Podcasts about uhh

The story of Siegfried and Roy is coming to Apple TV+ in a limited series - starring Jude Law and Andrew Garfield! Vinnie's daughter attended her first dance. Taylor Swift has officially been subpoenaed by Justin Baldoni's lawyers - maybe they'll let her Zoom in. If you steal a piece of cake and have an allergic reaction, could it possibly be anyone's fault but your own? And how many bridesmaids is too many? Uhh… 95.

*sneezes* W-WEGMANS! Gazuntite. I'm not gonna lie, if I lived closer to this place I'd be there all the time. Whole Foods Trader Joe's Wegmans. Honestly? Ranked? Trader Joe's Wegmans Wegmans. lol. Whole Foods is a necessary evil. {Enter The Multiverse} No, I want the half Can't go all the way Enough is enough And a hand is a hand And a handout is ransom, Spare me the note Spare me the selfish suicide concepts Spare me the alter The coaxial The collar The caller— Whatever you call me Spare me the mantras Stop talking. Long throat violence, Oh, I onkybhope to know you (Or I don't) I only hope to notice m Oh long Johnson Quick sermons and a few soft passwords A couple ardvsrks on a long top showman A couple bad barks from the dog And work for the foreman Who are you after (Not god) Have been forgiven? Is fhat a question. I marked it as such And still j walked up The lock in the bathtub did honors Did honors Did run today Who are you for Not the office Not the John Not the forerunner Oe the forward Who are you, god talker? Who are you Was often the question asked And you want to do all you want Home alone The devil runs From behind her nothing soft Anymore Awkward And then unearthed I saw you were watched, stalking Also Pulled back on my reigns, the horse Does bit the bite down And then some soaked offer Was Half you are, where Wear the volume down Wear your art hard Or suffer, Gaga! GAGA WHERE ARE YOU? LADY GAGA I'M ON A HORSE target GAGA! LADY GAGA I'M ON A HORSE, I SAID. BUT WHERE?! NEAR ENOUGH THET YOU CAN HEAR ME, LIKE, OBVIOUSLY, BUT FAR ENOUGH AWAY THAT YOU CAN'T SEE ME ON A HORSE. ARE YOU COMING?! NEGATIVE. WELL— WHY NOT?! THE HORSE WONT MOVE! JUMP OFF THEN. IMPOSSIBLE. WHY IS JUMPING OFF A HORSE IMPOSSIBLE WHEN YOURE LADY GAGA ITS BECAUSE I'M LADY GAGA THAT THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR MULTIPLE REASONS WHAT— JUMP OFF OF THE— NEGATIVE. THERE ARE MULTIPLE FACTORS CONTRIBUTING TO THIS IMPOSSIBILITY. WHY ARE THEY YELLING. Omg shut up 2 bit horse jumper Target Target Stalker Stalker Obi wan kanobi! Sheeeeeeer forces! What is this? Bad cheerleaders. WHY ARE WE YELLING?! Oh. We're fighting. Oh, that makes sense, What kind of fighting. Sword— unh— FIGHTING. Oh, okay. Why is lady Gaga on a horse?! Cause she's just like that sometimes. *shrugs, but on a horse— obviously dressed elaborately enough that yes, jumping off of the horse would be practically LADY GAGA No, completely. —Completely impossible. I wanna watch you eat spicy hot wings. In a sweater. But I left handed magic to Can't- that Cancelled I hope it was cashmere Or Calvin Klein I'll retract, Meditate and then Redact that Maybe Fantasize Glamourize that for a lifetime Pull the knife out of my back, And then sample it. I wanna watch you eat hotwings. That's—- What I want. GAGA. PLEASE! LADY GAGA I'm sorry— he's not moving. THIS IS URGENT. LADY GAGA I know it's urgent. My lack of yelling does not negate that it isn't, but. BUT WHAT? *yawns* I'm getting sleepy. [LADY GAGA falls asleep atop the horse; only then does the horse begin to move, however— it appears as though GAGA is now completely unconscious. But those shoes. Egad. Bro. lol. Why is this? I'm… my writers blocks are not fun, practical, or progressive. They're just. [LADY GAGA fights and defeats an entire battle completely unconscious atop a horse.] Isn't technically the horse… fighting. No, and I'll explain to you why. Omgz *spoiler* [lady Gaga IS the horse] Why. What the fuck. Fuck these shapeshifters. Fuck everything right now. What the fuck did I just watch. WHAT DID I JUST SEEEEEEEEEE Dedede…fleetleum, fleetleflum… “Fleedleflum?” Ahem!? Dude, you are a villain. WHAT, BECAUSE I SAID “FLEETLEFLUM” *fleedleflum AHEM! I SETH MEYERS is revealed as the villain… Again. WHAT! WHY! I THOUGHT I WAS THE VILLAIN. you said you didn't want it! THEN I ADJUSTED. Well, too late. WHAT. Nice. Hehe. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK! I WENT METHOD. A-for effort, I guess? WHATEVER A-FOR-EFFORT. I JUST COMMITTED A LOT OF EVIL SHIT For what FOR THEATRICAL AND ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES. Well. “WELL?” Like what. Like— Tax Fraud. Ahem. Nice. [beat] Seth, you got the part. Yesssss! Booyah. Maybe you can take some method lessons and pointers from your friend here— Salt of the earth! — Mr. Evil tax fraud man. RYAN REYNOLDS *deflates* Later. Where are you going? I'm going to do Pilates. Because I'm rich. (Everyone just kind of nods in agreement.) L E G E N D S STEPHEN COLBERT runs at full speed down the street towards the house at which his formerly youthful self “recently” disappeared during a thunderstorm. Oh look. It's little Stevie! You recognize me?! OF COURSE I DO! You're the big hotshot anchorman on TV, but I remember… I don't have—time— Suddenly, he sees it— the radio tower which apparently transported him into this, a distant future, but also a remarkably odd parallel of reality which seems to have been sprung from his own timeline. Where is this going? We'll see. Apparently, I'm reanimated; Certain parts just don't work, I'm factory reset And radiated Aggrandized to carry out this task And then cease to be A zombie, if you will A corpse responding to light energy inside of me So when I leave, I'm not sleeping I'm decomposing Deteriorating I stay hydrated to keep my eyes involved In the light almost as if The illusion is existence— However, I know better It's simply a simulation I mutated against my better judgement Just for this focus Aspirations as if Aggressions could be achiviments At any rate A talking head Who are you? Done for now. Who are you! Done for now. Who are you? A far cry Dust in the wind, And I'm sure so for aure That the places I've been Are more often television location sequences Than not. Aha, who are you? The plot. Then who are I? A handsome damsel. Hark. But not to wake, I form again To dream of you And then Cease to be, My honor, So that may I call To wish a gasp upon a cantered breath, I scream to wake And then you, a glisten, Never to count time I waking, Them as sheep, And she who calls I— There, the canter, And there I wake to know I, Call I, My bare and lay truth So that There waking, calls I now The scream of shadow Mercy, yonder But not waiting, I cherish To bark. …. …. Wt— Now I could see how my energy was moving; I had to write as much as I could before my media update. Intentional brainwash. Suddenly, it all made me so nervous. Programming. Then again, It didn't matter, really, in the end. 6 hours. There was nothing more daunting Than the approaching courier for Whole Foods market And Instacart simultaneously because it meant Somehow, That I had an album coming out. Eagle eye, And to say the brown soul May go extinct Eagle eye Give me a bite of your Adam's Apple I want to taste you I want to know fortune Through the glory of love In the wonder of your arms I want to know nothing but Love in your eyes And in your mind, My heart MAYA RUDOLPH I feel weird. FRED … ARMISEN This is getting intense. That's probably it. AMY POEH—LER No. AMY PH— No. OF COURSE IT IS. ITS SUPPOSED TO BE. why are you yelling? IM NOT YELLING. I'M