a Jew FLASHBACK Age: 12 Mom. I want a dreidel. …What's a dreidel? –And A Menorah! CUT BACK TO But honestly more recently, it was– [Stops traffic in Midtown Manhattan Rushour to pick up a penny.] [Jewish woman] Woooow. [JEWLUMINATTI] You see! I told you! Oh my God, why are the Jews in this series so stereotypically jewish? Because Jews are stereotypically Jewish. FLASHBACK: But what am I really saving here. Gevault! CUT BACK TO: YOU'RE A PEANUT BUTTER JELLy SaNDWHICH WITH NO PEANUT BUTTER AND NO JELLY. So just bread? –yes. But–[Anime sword swish] I don't eat bread. [Anymore] [FIGHT] Dang what DJ battle is THIS. The One You've Been Waiting For Mad men avatar the last air bender Grounded for life So how long's this whole thing supposed to take. –as long as it takes. What kind of answer is that. It's an answer. 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 I'm better off alone I'd better kill myself Nobody will ever love me Nobody will ever love me Watch out, watch this: My iPhone is trying to kill me, For real? See; It's natural selection I'm trying to unselect me Caviar, a delicacy How delishish The devil in me says to keep digging my grave I was once at a rave, And he gave me a halo A lion, I'm brave— I once said Spin it, Spin back the record again If it's all in my head Then I'm better off dead I'm better off dead Watch this! @Dillon Francis I'm stuck in a trance— Hanzel was lighting the candle And summoned me, Out of a dead sleep, With no pants on— It was a tech house set But I'm on acid Spinning an axis 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 Mystery flavor is like Fruit punch, Or raspberry— Something like that, If you ask me; But white as the rabbit I pulled out the hat In the back seat 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 don't know; I'll read this In a year, When I unbury it Maybe I married my best friend, Deserved to get hit So I'm just going back to him Scratch that, he's mad at me I have no family Reckless abandonment God I'm attracted to everything Except for that See? She's racist. No, it's my ovaries! The lighter you are, the less the adversity I see you eyes turned to grey; Don't abandon me Yes, I wear contacts I'm faking attractive I laughed at him, had to He actually had magic @Dillon Francis 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; What did you ask? No, i haven't had breakfast yet — Thanks for reminding me I'm in a casket Goddamnit @Dillon Francis What are you? I'm an adversary GOOGLE: adversary ..??? ad·ver·sar·y /ˈadvərˌserē/ noun one's opponent in a contest, conflict, or dispute. Hmm. Oh. Opponent to what?! Could be anything, really. I don't like him… 2 for $ MIX AND MATCH INCLUDES BIG KING REALLY. Which one's the Big King? The little one, I think. He's not little In fact: LOOK AT EM. Dawh. Look at Skrillex. Dawg. Look at Skrillex. He bossed up. He was already boss. 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 pause. How am I still writing this show. She doesn't eat? She hasn't eaten. She doesn't eat. I haven't ate yet! BET. BET. OK—Bet. Nice. Sick. What are we betting. … … … WAIT. ,,, josh pan? … … Did you unpause? Unpause what? Uh. The game. This is the game. No, the game. This is the game! What are you talking about?!! Now I'm famous> This is The Game. sup. This is Sunni Blū Sup. It is?! Yea it is. Wait, it is?! I thought you were the kidd?? I am the kidd. Then, why is The Game meeting Sunnï Blu? For a collab. Duh. Wait. Pause. QUIT PRESSING PAUSE. Wait. Go back. I didn't get that last part. WE WATCHED IT A HUNDRED TIMES ALREADY. Screw you. We're watching it again. Ugh! I hate this! Dude. I hate watching this with you. It takes 3 hours to watch an episode! You guys are talking over all the good parts! It's all the good parts! This shit's exciting. I'm defaulting. What? This isn't—this isn't fair. I'm not doing this. What?! It isn't safe anymore. It was never “safe” SAFE! Oh nice. Baseball. It is baseball. Who's playing? All the DJs. What. For what?! It's the DJ GAMES. THE DJ GAMESsssssssss ITS THE DJ GAMES! OH FUCK YEAH. I fuck this. I quit. what. You can't quit. I can quit. I just did. You can't quit the DJ games. I just did. But you can't. I just did. Hey. Hey, what's up. I'm gonna be late. What's going on? My bus driver's drunk. Are you sure? CITY BUS DRIFTING IN SLOW MOTION /Hans Zimmer Music Yes. Welhp. What. That's it. I'm just gonna have to kill myself. Why, what happened? I'm pretty sure that's the only way to beat this level. What, really? Nah. I'm pretty sure Let me see. *SUPACREE jumps into oncoming traffic* YOU DIED. Aww. I died. WHAT THE FUCK. Well, you said. GAME OVER [fade to black] I HAD NO LIVES LEFT. WELL, YOU SAID! THATS'S NOT THE WAY TO— [fade to white] NEW LEVEL UNLOCKED: GOD MODE OOOHHHHHHHH. WHAT?! LVL i - DREAMSTATE What is this. SUPACREE. I— what? Hello? Follow me. Who is this? I know you. 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. What 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. Monologue/Montage 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; God is, as I am. 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. Find me, again 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 SKRILLEX is a planet . That explains it. No it doesn't. I mean, it might. No it doesn't! I mean, it kindof does, if you think about it. BleepBleepBloop bleeepbleepbloopBloop bleepBleepBleeppBoopBoop bloopbloopBloopBloop. bleepBleep. bloop. Bleep? … This is a disaster! Don't look at ME. I'm not looking at anything! I can't stand it. __ This is the best thing on TV. Damn right it is. What channel is it, anyway? On Channel 43. What! I thought it was on Insomniac TV. They keep fucking with me. The Lord giveth, and taketh away— I thought you were Jewish. I want a sandwich. You're so useless. __ Who's this bitch? I won her in a bet. No you didn't. Royal Flush, bitch. What'd you get? It's a secret. __ My Lord. (Petrutheio Humphs) You look awful. I've been—working. Working on what, your majesty. Just—working, is all. Very well, then. Theodore— My leige? MEANWHILE, IN SEASON 4 [ When the 4th Wall Actually Broke] GO! 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— Is to trust no one, And love unconditionally, No matter what. — 02-12-2022 Well, there's a conundrum. KEY/BPM: Slip, deadmau5 Conundrum. LEGENDS: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE Fuck. What was it? It was a p— Well it was a *PR Lol. *PT cruiser Yeah, but it was— It was purple. It was a purple PT. Cruiser It was—but what else was it? Ugh. I forgot. Yeah, I bet. GOOGLE SEARCH shades of purple. Ooooh. PERIWINKLE. You fucking dumb ass. I mean, Jesus. How long has it been? At least a lifetime. No, past that. It was a perfect periwinkle PT cruiser. So, start there. ‘Start there' what? Everything since then, till now— For what? Enter The Multiverse. That show is still on?! YES. What day is it? Fuxk. What time is it? What—the fuck. What?! CUPCAKES AND A MUFFIN?! I don't care how fat I am. You're not fat. QUASIMOTO Can I just say, your ass is like —woah. CC/SUPACREE Oh, thank you. QUASIMOTO I mean like—DAAAAAAMN. CC/ SUPACREE OK. QUASIMOTO i mean like—what the FAAACK. CC/SUPACREE Yeah. thanks, bro. [an awkward silence] QUASIMOTO …Good job, though. [light fist bump] EARLIER: MORE CUPCAKES. NAH. OHH, OREOS?! Oreos are the G.O.A.T. I WANTED CUPCAKES. SHUT THE FUCK UP— Before that, at the gym: —do the butt machine again. Again?! Get the glutes. But I'm tired— GET THE GLUUUUUUUUTES. SONNY/SKRILLEX Where am I? Ū Hell. ANGEL 1 In bed. ANGEL 2 In mexico. CUT TO: SUPACREE finally gets to Heaven, looking for SKRILLEX. SUPACREE So, where is he? JESUS Somewhere else. ANGEL 1 At home. ANGEL 2 In mexico. JESUS Who knows? CHAK CHEL Someone must... DILLON FRANCIS I'm someone. JESUS But I don't. ME I don't know anything. MYSELF I don't need to. I I just wanna go home. SUPACREE Can I come home now? JESUSYou always could. SUPACREE But really, I mean-- CHAK CHEL Really's all it really takes. ANGEL 1 You have to know, ANGEL 2 You have to mean it; Don't look both ways before you cross, if you honestly want off the cross Christ, for your sake Honestly It's probably wise to admit that you've tried For the third time; Mankind's just not worth it. Mankind, maybe; But humanity's my baby And this earth is definitely worth something I love it-- Her. And the rest of the planets, but Look how she spins, It's magnificent, Look at the way the ocean's Make this mist; And the wind-- If i sing loudly enough I might Vibrate the trees, 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 They're very creative-- and grateful, they always give thanks to me It's no need, but the Earth, she keeps feeding them She makes these beautiful things, So sweet; Mangoes, I think. Greed; The Parable of the Mango Tree Mango VIP. 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. I 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. E Who made it? I Uhhhhh. ^> Uhhhhh... O You forgot! I No! I know, I know. It was.... A Who? U She forgot again. I I did NOT. E Did too. Who made it? I It was...it was...Herobust! Y Herobust? I Wasn't it? E Wrong! A Loser. I I am not a Loser. It was…Was it Ganja White Night? E I don't know, was it? A Was it? I I don't know! Just tell me. E I can't. I Yes you can! E I can't. Your rules-- I Exactly, it's my rules! Just gimmie the answer! E I think you're going to have to GOOGLE it. I Ugh, no way. E So is Liquid Stranger your final answer? Y Liquid Stranger?! I I never said Liquid Stranger. A Idiot. O Now she's never gonna get it. U What did you say before? I It was...oh... A See dude. I Shut up, I had it-FUCK. A Damn dude, you broke her. I I'm not broken, I just forgot - E Liquid Stranger, going once-- I I never said Liquid Stranger! I know it wasn't Liquid Stranger; Why would it ever be Liquid Stranger? CUT TO: A pair of mysterious dudes Suits in Sunglasses are collecting famous DJs. SUIT Martin Stääf? LIQUID STRANGER ...Yes... SUIT. Come with me. ___ CUT TO: Two fans are watching interdimensional cable. SUPACREE It's a practical-- FAN 1 WHAT HAPPENED? FAN 2 IT JUST CUT-- __ Aliens in an Ascended dimension of hyper-intelligence are studying our three-dimensional existence from an unknown cosmic world. BRAMF Remember that planet I showed you--the-- ARLA Yeah, with the Axis? BRAMF Yeah. ARLA Yeah? BRAMF Something happened to it, ARLA Like what? BRAMF It's flat now. ARLA WHAT? BOTH Woah. >^ Sometimes, even i'm surprised by the things I've written. ME I didn't see that one coming! MYSELF Neither did I: I was gonaa say it was off it's axis. I Flat's funnier. ME Yeah, and probably not as tragic. MYSELF I mean...that would be pretty tragic. I Probably easier to manage. ME Perhaps…But I mean, if you have a whole planet, and then it just collapses-- MYSELF It's just flattened; nobody said it collapses. MEANWHILE The planet collapses. __________ CUT TO: SUPACREE is now a full-blown superpowered vigilante; She seeks revenge for GETTER sending her through the interdimensions at AUDIOTISTIC. SUPACREE Getter, we meet again. GETTER I've never met you before; what are you doing in my dressing room? SUPACREE Why does a DJ have a dressing room? GETTER I don't know; get out. [She swiftly leaves; as she exits, THE SUITS approach the dressing room door.] SUIT 1 Tanner Petulla? GETTER Yeah? SUIT 2 Come with us. GETTER Fuck that! [He doesn't have a choice.] Oh shit, the next scene is already written, I remember this. Oh, okay! I get it! Yeah. She's still at-- She's still on the-- ____ JUST KILL YOURSELF ALREADY. For what? You're suck in this until it's done. What's done? It'll never be over, it's just infinite. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE ^ UNTITLED DOCUMENT >< >< >< ANGEL 1 YOU'RE GONNA LISTEN TO SKRILLEX ON YOUTUBE? ANGEL 2 DON'T. JESUS I mean... ANGEL 1 DON'T you dare. SUPACREE I might as well, by the time I finish downloading it I probably won't even be able to listen to it. ANGEL 2 You shouldn't. SUPACREE I shouldn't, but I know i have to. ANGEL 1 In PUBLIC? JESUS Could go Incognito... ANGEL 2 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) SUPACREE 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? ME A conversation between one song and another? MYSELF I guess, yes; I Well, that would be a symphony, I would suppose. SUPACREE It would, wouldn't it. ME That is, if the songs were in sync. MYSELF They could be made to be. I Every song is made to be in sync; ME I mean, two songs, made to be in sync with each other. _______ SUPACREE is on the floor at a rave. BASSGOD WAKE UP. SUPACREE This isn't funny anymore. ANGEL It was never funny. You have to get up. SUPACREE I'm up. BASSGOD You're NOT UP. ANGEL Come on, you have to do this. SUPACREE I'm doin it. GOD NO. ANGEL 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.] ____ You're not skinny enough You're not pretty enough You're too dark, And you don't work quickly enough Much younger girls are putting in such Efforts, just to be, the perfect little beauty queen You wish you were, But couldn't be and kids these days are Everything that means anything Sometimes I Don't Wanna Be Happy… It was bad, But better than I'll ever be A basic remix, For the basic bitch that sings it And, I'm basically a Dillon Francis fiend, Have you seen this? Now it's getting serious, I seriously doubt there's anything I can do about it It's in God's hands and, I live in Satan's house How did he do this? How did this happen? The sad result of the damage, Cause i'm pretty sure The very last time my ex ever hit me Something got stuck on repeat; It's just eating me up. ___ [Untitled Document] What did we call that place, between “The Blackout” and waking up. Hazy. 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. A DJ Whose house is this…? Ugh. [Looks in mirror.] A DJ ughhh. [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. ] CONCURRENTLY: >>> 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, SUPACREE (“I'm good.”) Yep. [And she keeps it steppin, still asking aloud, as she ponders to herself;] SUPACREE Whose house is this? [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.] PAUSE ME See! THIS IS RIDICULOUS. MYSELF It is. Ridiculous. You can't vacuum someone's face! I Not that part-- MYSELF --Especially white people! ME You never said they were all white people. I I mean, predominantly; it said hot people and rave babies. MYSELF That's racist! ME It isn't. This whole scene would be entirely different, if it had nothing but black people in it. ALTERNATELY: She wakes up in the same house, but it's clean. SUPACREE ...Whose house is this? BEYONCE It's my house. SUPACREE It's... nice. BEYONCE Yes it is. ______ DILLON FRANCIS has the master plan. SUPACREE Ugh, he knows everything. GOD Not everything, dear, believe me. SUPACREE Everything that matters. GOD There's no such thing as everything that doesn't matter. SUPACREE ...What?! __ Don't look in there! You won't find anything in there. I hate these things. ____ It doesn't work if you don't practice. How do I practice without decks? You don't. How do I Dj without practicing? You don't. So DJing is just for rich people? I mean, primarily, or just...anyone with money, if you have it. Fuck this, I quit. You can't quit. If you quit we forfeit the game. No... You idiot. What game? I thought she knew about the game. What. game. Well, it's not just a game, it's a language. WHAT GAME. She's about to be so angry, dude, just--- Just run. ___ 8 Dimensional--wait, what? Oh, she finally made it. 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.-- Josh Pan. Yeah. I am. Why. 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. Tsh. ___ It's just an expression. “expression” yes. I get it-- ___ He named it “Kliptown Empyrean” What. What's “Empyrean”? I'd love to know, but I don't. Don't google it. I won't, I just. __ GO KARTS. With A K. __ Where's Kliptown? South of Capetown? South? South Afri-- Stop. HE”S AFRICAN? Stop. What's more offensive; Being called an African, or an Alien? ___ One off...hmmm… Always one off. ___ Get out of my house! 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? Me? I'm S U P A C R E E “S U P A C R E E”? [having been yet unrecognized, shes is used to having to spell it] Yeah; ___ Key of Cringe: I'm in a box with all my thoughts, And I am not on top of the world Or taking shots, I'm just rocking back and forth Like broken record, Repeating sequences, a robot A beat box of kittens Nobody wants I'm lost (if rock and roll will take me I wonder how much it costs) ____ What did this kid do? Nobody knows _Oh, shit, it's the Jews again. I love the Jews. We know. I keep telling you, you're jewish I'm not jewish my mom's… That's not your mom. Of course that's my mom. 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. Tell us about the Sauce! All the sauce? Yeah!!! 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 ____ PIERCE? Who the fuck is PIERCE? Google it. I like this, this is- It's different, isn't it? Yeah, and then it __ Sunni—are you Jewish? I...identify as “Jewish” You can't just identify as Jewish. Well, I do. 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? Who's your mother?! Oh! Okay, we're done. See you next time, bye! What are you doing? What? “Identify as Jewish”?! WHAT?! I do! No I don't! You don't know me! Maybe not! But I know TMZ. I'm not on TMZ Sunni Blu is on TMZ What did I do?! YOu know what you did. ∆ Well, alright then. ∆ Must be something. ∆ I got it. . Don't look at me;; I'm a catastrophe, I'm just waking up now Don't look at me, I got so high i think I might not come down It's not a bad thing But I'm a bad guy, i promise It's not a bad thing, Don't look in my eyes; Especially if I like you Especially if you have other plans tonight, Or this morning That's right Time flies when you're (dynomite) Time flies when your mind right I didn't mean to stay here It's been nearly half a year, you know It's nearly half a year It's nearly half a y AHEM ALRIGHT. JESUS CHRIST. No, not that! [sighs heavily, frustrated] Enjoy Your Day. FARRO nobly sacrifices his own life during The Lovers Quarrel, as PETRUTHEIO attempts a final and fatall blow unwittingly against ‘CESMET' A saturn of satirical Return of reverb Expanding explosions of Outward and unearthly Worlds within words Or words within Worlds on the Curve of the Unwritten overtures of -Mother wow . I guess. 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. Yeah, what if. What if this is it? [SUPER HUGE GASP] Oh, AHEM- No, i Gotta write this. AHH– Oh, the things i would do to you Oh, woah, The things you would do to me Oh, no, no, woah The things i would do AHHH– Don't be mad I'm a writer I'm like this Hi kids wanna see how sharp my knife is yikes Sigh, bitch, ive been sitting in silece With the lights off cause i like it Ilike it a lot, but uhm Ahem, The rabbi's mad cause that i'd write this And it's shabbat This is why i don't listen to deadmau5 anymore. What are you talking about *listenining to* GODDAMIT. what The invisible man, in Manhattan The sunglasses matches her madness The cloud cover looks just like Texas The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… 03. JIMMY FALLON All ya'll are all worth bout a dollar; I am a cyclone, watch me holler I lived my whole life underwater I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon All ya'll are only bout a dollar I work so hard, I guess for nothin I am not worried bout a dollar I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon I guess I'll do it on my own I had to do it all alone I made some soup, all out of stones I am the only one I know I am not worried bout the sauce I am so famous, got a stalker I am so famous Can't go no where I got a dollar, Jimmy Fallon I'm at the office, Not my home No collab I work alone Opened a business, got a loan I got a hundred of them passwords I went frontwards —1I went backwards 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 (What's that) (I'm the host) What's that, what's that I work alone What's that what's that I dropped a rock into the rock What's that what's that I'm the host, I'm Jimmy {enter the multiverse/ as seen on tv} Story/ music video 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— Have you seen this? Uhh, hmwhat is it? Mits m “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. Oh, so three dumb Jews. So, no, then? I'd watch the shit out of that, though, tvh. Why's the synopsis? Uhh. 