SPEAKING IN CAPITAL LETTERS. TINA FEY …there's a difference! RACHEL WITH A ‘T'? Maybe DRATCH YEAH there IS. Okay, where are we going with this? Shh. Not yet. I AM PRINCESS SHAMALAMADINGDONG. WHY? It's sketch comedy. Does it HAVE to have motive? You're right— but it at least has to have a plot. Meanwhile… SETH MEYERS'S wand has been stolen. Hey. Yes? There was..a… ??? There was a, like a— like a — ?? There was like, a number two pencil here. …there still is. No, like a very— like, a specific— There's— a bunch of them here. No— Just like always. No, it's. [Blank stares] N—nevermind. Wait— What's up. 1, 2, 3, 4– who am I forgetting? ARSENIO HALL Not yet, Arsenio; We're still on strike force 5! Where's Jimmy Kimmel! Meanwhile, in Jimmy Kimmel's lair. JIMMY KIMMEL (MWAHAHA MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH) Uh. Wow. Yeah. Okay. For Shits and giggles— Oma goash. Waw. Yah. I knuh. Just waw. Uhh… Idk. The weird SNL sketches all apparently have their own time— AANG APPA, YIP YIP! APPA FUCK OFF— WOAH. OKAY. Yeah, not everything should be live action. Seconded. — lines…. Ahem. Waw. Srsly. However, this live action magic school bus. [SCHOOL BUS CARAPULTING TOWADS FIREY DEMISE WITH NO POSSIBLE RESOLVE IN SIGHT]. *doom* Wild. Why. Yoooooo. The world needed that. Anyway. JIMMY KIMMEL MWAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA GUILLERMO JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJJAJAJAJAJJAJAJAJAJAJA JIMMY KIMMEL MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA GUELLERMO Wait— —is that his name? Maybe. I might just be racist. Well, it's not Carlos. U MEANWHILE, ALSO, ON WISTERIA LANE GABBI CARLOS! GET BACK HERE! Damn. How are these people still at it? Apparently wer're in TV WORLD. Ahem. It's TV LAND. No, it's {Enter The Multiverse} AHEM. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2025 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. [REDACTED]

*sneezes* W-WEGMANS! Gazuntite. I'm not gonna lie, if I lived closer to this place I'd be there all the time. Whole Foods Trader Joe's Wegmans. Honestly? Ranked? Trader Joe's Wegmans Wegmans. lol. Whole Foods is a necessary evil. {Enter The Multiverse} No, I want the half Can't go all the way Enough is enough And a hand is a hand And a handout is ransom, Spare me the note Spare me the selfish suicide concepts Spare me the alter The coaxial The collar The caller— Whatever you call me Spare me the mantras Stop talking. Long throat violence, Oh, I onkybhope to know you (Or I don't) I only hope to notice m Oh long Johnson Quick sermons and a few soft passwords A couple ardvsrks on a long top showman A couple bad barks from the dog And work for the foreman Who are you after (Not god) Have been forgiven? Is fhat a question. I marked it as such And still j walked up The lock in the bathtub did honors Did honors Did run today Who are you for Not the office Not the John Not the forerunner Oe the forward Who are you, god talker? Who are you Was often the question asked And you want to do all you want Home alone The devil runs From behind her nothing soft Anymore Awkward And then unearthed I saw you were watched, stalking Also Pulled back on my reigns, the horse Does bit the bite down And then some soaked offer Was Half you are, where Wear the volume down Wear your art hard Or suffer, Gaga! GAGA WHERE ARE YOU? LADY GAGA I'M ON A HORSE target GAGA! LADY GAGA I'M ON A HORSE, I SAID. BUT WHERE?! NEAR ENOUGH THET YOU CAN HEAR ME, LIKE, OBVIOUSLY, BUT FAR ENOUGH AWAY THAT YOU CAN'T SEE ME ON A HORSE. ARE YOU COMING?! NEGATIVE. WELL— WHY NOT?! THE HORSE WONT MOVE! JUMP OFF THEN. IMPOSSIBLE. WHY IS JUMPING OFF A HORSE IMPOSSIBLE WHEN YOURE LADY GAGA ITS BECAUSE I'M LADY GAGA THAT THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR MULTIPLE REASONS WHAT— JUMP OFF OF THE— NEGATIVE. THERE ARE MULTIPLE FACTORS CONTRIBUTING TO THIS IMPOSSIBILITY. WHY ARE THEY YELLING. Omg shut up 2 bit horse jumper Target Target Stalker Stalker Obi wan kanobi! Sheeeeeeer forces! What is this? Bad cheerleaders. WHY ARE WE YELLING?! Oh. We're fighting. Oh, that makes sense, What kind of fighting. Sword— unh— FIGHTING. Oh, okay. Why is lady Gaga on a horse?! Cause she's just like that sometimes. *shrugs, but on a horse— obviously dressed elaborately enough that yes, jumping off of the horse would be practically LADY GAGA No, completely. —Completely impossible. I wanna watch you eat spicy hot wings. In a sweater. But I left handed magic to Can't- that Cancelled I hope it was cashmere Or Calvin Klein I'll retract, Meditate and then Redact that Maybe Fantasize Glamourize that for a lifetime Pull the knife out of my back, And then sample it. I wanna watch you eat hotwings. That's—- What I want. GAGA. PLEASE! LADY GAGA I'm sorry— he's not moving. THIS IS URGENT. LADY GAGA I know it's urgent. My lack of yelling does not negate that it isn't, but. BUT WHAT? *yawns* I'm getting sleepy. [LADY GAGA falls asleep atop the horse; only then does the horse begin to move, however— it appears as though GAGA is now completely unconscious. But those shoes. Egad. Bro. lol. Why is this? I'm… my writers blocks are not fun, practical, or progressive. They're just. [LADY GAGA fights and defeats an entire battle completely unconscious atop a horse.] Isn't technically the horse… fighting. No, and I'll explain to you why. Omgz *spoiler* [lady Gaga IS the horse] Why. What the fuck. Fuck these shapeshifters. Fuck everything right now. What the fuck did I just watch. WHAT DID I JUST SEEEEEEEEEE Dedede…fleetleum, fleetleflum… “Fleedleflum?” Ahem!? Dude, you are a villain. WHAT, BECAUSE I SAID “FLEETLEFLUM” *fleedleflum AHEM! I SETH MEYERS is revealed as the villain… Again. WHAT! WHY! I THOUGHT I WAS THE VILLAIN. you said you didn't want it! THEN I ADJUSTED. Well, too late. WHAT. Nice. Hehe. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK! I WENT METHOD. A-for effort, I guess? WHATEVER A-FOR-EFFORT. I JUST COMMITTED A LOT OF EVIL SHIT For what FOR THEATRICAL AND ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES. Well. “WELL?” Like what. Like— Tax Fraud. Ahem. Nice. [beat] Seth, you got the part. Yesssss! Booyah. Maybe you can take some method lessons and pointers from your friend here— Salt of the earth! — Mr. Evil tax fraud man. RYAN REYNOLDS *deflates* Later. Where are you going? I'm going to do Pilates. Because I'm rich. (Everyone just kind of nods in agreement.) L E G E N D S STEPHEN COLBERT runs at full speed down the street towards the house at which his formerly youthful self “recently” disappeared during a thunderstorm. Oh look. It's little Stevie! You recognize me?! OF COURSE I DO! You're the big hotshot anchorman on TV, but I remember… I don't have—time— Suddenly, he sees it— the radio tower which apparently transported him into this, a distant future, but also a remarkably odd parallel of reality which seems to have been sprung from his own timeline. Where is this going? We'll see. Apparently, I'm reanimated; Certain parts just don't work, I'm factory reset And radiated Aggrandized to carry out this task And then cease to be A zombie, if you will A corpse responding to light energy inside of me So when I leave, I'm not sleeping I'm decomposing Deteriorating I stay hydrated to keep my eyes involved In the light almost as if The illusion is existence— However, I know better It's simply a simulation I mutated against my better judgement Just for this focus Aspirations as if Aggressions could be achiviments At any rate A talking head Who are you? Done for now. Who are you! Done for now. Who are you? A far cry Dust in the wind, And I'm sure so for aure That the places I've been Are more often television location sequences Than not. Aha, who are you? The plot. Then who are I? A handsome damsel. Hark. But not to wake, I form again To dream of you And then Cease to be, My honor, So that may I call To wish a gasp upon a cantered breath, I scream to wake And then you, a glisten, Never to count time I waking, Them as sheep, And she who calls I— There, the canter, And there I wake to know I, Call I, My bare and lay truth So that There waking, calls I now The scream of shadow Mercy, yonder But not waiting, I cherish To bark. …. …. Wt— Now I could see how my energy was moving; I had to write as much as I could before my media update. Intentional brainwash. Suddenly, it all made me so nervous. Programming. Then again, It didn't matter, really, in the end. 6 hours. There was nothing more daunting Than the approaching courier for Whole Foods market And Instacart simultaneously because it meant Somehow, That I had an album coming out. Eagle eye, And to say the brown soul May go extinct Eagle eye Give me a bite of your Adam's Apple I want to taste you I want to know fortune Through the glory of love In the wonder of your arms I want to know nothing but Love in your eyes And in your mind, My heart MAYA RUDOLPH I feel weird. FRED … ARMISEN This is getting intense. That's probably it. AMY POEH—LER No. AMY PH— No. OF COURSE IT IS. ITS SUPPOSED TO BE. why are you yelling? IM NOT YELLING. I'M SPEAKING IN CAPITAL LETTERS. TINA FEY …there's a difference! RACHEL WITH A ‘T'? Maybe DRATCH YEAH there IS. Okay, where are we going with this? Shh. Not yet. I AM PRINCESS SHAMALAMADINGDONG. WHY? It's sketch comedy. Does it HAVE to have motive? You're right— but it at least has to have a plot. Meanwhile… SETH MEYERS'S wand has been stolen. Hey. Yes? There was..a… ??? There was a, like a— like a — ?? There was like, a number two pencil here. …there still is. No, like a very— like, a specific— There's— a bunch of them here. No— Just like always. No, it's. [Blank stares] N—nevermind. Wait— What's up. 1, 2, 3, 4– who am I forgetting? ARSENIO HALL Not yet, Arsenio; We're still on strike force 5! Where's Jimmy Kimmel! Meanwhile, in Jimmy Kimmel's lair. JIMMY KIMMEL (MWAHAHA MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH) Uh. Wow. Yeah. Okay. For Shits and giggles— Oma goash. Waw. Yah. I knuh. Just waw. Uhh… Idk. The weird SNL sketches all apparently have their own time— AANG APPA, YIP YIP! APPA FUCK OFF— WOAH. OKAY. Yeah, not everything should be live action. Seconded. — lines…. Ahem. Waw. Srsly. However, this live action magic school bus. [SCHOOL BUS CARAPULTING TOWADS FIREY DEMISE WITH NO POSSIBLE RESOLVE IN SIGHT]. *doom* Wild. Why. Yoooooo. The world needed that. Anyway. JIMMY KIMMEL MWAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA GUILLERMO JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJAJJAJAJAJAJJAJAJAJAJAJA JIMMY KIMMEL MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA GUELLERMO Wait— —is that his name? Maybe. I might just be racist. Well, it's not Carlos. U MEANWHILE, ALSO, ON WISTERIA LANE GABBI CARLOS! GET BACK HERE! Damn. How are these people still at it? Apparently wer're in TV WORLD. Ahem. It's TV LAND. No, it's {Enter The Multiverse} AHEM. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2025 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. [REDACTED]

They weren't going to hire me for EDC anyway1- not based off of that mix! But it had been a long week, and a long day, and of all the excuses in the world o had to make, the greatest excuse was this: it just wasn't my best mix( I simply wasn't ready. In fact, my entry was more like a spoof— I hadn't any pictures on my laptop and instead included a photo of my logo; my entry included a bio that was short and direct, vague and said more about my invisible cat than I did me. I didn't include a soundcloud, because I didn't have one, and when it came down to it, I wasn't a fan of the mix; it didn't sound as well as I knew I could do, or even as good as some of my past entries. I was going off the top of my head, with no tracks analyzed to sync—which meant I was wasting valuable playtime selecting tracks, and pitchyhingbthen manually to be exact, which made my mix not sound like me at all. I sounded like an amatur/- and with this being my first on-camera appearance, I certainly was an amatuer. The top of the line technology was foreign to me— and I knew EDC was at a loss; I hadn't handed in my best work or even looked my best, not understanding how fat the camera would make me look. Still, I hadn't even given them the video, and with every bit of my might leading up to the very deadline, I still made a ridiculous effort to hand in something— because it was some thing. I was already on somebody's radar in the DJ world for a very long time— this was my way of showing I was still doing as much as I could to actually catch up to speed with the kids, the hot girl DJ's, and the prostitots who at least could figure out how to analyze and sync their pre-recorded sets and press play on time. My set was janky, and it made it look like I couldn't even do that. But I could. As I had learned by spending that amount of time at the decks, I had actually become quite the technical DJ— little use of effects by choice means that I had precision focused in speed and ability— how many tracks can I get up and down and to stay in line? It was harder than ever without the ability to use sync at all, but I was learning by hand a skill enough DJ's didn't have to make it a skill worth having. Then, there was more I needed not just to learn, but for it to become second nature. For it to be easy to do not just in a room myself, but potentially in front of hundreds and thousands of people. I didn't want to be the average disc jokey. I wanted to play EDC— and not on a little controller on a side stage at 3:30 PM; I was sure I would one day start there, but this year was a wash. I had been thrown off by trying and failing to record the mixed I needed to enter the contest on my birthday and then all that accumulated in the pressure of anxiety, disappointment, and movements I hadn't made in months under the circumstances— for about four days in a row it seemed unlikely that it would happen at all, and when it did, it was at the very last moment, at the literal deadline, with a mix I wasn't particularly proud of and a track which was technically unreleased without using “unlicensed content”— I had selected it in hopes that the judge of the contest, SLANDER might hear something from it. A bass music DJ— and this was bass music, however, with somewhat outdated samples and a rare and very unique technique, I would hope that someone would listen to the track before the mix— and hear something special in it. It was a special song, at least to me— but these people were hard to impress to say the least, still I wanted to at least be on the radar, and I had an Insomniac tattoo that pleaded with me at times to just do whatever it takes. Besides, they had opened up another contest, which meant I had four tracks to present in total— three more tracks and three more mixes, and I was determined that with each passing day I would do better. For now, I was recovering from being out in New York on a rolling basis; my collected self confidence and poise from isolation had dwindled into the rotting core of depression of just being “just another poor black girl in Brooklyn” not an identity I wore on me at all times, but something like