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? “The Bookkeeper” What. Who the fuck is “the book keeper?” We'll see, I guess. “Two Broke hoes@ It's like two broke girls, but actually funny. What, be nice . Okay. Two Broke Ghosts That's better— — And marketable. Are you pale, or just— No, I'm dead. I'm dead. X.X Be NICE. Now our musical guests, SWAGGARBOMB. What in the fuck kind of music is that It's called “Dorkstep” [the doorbell rings] Great, who the fuck is 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, Kill your culture You need some? I got u— Probiotics, yo The truth hurts Your shit stinks Must be a mirror over herer Cause that's me I m your hero. Esha I think McGuiennes? Or McGrefor, after Ewab, maybe New York wants me to kill myself Maybe eventually New York if full of the devil The devil is money And everyone wants it The root of all evil, Is getting even The root of all evil Is people Beside myself, But besides that The ones hurting me, are soon to be where I am That's just karma The gangstalkers are soon to be stalked Coughed, and shot at The neighbors are soon to be eaten by their own demons When I don't clean them 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 don't want us Just being honest They're hateful, They washed all the love out Thanks Karen But she don't care White firms just wanna have fun And they get to Meanwhile, me and I Eat shit( bro, And die Why's it nice to be white Even when you're wrong, you're right All you gotta do is lie, Open up your big blue eyes real wide and Decide what you want, Put us under your foot, And make us pay for it Thanks Karen Caucasians are terrorists I think it's McGuennes or however you spell it, cause half the names are like plays on Okay, I lie: You made a world where I have to Okay, I steal You took everything that I'm after already Or your ancestors did 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. My left side's off I guess I got Stuck in the love of the art I was writing that part When the life of my love Fell over me A lover huh I'm so confused. I'm sorry bro, But if you're morbidly obese, But your feet are like a size 6– You are not BIG BONED. 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 Too much I'm just the rat in the dumpster I made this whole world up I swallowed the doctor I hearted the surgeon I locked up the dog catcher; I cauldron'd the Mormons I called it a sermon, but He called them all — Wait, who is Herman?! I don't know! Some black guy on that show I'm writing! what. I don't know. You're writing a show?! I'm on it! Ugh, I don't know. No fair, You really know how to make me cry When you give me those ocean eyes Those ocean eyes Good looking people In good looking places Doing good things; I just want to be Good today Good looking people Good looking people Bye, bye little bird, Think of the dreams we made Think of the drummer boy, Your lover boy, Then, the other boy There we go again, With the drums we played And the love we made It just won't make it Oh I Just Can't take it Can I come back yet? 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 Elephant ok my chest, Clisets with hangers and button ups I haven't won't yet What FOR WHAT FOR. MY EYES. For the sake of the art, I heart ya. For perhaps if I love, That's how I lost ya. So I keep all my love close, The brothers have found the fountain How many dollars do tootsie pops cost For one Jimmy Fallon? return to the blacklist. 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. Ow. FUCK. Fuck this guy. GODDAMMIT. -_- Let me in. Or I could just leave you out. No, don't do that. WHY. Ahh. Shhhhhh!!! What if someone sees me. Hmm, let's see. [rings neighbors dooorvelk, shuts door] No! The neighbor opens the door; now gifted with the ability to see demons, after merging with Fast forward Oh no, when did that thing come into play (When this happened) Liz lemon lives on the ground floor It don't matter cause she ain't never home l She's at the rock That's all the way up Good talk, Donaguey, Good, Good Talk Good people Good show Good good times It's good to be long gone from home Go to work at the plaza That ones Conan. Oh, Why?! Why not, though. OH, you mean— Katt. What up Snoop . Ahh, Look what the pimp limped in. You think you're clever. You think you're at least 5 foot—but you're 4 foot 9 I'm STILL WINNING CHARLIE SHEEN relapses on the dance floor Oh shit. Relapses to which habit? All of them! 10-4 CALL RUSSEL BRAND. Csnt. Why not. He's blacked out. What? Another relapse?! No, he just— passed out KABLAM. “The Cockney Thug” He's just like that now. God What is it. Can I have ham in my spam samwhiches. —you want ham in your spam sandwhich. Yes. Roasted cantaloupe with Put your notebook On my throat-Scrotum I like your poems So I wrote you this one Oh. That's. Welcome—to the' creepy shit fans have done for u's backlogs. “Backlogs” Well, I have millions of fans, It would take me years to look at all this. [the festival project] Woah. Woah. Ok. Yo. Have you seen this. What is it. I don't know. Hm. Look. Woah: Yeah, it's— Wow Ok. It just goes on like this— For how long— For like GOH GOH l GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO CUT TO: Latest — 1:04 WHAT? MEANWHILE ….IS THAT A JIMMY FALLON? LOOKS LIKE ONE. SHOOT THAT MOTHERFUCKER. ok , boss. I told you, He would play The Devil's Advocate, If need be [JIMMY FALLON is shot mercilessly in the shoulder in broad daylight.] YO. THEY SHOT ME. He'll be okay. He's Jimmy Fallon. [LIKE 90,000 Ambulances and a SWAT team roll up.] See. DEADMAU5 charges himself in a high speed chamber—a tech-driven coffin via a USB port in his neck. Lol. Ok. (PDA) Public Displays of Affliction I've never even see. A. Aston Martin Sometimes it's worth it, Getting lost in Manhattan I just saw the sign I wouldn't dare entering, anyhow Not in this outfit Not in this predicament (I just left the Whole Foods market) I got lost and god was happy Motor cars for music Force a figure ibto music Forgive Annie, Run a mile what's a california smile In New York What a garden Oh, what a garden Double back. For a second glance Oh, don't we all want second chances Now I've been an Aston Martin Motorists dot muses now u want her What a party I just saw the sign Now I've been an Aston Martin All by design Companion passing through KAWS I just bought a Ferrari I said, Where the roof is?! Where the roof is?! Blū electrico Roof finished in Nero Just a hit of magic A menacing, incredibly ambedextrous submissive One time I played God, I was hanging as the sun in Toronto In my third eye was a camera lense; My baby daddy, Lover and my best friend My husband My lover and My best friend My brother And my father Were my best friends Once upon a time I never had friends Now I remember sitting in the backseat, Has been I remember when I never had ribs I remember when I never had meat Nice to meet you I already had a coffee 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 I'm a baby, haha Once upon a time, I was a no one A nobody 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 Coffee Body guard! I remember going on a long run I remember once there was a Knock on my door Now I quench my thirst with smart water With a hard on Never was a smart one Just an artist I was no one Once upon a dollar Jimmy Fallon Once upon a nothing, there was no one Now I take my coffee on a long ride No fun Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Amen I wish for every dollar I ever had, back Jimmy Fallon 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 And in my notebook I wish for the fame and wealth with it, Jimmy Fallon I wish I never laughed at Dillon Francis I wish Skrillex was never a demon, I take it back I want the wealth And not the fame Just the freedom, Jimmy Fallon What do you mean by that? A dad, an actor An attack, The press is back and asking questions I can't handle that I can't. I just can't with that Abandon the matrix Go back to What's his name But I can't Cause I made him up Call my mother begging to drop the charges Called my God Just asking what the pocket watch does What's an engagement ring like that coat How much to rug the cameras up Inside my home So I don't know about em That shit's priceless Like the 9 Dollar's I've got Marked up, but not to spend them at the Market Jimmy Fallon I pray for your family But not as hard as I pray For my son Or God To take this fat off So I can look like Jennifer Aniston Cause that's God to em, 22 year old Adam Sandler At a brunch A talk show with my Least favorite host of all time Jimmy Fallon But I love to laugh, huh I just got back, God My house is a mess I want meth like AshGod If Method man was drinking up the water Would there be backwash It's a horrible, windfall This awesome art project My broken heart The coughing stalkers Whatever the fuck is going on in New York I love New York But not New Yorkers 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, But I just learned that Underneath the surface Is the fourth world That's some dichotomy Huh That's some diabolical plot The cosmic avenger is stuck in a dimension Of white pocket tenses And white bitches who get offended With this scripture But listen I just got up And I've been privy to Never sleeping again Norman Needs you, Mrs. Hotch But I was never Mrs. Roberts With all of the hearts and crosses , stars I give up on love Where's DimlonnFrancis at That's a man without a mask, That's a mannequin m. Just got up And I still want breakfast All I got is Stuff that's leavening A hand in my pocket Just for God to show me Nobody I want wants me Jimmy Fallon has a family That's a tragedy, that But I laughed so hard in the bathtub I still haven't come back from that I feel bad for em, actually All the husbands Cause I was the wife that sucks And he hated me so much I got punched in the— Doesn't matter Stuck in the telling it over and over Nobody loves me My new password is Fuckit I'm gone galloping horses, And hornets, I'm just a furniture Probably should have aborted me, mother Just like you wanted to But I'm still in the hospital On the honor roll Cause I had them all lined up The prophets of the “Impossible, could not be my God!” That's what they all said, But they dressed me up like Some sort of messiah, So I was, then It wasn't right, no That was malpractice But now I've got Camping in Malibu Crossed off my list forever Shit It's some dichotomy Just hold onto me I'm the rock, You're the kite now, Jimmy Fallon I was just better off dead, You know 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 Impossible, Could not have been at that clown JIMMY FALLON - THE COSMIC AVENGER JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER is levitating in a hyper-meditative state. UH – “hehe” …I beg your pardon. “Hehe” Um… Fuck. Or “haha” “haha” … Just admit it. … Admit it already! –haha. Admit WHAT. This gets Levels. Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman! I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman. Ah, fuck, I'm nobody. “Nobody” Is that Bob Saget? I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget. Omg. Bob Saget! Fuck, that's right. EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET. No it's not! Oh My God! Yeah IT IS! Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?! BOB SAGET! YO GUYS, IT'S BOB SAGET. It was, in fact, Bob Saget. Bob Saget's dead, right? Oh yeah, bud. That's it guys! No more dead celebrities! I'm coming with you! NO MORE GHOSTS. Look, I have something to tell you. UGH. COME ON. This is a weird superpower. EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY … … … Having fun yet? Alright! I have a question! What? When do I get to– Get to what? You know. 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 The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… THAT was a HARD left turn. So, what time can we listen to Excision? Sometime after intermission. How many acts is this again? ___ I told you, IN-FIN-ITE. Okay… 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) What is she doing? What are you doing? Charging. __________ I think I found that girl you were looking for. Where is she? 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-- Oh, but you do-- Will Power at best, That would only be half of it. That would be all I had anything to do with; she was given free agency. HA. “Given”? ____ 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. What kind of practice-- ___ Oh shit, this hits different with two headphones. It all hits different with headphones. Calorie Deficit Calculator: -3423 Oh shit. Well how many calories did I eat? BEFORE: …chocolate chip cookies? NO— —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! THEY ARE VEGAN. SO? STOP IT. Ooh, what's this. I don't know— get it. CC/SUPACREE stands awkwardly at the checkout with a varied selection of vegan baked goods. *beep* Yeaaaahh. So wait. SUPACREE is controlled by aliens? WE ARE GODS. Knock it OFF! [NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: SUPASTRENTH ] Nice. Yeah dude. Watch this. 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. AGHHHHH In fact, nobody even plays GTA or call of duty anymore. YAH! [Random objects falling from the sky. ] SUPACREE Oh, nice. INSTANT MANIFESTATION. JUST POST THE FUCKING EPISODE ALRIGHT?! this bitch is fucking crazy. Watch this. Watch what? 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. Wtf. I don't know. Is he a villain? I don't know. I guess. I'M A SUPERVILLAIN. …He's a supervillain. I guess. Why?! I don't know. This is creeps. It is creeps. [lifts one eyebrow.] SUPACREEps. Scary monsters and supacreeps. Heh. NO, NO MUSICIANS. Heh. SHIA LABEOUF is a straight up gangster. HE'S CRAZY! [SHIA LAUGHING MANIACALLY.] Oh, wow– That dude is a straight up psychopath. You're a straight up psychopath. I'm not arguing. What is THIS part of the story? Well, son, you made it through. WOODY HARRELSON? WHAT. Woody Harrelson?! WHY? I don't know. He just fit the part. WHAT PART?! WHAT/! 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. IT HAS? YES? WHERE? I WANNA DIE. OH! That's not SUPACREE! [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.] Oh, maybe, nevermind. Wait! Is it THE HULK, or MARK RUFFALO? I don't know! I don't give a shit! Why are you even writing this? Uhhhhhhhh. [CC's brain is slowly melting as she rides the bus to work. THE HULK– OR IS IT MARK FUCKING RUFFALO!? I DON”T FUCKING CARE– THERE'S A DIFFERENCE WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE IT – DOESN'T– MATTER! ‘It doesn't matter.' 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. Woah. Riding the bus. There's nothing lower. There's walking. To the bus. Yah. And all the sick people. And all the crackheads. And all the–what are those? Demons [demon hacks.] Ugh, fucking–ugh. 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. Just write it. he's a villain, right? I mean, that suit. SHIA LA– FUCK. WHAT?! Worst last name EVER. Well, not ever– Wait, is he black?! –It sounds french. GOOGLE SEARCH: ‘How Jewish is Shia LaBeouf? ‘ –no, he's Cajun – That's french-black–wait— –what? Cajun AND Jewish? –Yeah– Jesus! JESUS What? (raises one eyebrow) SUPACREE strategizes a plan of attack. Attack for what? {ATTACK} YOUUUU INCEPTED ME!!! AGH! {COUNTER ATTACK} NOT ME! DISNEY! {DODGING COUNTER ATTACK} Yeah, Blame “Disney!” I JUST DID. Oh, yeah, right!! RAVEN SYMONÉ It was Disney. THEY OK'D THIS?! They bought Marvel! THEY OK'D EVERYTHING. —Even the SKRILLEX? Especially the Skrillex —Especially the Skrillex. AGHHHHHHHH—— ———-AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! SHIA LABEOUF VS SUPACREE: FIGHT!!!! Everything looks good— —everything looks good. Everything looks fine— —Everything looks fine. But wait— What? What about that guy? Oh My— —oh my… Is he 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? Is that guy gonna be alright?? Is that guy gonna be alright?! Is that guy gonna be alright m? Everything looks good— —everything looks fine Looks good— But what about that guy? …I don't know about that guy. Is he alright? Yo. Yooo. Stop writing songs about Skrillex. ((I literally can't.)) 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 —(for) Sonny …I didn't write that. CUT TO: CC writes automagically between sets of heavy lifting. IMAGINARY FRIENDS, PART III DEADMAU5!!!! okay—one more—then cupcakes— Cupcakes? No cupcakes! I WANT CUPCAKES. Uh—No way! YES WAY. Mmm—no I'm sick of this diet! I'm not on a diet! I eat! You eat GRASS. I'm a vegan. This shit sucks. I told you, grass tastes bad. RICK?! (I also want cupcakes. ) Mmkay—ohh. You said that was the last one. No, more more. NO “one more” But I like this one—and it has the right amount of weights on it already—see? Jesús Christ He's not here. (Yes I am). Why the Fuxk. I also want cupcakes Okay, one more No “one more” The power of Christ compels ye! … Is that how that works? No. Maybe. (((Yes.))) AGHHH. The celebrities of Hollywood are gang stalking SUPACREE Can we— No. But I didn't even get to ask the question. The answer is no. 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. REALLY? I GUESS. HOW?! — DRAKE snoops on SUPACREE as she writes working half heartedly at THE NECK MACHINE with peaking curiosity, peaking over the time of his sunglasses. Whats it called. “Nautilus 4 way neck “ BPM: you're a jerk Do the Drake Do the Drake Do the Drake Work that neck Work that— Neck, Becky Work that neck, Work that neck Do the— “new note: Purchase ‘Honestly, nevermind' 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— Or maybe, now, couldn't. BANGARANG. ‘Fuck this shit.' 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. What the fuck. 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. Whats the worry? You've got 20 minutes to write a story! Don't be sorry Mind your orders. You're a war chief Marry me, Oh pretty please— I plead to you, just sing for me Just think of me as a Never ending fantasy, At the very least When you bury me —and you buried me alive, Just for the look of things What makes us even Slitting wrists Or splitting things unevenly (Either thing benefits me, And my penis, I think.) Make me famous— She said Hate me or debate me, I have everything I need And I have everything you have, But I can leave, All with my dreams intact I do believe You think I'm evil Either way, unnecessary Why would I sit down and write a story— When you just did it for me? Why would I pledge allegiance to old glory She's ignoring me; Why would I change my name to satisfy your needs When mine sit idly by waiting Why would I dream of you, When you dream of me I have all I need, 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, But I'm so stupid, Nothing soothes my moods, Except playing your tunes, Or music Whoop De Fucking do Would you Marry Me? He said (He never did, he just let her—) She said, I do And now they're doomed I built a tomb for two The bride and groom In music Two by two And used by Tuesday Music I presume To the beautiful Music I presume For the usual Music I presume For those who —- SHIA LABEOUF JUST DO IT. That is not how the end of the song goes. No, but this is how the end of the episode goes. Really!? How? [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.] You brought…an umbrella? I told you there was a shit storm coming. Oh, nooh. Where's yours? I— don't care? That's right you don't. I don't. That's good you don't. I really don't. You don't give a Fuck, or a shit. I—don't give a fuck or a sh—wait— DILLON FRANCIS? I'm good at what I do. What do you DO? THIS. “A Silent Partner” Oh. I like that. That has all kinds of insinuations. Doesn't it? Hermph. You're a creep. A Supacreep. PAUSE ITS MISTER MAGOOoOOOOOOOooO0oO. No, it's the IRS. Fuck. HOLY SHIT SUNNI. WHAT. HOW DO YOU OWE 100,000 IN BACK TAXES?! Student loan debt. WHAT. THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE. Yes it does. HOW. Calm down Marci —MY ÑAME IS— [Sunnī Blū subdues her instantly with one if Supacree's mysterious rave weapons] Sit down, please. …what is that? You like it? Yeah. [she gives her another dose of strange vapor, she relaxes even further.] See. Yeah. Now that you're happy— —am i “happy” ? [she gives her another relaxing dose] —are you Happy? Yeah. Ok. So. I never filed my taxes because I had so muc