a badge that was placed on me by location, and the color of my skin. I hated my apartment, and I hated everything about my circumstances— because it separated me from the other DJs and producers. I wasn't safe, supported, popular, pretty, or well-to-do— and I didn't have the access to thentechnology on a whim, through a friend, or with privelege. Everything I did in the DJ world was a fight, a push, a breakthrough from a world that had no such luxuries— and for the most part, what wasn't going into my music, was going into my mouth. When I wasn't excersising, I was working, and when I wasn't working, I still was. I spent my time writing, and reading, and there was no such thing as a waste of time when I was learning about my predecessors— J.K. Rowling, George Lucas, and even Jim Henson, who I'd learned had made the very first muppet from scratch and by hand! Besides the play on words, I wasn't just a DJ; I was a writer, and a filmmaker, and I was trying to figure out how somehow also I was this strange puppeteer man, coming to the conclusion with the fact that I was also sort of always just obsessed with TV and wanted something to do with it. But I was stamping my foot, and heavily— I didn't just want to be an actor! I didn't just want to be a comedian. And certainly, because it sometimes seemed as if anybody could do it and with the sync button and pre-recorded mixes in mind, any bikini clad hot girl or basic bitch Chad boy could and were very most often DJs—I certainly did not want to nor did I have the choice of being just a DJ, or JUST a producer— because it seemed nothing made sense without being any of the others. But the problem remained that I was still not making any money from anything really worthwhile, and I was sick of subsisting, with the limited choices I had for nutrition and vitamins because of my government subsidies; the foods I wanted were out of reach— the energy sustaining, clean and organically sourced best foods and vitamins were just simply unavailable to people with food stamps, and even on the days I should have felt happiest, I became depressed. How was I going to escape the system— and why was no strawberry flavored vegan protein available to people on EBT?! I was almost a comedian, but lately too depressed to perform. All I wanted was my music world to be real— and it was real— I was doing just about as much as anyone else in the industry was, despite my limitations, and just not getting paid for it. My neighbors banged on the walls when I played music and slammed doors even even I didn't— and when I sang or rapped it sounded like they were slamming things around like they were throwing tantrums and fits. It might have been easy to look past if I were inebriated in some sort of way like most rappers, singers, and performers— but I was stone cold sober. Even in ear plugs, I heard every slam, every bang, every boom— and not to mention the motorcycles and the rest of the idiots outside. It seemed like I was being trapped by an energy that just simply never wanted me to make the best music I knew I could make, and so the best music I knew I could make wasn't going to be in this place. But how would I escape it? IT STARTS NOW. Agh. I promised myself that on my next Instacart subscription I would brush up on my Saturday a Night Live and whatever Which included but wasn't exactly limited to— Seth Meyers, 30 Rock, And almost dreadedly The Tonight Show, starring . Oh look. There he is. What was that dude's name again? Fixed it, You're welcome. What was wrong with it. Just needed some adjustments. Uhh. Wow, I never saw that before. A very strange man has appears to have affixed a giant pair of television antennas to his oddly specific television-shaped house. Hm. Aha, I see… I told you before, Marty. I don't like you hanging out with that old man. He is— — he's strange, Marty! He's strange, Well, maybe I'm strange. I don't think so! Remember this? LORRAINE points at a picture on the refrigerator; Her son, MARTY is clean cut, smiling and well dressed— almost the opposite of his newly adopted Whatever, I just got bored. But mom, he's a genius! Genius my patatootie! Let's not— [The Festival Project ™] Ugh, Mom! —say, “patootie” alright? Especially when I'm watching TV! I can say patootie all I want, especially if it's my patootie! Eww, mom!! Patatootie, patootie, patootie! Alright. I only got two weeks to learn everything I can about Saturday night Live… For whatever reason. WHY! I don't know. WHY! I don't know. WHYYYYYYYYYY?! I don't know, Kenan, shut the fuck up! Woah woah woah. Hold the phone. KENAN cries out into the universe inconsolably about his newly entirely totaled Beamer. KEL can't seem to console him, but doesn't really try. He seems preoccupied with twisting up the perfect blunt, licking it from the sidewalk as KENAN, hunched over the crumpled hood and completely totaled vehicle cries out once more, WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?! There appears to have been a hit-and-run. L E G E N D S Earlier: Well, for… Wait who did I write Flowers for? Bill Hader. That's right. I never found Bill Hader. I was trying to avoid— Oh look, a penny. Aurumph. —oddly enough, I also promised myself a Rick and Morty marathon. Oh, that's right; it was Was I right? I can bet. CHRIS PARNELL seems to have awakened from a very deep sleep. As he lie on his back in the middle of the floor in an unknown room, the location becomes familiar ; he appears to be at Rockerfeller Center— however, not in a usual setting. PARNELL Oh, Jesus Christ… I don't know how I had him and sudakis mixed up. I don't even think they were on the same cast. Also, explain to me why. EXPLAIN TO ME WHY THIS DUDE: [Apparently Rob Riggle] SHOT ME. Shot— yo, wait. And you said— I'm waiting. He was wearing some kind of cloak . A cloak of invisibility. Everything was hidden besides— whatever he was drinking. He was drinking something . Yes, that is correct, apparently! “Apparently” Apparently! “Apparently” Do you remember what he was drinking. Ah, yes. I remember exactly…apparently. Apparently? Yes, exactly—apparently. It appeared to be a strawberry milkshake. A—a strawberry milkshake . A strawberry milkshake! Exactly! Not apparently? Exactly, apparently! Alright… thanks. -_- Now, where were we with the actual celebrities ! I thought this was a Star-studded cast! We are star studded. Where are they then. The who?! The stars ! The what! The people! You said this movie had real star power! It does! Where! Right here, see ?! At some point I had seen all I thought that I could of one man's price — The thing to pay in response to one great, cosmic ask; And then, like nothing ; I dissappeared, and went away with it all, into my cavern, trapped like a madman; To know so much and yet, nothing at all. Shh. K. Take this. *sighs, but almost silently* Shh. *sighs even more deeply, but even more silently* The Legend of Ascencia Yo. Yo what. Yo what the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. It's Skrillex. No, I'm not. Dont tell me— Idiot . You look confused. Do it again. I am— confused. Mortals. Where's deadmau5. I'm not playing deadmau5; These speakers are loud. Play the deadmau5 No, not that. There is it. Aha. See, I found it. —noo. That's better. I'll take it from here. From where. I don't see anything. I don't feel. I don't know anything. I don't say. I lost focus. I go home drunk. I think I called the wrong number. I think I caught a cold on the tour bus. I think I brought the whole road back with me. I think I got more starstruck not watching. I think I ran out of luck— On a four leaf clover. I think I woke up to Conan at Four in the morning Like “top of the morning to ya” And it was too much It was too much. It was too much. Smile. Camera one Camera 3 Run a mile Smile Admire on in 1, 2– Why are we counting up? Somehow my whole world backwards Backend, black tights, Black dress That's right But I don't like rice and my fritters is fried I am fried I am High I guess High I guess High I guess High I guess Hi, I guess. I like his eyes, I guess. Starting to cry I guess, Will ferrel is wild, I guess But why Don't look at the thigh meat I'm high as a kite I guess I just smiled and sung my goodbyes And just stopped trying to try I guess I wasted all my good years On a poor fat boy I wasted all my goo ears on bad songs that Still blow my mind Subliminal messages And as high as I am I still see tides, I guess Whole worlds of oceans and Starting to fly, I guess Yess I'm a bird Fuck this bird All I wanted was water A kite I guess Look, mom, I still cry I guess I digest life by the light and the smiles I get Almost none of them, Retreat to the forest Where I don't see none of them To go downstairs, No hair No make up Ugly girl Black girl Broke girl New York Going downstairs Undressed, Not made up Ugly girl Black girl Nappy girl Fat girl New York Scowl like you mean it Scowl like you mean it Nobody loves be because I'm not famous And no, I don't want you Because you're not famous And no, I don't want you Because you got famous And now I don't want you Because you're too famous Yes Do wah diddy Down by the boardwalk Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2018-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.™

They weren't going to hire me for EDC anyway1- not based off of that mix! But it had been a long week, and a long day, and of all the excuses in the world o had to make, the greatest excuse was this: it just wasn't my best mix( I simply wasn't ready. In fact, my entry was more like a spoof— I hadn't any pictures on my laptop and instead included a photo of my logo; my entry included a bio that was short and direct, vague and said more about my invisible cat than I did me. I didn't include a soundcloud, because I didn't have one, and when it came down to it, I wasn't a fan of the mix; it didn't sound as well as I knew I could do, or even as good as some of my past entries. I was going off the top of my head, with no tracks analyzed to sync—which meant I was wasting valuable playtime selecting tracks, and pitchyhingbthen manually to be exact, which made my mix not sound like me at all. I sounded like an amatur/- and with this being my first on-camera appearance, I certainly was an amatuer. The top of the line technology was foreign to me— and I knew EDC was at a loss; I hadn't handed in my best work or even looked my best, not understanding how fat the camera would make me look. Still, I hadn't even given them the video, and with every bit of my might leading up to the very deadline, I still made a ridiculous effort to hand in something— because it was some thing. I was already on somebody's radar in the DJ world for a very long time— this was my way of showing I was still doing as much as I could to actually catch up to speed with the kids, the hot girl DJ's, and the prostitots who at least could figure out how to analyze and sync their pre-recorded sets and press play on time. My set was janky, and it made it look like I couldn't even do that. But I could. As I had learned by spending that amount of time at the decks, I had actually become quite the technical DJ— little use of effects by choice means that I had precision focused in speed and ability— how many tracks can I get up and down and to stay in line? It was harder than ever without the ability to use sync at all, but I was learning by hand a skill enough DJ's didn't have to make it a skill worth having. Then, there was more I needed not just to learn, but for it to become second nature. For it to be easy to do not just in a room myself, but potentially in front of hundreds and thousands of people. I didn't want to be the average disc jokey. I wanted to play EDC— and not on a little controller on a side stage at 3:30 PM; I was sure I would one day start there, but this year was a wash. I had been thrown off by trying and failing to record the mixed I needed to enter the contest on my birthday and then all that accumulated in the pressure of anxiety, disappointment, and movements I hadn't made in months under the circumstances— for about four days in a row it seemed unlikely that it would happen at all, and when it did, it was at the very last moment, at the literal deadline, with a mix I wasn't particularly proud of and a track which was technically unreleased without using “unlicensed content”— I had selected it in hopes that the judge of the contest, SLANDER might hear something from it. A bass music DJ— and this was bass music, however, with somewhat outdated samples and a rare and very unique technique, I would hope that someone would listen to the track before the mix— and hear something special in it. It was a special song, at least to me— but these people were hard to impress to say the least, still I wanted to at least be on the radar, and I had an Insomniac tattoo that pleaded with me at times to just do whatever it takes. Besides, they had opened up another contest, which meant I had four tracks to present in total— three more tracks and three more mixes, and I was determined that with each passing day I would do better. For now, I was recovering from being out in New York on a rolling basis; my collected self confidence and poise from isolation had dwindled into the rotting core of depression of just being “just another poor black girl in Brooklyn” not an identity I wore on me at all times, but something like a badge that was placed on me by location, and the color of my skin. I hated my apartment, and I hated everything about my circumstances— because it separated me from the other DJs and producers. I wasn't safe, supported, popular, pretty, or well-to-do— and I didn't have the access to thentechnology on a whim, through a friend, or with privelege. Everything I did in the DJ world was a fight, a push, a breakthrough from a world that had no such luxuries— and for the most part, what wasn't going into my music, was going into my mouth. When I wasn't excersising, I was working, and when I wasn't working, I still was. I spent my time writing, and reading, and there was no such thing as a waste of time when I was learning about my predecessors— J.K. Rowling, George Lucas, and even Jim Henson, who I'd learned had made the very first muppet from scratch and by hand! Besides the play on words, I wasn't just a DJ; I was a writer, and a filmmaker, and I was trying to figure out how somehow also I was this strange puppeteer man, coming to the conclusion with the fact that I was also sort of always just obsessed with TV and wanted something to do with it. But I was stamping my foot, and heavily— I didn't just want to be an actor! I didn't just want to be a comedian. And certainly, because it sometimes seemed as if anybody could do it and with the sync button and pre-recorded mixes in mind, any bikini clad hot girl or basic bitch Chad boy could and were very most often DJs—I certainly did not want to nor did I have the choice of being just a DJ, or JUST a producer— because it seemed nothing made sense without being any of the others. But the problem remained that I was still not making any money from anything really worthwhile, and