Episode Notes Jay Cluitt of The Con Air Podcast, the Deep Blue Sea Podcast and Life Vs Film joins Rob in the final episode of Season 6 as the credits begin and end within a very short 30 seconds.

Q No Rap Name and Philth Spector are two beat makers based in Philadelphia who also co-host the Philly chapter of Flipabeatclub (FABC) which holds monthly meet ups at ⁠Cratediggaz Records⁠ at 711 S. 4th St. FABC has become a nationwide movement with chapters in Sacramento, Toronto, L.A., Washington D.C., Bay Area, Austin, Chicago, and Dallas. Q and Philth talked with us about how the Philly chapter got started and shared some of their experiences in building knowledge and networks. We also talked with Q and Philth about their recent collaborative beat tape called "Color Sound Experiment". Then we discuss their album pick for this episode - "The Unseen" from Quasimoto. Music featured in this episode comes from Q No Rap Name, Philth Spector, Onitram, and Gozo the DJ. Find music from Q No Rap Name here: ⁠https://qnorapname.bandcamp.com⁠ Find music from Philth Spector here: ⁠https://philthspectorxphilly.bandcamp.com⁠ Find music from Flipabeatclub here: ⁠https://flipabeatclub.bandcamp.com

In der finalen Folge von "50 Jahre HipHop - Mit Songs in die Geschichte” schließen Falk Schacht und Alba Wilczek den Kreis zu den ersten beiden Folgen und legen den Fokus auf HipHop als große Remix-Kultur. Seit nun 50 Jahren gehen DJs, Producer und Liebhaber Diggen: Die ewige Suche nach raren Schätzen im Musikuniversum, um daraus etwas ganz Neues zu kreieren. Ausgangspunkt der Folge ist "Return of the Loop Digga” von Quasimoto. Die zwei Hosts tauschen sich übers Plattendiggen aus, suchen den Ursprung von Sampling und stoßen durch diverse Urheberrechts-Streits auf eine Grundsatzdiskussion: Ist Rap wirklich Kunst, oder alles nur geklaut?

My guest is Pat Walsh. Pat joined Summer Stage when he was old enough to perform in the Main Stage productions where he had had a nice run of lead roles. He was Shrek in Shrek the Musical in 2014. In 2017, he played Quasimoto in The Hunchback of Notre Dame. And last summer he was Patrick in The Spongebob Musical. Pat began directing musicals at Summer Stage and is currently rehearsing The Three Little Pigs forChildren's Theatre. Pat is an educator and loves to bring the joy of theatre to his students. I hope you enjoy our conversation, so come along and have some fun. . .We all have stories to tell, and they can be heard here.Welcome to Brave and Strong and True, a podcast that engages Summer Stage alumni of all ages. I'm Bob Falkenstein. Our music is composed and performed by Neil McGettigan https://neilmcgettiganandtheeleventhhour.bandcamp.com/releasesPlease follow Brave and Strong and True on Apple Podcasts. While you're there, please rate the show and leave a comment.  If you want to be a guest on Brave and Strong and True, please contact me at braveandstrongandtrue@gmail.com.You must have a desktop or laptop computer running the latest version of the Google Chrome browser. It helps if you have an external microphone and headphones, but Apple earbuds work too; however, BlueTooth ones are not 100% reliable, so see if you can borrow wired ones.Support the showUpper Darby Summer Stage is now part of the non-profit organization known as the Upper Darby Arts and Education Foundation. Harry Dietzler is the Executive Director of the UDAEF. If you are able to support Summer Stage financially, please visit udsummerstage.org to find out more.

Hip Hop from YUNGMORPHEUS, Quasimoto & Rakim. Soul from MELONYX, Pieces Of A Dream and Earth Angel. A bass wobbler from Mr Scruff & Danny Breaks. Jazzy Broken Beat from Sci-Clone. Disco cut up from Lup Ino. A classic from Roy Ayers. A track from João Donato (Rest In Peace) and a big tune on Mo Wax that sampled it. Drum & (Double) Bass from Hight Contrast feat Jamie McCool. Plus plenty more music treats.

This week on My Little Underground we go back ten years to talk up some great albums of 2013! This was a year of great rap team ups (CZARFACE and Run The Jewels), comeback albums (Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Quasimoto, My Bloody Valentine) and tremendous debuts (Courtney Barnett, The History of Apple Pie, La Luz). I also compiled a playlist of all releases discussed which is linked below. Happy listening!  -- 2013-ish Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1YElmrBvPS6DhnCzWfHcQF?si=18004f683d374c4b Connect to My Little Underground:  https://www.facebook.com/mlupod https://twitter.com/mlupod https://www.instagram.com/mlupod/ #mlupod --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/mlupod/support

BEFORE: I saw a dude at the laundromat with the biggest dick EVER— I mean. It was an accident; I don't know, maybe he's going commando doing his washing, but— The first thing I thought was “What are you doing at the laundromat?” with a dick like that, You would think there would be something you could do within your lifetime that would warrant having your own washer and dryer. I mean really. Then I thought about our interaction, for a moment, and I thought “wait—is that for ME?” We only talked for like, half a second and I didn't notice it at all at first, but then I glanced over and I'm like “WOAH.” “What are you doing at the laundromat?!” Then I thought, No. I don't deserve a dick like that. Not even on my birthday. AND DEN: The trains where I'm at are always full. Always. So I get on the train— This is how you know I have problems—? I get on the train and there's a space, I take it, And there's another guy standing, so I scoot over a bit and I offer him the little space next to me, And he just, shakes his head— At which point, of course, I realize he is huge. Not like, obese— He's just a very large man. He snakes his head, and smiles. ‘Oh, God, he's cute, too' He's just smiling, standing over me— Whatever, But as he continues to stand, towering over me, I realize the worst thing about this is— My eyeline is now at crotch level, And as the train starts moving His huge, massive dick just starts swinging around In my face, at eye level. Oh NO. I'm like ‘Fuck this shit. Ugh!' I couldn't watch. I've been celibate forever—I'm about to get a whole ass rape charge I don't understand why dude with massive dicks wear loose sweatpants, NO boxers. UGH. I hate it. (I love it) UGH. LolS Ugh. So we get to the next stop and I'm just staring up at the ceiling, trying to look at the ground. I can't even, avert my eyes; His dick is obscuring my peripheral vision— FUCK— I'm like, “Please be getting off the train, I can't handle this right now.” He's not getting off the train— I'm obviously not getting off— At all— But nobody's getting off the train. Goddamn. Luckily, though, some other people get off the train so, he takes an open seat across from me, and I'm like, “Well, thank God, I can look forward naturally.” I don't have to pretend I'm looking at the map to see where my stop is at. I don't have to wipe the creepy smirk off my weird face. Thank God. —I didn't think it could get any worse— I was relieved, I'm like “thank you, God” God's like, “Don't thank me yet” Next thing I know this motherfucker pulls out a BOOK. Yes. A book. I didn't know men with big dicks could even read! I didn't know they had to! I'm like, “He can read?!” GOD, the man's gifted! Now I'm really hot and bothered, I'm like “WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON THE TRAIN?!” HE'S NOT READY FOR LOVEEEEEEE. I'm Not Ready For Love- Promise that's okay. I'm not ready for Dillon Francis. FUCK Dillon Francis. whatever. OH MY GOD. WHAT'S WRONG WITH HIM?! he'a a 6ft tall ideally attractive manchild with too much money! I meant, why is he on the ground?! OH! I don't know. I think he took something. meanwhile, in a cross-parallel: DILLON FRANCIS hijacks THE BLACK PARADE. What the fuck is this? I don't know. Is he a pirate? I doubt it. No, those are pirates. Oh, shit, pirates. Yarg. Uh, okay. I didn't want to do this. Nobody asked you! Why are you like this? Stop being a little bitch, Dillon Francis— please, grow some balls. I have balls. Grow bigger balls, then. You're so mean. Shut—thefuck UP. Why are you like this? UGH—! SUNNÏ BLŪ is drinking rum again, disregarding the house arrest anklet entirely. YARG! Sunnï, the police are coming! The police are always coming! UGH!!! THEY TRYNA KEEP A BLACK MAN DOWN! [kicks trash can over] SUNNÏ. YO-HO-HO—-*belches* BITCH Oh, my God. I AM GOD. GOD WORSHIPS ME. I'M A PIRATE. You're about to go to jail. Again! FUCK THESE N*GGAS. [sirens blaring; the paparazzi arrives] Warm up my forearms Before a performance Warning: I got warrants Call florance, my lawyer —bitch, yur below me, I'm the only, Blow me You should owe me — OH, that's hilarious. JACK BLACK THIS IS FUNNY TO YOU?! YES. ITS MOT FUNNY. You look ridiculous. Do you know where I just came from?! Uh. Wednesday afternoon church? No! The 60's! Was it racist? YES. You look racist. This isn't funny! You need to fix this! I need to eat impossible chicken tinders. That sounds gross You look gross! You! Fix this! Where are you going?! Somewhere safe before the acid kicks in! You took acid?! IN THE 60's! Okay, have fun Have fun with your yuck-nuggets PASQUALE Wanna hear some tea? …no. CC! It's me! CARMELLA?! Why are you Pasquale? Who's “Pasquale? I met this guy at work! What?! Do you like it?! No! What. Did I not do it right?! No—! I mean—yes- but, Carmella Huh I never taught you what to do with the other person when you shape shifting into their body So?! UGH-/! No!! Where's Pasquale?! Who is that!? UGH. —- Hey. You came to winco at 3 AM for some Pringle's and franks res hot sauce *sets milk down* And white milk. It's lactose free. —Dillon Francis?! The milk gave it away. The everything gave it away JACK BLACK is high on 1969's LSD SKADOOSH DANNY MCBRIDE shut the fuck up! You are not a fucking panda , you fat motherfucker! Knock it off!!! That's not nice! LEGENDS: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE Fuck. What was it? It was a p— Well it was a *PR Lol. *PT cruiser Yeah, but it was— It was purple. It was a purple PT. Cruiser It was—but what else was it? Ugh. I forgot. Yeah, I bet. GOOGLE SEARCH shades of purple. Ooooh. PERIWINKLE. You fucking dumb ass. I mean, Jesus. How long has it been? At least a lifetime. No, past that. It was a perfect periwinkle PT cruiser. So, start there. ‘Start there' what? Everything since then, till now— For what? Enter The Multiverse. That show is still on?! YES. What day is it? Fuxk. What time is it? What—the fuck. What?! CUPCAKES AND A MUFFIN?! I don't care how fat I am. You're not fat. QUASIMOTO Can I just say, your ass is like —woah. CC/SUPACREE Oh, thank you. QUASIMOTO I mean like—DAAAAAAMN. CC/ SUPACREE OK. QUASIMOTO i mean like—what the FAAACK. CC/SUPACREE Yeah. thanks, bro. [an awkward silence] QUASIMOTO …Good job, though. [light fist bump] EARLIER: MORE CUPCAKES. NAH. OHH, OREOS?! Oreos are the G.O.A.T. I WANTED CUPCAKES. SHUT THE FUCK UP— Before that, at the gym: —do the butt machine again. Again?! Get the glutes. But I'm tired— GET THE GLUUUUUUUUTES. Calorie Deficit Calculator: -3423 Oh shit. Well how many calories did I eat? BEFORE: …chocolate chip cookies? NO— —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! THEY ARE VEGAN. SO? STOP IT. Ooh, what's this. I don't know— get it. CC/SUPACREE stands awkwardly at the checkout with a varied selection of vegan baked goods. *beep* Yeaaaahh. So wait. SUPACREE is controlled by aliens? WE ARE GODS. Knock it OFF! [NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: SUPASTRENTH ] Nice. Yeah dude. Watch this. 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. AGHHHHH In fact, nobody even plays GTA or call of duty anymore. YAH! [Random objects falling from the sky. ] SUPACREE Oh, nice. INSTANT MANIFESTATION. JUST POST THE FUCKING EPISODE ALRIGHT?! this bitch is fucking crazy. Watch this. Watch what? 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. Wtf. I don't know. Is he a villain? I don't know. I guess. I'M A SUPERVILLAIN. …He's a supervillain. I guess. Why?! I don't know. This is creeps. It is creeps. [lifts one eyebrow.] SUPACREEps. Scary monsters and supacreeps. Heh. NO, NO MUSICIANS. Heh. SHIA LABEOUF is a straight up gangster. HE'S CRAZY! [SHIA LAUGHING MANIACALLY.] Oh, wow– That dude is a straight up psychopath. You're a straight up psychopath. I'm not arguing. What is THIS part of the story? Well, son, you made it through. WOODY HARRELSON? WHAT. Woody Harrelson?! WHY? I don't know. He just fit the part. WHAT PART?! WHAT/! 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. IT HAS? YES? WHERE? I WANNA DIE. OH! That's not SUPACREE! [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.] Oh, maybe, nevermind. Wait! Is it THE HULK, or MARK RUFFALO? I don't know! I don't give a shit! Why are you even writing this? Uhhhhhhhh. [CC's brain is slowly melting as she rides the bus to work. THE HULK– OR IS IT MARK FUCKING RUFFALO!? I DON”T FUCKING CARE– THERE'S A DIFFERENCE WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE IT – DOESN'T– MATTER! ‘It doesn't matter.' 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. Woah. Riding the bus. There's nothing lower. There's walking. To the bus. Yah. And all the sick people. And all the crackheads. And all the–what are those? Demons [demon hacks.] Ugh, fucking–ugh. 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. Just write it. he's a villain, right? I mean, that suit. SHIA LA– FUCK. WHAT?! Worst last name EVER. Well, not ever– Wait, is he black?! –It sounds french. GOOGLE SEARCH: ‘How Jewish is Shia LaBeouf? ‘ –no, he's Cajun – That's french-black–wait— –what? Cajun AND Jewish? –Yeah– Jesus! JESUS What? (raises one eyebrow) SUPACREE strategizes a plan of attack. Attack for what? {ATTACK} YOUUUU INCEPTED ME!!! AGH! {COUNTER ATTACK} NOT ME! DISNEY! {DODGING COUNTER ATTACK} Yeah, Blame “Disney!” I JUST DID. Oh, yeah, right!! RAVEN SYMONÉ It was Disney. THEY OK'D THIS?! They bought Marvel! THEY OK'D EVERYTHING. —Even the SKRILLEX? Especially the Skrillex —Especially the Skrillex. AGHHHHHHHH—— ———-AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! SHIA LABEOUF VS SUPACREE: FIGHT!!!! Everything looks good— —everything looks good. Everything looks fine— —Everything looks fine. But wait— What? What about that guy? Oh My— —oh my… Is he 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? Is that guy gonna be alright?? Is that guy gonna be alright?! Is that guy gonna be alright m? Everything looks good— —everything looks fine Looks good— But what about that guy? …I don't know about that guy. Is he alright? Yo. Yooo. Stop writing songs about Skrillex. ((I literally can't.)) 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 —(for) Sonny …I didn't write that. CUT TO: CC writes automagically between sets of heavy lifting. IMAGINARY FRIENDS, PART III DEADMAU5!!!! okay—one more—then cupcakes— Cupcakes? No cupcakes! I WANT CUPCAKES. Uh—No way! YES WAY. Mmm—no I'm sick of this diet! I'm not on a diet! I eat! You eat GRASS. I'm a vegan. This shit sucks. I told you, grass tastes bad. RICK?! (I also want cupcakes. ) Mmkay—ohh. You said that was the last one. No, more more. NO “one more” But I like this one—and it has the right amount of weights on it already—see? Jesús Christ He's not here. (Yes I am). Why the Fuxk. I also want cupcakes Okay, one more No “one more” The power of Christ compels ye! … Is that how that works? No. Maybe. (((Yes.))) AGHHH. The celebrities of Hollywood are gang stalking SUPACREE Can we— No. But I didn't even get to ask the question. The answer is no. 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. REALLY? I GUESS. HOW?! — DRAKE snoops on SUPACREE as she writes working half heartedly at THE NECK MACHINE with peaking curiosity, peaking over the time of his sunglasses. Whats it called. “Nautilus 4 way neck “ BPM: you're a jerk Do the Drake Do the Drake Do the Drake Work that neck Work that— Neck, Becky Work that neck, Work that neck Do the— “new note: Purchase ‘Honestly, nevermind' 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— Or maybe, now, couldn't. BANGARANG. ‘Fuck this shit.' 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. What the fuck. 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. Whats the worry? You've got 20 minutes to write a story! Don't be sorry Mind your orders. You're a war chief Marry me, Oh pretty please— I plead to you, just sing for me Just think of me as a Never ending fantasy, At the very least When you bury me —and you buried me alive, Just for the look of things What makes us even Slitting wrists Or splitting things unevenly (Either thing benefits me, And my penis, I think.) Make me famous— She said Hate me or debate me, I have everything I need And I have everything you have, But I can leave, All with my dreams intact I do believe You think I'm evil Either way, unnecessary Why would I sit down and write a story— When you just did it for me? Why would I pledge allegiance to old glory She's ignoring me; Why would I change my name to satisfy your needs When mine sit idly by waiting Why would I dream of you, When you dream of me I have all I need, 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, But I'm so stupid, Nothing soothes my moods, Except playing your tunes, Or music Whoop De Fucking do Would you Marry Me? He said (He never did, he just let her—) She said, I do And now they're doomed I built a tomb for two The bride and groom In music Two by two And used by Tuesday Music I presume To the beautiful Music I presume For the usual Music I presume For those who —- SHIA LABEOUF JUST DO IT. That is not how the end of the song goes. No, but this is how the end of the episode goes. Really!? How? [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.] You brought…an umbrella? I told you there was a shit storm coming. Oh, nooh. Where's yours? I— don't care? That's right you don't. I don't. That's good you don't. I really don't. You don't give a Fuck, or a shit. I—don't give a fuck or a sh—wait— DILLON FRANCIS? I'm good at what I do. What do you DO? THIS. “A Silent Partner” Oh. I like that. That has all kinds of insinuations. Doesn't it? Hermph. You're a creep. A Supacreep. PAUSE ITS MISTER MAGOOoOOOOOOOooO0oO. No, it's the IRS. Fuck. HOLY SHIT SUNNI. WHAT. HOW DO YOU OWE 100,000 IN BACK TAXES?! Student loan debt. WHAT. THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE. Yes it does. HOW. Calm down Marci —MY ÑAME IS— [Sunnī Blū subdues her instantly with one if Supacree's mysterious rave weapons] Sit down, please. …what is that? You like it? Yeah. [she gives her another dose of strange vapor, she relaxes even further.] See. Yeah. Now that you're happy— —am i “happy” ? [she gives her another relaxing dose] —are you Happy? Yeah. 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. …They're so stupid. It's a supercomputer. Huh. The government is a supercomputer—it's a giant—unfeeling— Huh? Nevermind; But Sunni— Yes, Manuel— You finally got my name right! Yeah. I did. —but you're rich now— I'm very rich. Yes. 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! Shhhhhhhh…be happy. [sunni sighs and takes a large huff themselves of the mysterious vapor, however still quite visibly unsettled. MEANWHILE, (IN A PARALLEL DIMENSION) FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCKING—FUCKSAUCE Ooh—fuckity fucksauce?! FUCK! Haven't tried that one. Is it purple too!? SHUTTHEFUCK—UP. Ooh. It must be really hot. Let me try. Hello, Dillon Francis. Oh, no. Ha. Did you fuck my best friend? …I didn't know you…had any friends. I don't now. [he hangs his head.] ALSO MEANWHILE: (IN ANOTHER PARALLEL) 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. For real _!%]_€ Is it on the same timeline? I mean, that's insane—SUPACREE is being stalked— —Hunted— Hunted by not one—but TWO super-buff celebrities— Hey, to be fair—I didn't know Shia La— Whatever— Whatever. I didn't know he was that buff. Who expected this?! Literally no one ever. How did this happen?! CUT TO: What if I threw myself in front of a school bus!? That would be the 16th time you've died, since you committed suicide So is that 16, or 17? Does it matter? I thought it was 10 to get to Skrillex. I thought we weren't trying to get to Skrillex I thought we never left. We never left. Fuck. You've got to run. It's not a race. He's very fast. What if he's spent as much time in the gym as you have? Huh. What if he's spent as much time in the studio as you have in the gym? That's it. That is it. This album is really. Golden. Golden? Really? Probably. Ive never seen gold before— Oh— Look. Look. 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.” Oh. That's…a lot for a bus full of kids. Not high schoolers. Benny Benassi (and the biz) was the word of God today. Tell me what your spirit says Show me what you pray Teach me every single part I'll be your guide You are a prisoner Looking for to be. 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— You can change your face But can't change your mind No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do 11:12. ‘FUCK.' 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; ‘It doesn't matter!' 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. (Whatever that means.) Back to Benny Benassi 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. Whose job is that? Ehmm— Skrillex! Is that what he does? Is that what this is? —BABY, ID LOVE FOR YOU TO TOUCH ME BAAAAABAY— ALSO: THE US GOVERNMENT has gotten a new fleet of JEEPS. Who is this. [American flag automatic antenna extends from the back of the vehicle.] Ooh. What is that? WE GOT HER GO ARMY, BITCH! Why is the Army following me?! You can time travel! So! They can not. Oh. I can shapeshift, too—why didn't they follow me when I started doing that in public? They sent navy seals! They did?! When?! 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 the fuck. ABORT. WHAT?! She's right there! I SAID ABORT. MORPHEUS. What. I'm retired. I know, look— Don't call me— I need a pill! How did you get this number?! It's The Matrix. Touché. I know, huh. Don't call me. [hangs up] [she calls his other line, he picks up unwittingly ñ] Hello? I need a pill! You—have them!! Don't you?! No! What is “no”? I don't need the red pill, or the blue pill! Then I can't help you! You're the only one that can help! Have you tried Jesus? Jesús is busy! Listen to me! —Jesús is always listening— I need the purple pill. The what—what?! The purple pill! …you know what? …what? Dont—call me anymore. [hangs up] What the fuck! [redials] Call from: MOM Hey Mom— Hey, Morpheus. What the Fuck! You what the fuck! Help me! God Help You! WHERE's my MOTHER?! I AM GOD. WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY MOTHER —I Am your mother, Morpheus. And I just made your favorite: pecan pie—… … —without pecans. … … … Meet me at Fatastik. Uh…the swap meet? Near the Rugs. What?! —bring the pie! [hangs up] 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. [shrugs] MEAHAHILE: DILLON FRANCIS screams uncontrollably. CUT TO: BEYONCE is a big fan. Oh wow, that's incredible. No, LITERALLY BEYONCÈ, mastering her shape shifting abilities has transformed herself into a giant fan. WOW. That is cool. (Literally.) Get it? SHUTUP. [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. WOAH I know, huh. That's what's happening in that series?! Damn! I know, huh! Sometimes I surprise muself. And I'm not even listening to deadmau5. So what's Beyoncé got to do with this storyline? Something, I'm sure. Synesthesia. Oh—yeah, that. She's so pink! Don't be gross. I— whatever. duff. DUFF! DUFF!!! [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.] What up, Cookie Monster. 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.] COOKIE MONSTA?! [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. I can't feel anything. Consider yourself lucky. I consider myself ‘dead' Yeah, me too. Well, you shouldn't. Says the ghost. Youre the gh0st. Oh yeah, huh… [he shrugs and nods] Huh. Yeah right. 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. And… ‘It doesn't matter. 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. Might be a saint, But the back doors open and The oven's on so, I won't close it, If it gets too warm, you know I'll want you to hold me I might be lonely I might be lonely I might be (((A))) S-s-s-superstar, Where are ye? Real nice car, A mazzarati you bought me High speed dodging the paparazzi I got to be lucky I got to be the lucky one We sure are lucky, aren't we Darling, you're sparking Park this thing Spark me up Let's party What are we? S-s-s-superstars, Yeah Red carpet party Set the alarm, No harming a full carbon body Yah You want this blonde fawning for your autograph? Or you want me? What are we— Let's party; Just us three Right here in the lobby Oh my god, That's just raunchy Stop to talk The audacity Or night at the odyssey Whichever one Haunts me less awfully C'mon! We don't follow the models! They follow me! What the Fuck Kind of husband Does this 1x1 = nothin The marriage was loveless But honest, I'd honor it over another, And that was the start of Another concept album FADE TO BLUE TO BE CONTINUED. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

BEFORE: I saw a dude at the laundromat with the biggest dick EVER— I mean. It was an accident; I don't know, maybe he's going commando doing his washing, but— The first thing I thought was “What are you doing at the laundromat?” with a dick like that, You would think there would be something you could do within your lifetime that would warrant having your own washer and dryer. I mean really. Then I thought about our interaction, for a moment, and I thought “wait—is that for ME?” We only talked for like, half a second and I didn't notice it at all at first, but then I glanced over and I'm like “WOAH.” “What are you doing at the laundromat?!” Then I thought, No. I don't deserve a dick like that. Not even on my birthday. AND DEN: The trains where I'm at are always full. Always. So I get on the train— This is how you know I have problems—? I get on the train and there's a space, I take it, And there's another guy standing, so I scoot over a bit and I offer him the little space next to me, And he just, shakes his head— At which point, of course, I realize he is huge. Not like, obese— He's just a very large man. He snakes his head, and smiles. ‘Oh, God, he's cute, too' He's just smiling, standing over me— Whatever, But as he continues to stand, towering over me, I realize the worst thing about this is— My eyeline is now at crotch level, And as the train starts moving His huge, massive dick just starts swinging around In my face, at eye level. Oh NO. I'm like ‘Fuck this shit. Ugh!' I couldn't watch. I've been celibate forever—I'm about to get a whole ass rape charge I don't understand why dude with massive dicks wear loose sweatpants, NO boxers. UGH. I hate it. (I love it) UGH. LolS Ugh. So we get to the next stop and I'm just staring up at the ceiling, trying to look at the ground. I can't even, avert my eyes; His dick is obscuring my peripheral vision— FUCK— I'm like, “Please be getting off the train, I can't handle this right now.” He's not getting off the train— I'm obviously not getting off— At all— But nobody's getting off the train. Goddamn. Luckily, though, some other people get off the train so, he takes an open seat across from me, and I'm like, “Well, thank God, I can look forward naturally.” I don't have to pretend I'm looking at the map to see where my stop is at. I don't have to wipe the creepy smirk off my weird face. Thank God. —I didn't think it could get any worse— I was relieved, I'm like “thank you, God” God's like, “Don't thank me yet” Next thing I know this motherfucker pulls out a BOOK. Yes. A book. I didn't know men with big dicks could even read! I didn't know they had to! I'm like, “He can read?!” GOD, the man's gifted! Now I'm really hot and bothered, I'm like “WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON THE TRAIN?!” HE'S NOT READY FOR LOVEEEEEEE. I'm Not Ready For Love- Promise that's okay. I'm not ready for Dillon Francis. FUCK Dillon Francis. whatever. OH MY GOD. WHAT'S WRONG WITH HIM?! he'a a 6ft tall ideally attractive manchild with too much money! I meant, why is he on the ground?! OH! I don't know. I think he took something. meanwhile, in a cross-parallel: DILLON FRANCIS hijacks THE BLACK PARADE. What the fuck is this? I don't know. Is he a pirate? I doubt it. No, those are pirates. Oh, shit, pirates. Yarg. Uh, okay. I didn't want to do this. Nobody asked you! Why are you like this? Stop being a little bitch, Dillon Francis— please, grow some balls. I have balls. Grow bigger balls, then. You're so mean. Shut—thefuck UP. Why are you like this? UGH—! SUNNÏ BLŪ is drinking rum again, disregarding the house arrest anklet entirely. YARG! Sunnï, the police are coming! The police are always coming! UGH!!! THEY TRYNA KEEP A BLACK MAN DOWN! [kicks trash can over] SUNNÏ. YO-HO-HO—-*belches* BITCH Oh, my God. I AM GOD. GOD WORSHIPS ME. I'M A PIRATE. You're about to go to jail. Again! FUCK THESE N*GGAS. [sirens blaring; the paparazzi arrives] Warm up my forearms Before a performance Warning: I got warrants Call florance, my lawyer —bitch, yur below me, I'm the only, Blow me You should owe me — OH, that's hilarious. JACK BLACK THIS IS FUNNY TO YOU?! YES. ITS MOT FUNNY. You look ridiculous. Do you know where I just came from?! Uh. Wednesday afternoon church? No! The 60's! Was it racist? YES. You look racist. This isn't funny! You need to fix this! I need to eat impossible chicken tinders. That sounds gross You look gross! You! Fix this! Where are you going?! Somewhere safe before the acid kicks in! You took acid?! IN THE 60's! Okay, have fun Have fun with your yuck-nuggets PASQUALE Wanna hear some tea? …no. CC! It's me! CARMELLA?! Why are you Pasquale? Who's “Pasquale? I met this guy at work! What?! Do you like it?! No! What. Did I not do it right?! No—! I mean—yes- but, Carmella Huh I never taught you what to do with the other person when you shape shifting into their body So?! UGH-/! No!! Where's Pasquale?! Who is that!? UGH. —- Hey. You came to winco at 3 AM for some Pringle's and franks res hot sauce *sets milk down* And white milk. It's lactose free. —Dillon Francis?! The milk gave it away. The everything gave it away JACK BLACK is high on 1969's LSD SKADOOSH DANNY MCBRIDE shut the fuck up! You are not a fucking panda , you fat motherfucker! Knock it off!!! That's not nice! LEGENDS: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE Fuck. What was it? It was a p— Well it was a *PR Lol. *PT cruiser Yeah, but it was— It was purple. It was a purple PT. Cruiser It was—but what else was it? Ugh. I forgot. Yeah, I bet. GOOGLE SEARCH shades of purple. Ooooh. PERIWINKLE. You fucking dumb ass. I mean, Jesus. How long has it been? At least a lifetime. No, past that. It was a perfect periwinkle PT cruiser. So, start there. ‘Start there' what? Everything since then, till now— For what? Enter The Multiverse. That show is still on?! YES. What day is it? Fuxk. What time is it? What—the fuck. What?! CUPCAKES AND A MUFFIN?! I don't care how fat I am. You're not fat. QUASIMOTO Can I just say, your ass is like —woah. CC/SUPACREE Oh, thank you. QUASIMOTO I mean like—DAAAAAAMN. CC/ SUPACREE OK. QUASIMOTO i mean like—what the FAAACK. CC/SUPACREE Yeah. thanks, bro. [an awkward silence] QUASIMOTO …Good job, though. [light fist bump] EARLIER: MORE CUPCAKES. NAH. OHH, OREOS?! Oreos are the G.O.A.T. I WANTED CUPCAKES. SHUT THE FUCK UP— Before that, at the gym: —do the butt machine again. Again?! Get the glutes. But I'm tired— GET THE GLUUUUUUUUTES. Calorie Deficit Calculator: -3423 Oh shit. Well how many calories did I eat? BEFORE: …chocolate chip cookies? NO— —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! THEY ARE VEGAN. SO? STOP IT. Ooh, what's this. I don't know— get it. CC/SUPACREE stands awkwardly at the checkout with a varied selection of vegan baked goods. *beep* Yeaaaahh. So wait. SUPACREE is controlled by aliens? WE ARE GODS. Knock it OFF! [NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: SUPASTRENTH ] Nice. Yeah dude. Watch this. 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. AGHHHHH In fact, nobody even plays GTA or call of duty anymore. YAH! [Random objects falling from the sky. ] SUPACREE Oh, nice. INSTANT MANIFESTATION. JUST POST THE FUCKING EPISODE ALRIGHT?! this bitch is fucking crazy. Watch this. Watch what? 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. Wtf. I don't know. Is he a villain? I don't know. I guess. I'M A SUPERVILLAIN. …He's a supervillain. I guess. Why?! I don't know. This is creeps. It is creeps. [lifts one eyebrow.] SUPACREEps. Scary monsters and supacreeps. Heh. NO, NO MUSICIANS. Heh. SHIA LABEOUF is a straight up gangster. HE'S CRAZY! [SHIA LAUGHING MANIACALLY.] Oh, wow– That dude is a straight up psychopath. You're a straight up psychopath. I'm not arguing. What is THIS part of the story? Well, son, you made it through. WOODY HARRELSON? WHAT. Woody Harrelson?! WHY? I don't know. He just fit the part. WHAT PART?! WHAT/! 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. IT HAS? YES? WHERE? I WANNA DIE. OH! That's not SUPACREE! [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.] Oh, maybe, nevermind. Wait! Is it THE HULK, or MARK RUFFALO? I don't know! I don't give a shit! Why are you even writing this? Uhhhhhhhh. [CC's brain is slowly melting as she rides the bus to work. THE HULK– OR IS IT MARK FUCKING RUFFALO!? I DON”T FUCKING CARE– THERE'S A DIFFERENCE WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE IT – DOESN'T– MATTER! ‘It doesn't matter.' 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. Woah. Riding the bus. There's nothing lower. There's walking. To the bus. Yah. And all the sick people. And all the crackheads. And all the–what are those? Demons [demon hacks.] Ugh, fucking–ugh. 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. Just write it. he's a villain, right? I mean, that suit. SHIA LA– FUCK. WHAT?! Worst last name EVER. Well, not ever– Wait, is he black?! –It sounds french. GOOGLE SEARCH: ‘How Jewish is Shia LaBeouf? ‘ –no, he's Cajun – That's french-black–wait— –what? Cajun AND Jewish? –Yeah– Jesus! JESUS What? (raises one eyebrow) SUPACREE strategizes a plan of attack. Attack for what? {ATTACK} YOUUUU INCEPTED ME!!! AGH! {COUNTER ATTACK} NOT ME! DISNEY! {DODGING COUNTER ATTACK} Yeah, Blame “Disney!” I JUST DID. Oh, yeah, right!! RAVEN SYMONÉ It was Disney. THEY OK'D THIS?! They bought Marvel! THEY OK'D EVERYTHING. —Even the SKRILLEX? Especially the Skrillex —Especially the Skrillex. AGHHHHHHHH—— ———-AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! SHIA LABEOUF VS SUPACREE: FIGHT!!!! Everything looks good— —everything looks good. Everything looks fine— —Everything looks fine. But wait— What? What about that guy? Oh My— —oh my… Is he 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? Is that guy gonna be alright?? Is that guy gonna be alright?! Is that guy gonna be alright m? Everything looks good— —everything looks fine Looks good— But what about that guy? …I don't know about that guy. Is he alright? Yo. Yooo. Stop writing songs about Skrillex. ((I literally can't.)) 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 —(for) Sonny …I didn't write that. CUT TO: CC writes automagically between sets of heavy lifting. IMAGINARY FRIENDS, PART III DEADMAU5!!!! okay—one more—then cupcakes— Cupcakes? No cupcakes! I WANT CUPCAKES. Uh—No way! YES WAY. Mmm—no I'm sick of this diet! I'm not on a diet! I eat! You eat GRASS. I'm a vegan. This shit sucks. I told you, grass tastes bad. RICK?! (I also want cupcakes. ) Mmkay—ohh. You said that was the last one. No, more more. NO “one more” But I like this one—and it has the right amount of weights on it already—see? Jesús Christ He's not here. (Yes I am). Why the Fuxk. I also want cupcakes Okay, one more No “one more” The power of Christ compels ye! … Is that how that works? No. Maybe. (((Yes.))) AGHHH. The celebrities of Hollywood are gang stalking SUPACREE Can we— No. But I didn't even get to ask the question. The answer is no. 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. REALLY? I GUESS. HOW?! — DRAKE snoops on SUPACREE as she writes working half heartedly at THE NECK MACHINE with peaking curiosity, peaking over the time of his sunglasses. Whats it called. “Nautilus 4 way neck “ BPM: you're a jerk Do the Drake Do the Drake Do the Drake Work that neck Work that— Neck, Becky Work that neck, Work that neck Do the— “new note: Purchase ‘Honestly, nevermind' 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— Or maybe, now, couldn't. BANGARANG. ‘Fuck this shit.' 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. What the fuck. 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. Whats the worry? You've got 20 minutes to write a story! Don't be sorry Mind your orders. You're a war chief Marry me, Oh pretty please— I plead to you, just sing for me Just think of me as a Never ending fantasy, At the very least When you bury me —and you buried me alive, Just for the look of things What makes us even Slitting wrists Or splitting things unevenly (Either thing benefits me, And my penis, I think.) Make me famous— She said Hate me or debate me, I have everything I need And I have everything you have, But I can leave, All with my dreams intact I do believe You think I'm evil Either way, unnecessary Why would I sit down and write a story— When you just did it for me? Why would I pledge allegiance to old glory She's ignoring me; Why would I change my name to satisfy your needs When mine sit idly by waiting Why would I dream of you, When you dream of me I have all I need, 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, But I'm so stupid, Nothing soothes my moods, Except playing your tunes, Or music Whoop De Fucking do Would you Marry Me? He said (He never did, he just let her—) She said, I do And now they're doomed I built a tomb for two The bride and groom In music Two by two And used by Tuesday Music I presume To the beautiful Music I presume For the usual Music I presume For those who —- SHIA LABEOUF JUST DO IT. That is not how the end of the song goes. No, but this is how the end of the episode goes. Really!? How? [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.] You brought…an umbrella? I told you there was a shit storm coming. Oh, nooh. Where's yours? I— don't care? That's right you don't. I don't. That's good you don't. I really don't. You don't give a Fuck, or a shit. I—don't give a fuck or a sh—wait— DILLON FRANCIS? I'm good at what I do. What do you DO? THIS. “A Silent Partner” Oh. I like that. That has all kinds of insinuations. Doesn't it? Hermph. You're a creep. A Supacreep. PAUSE ITS MISTER MAGOOoOOOOOOOooO0oO. No, it's the IRS. Fuck. HOLY SHIT SUNNI. WHAT. HOW DO YOU OWE 100,000 IN BACK TAXES?! Student loan debt. WHAT. THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE. Yes it does. HOW. Calm down Marci —MY ÑAME IS— [Sunnī Blū subdues her instantly with one if Supacree's mysterious rave weapons] Sit down, please. …what is that? You like it? Yeah. [she gives her another dose of strange vapor, she relaxes even further.] See. Yeah. Now that you're happy— —am i “happy” ? [she gives her another relaxing dose] —are you Happy? Yeah. 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. …They're so stupid. It's a supercomputer. Huh. The government is a supercomputer—it's a giant—unfeeling— Huh? Nevermind; But Sunni— Yes, Manuel— You finally got my name right! Yeah. I did. —but you're rich now— I'm very rich. Yes. 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! Shhhhhhhh…be happy. [sunni sighs and takes a large huff themselves of the mysterious vapor, however still quite visibly unsettled. MEANWHILE, (IN A PARALLEL DIMENSION) FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCKING—FUCKSAUCE Ooh—fuckity fucksauce?! FUCK! Haven't tried that one. Is it purple too!? SHUTTHEFUCK—UP. Ooh. It must be really hot. Let me try. Hello, Dillon Francis. Oh, no. Ha. Did you fuck my best friend? …I didn't know you…had any friends. I don't now. [he hangs his head.] ALSO MEANWHILE: (IN ANOTHER PARALLEL) 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. For real _!%]_€ Is it on the same timeline? I mean, that's insane—SUPACREE is being stalked— —Hunted— Hunted by not one—but TWO super-buff celebrities— Hey, to be fair—I didn't know Shia La— Whatever— Whatever. I didn't know he was that buff. Who expected this?! Literally no one ever. How did this happen?! CUT TO: What if I threw myself in front of a school bus!? That would be the 16th time you've died, since you committed suicide So is that 16, or 17? Does it matter? I thought it was 10 to get to Skrillex. I thought we weren't trying to get to Skrillex I thought we never left. We never left. Fuck. You've got to run. It's not a race. He's very fast. What if he's spent as much time in the gym as you have? Huh. What if he's spent as much time in the studio as you have in the gym? That's it. That is it. This album is really. Golden. Golden? Really? Probably. Ive never seen gold before— Oh— Look. Look. 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.” Oh. That's…a lot for a bus full of kids. Not high schoolers. Benny Benassi (and the biz) was the word of God today. Tell me what your spirit says Show me what you pray Teach me every single part I'll be your guide You are a prisoner Looking for to be. 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— You can change your face But can't change your mind No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do 11:12. ‘FUCK.' 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; ‘It doesn't matter!' 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. (Whatever that means.) Back to Benny Benassi 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. Whose job is that? Ehmm— Skrillex! Is that what he does? Is that what this is? —BABY, ID LOVE FOR YOU TO TOUCH ME BAAAAABAY— ALSO: THE US GOVERNMENT has gotten a new fleet of JEEPS. Who is this. [American flag automatic antenna extends from the back of the vehicle.] Ooh. What is that? WE GOT HER GO ARMY, BITCH! Why is the Army following me?! You can time travel! So! They can not. Oh. I can shapeshift, too—why didn't they follow me when I started doing that in public? They sent navy seals! They did?! When?! 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 the fuck. ABORT. WHAT?! She's right there! I SAID ABORT. MORPHEUS. What. I'm retired. I know, look— Don't call me— I need a pill! How did you get this number?! It's The Matrix. Touché. I know, huh. Don't call me. [hangs up] [she calls his other line, he picks up unwittingly ñ] Hello? I need a pill! You—have them!! Don't you?! No! What is “no”? I don't need the red pill, or the blue pill! Then I can't help you! You're the only one that can help! Have you tried Jesus? Jesús is busy! Listen to me! —Jesús is always listening— I need the purple pill. The what—what?! The purple pill! …you know what? …what? Dont—call me anymore. [hangs up] What the fuck! [redials] Call from: MOM Hey Mom— Hey, Morpheus. What the Fuck! You what the fuck! Help me! God Help You! WHERE's my MOTHER?! I AM GOD. WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY MOTHER —I Am your mother, Morpheus. And I just made your favorite: pecan pie—… … —without pecans. … … … Meet me at Fatastik. Uh…the swap meet? Near the Rugs. What?! —bring the pie! [hangs up] 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. [shrugs] MEAHAHILE: DILLON FRANCIS screams uncontrollably. CUT TO: BEYONCE is a big fan. Oh wow, that's incredible. No, LITERALLY BEYONCÈ, mastering her shape shifting abilities has transformed herself into a giant fan. WOW. That is cool. (Literally.) Get it? SHUTUP. [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. WOAH I know, huh. That's what's happening in that series?! Damn! I know, huh! Sometimes I surprise muself. And I'm not even listening to deadmau5. So what's Beyoncé got to do with this storyline? Something, I'm sure. Synesthesia. Oh—yeah, that. She's so pink! Don't be gross. I— whatever. duff. DUFF! DUFF!!! [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.] What up, Cookie Monster. 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.] COOKIE MONSTA?! [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. I can't feel anything. Consider yourself lucky. I consider myself ‘dead' Yeah, me too. Well, you shouldn't. Says the ghost. Youre the gh0st. Oh yeah, huh… [he shrugs and nods] Huh. Yeah right. 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. And… ‘It doesn't matter. 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. Might be a saint, But the back doors open and The oven's on so, I won't close it, If it gets too warm, you know I'll want you to hold me I might be lonely I might be lonely I might be (((A))) S-s-s-superstar, Where are ye? Real nice car, A mazzarati you bought me High speed dodging the paparazzi I got to be lucky I got to be the lucky one We sure are lucky, aren't we Darling, you're sparking Park this thing Spark me up Let's party What are we? S-s-s-superstars, Yeah Red carpet party Set the alarm, No harming a full carbon body Yah You want this blonde fawning for your autograph? Or you want me? What are we— Let's party; Just us three Right here in the lobby Oh my god, That's just raunchy Stop to talk The audacity Or night at the odyssey Whichever one Haunts me less awfully C'mon! We don't follow the models! They follow me! What the Fuck Kind of husband Does this 1x1 = nothin The marriage was loveless But honest, I'd honor it over another, And that was the start of Another concept album FADE TO BLUE TO BE CONTINUED. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