I was sick of subsisting, with the limited choices I had for nutrition and vitamins because of my government subsidies; the foods I wanted were out of reach— the energy sustaining, clean and organically sourced best foods and vitamins were just simply unavailable to people with food stamps, and even on the days I should have felt happiest, I became depressed. How was I going to escape the system— and why was no strawberry flavored vegan protein available to people on EBT?! I was almost a comedian, but lately too depressed to perform. All I wanted was my music world to be real— and it was real— I was doing just about as much as anyone else in the industry was, despite my limitations, and just not getting paid for it. My neighbors banged on the walls when I played music and slammed doors even even I didn't— and when I sang or rapped it sounded like they were slamming things around like they were throwing tantrums and fits. It might have been easy to look past if I were inebriated in some sort of way like most rappers, singers, and performers— but I was stone cold sober. Even in ear plugs, I heard every slam, every bang, every boom— and not to mention the motorcycles and the rest of the idiots outside. It seemed like I was being trapped by an energy that just simply never wanted me to make the best music I knew I could make, and so the best music I knew I could make wasn't going to be in this place. But how would I escape it? IT STARTS NOW. Agh. I promised myself that on my next Instacart subscription I would brush up on my Saturday a Night Live and whatever Which included but wasn't exactly limited to— Seth Meyers, 30 Rock, And almost dreadedly The Tonight Show, starring . Oh look. There he is. What was that dude's name again? Fixed it, You're welcome. What was wrong with it. Just needed some adjustments. Uhh. Wow, I never saw that before. A very strange man has appears to have affixed a giant pair of television antennas to his oddly specific television-shaped house. Hm. Aha, I see… I told you before, Marty. I don't like you hanging out with that old man. He is— — he's strange, Marty! He's strange, Well, maybe I'm strange. I don't think so! Remember this? LORRAINE points at a picture on the refrigerator; Her son, MARTY is clean cut, smiling and well dressed— almost the opposite of his newly adopted Whatever, I just got bored. But mom, he's a genius! Genius my patatootie! Let's not— [The Festival Project ™] Ugh, Mom! —say, “patootie” alright? Especially when I'm watching TV! I can say patootie all I want, especially if it's my patootie! Eww, mom!! Patatootie, patootie, patootie! Alright. I only got two weeks to learn everything I can about Saturday night Live… For whatever reason. WHY! I don't know. WHY! I don't know. WHYYYYYYYYYY?! I don't know, Kenan, shut the fuck up! Woah woah woah. Hold the phone. KENAN cries out into the universe inconsolably about his newly entirely totaled Beamer. KEL can't seem to console him, but doesn't really try. He seems preoccupied with twisting up the perfect blunt, licking it from the sidewalk as KENAN, hunched over the crumpled hood and completely totaled vehicle cries out once more, WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?! There appears to have been a hit-and-run. L E G E N D S Earlier: Well, for… Wait who did I write Flowers for? Bill Hader. That's right. I never found Bill Hader. I was trying to avoid— Oh look, a penny. Aurumph. —oddly enough, I also promised myself a Rick and Morty marathon. Oh, that's right; it was Was I right? I can bet. CHRIS PARNELL seems to have awakened from a very deep sleep. As he lie on his back in the middle of the floor in an unknown room, the location becomes familiar ; he appears to be at Rockerfeller Center— however, not in a usual setting. PARNELL Oh, Jesus Christ… I don't know how I had him and sudakis mixed up. I don't even think they were on the same cast. Also, explain to me why. EXPLAIN TO ME WHY THIS DUDE: [Apparently Rob Riggle] SHOT ME. Shot— yo, wait. And you said— I'm waiting. He was wearing some kind of cloak . A cloak of invisibility. Everything was hidden besides— whatever he was drinking. He was drinking something . Yes, that is correct, apparently! “Apparently” Apparently! “Apparently” Do you remember what he was drinking. Ah, yes. I remember exactly…apparently. Apparently? Yes, exactly—apparently. It appeared to be a strawberry milkshake. A—a strawberry milkshake . A strawberry milkshake! Exactly! Not apparently? Exactly, apparently! Alright… thanks. -_- Now, where were we with the actual celebrities ! I thought this was a Star-studded cast! We are star studded. Where are they then. The who?! The stars ! The what! The people! You said this movie had real star power! It does! Where! Right here, see ?! At some point I had seen all I thought that I could of one man's price — The thing to pay in response to one great, cosmic ask; And then, like nothing ; I dissappeared, and went away with it all, into my cavern, trapped like a madman; To know so much and yet, nothing at all. Shh. K. Take this. *sighs, but almost silently* Shh. *sighs even more deeply, but even more silently* The Legend of Ascencia Yo. Yo what. Yo what the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. It's Skrillex. No, I'm not. Dont tell me— Idiot . You look confused. Do it again. I am— confused. Mortals. Where's deadmau5. I'm not playing deadmau5; These speakers are loud. Play the deadmau5 No, not that. There is it. Aha. See, I found it. —noo. That's better. I'll take it from here. From where. I don't see anything. I don't feel. I don't know anything. I don't say. I lost focus. I go home drunk. I think I called the wrong number. I think I caught a cold on the tour bus. I think I brought the whole road back with me. I think I got more starstruck not watching. I think I ran out of luck— On a four leaf clover. I think I woke up to Conan at Four in the morning Like “top of the morning to ya” And it was too much It was too much. It was too much. Smile. Camera one Camera 3 Run a mile Smile Admire on in 1, 2– Why are we counting up? Somehow my whole world backwards Backend, black tights, Black dress That's right But I don't like rice and my fritters is fried I am fried I am High I guess High I guess High I guess High I guess Hi, I guess. I like his eyes, I guess. Starting to cry I guess, Will ferrel is wild, I guess But why Don't look at the thigh meat I'm high as a kite I guess I just smiled and sung my goodbyes And just stopped trying to try I guess I wasted all my good years On a poor fat boy I wasted all my goo ears on bad songs that Still blow my mind Subliminal messages And as high as I am I still see tides, I guess Whole worlds of oceans and Starting to fly, I guess Yess I'm a bird Fuck this bird All I wanted was water A kite I guess Look, mom, I still cry I guess I digest life by the light and the smiles I get Almost none of them, Retreat to the forest Where I don't see none of them To go downstairs, No hair No make up Ugly girl Black girl Broke girl New York Going downstairs Undressed, Not made up Ugly girl Black girl Nappy girl Fat girl New York Scowl like you mean it Scowl like you mean it Nobody loves be because I'm not famous And no, I don't want you Because you're not famous And no, I don't want you Because you got famous And now I don't want you Because you're too famous Yes Do wah diddy Down by the boardwalk Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2018-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.™

They weren't going to hire me for EDC anyway1- not based off of that mix! But it had been a long week, and a long day, and of all the excuses in the world o had to make, the greatest excuse was this: it just wasn't my best mix( I simply wasn't ready. In fact, my entry was more like a spoof— I hadn't any pictures on my laptop and instead included a photo of my logo; my entry included a bio that was short and direct, vague and said more about my invisible cat than I did me. I didn't include a soundcloud, because I didn't have one, and when it came down to it, I wasn't a fan of the mix; it didn't sound as well as I knew I could do, or even as good as some of my past entries. I was going off the top of my head, with no tracks analyzed to sync—which meant I was wasting valuable playtime selecting tracks, and pitchyhingbthen manually to be exact, which made my mix not sound like me at all. I sounded like an amatur/- and with this being my first on-camera appearance, I certainly was an amatuer. The top of the line technology was foreign to me— and I knew EDC was at a loss; I hadn't handed in my best work or even looked my best, not understanding how fat the camera would make me look. Still, I hadn't even given them the video, and with every bit of my might leading up to the very deadline, I still made a ridiculous effort to hand in something— because it was some thing. I was already on somebody's radar in the DJ world for a very long time— this was my way of showing I was still doing as much as I could to actually catch up to speed with the kids, the hot girl DJ's, and the prostitots who at least could figure out how to analyze and sync their pre-recorded sets and press play on time. My set was janky, and it made it look like I couldn't even do that. But I could. As I had learned by spending that amount of time at the decks, I had actually become quite the technical DJ— little use of effects by choice means that I had precision focused in speed and ability— how many tracks can I get up and down and to stay in line? It was harder than ever without the ability to use sync at all, but I was learning by hand a skill enough DJ's didn't have to make it a skill worth having. Then, there was more I needed not just to learn, but for it to become second nature. For it to be easy to do not just in a room myself, but potentially in front of hundreds and thousands of people. I didn't want to be the average disc jokey. I wanted to play EDC— and not on a little controller on a side stage at 3:30 PM; I was sure I would one day start there, but this year was a wash. I had been thrown off by trying and failing to record the mixed I needed to enter the contest on my birthday and then all that accumulated in the pressure of anxiety, disappointment, and movements I hadn't made in months under the circumstances— for about four days in a row it seemed unlikely that it would happen at all, and when it did, it was at the very last moment, at the literal deadline, with a mix I wasn't particularly proud of and a track which was technically unreleased without using “unlicensed content”— I had selected it in hopes that the judge of the contest, SLANDER might hear something from it. A bass music DJ— and this was bass music, however, with somewhat outdated samples and a rare and very unique technique, I would hope that someone would listen to the track before the mix— and hear something special in it. It was a special song, at least to me— but these people were hard to impress to say the least, still I wanted to at least be on the radar, and I had an Insomniac tattoo that pleaded with me at times to just do whatever it takes. Besides, they had opened up another contest, which meant I had four tracks to present in total— three more tracks and three more mixes, and I was determined that with each passing day I would do better. For now, I was recovering from being out in New York on a rolling basis; my collected self confidence and poise from isolation had dwindled into the rotting core of depression of just being “just another poor black girl in Brooklyn” not an identity I wore on me at all times, but something like a badge that was placed on me by location, and the color of my skin. I hated my apartment, and I hated everything about my circumstances— because it separated me from the other DJs and producers. I wasn't safe, supported, popular, pretty, or well-to-do— and I didn't have the access to thentechnology on a whim, through a friend, or with privelege. Everything I did in the DJ world was a fight, a push, a breakthrough from a world that had no such luxuries— and for the most part, what wasn't going into my music, was going into my mouth. When I wasn't excersising, I was working, and when I wasn't working, I still was. I spent my time writing, and reading, and there was no such thing as a waste of time when I was learning about my predecessors— J.K. Rowling, George Lucas, and even Jim Henson, who I'd learned had made the very first muppet from scratch and by hand! Besides the play on words, I wasn't just a DJ; I was a writer, and a filmmaker, and I was trying to figure out how somehow also I was this strange puppeteer man, coming to the conclusion with the fact that I was also sort of always just obsessed with TV and wanted something to do with it. But I was stamping my foot, and heavily— I didn't just want to be an actor! I didn't just want to be a comedian. And certainly, because it sometimes seemed as if anybody could do it and with the sync button and pre-recorded mixes in mind, any bikini clad hot girl or basic bitch Chad boy could and were very most often DJs—I certainly did not want to nor did I have the choice of being just a DJ, or JUST a producer— because it seemed nothing made sense without being any of the others. But the problem remained that I was still not making any money from anything really worthwhile, and I was sick of subsisting, with the limited choices I had for nutrition and vitamins because of my government subsidies; the foods I wanted were out of reach— the energy sustaining, clean and organically sourced best foods and vitamins were just simply unavailable to people with food stamps, and even on the days I should have felt happiest, I became depressed. How was I going to escape the system— and why was no strawberry flavored vegan protein available to people on EBT?! I was almost a comedian, but lately too depressed to perform. All I wanted was my music world to be real— and it was real— I was doing just about as much as anyone else in the industry was, despite my limitations, and just not getting paid for it. My neighbors banged on the walls when I played music and slammed doors even even I didn't— and when I sang or rapped it sounded like they were slamming things around like they were throwing tantrums and fits. It might have been easy to look past if I were inebriated in some sort of way like most rappers, singers, and performers— but I was stone cold sober. Even in ear plugs, I heard every slam, every bang, every boom— and not to mention the motorcycles and the rest of the idiots outside. It seemed like I was being trapped by an energy that just simply never wanted me to make the best music I knew I could make, and so the best music I knew I could make wasn't going to be in this place. But how would I escape it? IT STARTS NOW. Agh. I promised myself that on my next Instacart subscription I would brush up on my Saturday a Night Live and whatever Which included but wasn't exactly limited to— Seth Meyers, 30 Rock, And almost dreadedly The Tonight Show, starring . Oh look. There he is. What was that