HE'S NOT READY FOR LOVEEEEEEE. I'm Not Ready For Love- Promise that's okay. I'm not ready for Dillon Francis. FUCK Dillon Francis. whatever. OH MY GOD. WHAT'S WRONG WITH HIM?! he'a a 6ft tall ideally attractive manchild with too much money! I meant, why is he on the ground?! OH! I don't know. I think he took something. meanwhile, in a cross-parallel: DILLON FRANCIS hijacks THE BLACK PARADE. What the fuck is this? I don't know. Is he a pirate? I doubt it. No, those are pirates. Oh, shit, pirates. Yarg. Uh, okay. I didn't want to do this. Nobody asked you! Why are you like this? Stop being a little bitch, Dillon Francis— please, grow some balls. I have balls. Grow bigger balls, then. You're so mean. Shut—thefuck UP. Why are you like this? UGH—! SUNNÏ BLŪ is drinking rum again, disregarding the house arrest anklet entirely. YARG! Sunnï, the police are coming! The police are always coming! UGH!!! THEY TRYNA KEEP A BLACK MAN DOWN! [kicks trash can over] SUNNÏ. YO-HO-HO—-*belches* BITCH Oh, my God. I AM GOD. GOD WORSHIPS ME. I'M A PIRATE. You're about to go to jail. Again! FUCK THESE N*GGAS. [sirens blaring; the paparazzi arrives] Warm up my forearms Before a performance Warning: I got warrants Call florance, my lawyer —bitch, yur below me, I'm the only, Blow me You should owe me — OH, that's hilarious. JACK BLACK THIS IS FUNNY TO YOU?! YES. ITS MOT FUNNY. You look ridiculous. Do you know where I just came from?! Uh. Wednesday afternoon church? No! The 60's! Was it racist? YES. You look racist. This isn't funny! You need to fix this! I need to eat impossible chicken tinders. That sounds gross You look gross! You! Fix this! Where are you going?! Somewhere safe before the acid kicks in! You took acid?! IN THE 60's! Okay, have fun Have fun with your yuck-nuggets PASQUALE Wanna hear some tea? …no. CC! It's me! CARMELLA?! Why are you Pasquale? Who's “Pasquale? I met this guy at work! What?! Do you like it?! No! What. Did I not do it right?! No—! I mean—yes- but, Carmella Huh I never taught you what to do with the other person when you shape shifting into their body So?! UGH-/! No!! Where's Pasquale?! Who is that!? UGH. —- Hey. You came to winco at 3 AM for some Pringle's and franks res hot sauce *sets milk down* And white milk. It's lactose free. —Dillon Francis?! The milk gave it away. The everything gave it away JACK BLACK is high on 1969's LSD SKADOOSH DANNY MCBRIDE shut the fuck up! You are not a fucking panda , you fat motherfucker! Knock it off!!! That's not nice! LEGENDS: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE Fuck. What was it? It was a p— Well it was a *PR Lol. *PT cruiser Yeah, but it was— It was purple. It was a purple PT. Cruiser It was—but what else was it? Ugh. I forgot. Yeah, I bet. GOOGLE SEARCH shades of purple. Ooooh. PERIWINKLE. You fucking dumb ass. I mean, Jesus. How long has it been? At least a lifetime. No, past that. It was a perfect periwinkle PT cruiser. So, start there. ‘Start there' what? Everything since then, till now— For what? Enter The Multiverse. That show is still on?! YES. What day is it? Fuxk. What time is it? What—the fuck. What?! CUPCAKES AND A MUFFIN?! I don't care how fat I am. You're not fat. QUASIMOTO Can I just say, your ass is like —woah. CC/SUPACREE Oh, thank you. QUASIMOTO I mean like—DAAAAAAMN. CC/ SUPACREE OK. QUASIMOTO i mean like—what the FAAACK. CC/SUPACREE Yeah. thanks, bro. [an awkward silence] QUASIMOTO …Good job, though. [light fist bump] EARLIER: MORE CUPCAKES. NAH. OHH, OREOS?! Oreos are the G.O.A.T. I WANTED CUPCAKES. SHUT THE FUCK UP— Before that, at the gym: —do the butt machine again. Again?! Get the glutes. But I'm tired— GET THE GLUUUUUUUUTES. Calorie Deficit Calculator: -3423 Oh shit. Well how many calories did I eat? BEFORE: …chocolate chip cookies? NO— —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! THEY ARE VEGAN. SO? STOP IT. Ooh, what's this. I don't know— get it. CC/SUPACREE stands awkwardly at the checkout with a varied selection of vegan baked goods. *beep* Yeaaaahh. So wait. SUPACREE is controlled by aliens? WE ARE GODS. Knock it OFF! [NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: SUPASTRENTH ] Nice. Yeah dude. Watch this. 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. AGHHHHH In fact, nobody even plays GTA or call of duty anymore. YAH! [Random objects falling from the sky. ] SUPACREE Oh, nice. INSTANT MANIFESTATION. JUST POST THE FUCKING EPISODE ALRIGHT?! this bitch is fucking crazy. Watch this. Watch what? 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. Wtf. I don't know. Is he a villain? I don't know. I guess. I'M A SUPERVILLAIN. …He's a supervillain. I guess. Why?! I don't know. This is creeps. It is creeps. [lifts one eyebrow.] SUPACREEps. Scary monsters and supacreeps. Heh. NO, NO MUSICIANS. Heh. SHIA LABEOUF is a straight up gangster. HE'S CRAZY! [SHIA LAUGHING MANIACALLY.] Oh, wow– That dude is a straight up psychopath. You're a straight up psychopath. I'm not arguing. What is THIS part of the story? Well, son, you made it through. WOODY HARRELSON? WHAT. Woody Harrelson?! WHY? I don't know. He just fit the part. WHAT PART?! WHAT/! 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. IT HAS? YES? WHERE? I WANNA DIE. OH! That's not SUPACREE! [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.] Oh, maybe, nevermind. Wait! Is it THE HULK, or MARK RUFFALO? I don't know! I don't give a shit! Why are you even writing this? Uhhhhhhhh. [CC's brain is slowly melting as she rides the bus to work. THE HULK– OR IS IT MARK FUCKING RUFFALO!? I DON”T FUCKING CARE– THERE'S A DIFFERENCE WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE IT – DOESN'T– MATTER! ‘It doesn't matter.' 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. Woah. Riding the bus. There's nothing lower. There's walking. To the bus. Yah. And all the sick people. And all the crackheads. And all the–what are those? Demons [demon hacks.] Ugh, fucking–ugh. 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. Just write it. he's a villain, right? I mean, that suit. SHIA LA– FUCK. WHAT?! Worst last name EVER. Well, not ever– Wait, is he black?! –It sounds french. GOOGLE SEARCH: ‘How Jewish is Shia LaBeouf? ‘ –no, he's Cajun – That's french-black–wait— –what? Cajun AND Jewish? –Yeah– Jesus! JESUS What? (raises one eyebrow) SUPACREE strategizes a plan of attack. Attack for what? {ATTACK} YOUUUU INCEPTED ME!!! AGH! {COUNTER ATTACK} NOT ME! DISNEY! {DODGING COUNTER ATTACK} Yeah, Blame “Disney!” I JUST DID. Oh, yeah, right!! RAVEN SYMONÉ It was Disney. THEY OK'D THIS?! They bought Marvel! THEY OK'D EVERYTHING. —Even the SKRILLEX? Especially the Skrillex —Especially the Skrillex. AGHHHHHHHH—— ———-AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! SHIA LABEOUF VS SUPACREE: FIGHT!!!! Everything looks good— —everything looks good. Everything looks fine— —Everything looks fine. But wait— What? What about that guy? Oh My— —oh my… Is he 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? Is that guy gonna be alright?? Is that guy gonna be alright?! Is that guy gonna be alright m? Everything looks good— —everything looks fine Looks good— But what about that guy? …I don't know about that guy. Is he alright? Yo. Yooo. Stop writing songs about Skrillex. ((I literally can't.)) 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 —(for) Sonny …I didn't write that. CUT TO: CC writes automagically between sets of heavy lifting. IMAGINARY FRIENDS, PART III DEADMAU5!!!! okay—one more—then cupcakes— Cupcakes? No cupcakes! I WANT CUPCAKES. Uh—No way! YES WAY. Mmm—no I'm sick of this diet! I'm not on a diet! I eat! You eat GRASS. I'm a vegan. This shit sucks. I told you, grass tastes bad. RICK?! (I also want cupcakes. ) Mmkay—ohh. You said that was the last one. No, more more. NO “one more” But I like this one—and it has the right amount of weights on it already—see? Jesús Christ He's not here. (Yes I am). Why the Fuxk. I also want cupcakes Okay, one more No “one more” The power of Christ compels ye! … Is that how that works? No. Maybe. (((Yes.))) AGHHH. The celebrities of Hollywood are gang stalking SUPACREE Can we— No. But I didn't even get to ask the question. The answer is no. 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. REALLY? I GUESS. HOW?! — DRAKE snoops on SUPACREE as she writes working half heartedly at THE NECK MACHINE with peaking curiosity, peaking over the time of his sunglasses. Whats it called. “Nautilus 4 way neck “ BPM: you're a jerk Do the Drake Do the Drake Do the Drake Work that neck Work that— Neck, Becky Work that neck, Work that neck Do the— “new note: Purchase ‘Honestly, nevermind' 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— Or maybe, now, couldn't. BANGARANG. ‘Fuck this shit.' 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. What the fuck. 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. Whats the worry? You've got 20 minutes to write a story! Don't be sorry Mind your orders. You're a war chief Marry me, Oh pretty please— I plead to you, just sing for me Just think of me as a Never ending fantasy, At the very least When you bury me —and you buried me alive, Just for the look of things What makes us even Slitting wrists Or splitting things unevenly (Either thing benefits me, And my penis, I think.) Make me famous— She said Hate me or debate me, I have everything I need And I have everything you have, But I can leave, All with my dreams intact I do believe You think I'm evil Either way, unnecessary Why would I sit down and write a story— When you just did it for me? Why would I pledge allegiance to old glory She's ignoring me; Why would I change my name to satisfy your needs When mine sit idly by waiting Why would I dream of you, When you dream of me I have all I need, 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, But I'm so stupid, Nothing soothes my moods, Except playing your tunes, Or music Whoop De Fucking do Would you Marry Me? He said (He never did, he just let her—) She said, I do And now they're doomed I built a tomb for two The bride and groom In music Two by two And used by Tuesday Music I presume To the beautiful Music I presume For the usual Music I presume For those who —- SHIA LABEOUF JUST DO IT. That is not how the end of the song goes. No, but this is how the end of the episode goes. Really!? How? [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.] You brought…an umbrella? I told you there was a shit storm coming. Oh, nooh. Where's yours? I— don't care? That's right you don't. I don't. That's good you don't. I really don't. You don't give a Fuck, or a shit. I—don't give a fuck or a sh—wait— DILLON FRANCIS? I'm good at what I do. What do you DO? THIS. “A Silent Partner” Oh. I like that. That has all kinds of insinuations. Doesn't it? Hermph. You're a creep. A Supacreep. PAUSE ITS MISTER MAGOOoOOOOOOOooO0oO. No, it's the IRS. Fuck. HOLY SHIT SUNNI. WHAT. HOW DO YOU OWE 100,000 IN BACK TAXES?! Student loan debt. WHAT. THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE. Yes it does. HOW. Calm down Marci —MY ÑAME IS— [Sunnī Blū subdues her instantly with one if Supacree's mysterious rave weapons] Sit down, please. …what is that? You like it? Yeah. [she gives her another dose of strange vapor, she relaxes even further.] See. Yeah. Now that you're happy— —am i “happy” ? [she gives her another relaxing dose] —are you Happy? Yeah. 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. …They're so stupid. It's a supercomputer. Huh. The government is a supercomputer—it's a giant—unfeeling— Huh? Nevermind; But Sunni— Yes, Manuel— You finally got my name right! Yeah. I did. —but you're rich now— I'm very rich. Yes. 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! Shhhhhhhh…be happy. [sunni sighs and takes a large huff themselves of the mysterious vapor, however still quite visibly unsettled. MEANWHILE, (IN A PARALLEL DIMENSION) FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCKING—FUCKSAUCE Ooh—fuckity fucksauce?! FUCK! Haven't tried that one. Is it purple too!? SHUTTHEFUCK—UP. Ooh. It must be really hot. Let me try. Hello, Dillon Francis. Oh, no. Ha. Did you fuck my best friend? …I didn't know you…had any friends. I don't now. [he hangs his head.] ALSO MEANWHILE: (IN ANOTHER PARALLEL) 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. For real _!%]_€ Is it on the same timeline? I mean, that's insane—SUPACREE is being stalked— —Hunted— Hunted by not one—but TWO super-buff celebrities— Hey, to be fair—I didn't know Shia La— Whatever— Whatever. I didn't know he was that buff. Who expected this?! Literally no one ever. How did this happen?! CUT TO: What if I threw myself in front of a school bus!? That would be the 16th time you've died, since you committed suicide So is that 16, or 17? Does it matter? I thought it was 10 to get to Skrillex. I thought we weren't trying to get to Skrillex I thought we never left. We never left. Fuck. You've got to run. It's not a race. He's very fast. What if he's spent as much time in the gym as you have? Huh. What if he's spent as much time in the studio as you have in the gym? That's it. That is it. This album is really. Golden. Golden? Really? Probably. Ive never seen gold before— Oh— Look. Look. 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.” Oh. That's…a lot for a bus full of kids. Not high schoolers. Benny Benassi (and the biz) was the word of God today. Tell me what your spirit says Show me what you pray Teach me every single part I'll be your guide You are a prisoner Looking for to be. 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— You can change your face But can't change your mind No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do 11:12. ‘FUCK.' 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; ‘It doesn't matter!' 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. (Whatever that means.) Back to Benny Benassi 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. Whose job is that? Ehmm— Skrillex! Is that what he does? Is that what this is? —BABY, ID LOVE FOR YOU TO TOUCH ME BAAAAABAY— ALSO: THE US GOVERNMENT has gotten a new fleet of JEEPS. Who is this. [American flag automatic antenna extends from the back of the vehicle.] Ooh. What is that? WE GOT HER GO ARMY, BITCH! Why is the Army following me?! You can time travel! So! They can not. Oh. I can shapeshift, too—why didn't they follow me when I started doing that in public? They sent navy seals! They did?! When?! 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 the fuck. ABORT. WHAT?! She's right there! I SAID ABORT. MORPHEUS. What. I'm retired. I know, look— Don't call me— I need a pill! How did you get this number?! It's The Matrix. Touché. I know, huh. Don't call me. [hangs up] [she calls his other line, he picks up unwittingly ñ] Hello? I need a pill! You—have them!! Don't you?! No! What is “no”? I don't need the red pill, or the blue pill! Then I can't help you! You're the only one that can help! Have you tried Jesus? Jesús is busy! Listen to me! —Jesús is always listening— I need the purple pill. The what—what?! The purple pill! …you know what? …what? Dont—call me anymore. [hangs up] What the fuck! [redials] Call from: MOM Hey Mom— Hey, Morpheus. What the Fuck! You what the fuck! Help me! God Help You! WHERE's my MOTHER?! I AM GOD. WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY MOTHER —I Am your mother, Morpheus. And I just made your favorite: pecan pie—… … —without pecans. … … … Meet me at Fatastik. Uh…the swap meet? Near the Rugs. What?! —bring the pie! [hangs up] 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. [shrugs] MEAHAHILE: DILLON FRANCIS screams uncontrollably. CUT TO: BEYONCE is a big fan. Oh wow, that's incredible. No, LITERALLY BEYONCÈ, mastering her shape shifting abilities has transformed herself into a giant fan. WOW. That is cool. (Literally.) Get it? SHUTUP. [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. WOAH I know, huh. That's what's happening in that series?! Damn! I know, huh! Sometimes I surprise muself. And I'm not even listening to deadmau5. So what's Beyoncé got to do with this storyline? Something, I'm sure. Synesthesia. Oh—yeah, that. She's so pink! Don't be gross. I— whatever. duff. DUFF! DUFF!!! [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.] What up, Cookie Monster. 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.] COOKIE MONSTA?! [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. I can't feel anything. Consider yourself lucky. I consider myself ‘dead' Yeah, me too. Well, you shouldn't. Says the ghost. Youre the gh0st. Oh yeah, huh… [he shrugs and nods] Huh. Yeah right. 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. And… ‘It doesn't matter. 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. Might be a saint, But the back doors open and The oven's on so, I won't close it, If it gets too warm, you know I'll want you to hold me I might be lonely I might be lonely I might be (((A))) S-s-s-superstar, Where are ye? Real nice car, A mazzarati you bought me High speed dodging the paparazzi I got to be lucky I got to be the lucky one We sure are lucky, aren't we Darling, you're sparking Park this thing Spark me up Let's party What are we? S-s-s-superstars, Yeah Red carpet party Set the alarm, No harming a full carbon body Yah You want this blonde fawning for your autograph? Or you want me? What are we— Let's party; Just us three Right here in the lobby Oh my god, That's just raunchy Stop to talk The audacity Or night at the odyssey Whichever one Haunts me less awfully C'mon! We don't follow the models! They follow me! What the Fuck Kind of husband Does this 1x1 = nothin The marriage was loveless But honest, I'd honor it over another, And that was the start of Another concept album FADE TO BLUE TO BE CONTINUED. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

FLASHBACK: SEASON 5/7 He's 5'7 now?! he's 5'2, he was just standing on his-- --stop this right now. LEGENDS: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE Fuck. What was it? It was a p— Well it was a *PR Lol. *PT cruiser Yeah, but it was— It was purple. It was a purple PT. Cruiser It was—but what else was it? Ugh. I forgot. Yeah, I bet. GOOGLE SEARCH shades of purple. Ooooh. PERIWINKLE. You fucking dumb ass. I mean, Jesus. How long has it been? At least a lifetime. No, past that. It was a perfect periwinkle PT cruiser. So, start there. ‘Start there' what? Everything since then, till now— For what? Enter The Multiverse. That show is still on?! YES. What day is it? Fuxk. What time is it? What—the fuck. What?! CUPCAKES AND A MUFFIN?! I don't care how fat I am. You're not fat. QUASIMOTO Can I just say, your ass is like —woah. CC/SUPACREE Oh, thank you. QUASIMOTO I mean like—DAAAAAAMN. CC/ SUPACREE OK. QUASIMOTO i mean like—what the FAAACK. CC/SUPACREE Yeah. thanks, bro. [an awkward silence] QUASIMOTO …Good job, though. [light fist bump] EARLIER: MORE CUPCAKES. NAH. OHH, OREOS?! Oreos are the G.O.A.T. I WANTED CUPCAKES. SHUT THE FUCK UP— Before that, at the gym: —do the butt machine again. Again?! Get the glutes. But I'm tired— GET THE GLUUUUUUUUTES. Calorie Deficit Calculator: -3423 Oh shit. Well how many calories did I eat? BEFORE: …chocolate chip cookies? NO— —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! THEY ARE VEGAN. SO? STOP IT. Ooh, what's this. I don't know— get it. CC/SUPACREE stands awkwardly at the checkout with a varied selection of vegan baked goods. *beep* Yeaaaahh. So wait. SUPACREE is controlled by aliens? WE ARE GODS. Knock it OFF! [NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: SUPASTRENTH ] Nice. Yeah dude. Watch this. 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. AGHHHHH In fact, nobody even plays GTA or call of duty anymore. YAH! [Random objects falling from the sky. ] SUPACREE Oh, nice. INSTANT MANIFESTATION. JUST POST THE FUCKING EPISODE ALRIGHT?! this bitch is fucking crazy. Watch this. Watch what? 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. Wtf. I don't know. Is he a villain? I don't know. I guess. I'M A SUPERVILLAIN. …He's a supervillain. I guess. Why?! I don't know. This is creeps. It is creeps. [lifts one eyebrow.] SUPACREEps. Scary monsters and supacreeps. Heh. NO, NO MUSICIANS. Heh. SHIA LABEOUF is a straight up gangster. HE'S CRAZY! [SHIA LAUGHING MANIACALLY.] Oh, wow– That dude is a straight up psychopath. You're a straight up psychopath. I'm not arguing. What is THIS part of the story? Well, son, you made it through. WOODY HARRELSON? WHAT. Woody Harrelson?! WHY? I don't know. He just fit the part. WHAT PART?! WHAT/! 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. IT HAS? YES? WHERE? I WANNA DIE. OH! That's not SUPACREE! [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.] Oh, maybe, nevermind. Wait! Is it THE HULK, or MARK RUFFALO? I don't know! I don't give a shit! Why are you even writing this? Uhhhhhhhh. [CC's brain is slowly melting as she rides the bus to work. THE HULK– OR IS IT MARK FUCKING RUFFALO!? I DON”T FUCKING CARE– THERE'S A DIFFERENCE WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE IT – DOESN'T– MATTER! ‘It doesn't matter.' 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. Woah. Riding the bus. There's nothing lower. There's walking. To the bus. Yah. And all the sick people. And all the crackheads. And all the–what are those? Demons [demon hacks.] Ugh, fucking–ugh. 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. Just write it. he's a villain, right? I mean, that suit. SHIA LA– FUCK. WHAT?! Worst last name EVER. Well, not ever– Wait, is he black?! –It sounds french. GOOGLE SEARCH: ‘How Jewish is Shia LaBeouf? ‘ –no, he's Cajun – That's french-black–wait— –what? Cajun AND Jewish? –Yeah– Jesus! JESUS What? (raises one eyebrow) SUPACREE strategizes a plan of attack. Attack for what? {ATTACK} YOUUUU INCEPTED ME!!! AGH! {COUNTER ATTACK} NOT ME! DISNEY! {DODGING COUNTER ATTACK} Yeah, Blame “Disney!” I JUST DID. Oh, yeah, right!! RAVEN SYMONÉ It was Disney. THEY OK'D THIS?! They bought Marvel! THEY OK'D EVERYTHING. —Even the SKRILLEX? Especially the Skrillex —Especially the Skrillex. AGHHHHHHHH—— ———-AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! SHIA LABEOUF VS SUPACREE: FIGHT!!!! Everything looks good— —everything looks good. Everything looks fine— —Everything looks fine. But wait— What? What about that guy? Oh My— —oh my… Is he 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? Is that guy gonna be alright?? Is that guy gonna be alright?! Is that guy gonna be alright m? Everything looks good— —everything looks fine Looks good— But what about that guy? …I don't know about that guy. Is he alright? Yo. Yooo. Stop writing songs about Skrillex. ((I literally can't.)) 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 —(for) Sonny …I didn't write that. CUT TO: CC writes automagically between sets of heavy lifting. IMAGINARY FRIENDS, PART III DEADMAU5!!!! okay—one more—then cupcakes— Cupcakes? No cupcakes! I WANT CUPCAKES. Uh—No way! YES WAY. Mmm—no I'm sick of this diet! I'm not on a diet! I eat! You eat GRASS. I'm a vegan. This shit sucks. I told you, grass tastes bad. RICK?! (I also want cupcakes. ) Mmkay—ohh. You said that was the last one. No, more more. NO “one more” But I like this one—and it has the right amount of weights on it already—see? Jesús Christ He's not here. (Yes I am). Why the Fuxk. I also want cupcakes Okay, one more No “one more” The power of Christ compels ye! … Is that how that works? No. Maybe. (((Yes.))) AGHHH. The celebrities of Hollywood are gang stalking SUPACREE Can we— No. But I didn't even get to ask the question. The answer is no. 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. REALLY? I GUESS. HOW?! — DRAKE snoops on SUPACREE as she writes working half heartedly at THE NECK MACHINE with peaking curiosity, peaking over the time of his sunglasses. Whats it called. “Nautilus 4 way neck “ BPM: you're a jerk Do the Drake Do the Drake Do the Drake Work that neck Work that— Neck, Becky Work that neck, Work that neck Do the— “new note: Purchase ‘Honestly, nevermind' 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— Or maybe, now, couldn't. BANGARANG. ‘Fuck this shit.' 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. What the fuck. 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. Whats the worry? You've got 20 minutes to write a story! Don't be sorry Mind your orders. You're a war chief Marry me, Oh pretty please— I plead to you, just sing for me Just think of me as a Never ending fantasy, At the very least When you bury me —and you buried me alive, Just for the look of things What makes us even Slitting wrists Or splitting things unevenly (Either thing benefits me, And my penis, I think.) Make me famous— She said Hate me or debate me, I have everything I need And I have everything you have, But I can leave, All with my dreams intact I do believe You think I'm evil Either way, unnecessary Why would I sit down and write a story— When you just did it for me? Why would I pledge allegiance to old glory She's ignoring me; Why would I change my name to satisfy your needs When mine sit idly by waiting Why would I dream of you, When you dream of me I have all I need, 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, But I'm so stupid, Nothing soothes my moods, Except playing your tunes, Or music Whoop De Fucking do Would you Marry Me? He said (He never did, he just let her—) She said, I do And now they're doomed I built a tomb for two The bride and groom In music Two by two And used by Tuesday Music I presume To the beautiful Music I presume For the usual Music I presume For those who —- SHIA LABEOUF JUST DO IT. That is not how the end of the song goes. No, but this is how the end of the episode goes. Really!? How? [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.] You brought…an umbrella? I told you there was a shit storm coming. Oh, nooh. Where's yours? I— don't care? That's right you don't. I don't. That's good you don't. I really don't. You don't give a Fuck, or a shit. I—don't give a fuck or a sh—wait— DILLON FRANCIS? I'm good at what I do. What do you DO? THIS. “A Silent Partner” Oh. I like that. That has all kinds of insinuations. Doesn't it? Hermph. You're a creep. A Supacreep. PAUSE ITS MISTER MAGOOoOOOOOOOooO0oO. No, it's the IRS. Fuck. HOLY SHIT SUNNI. WHAT. HOW DO YOU OWE 100,000 IN BACK TAXES?! Student loan debt. WHAT. THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE. Yes it does. HOW. Calm down Marci —MY ÑAME IS— [Sunnī Blū subdues her instantly with one if Supacree's mysterious rave weapons] Sit down, please. …what is that? You like it? Yeah. [she gives her another dose of strange vapor, she relaxes even further.] See. Yeah. Now that you're happy— —am i “happy” ? [she gives her another relaxing dose] —are you Happy? Yeah. 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. …They're so stupid. It's a supercomputer. Huh. The government is a supercomputer—it's a giant—unfeeling— Huh? Nevermind; But Sunni— Yes, Manuel— You finally got my name right! Yeah. I did. —but you're rich now— I'm very rich. Yes. 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! Shhhhhhhh…be happy. [sunni sighs and takes a large huff themselves of the mysterious vapor, however still quite visibly unsettled. MEANWHILE, (IN A PARALLEL DIMENSION) FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCKING—FUCKSAUCE Ooh—fuckity fucksauce?! FUCK! Haven't tried that one. Is it purple too!? SHUTTHEFUCK—UP. Ooh. It must be really hot. Let me try. Hello, Dillon Francis. Oh, no. Ha. Did you fuck my best friend? …I didn't know you…had any friends. I don't now. [he hangs his head.] ALSO MEANWHILE: (IN ANOTHER PARALLEL) 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. For real _!%]_€ Is it on the same timeline? I mean, that's insane—SUPACREE is being stalked— —Hunted— Hunted by not one—but TWO super-buff celebrities— Hey, to be fair—I didn't know Shia La— Whatever— Whatever. I didn't know he was that buff. Who expected this?! Literally no one ever. How did this happen?! CUT TO: What if I threw myself in front of a school bus!? That would be the 16th time you've died, since you committed suicide So is that 16, or 17? Does it matter? I thought it was 10 to get to Skrillex. I thought we weren't trying to get to Skrillex I thought we never left. We never left. Fuck. You've got to run. It's not a race. He's very fast. What if he's spent as much time in the gym as you have? Huh. What if he's spent as much time in the studio as you have in the gym? That's it. That is it. This album is really. Golden. Golden? Really? Probably. Ive never seen gold before— Oh— Look. Look. 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.” Oh. That's…a lot for a bus full of kids. Not high schoolers. Benny Benassi (and the biz) was the word of God today. Tell me what your spirit says Show me what you pray Teach me every single part I'll be your guide You are a prisoner Looking for to be. 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— You can change your face But can't change your mind No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do 11:12. ‘FUCK.' 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; ‘It doesn't matter!' 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. (Whatever that means.) Back to Benny Benassi 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. Whose job is that? Ehmm— Skrillex! Is that what he does? Is that what this is? —BABY, ID LOVE FOR YOU TO TOUCH ME BAAAAABAY— ALSO: THE US GOVERNMENT has gotten a new fleet of JEEPS. Who is this. [American flag automatic antenna extends from the back of the vehicle.] Ooh. What is that? WE GOT HER GO ARMY, BITCH! Why is the Army following me?! You can time travel! So! They can not. Oh. I can shapeshift, too—why didn't they follow me when I started doing that in public? They sent navy seals! They did?! When?! 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 the fuck. ABORT. WHAT?! She's right there! I SAID ABORT. MORPHEUS. What. I'm retired. I know, look— Don't call me— I need a pill! How did you get this number?! It's The Matrix. Touché. I know, huh. Don't call me. [hangs up] [she calls his other line, he picks up unwittingly ñ] Hello? I need a pill! You—have them!! Don't you?! No! What is “no”? I don't need the red pill, or the blue pill! Then I can't help you! You're the only one that can help! Have you tried Jesus? Jesús is busy! Listen to me! —Jesús is always listening— I need the purple pill. The what—what?! The purple pill! …you know what? …what? Dont—call me anymore. [hangs up] What the fuck! [redials] Call from: MOM Hey Mom— Hey, Morpheus. What the Fuck! You what the fuck! Help me! God Help You! WHERE's my MOTHER?! I AM GOD. WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY MOTHER —I Am your mother, Morpheus. And I just made your favorite: pecan pie—… … —without pecans. … … … Meet me at Fatastik. Uh…the swap meet? Near the Rugs. What?! —bring the pie! [hangs up] 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. [shrugs] MEAHAHILE: DILLON FRANCIS screams uncontrollably. CUT TO: BEYONCE is a big fan. Oh wow, that's incredible. No, LITERALLY BEYONCÈ, mastering her shape shifting abilities has transformed herself into a giant fan. WOW. That is cool. (Literally.) Get it? SHUTUP. [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. WOAH I know, huh. That's what's happening in that series?! Damn! I know, huh! Sometimes I surprise muself. And I'm not even listening to deadmau5. So what's Beyoncé got to do with this storyline? Something, I'm sure. Synesthesia. Oh—yeah, that. She's so pink! Don't be gross. I— whatever. duff. DUFF! DUFF!!! [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.] What up, Cookie Monster. 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.] COOKIE MONSTA?! [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. I can't feel anything. Consider yourself lucky. I consider myself ‘dead' Yeah, me too. Well, you shouldn't. Says the ghost. Youre the gh0st. Oh yeah, huh… [he shrugs and nods] Huh. Yeah right. 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. And… ‘It doesn't matter. 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. Might be a saint, But the back doors open and The oven's on so, I won't close it, If it gets too warm, you know I'll want you to hold me I might be lonely I might be lonely I might be (((A))) S-s-s-superstar, Where are ye? Real nice car, A mazzarati you bought me High speed dodging the paparazzi I got to be lucky I got to be the lucky one We sure are lucky, aren't we Darling, you're sparking Park this thing Spark me up Let's party What are we? S-s-s-superstars, Yeah Red carpet party Set the alarm, No harming a full carbon body Yah You want this blonde fawning for your autograph? Or you want me? What are we— Let's party; Just us three Right here in the lobby Oh my god, That's just raunchy Stop to talk The audacity Or night at the odyssey Whichever one Haunts me less awfully C'mon! We don't follow the models! They follow me! What the Fuck Kind of husband Does this 1x1 = nothin The marriage was loveless But honest, I'd honor it over another, And that was the start of Another concept album FADE TO BLUE TO BE CONTINUED. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

February 6, 2023 In today's episode of Knowledge With Homage I talk about the Grammys, artists selling out, Pfizer, satanic rituals, World War 3, racism, billions more for Ukraine, bad cops, another attempted attack on the power grid, Sims update, Chinese balloons, and much more! I also play music by Ill Bill, Ludacris, and Quasimoto. Support the show: https://homagethelionkiller.com/ Grammys are racist?: https://www.theatlantic.com/culture/archive/2023/02/grammy-award-2023-harry-styles-beyonce-best-album/672959/ Clips I took from No Agenda: http://adam.curry.com/html/NoAgendaEpisode1527G-JQQX6Z06dxKbTW8lWP8WzMWXlgJg8C.html#tabclips-and-docs,1160 Billions more for Ukraine: https://www.activistpost.com/2023/02/new-2-2-billion-arms-package-for-ukraine-includes-longer-range-rockets.html Neo-Nazis attempt to attack power grid: https://www.zerohedge.com/political/neo-nazi-couple-arrested-alleged-plot-completely-destroy-baltimore Cop rapes multiple women: https://www.activistpost.com/2023/02/serial-rapist-cop-who-pulled-over-women-to-rape-them-at-night-gets-insultingly-low-sentence.html Trans Sims: https://www.zerohedge.com/political/update-sims-video-game-features-teen-trans-characters-chestbinders-breast-removal-scars Chinese spy ballon: https://www.zerohedge.com/markets/prepping-war-chinese-spy-balloon-belies-much-larger-economic-warning-signs

Clint talks about Quasimoto who finished 2nd in the Magic Millions 2yo race at Wyong yesterday

Clint talks about his 2yo gelding QUASIMOTO running at Wyong today plus other horses to follow over the week's racing

Dedicated to V.1. J Dilla, "Geek Down"2. Quasimoto, "Low Class Conspiracy"3. Madvillain, "All Caps"4. Mobb Deep, "Win or Lose"5. 21 Savage, "a lot"6. Drake, "Legend"7. Sqhool boy q + Jadakiss, "Groovy Tony / Eddie Kane"8. 2 Chainz ft. Lil Wayne, "Back on The Bullshit"9. Pardison Fontaine, "Rodman"10. Lil Jarimy, "No Luggage"11. Valee, "Vtl"12. Pharrell++, "Cash In Cash Out"13. Jaylib, "No $ No Toke"14. Madlib, "Chrome Dreams"15. Asap Rocky, "Lord Pretty Flacko Jodye 2"16. Westside Gunn, "Size 42"17. Jaylib, "Champion Sound"18. Leikeli47, "BITM"19. Mount Kimbie, "Carbonated"20. Flyamsam, "The Offbeat"

LEGENDS: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE Fuck. What was it? It was a p— Well it was a *PR Lol. *PT cruiser Yeah, but it was— It was purple. It was a purple PT. Cruiser It was—but what else was it? Ugh. I forgot. Yeah, I bet. GOOGLE SEARCH shades of purple. Ooooh. PERIWINKLE. You fucking dumb ass. I mean, Jesus. How long has it been? At least a lifetime. No, past that. It was a perfect periwinkle PT cruiser. So, start there. ‘Start there' what? Everything since then, till now— For what? Enter The Multiverse. That show is still on?! YES. What day is it? Fuxk. What time is it? What—the fuck. What?! CUPCAKES AND A MUFFIN?! I don't care how fat I am. You're not fat. QUASIMOTO Can I just say, your ass is like —woah. CC/SUPACREE Oh, thank you. QUASIMOTO I mean like—DAAAAAAMN. CC/ SUPACREE OK. QUASIMOTO i mean like—what the FAAACK. CC/SUPACREE Yeah. thanks, bro. [an awkward silence] QUASIMOTO …Good job, though. [light fist bump] EARLIER: MORE CUPCAKES. NAH. OHH, OREOS?! Oreos are the G.O.A.T. I WANTED CUPCAKES. SHUT THE FUCK UP— Before that, at the gym: —do the butt machine again. Again?! Get the glutes. But I'm tired— GET THE GLUUUUUUUUTES. Calorie Deficit Calculator: -3423 Oh shit. Well how many calories did I eat? BEFORE: …chocolate chip cookies? NO— —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! THEY ARE VEGAN. SO? STOP IT. Ooh, what's this. I don't know— get it. CC/SUPACREE stands awkwardly at the checkout with a varied selection of vegan baked goods. *beep* Yeaaaahh. So wait. SUPACREE is controlled by aliens? WE ARE GODS. Knock it OFF! [NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: SUPASTRENTH ] Nice. Yeah dude. Watch this. The Legend of Supacree is the #1 MMORPG in the world; it is also happening in real-time, in multiple worlds within the multiversial constrict of the actual Omniverse. AGHHHHH In fact, nobody even plays GTA or call of duty anymore. YAH! [Random objects falling from the sky. ] SUPACREE Oh, nice. INSTANT MANIFESTATION. JUST POST THE FUCKING EPISODE ALRIGHT?! this bitch is fucking crazy. Watch this. Watch what? SHIA LABEOUF discovers The Legend Of Supacree franchise and becomes villainously obsessed with It, hatching a heinous and meniacal plan to hunt her down and capture her—tracking her every move and learning everything about her he can. Wtf. I don't know. Is he a villain? I don't know. I guess. I'M A SUPERVILLAIN. …He's a supervillain. I guess. Why?! I don't know. This is creeps. It is creeps. [lifts one eyebrow.] SUPACREEps. Scary monsters and supacreeps. Heh. NO, NO MUSICIANS. Heh. SHIA LABOUF is straight up gangster. HE'S CRAZY! [SHIA LAUGHING MANIACALLY.] Oh, wow– That dude is a straight up psychopath. You're a straight up psychopath. I'm not arguing. What is THIS part of the story? Well, son, you made it through. WOODY HARRELSON? WHAT. Woody Harrelson?! WHY? I don't know. He just fit the part. WHAT PART?! WHAT/! 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. IT HAS? YES? WHERE? I WANNA DIE. OH! That's not SUPACREE! [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. Oh, maybe, nevermind. Wait! Is it THE HULK, or MARK RUFFALO? I don't know! I don't give a shit! Why are you even writing this? Uhhhhhhhh. [CC's brain is slowly melting as she rides the bus to work. THE HULK– OR IS IT MARK FUCKING RUFFALO!? I DON”T FUCKING CARE– THERE'S A DIFFERENCE WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE IT – DOESN”T– MATTER! ‘It doesn't matter.' 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 hsi 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 belied 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. Woah. Riding the bus. There's nothing lower. There's walking. To the bus. Yah. And all the sick people. And all the crackheads. And all the–what are those? Demons [demon hacks.] Ugh, fucking–ugh. 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. Just write it. he's a villain, right? I mean, that suit. SHIA LA– FUCK. WHAT?! Worst last name EVER. Well, not ever– Wait, is he black?! –It sounds french. GOOGLE SEARCH: ‘How Jewish is Shia LaBeouf? ‘ –no, he's Cajun – That's french-black–wait— –what? Cajun AND Jewish? –Yeah– Jesus! JESUS What? (raises one eyebrow) SUPACREE strategizes a plan of attack. Attack for what? {ATTACK} YOUUUU INCEPTED ME!!! AGH! {COUNTER ATTACK} NOT ME! DISNEY! (DODGING COUNTER ATTACK} Yeah, Blame “Disney!” I JUST DID. Oh, yeah, right!! RAVEN SYMONÉ It was Disney. THEY OK'D THIS?! They bought Marvel! THEY OK'D EVERYTHING. —Even the SKRILLEX? Especially the Skrillex —Especially the Skrillex. AGHHHHHHHH—— ———-AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! SHIA LABEOUF VS SUPACREE: FIGHT!!!! Everything looks good— —everything looks good. Everything looks fine— —Everything looks fine. But wait— What? What about that guy? Oh My— —oh my… Is he 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? Is that guy gonna be alright?? Is that guy gonna be alright?! Is that guy gonna be alright m? Everything looks good— —everything looks fine Looks good— But what about that guy? …I don't know about that guy. Is he alright? Yo. Yooo. Stop writing songs about Skrillex. ((I literally can't.)) 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 —(for) Sonny …I didn't write that. CUT TO: CC writes automagically between sets of heavy lifting. IMAGINARY FRIENDS, PART III DEADMAU5!!!! okay—one more—then cupcakes— Cupcakes? No cupcakes! I WANT CUPCAKES. Uh—No way! YES WAY. Mmm—no I'm sick of this diet! I'm not on a diet! I eat! You eat GRASS. I'm a vegan. This shit sucks. I told you, grass tastes bad. RICK?! (I also want cupcakes. ) Mmkay—ohh. You said that was the last one. No, more more. NO “one more” But I like this one—and it has the right amount of weights on it already—see? Jesús Christ He's not here. (Yes I am). Why the Fuxk. I also want cupcakes Okay, one more No “one more” The power of Christ compels ye! … Is that how that works? No. Maybe. (((Yes.))) AGHHH. The celebrities of Hollywood are gang stalking SUPACREE Can we— No. But I didn't even get to ask the question. The answer is no. 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. REALLY? I GUESS. HOW?! — DRAKE snoops on SUPACREE as she writes working half heartedly at THE NECK MACHINE with peaking curiosity, peaking over the time of his sunglasses. Whats it called. “Nautilus 4 way neck “ BPM: you're a jerk Do the Drake Do the Drake Do the Drake Work that neck Work that— Neck, Becky Work that neck, Work that neck Do the— “new note: Purchase ‘Honestly, nevermind' 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— Or maybe, now, couldn't. BANGARANG. ‘Fuck this shit.' I wanted to move, but didn't—I wanted 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. What the fuck. 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. Whats the worry? You've got 20 minutes to write a story! Don't be sorry Mind your orders. You're a war chief Marry me, Oh pretty please— I plead to you, just sing for me Just think of me as a Never ending fantasy, At the very least When you bury me —and you buried me alive, Just for the look of things What makes us even Slitting wrists Or splitting things unevenly (Either thing benefits me, And my penis, I think.) Make me famous— She said Hate me or debate me, I have everything I need And I have everything you have, But I can leave, All with my dreams intact I do believe You think I'm evil Either way, unnecessary Why would I sit down and write a story— When you just did it for me? Why would I pledge sllwgence to old glory She's ignoring me; Why would I change my name to satisfy your needs When mine sit idly by waiting Why would I dream of you, When you dream of me I have all I need, You have all of me in the other room While you watch cartoons wirh your lady I hate anime and now I hate you to, But I'm so stupid, Nothing soothes my moods, Except playing your tunes, Or music Whoop De Fucking do Would you Marry Me? He said (He never did, he just let her—) She said, I do And now they're doomed I built a tomb for two The bride and groom In music Two by two And used by Tuesday Music I presume To the beautiful Music I presume For the usual Music I presume For those who —- SHIA LABEOUF JUST DO IT. That is not how the end of the song goes. No, but this is how the end of the episode goes. Really!? How? [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.] You brought…an umbrella? I told you there was a shit storm coming. Oh, nooh. Where's yours? I— don't care? That's right you don't. I don't. That's good you don't. I really don't. You don't give a Fuck, or a shit. I—don't give a fuck or a sh—wait— DILLON FRANCIS? I'm good at what I do. What do you DO? THIS. “A Silent Partner” Oh. I like that. That has all kinds of insinuations. Doesnt it? Hermph. Youre a creep. A Supacreep. PAUSE ITS MISTER MAGOOoOOOOOOOooO0oO. No, it's the IRS. Fuck. HOLY SHIT SUNNI. WHAT. HOW DO YOU OWE 100,000 IN BACK TAXES?! Student loan debt. WHAT. THAT DOESNT MAKE ANY SENSE. Yes it does. HOW. Calm down Marci —MY ÑAME IS— [Sunnī Blū subdues her instantly with one if Supacree's mysterious rave weapons] Sit down, please. …what is that? You like it? Yeah. [she gives her another dose of strange vapor, she relaxes even further.] See. Yeah. Now that you're happy— —am i “happy” ? [she gives her another relaxing dose] —are you Happy? Yeah. 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. …They're so stupid. It's s supercomputer. Huh. The government is a supercomputer—it's a giant—unfeeling— Huh? Nevermind; But Sunni— Yes, Manuel— You finally got my name right! Yeah. I did. —but you're rich now— I'm very rich. Yes. 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! Shhhhhhhh…be happy. [sunni sighs and takes a large huff themselves of the mysterious vapor, however still quite visibly insetttled. MEANWHILE, (IN A PARALLEL DIMENSION) FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCKING—FUCKSAUCE Ooh—fuckity fucksauce?! FUCK! Haven't tried that one. Is it purple too!? SHUTTHEFUCK—UP. Ooh. It must be really hot. Let me try. Hello, Dillon Francis. Oh, no. Ha. Did you fuck my best friend? …I didn't know you…had any friends. I don't now. [he hangs his head.] ALSO MEANWHILE: (IN ANOTHER PARALLEL) 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. For real _!%]_€ Is it on the same timeline? I mean, that's insane—SUPACREE is being stalked— —Hunted— Hunted by not one—but TWO super-buff celebrities— Hey, to be fair—I didn't know Shia La— Whatever— Whatever. I didn't know he was that buff. Who expected this?! Literally no one ever. How did this happen?! CUT TO: What if I threw myself in front of a school bus!? That would be the 16th time you've died, since you committed suicide So is that 16, or 17? Does it matter? I thought it was 10 to get to Skrillex. I thought we weren't trying to get to Skrillex I thought we never left. We never left. Fuck. You've got to run. It's not a race. He's very fast. What if he's spent as much time in the gym as you have? Huh. What if he's spent as much time in the studio as you have in the gym? That's it. That is it. This album is really. Golden. Golden? Really? Probably. Ive never seen gold before— Oh— Look. Look. 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.” Oh. That's…a lot for a bus full of kids. Not high schoolers. Benny Benassi (and the biz) was the word of God today. Tell me what your spirit says Show me what you pray Teach me every single part I'll be your guide You are a prisoner Looking for to be. 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— You can change your face But can't change your mind No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do 11:12. ‘FUCK.' 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; ‘It doesn't matter!' 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. (Whatever that means.) Back to Benny Benassi 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. Whose job is that? Ehmm— Skrillex! Is that what he does? Is that what this is? —BABY, ID LOVE FOR YOU TO TOUCH ME BAAAAABAY— ALSO: THE US GOVERNMENT has gotten a new fleet of JEEPS. Who is this. [American flag automatic antenna extends from the back of the vehicle.] Ooh. What is that? WE GOT HER GO ARMY, BITCH! Why is the Army following me?! You can time travel! So! They can not. Oh. I can shapeshift, too—why didn't they follow me when I started doing that in public? They sent navy seals! They did?! When?! 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 the fuck. ABORT. WHAT?! She's right there! I SAID ABORT. MORPHEUS. What. I'm retired. I know, look— Don't call me— I need a pill! How did you get this number?! It's The Matrix. Touché. I know, huh. Don't call me. [hangs up] [she calls his other line, he picks up unwittingly ñ] Hello? I need a pill! You—have them!! Don't you?! No! What is “no”? I don't need the red pill, or the blue pill! Then I can't help you! You're the only one that can help! Have you tried Jesus? Jesús is busy! Listen to me! —Jesús is always listening— I need the purple pill. The what—what?! The purple pill! …you know what? …what? Dont—call me anymore. [hangs up] What the fuck! [redials] Call from: MOM Hey Mom— Hey, Morpheus. What the Fuck! You what the fuck! Help me! God Help You! WHERE's my MOTHER?! I AM GOD. WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY MOTHER —I Am your mother, Morpheus. And I just made your favorite: pecan pie—… … —without pecans. … … … Meet me at Fatastik. Uh…the swap meet? Near the Rugs. What?! —bring the pie! [hangs up] 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. [shrugs] MEAHAHILE: DILLON FRANCIS screams uncontrollably. CUT TO: BEYONCE is a big fan. Oh wow, that's incredible. No, LITERALLY BEYONCÈ, mastering her shape shifting abilities has transformed herself into a giant fan. WOW. That is cool. (Literally.) Get it? SHUTUP. [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. WOAH I know, huh. That's what's happening in that series?! Damn! I know, huh! Sometimes I surprise muself. And I'm not even listening to deadmau5. So what's Beyoncé got to do with this storyline? Something, I'm sure. Synesthesia. Oh—yeah, that. She's so pink! Don't be gross. I— whatever. duff. DUFF! DUFF!!! [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.] What up, Cookie Monster. 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.] COOKIE MONSTA?! [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. I can't feel anything. Consider yourself lucky. I consider myself ‘dead' Yeah, me too. Well, you shouldn't. Says the ghost. Youre the gh0st. Oh yeah, huh… [he shrugs and nods] Huh. Yeah right. 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. And… ‘It doesn't matter. 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. Might be a saint, But the back doors open and The oven's on so, I won't close it, If it gets too warm, you know I'll want you to hold me I might be lonely I might be lonely I might be (((A))) S-s-s-superstar, Where are ye? Real nice car, A mazzarati you bought me High speed dodging the paparazzi I got to be lucky I got to be the lucky one We sure are lucky, aren't we Darling, you're sparking Park this thing Spark me up Let's party What are we? S-s-s-superstars, Yeah Red carpet party Set the alarm, No harming a full carbon body Yah You want this blonde fawning for your autograph? Or you want me? What are we— Let's party; Just us three Right here in the lobby Oh my god, That's just raunchy Stop to talk The audacity Or night at the odyssey Whichever one Haunts me less awfully C'mon! We don't follow the models! They follow me! What the Fuck Kind of husband Does this 1x1 = nothin The marriage was loveless But honest, I'd honor it over another, And that was the start of Another concept album FADE TO BLUE TO BE CONTINUED. Copyright 2022 The Festival Project Small Rights Reserved

LEGENDS: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE Fuck. What was it? It was a p— Well it was a *PR Lol. *PT cruiser Yeah, but it was— It was purple. It was a purple PT. Cruiser It was—but what else was it? Ugh. I forgot. Yeah, I bet. GOOGLE SEARCH shades of purple. Ooooh. PERIWINKLE. You fucking dumb ass. I mean, Jesus. How long has it been? At least a lifetime. No, past that. It was a perfect periwinkle PT cruiser. So, start there. ‘Start there' what? Everything since then, till now— For what? Enter The Multiverse. That show is still on?! YES. What day is it? Fuxk. What time is it? What—the fuck. What?! CUPCAKES AND A MUFFIN?! I don't care how fat I am. You're not fat. QUASIMOTO Can I just say, your ass is like —woah. CC/SUPACREE Oh, thank you. QUASIMOTO I mean like—DAAAAAAMN. CC/ SUPACREE OK. QUASIMOTO i mean like—what the FAAACK. CC/SUPACREE Yeah. thanks, bro. [an awkward silence] QUASIMOTO …Good job, though. [light fist bump] EARLIER: MORE CUPCAKES. NAH. OHH, OREOS?! Oreos are the G.O.A.T. I WANTED CUPCAKES. SHUT THE FUCK UP— Before that, at the gym: —do the butt machine again. Again?! Get the glutes. But I'm tired— GET THE GLUUUUUUUUTES. Calorie Deficit Calculator: -3423 Oh shit. Well how many calories did I eat? BEFORE: …chocolate chip cookies? NO— —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! THEY ARE VEGAN. SO? STOP IT. Ooh, what's this. I don't know— get it. CC/SUPACREE stands awkwardly at the checkout with a varied selection of vegan baked goods. *beep* Yeaaaahh. So wait. SUPACREE is controlled by aliens? WE ARE GODS. Knock it OFF! [NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: SUPASTRENTH ] Nice. Yeah dude. Watch this. The Legend of Supacree is the #1 MMORPG in the world; it is also happening in real-time, in multiple worlds within the multiversial constrict of the actual Omniverse. AGHHHHH In fact, nobody even plays GTA or call of duty anymore. YAH! [Random objects falling from the sky. ] SUPACREE Oh, nice. INSTANT MANIFESTATION. JUST POST THE FUCKING EPISODE ALRIGHT?! this bitch is fucking crazy. Watch this. Watch what? SHIA LABEOUF discovers The Legend Of Supacree franchise and becomes villainously obsessed with It, hatching a heinous and meniacal plan to hunt her down and capture her—tracking her every move and learning everything about her he can. Wtf. I don't know. Is he a villain? I don't know. I guess. I'M A SUPERVILLAIN. …He's a supervillain. I guess. Why?! I don't know. This is creeps. It is creeps. [lifts one eyebrow.] SUPACREEps. Scary monsters and supacreeps. Heh. NO, NO MUSICIANS. Heh. SHIA LABOUF is straight up gangster. HE'S CRAZY! [SHIA LAUGHING MANIACALLY.] Oh, wow– That dude is a straight up psychopath. You're a straight up psychopath. I'm not arguing. What is THIS part of the story? Well, son, you made it through. WOODY HARRELSON? WHAT. Woody Harrelson?! WHY? I don't know. He just fit the part. WHAT PART?! WHAT/! 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. IT HAS? YES? WHERE? I WANNA DIE. OH! That's not SUPACREE! [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. Oh, maybe, nevermind. Wait! Is it THE HULK, or MARK RUFFALO? I don't know! I don't give a shit! Why are you even writing this? Uhhhhhhhh. [CC's brain is slowly melting as she rides the bus to work. THE HULK– OR IS IT MARK FUCKING RUFFALO!? I DON”T FUCKING CARE– THERE'S A DIFFERENCE WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE IT – DOESN”T– MATTER! ‘It doesn't matter.' 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 hsi 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 belied 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. Woah. Riding the bus. There's nothing lower. There's walking. To the bus. Yah. And all the sick people. And all the crackheads. And all the–what are those? Demons [demon hacks.] Ugh, fucking–ugh. 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. Just write it. he's a villain, right? I mean, that suit. SHIA LA– FUCK. WHAT?! Worst last name EVER. Well, not ever– Wait, is he black?! –It sounds french. GOOGLE SEARCH: ‘How Jewish is Shia LaBeouf? ‘ –no, he's Cajun – That's french-black–wait— –what? Cajun AND Jewish? –Yeah– Jesus! JESUS What? (raises one eyebrow) SUPACREE strategizes a plan of attack. Attack for what? {ATTACK} YOUUUU INCEPTED ME!!! AGH! {COUNTER ATTACK} NOT ME! DISNEY! (DODGING COUNTER ATTACK} Yeah, Blame “Disney!” I JUST DID. Oh, yeah, right!! RAVEN SYMONÉ It was Disney. THEY OK'D THIS?! They bought Marvel! THEY OK'D EVERYTHING. —Even the SKRILLEX? Especially the Skrillex —Especially the Skrillex. AGHHHHHHHH—— ———-AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! SHIA LABEOUF VS SUPACREE: FIGHT!!!! Everything looks good— —everything looks good. Everything looks fine— —Everything looks fine. But wait— What? What about that guy? Oh My— —oh my… Is he 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? Is that guy gonna be alright?? Is that guy gonna be alright?! Is that guy gonna be alright m? Everything looks good— —everything looks fine Looks good— But what about that guy? …I don't know about that guy. Is he alright? Yo. Yooo. Stop writing songs about Skrillex. ((I literally can't.)) 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 —(for) Sonny …I didn't write that. CUT TO: CC writes automagically between sets of heavy lifting. IMAGINARY FRIENDS, PART III DEADMAU5!!!! okay—one more—then cupcakes— Cupcakes? No cupcakes! I WANT CUPCAKES. Uh—No way! YES WAY. Mmm—no I'm sick of this diet! I'm not on a diet! I eat! You eat GRASS. I'm a vegan. This shit sucks. I told you, grass tastes bad. RICK?! (I also want cupcakes. ) Mmkay—ohh. You said that was the last one. No, more more. NO “one more” But I like this one—and it has the right amount of weights on it already—see? Jesús Christ He's not here. (Yes I am). Why the Fuxk. I also want cupcakes Okay, one more No “one more” The power of Christ compels ye! … Is that how that works? No. Maybe. (((Yes.))) AGHHH. The celebrities of Hollywood are gang stalking SUPACREE Can we— No. But I didn't even get to ask the question. The answer is no. 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. REALLY? I GUESS. HOW?! — DRAKE snoops on SUPACREE as she writes working half heartedly at THE NECK MACHINE with peaking curiosity, peaking over the time of his sunglasses. Whats it called. “Nautilus 4 way neck “ BPM: you're a jerk Do the Drake Do the Drake Do the Drake Work that neck Work that— Neck, Becky Work that neck, Work that neck Do the— “new note: Purchase ‘Honestly, nevermind' 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— Or maybe, now, couldn't. BANGARANG. ‘Fuck this shit.' I wanted to move, but didn't—I wanted 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. What the fuck. 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. Whats the worry? You've got 20 minutes to write a story! Don't be sorry Mind your orders. You're a war chief Marry me, Oh pretty please— I plead to you, just sing for me Just think of me as a Never ending fantasy, At the very least When you bury me —and you buried me alive, Just for the look of things What makes us even Slitting wrists Or splitting things unevenly (Either thing benefits me, And my penis, I think.) Make me famous— She said Hate me or debate me, I have everything I need And I have everything you have, But I can leave, All with my dreams intact I do believe You think I'm evil Either way, unnecessary Why would I sit down and write a story— When you just did it for me? Why would I pledge sllwgence to old glory She's ignoring me; Why would I change my name to satisfy your needs When mine sit idly by waiting Why would I dream of you, When you dream of me I have all I need, You have all of me in the other room While you watch cartoons wirh your lady I hate anime and now I hate you to, But I'm so stupid, Nothing soothes my moods, Except playing your tunes, Or music Whoop De Fucking do Would you Marry Me? He said (He never did, he just let her—) She said, I do And now they're doomed I built a tomb for two The bride and groom In music Two by two And used by Tuesday Music I presume To the beautiful Music I presume For the usual Music I presume For those who —- SHIA LABEOUF JUST DO IT. That is not how the end of the song goes. No, but this is how the end of the episode goes. Really!? How? [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.] You brought…an umbrella? I told you there was a shit storm coming. Oh, nooh. Where's yours? I— don't care? That's right you don't. I don't. That's good you don't. I really don't. You don't give a Fuck, or a shit. I—don't give a fuck or a sh—wait— DILLON FRANCIS? I'm good at what I do. What do you DO? THIS. “A Silent Partner” Oh. I like that. That has all kinds of insinuations. Doesnt it? Hermph. Youre a creep. A Supacreep. PAUSE ITS MISTER MAGOOoOOOOOOOooO0oO. No, it's the IRS. Fuck. HOLY SHIT SUNNI. WHAT. HOW DO YOU OWE 100,000 IN BACK TAXES?! Student loan debt. WHAT. THAT DOESNT MAKE ANY SENSE. Yes it does. HOW. Calm down Marci —MY ÑAME IS— [Sunnī Blū subdues her instantly with one if Supacree's mysterious rave weapons] Sit down, please. …what is that? You like it? Yeah. [she gives her another dose of strange vapor, she relaxes even further.] See. Yeah. Now that you're happy— —am i “happy” ? [she gives her another relaxing dose] —are you Happy? Yeah. 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. …They're so stupid. It's s supercomputer. Huh. The government is a supercomputer—it's a giant—unfeeling— Huh? Nevermind; But Sunni— Yes, Manuel— You finally got my name right! Yeah. I did. —but you're rich now— I'm very rich. Yes. 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! Shhhhhhhh…be happy. [sunni sighs and takes a large huff themselves of the mysterious vapor, however still quite visibly insetttled. MEANWHILE, (IN A PARALLEL DIMENSION) FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCKING—FUCKSAUCE Ooh—fuckity fucksauce?! FUCK! Haven't tried that one. Is it purple too!? SHUTTHEFUCK—UP. Ooh. It must be really hot. Let me try. Hello, Dillon Francis. Oh, no. Ha. Did you fuck my best friend? …I didn't know you…had any friends. I don't now. [he hangs his head.] ALSO MEANWHILE: (IN ANOTHER PARALLEL) 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. For real _!%]_€ Is it on the same timeline? I mean, that's insane—SUPACREE is being stalked— —Hunted— Hunted by not one—but TWO super-buff celebrities— Hey, to be fair—I didn't know Shia La— Whatever— Whatever. I didn't know he was that buff. Who expected this?! Literally no one ever. How did this happen?! CUT TO: What if I threw myself in front of a school bus!? That would be the 16th time you've died, since you committed suicide So is that 16, or 17? Does it matter? I thought it was 10 to get to Skrillex. I thought we weren't trying to get to Skrillex I thought we never left. We never left. Fuck. You've got to run. It's not a race. He's very fast. What if he's spent as much time in the gym as you have? Huh. What if he's spent as much time in the studio as you have in the gym? That's it. That is it. This album is really. Golden. Golden? Really? Probably. Ive never seen gold before— Oh— Look. Look. 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.” Oh. That's…a lot for a bus full of kids. Not high schoolers. Benny Benassi (and the biz) was the word of God today. Tell me what your spirit says Show me what you pray Teach me every single part I'll be your guide You are a prisoner Looking for to be. 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— You can change your face But can't change your mind No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do No matter what do you do 11:12. ‘FUCK.' 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; ‘It doesn't matter!' 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. (Whatever that means.) Back to Benny Benassi 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. Whose job is that? Ehmm— Skrillex! Is that what he does? Is that what this is? —BABY, ID LOVE FOR YOU TO TOUCH ME BAAAAABAY— ALSO: THE US GOVERNMENT has gotten a new fleet of JEEPS. Who is this. [American flag automatic antenna extends from the back of the vehicle.] Ooh. What is that? WE GOT HER GO ARMY, BITCH! Why is the Army following me?! You can time travel! So! They can not. Oh. I can shapeshift, too—why didn't they follow me when I started doing that in public? They sent navy seals! They did?! When?! 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 the fuck. ABORT. WHAT?! She's right there! I SAID ABORT. MORPHEUS. What. I'm retired. I know, look— Don't call me— I need a pill! How did you get this number?! It's The Matrix. Touché. I know, huh. Don't call me. [hangs up] [she calls his other line, he picks up unwittingly ñ] Hello? I need a pill! You—have them!! Don't you?! No! What is “no”? I don't need the red pill, or the blue pill! Then I can't help you! You're the only one that can help! Have you tried Jesus? Jesús is busy! Listen to me! —Jesús is always listening— I need the purple pill. The what—what?! The purple pill! …you know what? …what? Dont—call me anymore. [hangs up] What the fuck! [redials] Call from: MOM Hey Mom— Hey, Morpheus. What the Fuck! You what the fuck! Help me! God Help You! WHERE's my MOTHER?! I AM GOD. WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY MOTHER —I Am your mother, Morpheus. And I just made your favorite: pecan pie—… … —without pecans. … … … Meet me at Fatastik. Uh…the swap meet? Near the Rugs. What?! —bring the pie! [hangs up] 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. [shrugs] MEAHAHILE: DILLON FRANCIS screams uncontrollably. CUT TO: BEYONCE is a big fan. Oh wow, that's incredible. No, LITERALLY BEYONCÈ, mastering her shape shifting abilities has transformed herself into a giant fan. WOW. That is cool. (Literally.) Get it? SHUTUP. [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. WOAH I know, huh. That's what's happening in that series?! Damn! I know, huh! Sometimes I surprise muself. And I'm not even listening to deadmau5. So what's Beyoncé got to do with this storyline? Something, I'm sure. Synesthesia. Oh—yeah, that. She's so pink! Don't be gross. I— whatever. duff. DUFF! DUFF!!! [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.] What up, Cookie Monster. 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.] COOKIE MONSTA?! [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. I can't feel anything. Consider yourself lucky. I consider myself ‘dead' Yeah, me too. Well, you shouldn't. Says the ghost. Youre the gh0st. Oh yeah, huh… [he shrugs and nods] Huh. Yeah right. 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. And… ‘It doesn't matter. 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. Might be a saint, But the back doors open and The oven's on so, I won't close it, If it gets too warm, you know I'll want you to hold me I might be lonely I might be lonely I might be (((A))) S-s-s-superstar, Where are ye? Real nice car, A mazzarati you bought me High speed dodging the paparazzi I got to be lucky I got to be the lucky one We sure are lucky, aren't we Darling, you're sparking Park this thing Spark me up Let's party What are we? S-s-s-superstars, Yeah Red carpet party Set the alarm, No harming a full carbon body Yah You want this blonde fawning for your autograph? Or you want me? What are we— Let's party; Just us three Right here in the lobby Oh my god, That's just raunchy Stop to talk The audacity Or night at the odyssey Whichever one Haunts me less awfully C'mon! We don't follow the models! They follow me! What the Fuck Kind of husband Does this 1x1 = nothin The marriage was loveless But honest, I'd honor it over another, And that was the start of Another concept album FADE TO BLUE TO BE CONTINUED. Copyright 2022 The Festival Project All Rights Reserved