dude's name again? Fixed it, You're welcome. What was wrong with it. Just needed some adjustments. Uhh. Wow, I never saw that before. A very strange man has appears to have affixed a giant pair of television antennas to his oddly specific television-shaped house. Hm. Aha, I see… I told you before, Marty. I don't like you hanging out with that old man. He is— — he's strange, Marty! He's strange, Well, maybe I'm strange. I don't think so! Remember this? LORRAINE points at a picture on the refrigerator; Her son, MARTY is clean cut, smiling and well dressed— almost the opposite of his newly adopted Whatever, I just got bored. But mom, he's a genius! Genius my patatootie! Let's not— [The Festival Project ™] Ugh, Mom! —say, “patootie” alright? Especially when I'm watching TV! I can say patootie all I want, especially if it's my patootie! Eww, mom!! Patatootie, patootie, patootie! Alright. I only got two weeks to learn everything I can about Saturday night Live… For whatever reason. WHY! I don't know. WHY! I don't know. WHYYYYYYYYYY?! I don't know, Kenan, shut the fuck up! Woah woah woah. Hold the phone. KENAN cries out into the universe inconsolably about his newly entirely totaled Beamer. KEL can't seem to console him, but doesn't really try. He seems preoccupied with twisting up the perfect blunt, licking it from the sidewalk as KENAN, hunched over the crumpled hood and completely totaled vehicle cries out once more, WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?! There appears to have been a hit-and-run. L E G E N D S Earlier: Well, for… Wait who did I write Flowers for? Bill Hader. That's right. I never found Bill Hader. I was trying to avoid— Oh look, a penny. Aurumph. —oddly enough, I also promised myself a Rick and Morty marathon. Oh, that's right; it was Was I right? I can bet. CHRIS PARNELL seems to have awakened from a very deep sleep. As he lie on his back in the middle of the floor in an unknown room, the location becomes familiar ; he appears to be at Rockerfeller Center— however, not in a usual setting. PARNELL Oh, Jesus Christ… I don't know how I had him and sudakis mixed up. I don't even think they were on the same cast. Also, explain to me why. EXPLAIN TO ME WHY THIS DUDE: [Apparently Rob Riggle] SHOT ME. Shot— yo, wait. And you said— I'm waiting. He was wearing some kind of cloak . A cloak of invisibility. Everything was hidden besides— whatever he was drinking. He was drinking something . Yes, that is correct, apparently! “Apparently” Apparently! “Apparently” Do you remember what he was drinking. Ah, yes. I remember exactly…apparently. Apparently? Yes, exactly—apparently. It appeared to be a strawberry milkshake. A—a strawberry milkshake . A strawberry milkshake! Exactly! Not apparently? Exactly, apparently! Alright… thanks. -_- Now, where were we with the actual celebrities ! I thought this was a Star-studded cast! We are star studded. Where are they then. The who?! The stars ! The what! The people! You said this movie had real star power! It does! Where! Right here, see ?! At some point I had seen all I thought that I could of one man's price — The thing to pay in response to one great, cosmic ask; And then, like nothing ; I dissappeared, and went away with it all, into my cavern, trapped like a madman; To know so much and yet, nothing at all. Shh. K. Take this. *sighs, but almost silently* Shh. *sighs even more deeply, but even more silently* The Legend of Ascencia Yo. Yo what. Yo what the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. It's Skrillex. No, I'm not. Dont tell me— Idiot . You look confused. Do it again. I am— confused. Mortals. Where's deadmau5. I'm not playing deadmau5; These speakers are loud. Play the deadmau5 No, not that. There is it. Aha. See, I found it. —noo. That's better. I'll take it from here. From where. I don't see anything. I don't feel. I don't know anything. I don't say. I lost focus. I go home drunk. I think I called the wrong number. I think I caught a cold on the tour bus. I think I brought the whole road back with me. I think I got more starstruck not watching. I think I ran out of luck— On a four leaf clover. I think I woke up to Conan at Four in the morning Like “top of the morning to ya” And it was too much It was too much. It was too much. Smile. Camera one Camera 3 Run a mile Smile Admire on in 1, 2– Why are we counting up? Somehow my whole world backwards Backend, black tights, Black dress That's right But I don't like rice and my fritters is fried I am fried I am High I guess High I guess High I guess High I guess Hi, I guess. I like his eyes, I guess. Starting to cry I guess, Will ferrel is wild, I guess But why Don't look at the thigh meat I'm high as a kite I guess I just smiled and sung my goodbyes And just stopped trying to try I guess I wasted all my good years On a poor fat boy I wasted all my goo ears on bad songs that Still blow my mind Subliminal messages And as high as I am I still see tides, I guess Whole worlds of oceans and Starting to fly, I guess Yess I'm a bird Fuck this bird All I wanted was water A kite I guess Look, mom, I still cry I guess I digest life by the light and the smiles I get Almost none of them, Retreat to the forest Where I don't see none of them To go downstairs, No hair No make up Ugly girl Black girl Broke girl New York Going downstairs Undressed, Not made up Ugly girl Black girl Nappy girl Fat girl New York Scowl like you mean it Scowl like you mean it Nobody loves be because I'm not famous And no, I don't want you Because you're not famous And no, I don't want you Because you got famous And now I don't want you Because you're too famous Yes Do wah diddy Down by the boardwalk Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2018-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.™

They weren't going to hire me for EDC anyway1- not based off of that mix! But it had been a long week, and a long day, and of all the excuses in the world o had to make, the greatest excuse was this: it just wasn't my best mix( I simply wasn't ready. In fact, my entry was more like a spoof— I hadn't any pictures on my laptop and instead included a photo of my logo; my entry included a bio that was short and direct, vague and said more about my invisible cat than I did me. I didn't include a soundcloud, because I didn't have one, and when it came down to it, I wasn't a fan of the mix; it didn't sound as well as I knew I could do, or even as good as some of my past entries. I was going off the top of my head, with no tracks analyzed to sync—which meant I was wasting valuable playtime selecting tracks, and pitchyhingbthen manually to be exact, which made my mix not sound like me at all. I sounded like an amatur/- and with this being my first on-camera appearance, I certainly was an amatuer. The top of the line technology was foreign to me— and I knew EDC was at a loss; I hadn't handed in my best work or even looked my best, not understanding how fat the camera would make me look. Still, I hadn't even given them the video, and with every bit of my might leading up to the very deadline, I still made a ridiculous effort to hand in something— because it was some thing. I was already on somebody's radar in the DJ world for a very long time— this was my way of showing I was still doing as much as I could to actually catch up to speed with the kids, the hot girl DJ's, and the prostitots who at least could figure out how to analyze and sync their pre-recorded sets and press play on time. My set was janky, and it made it look like I couldn't even do that. But I could. As I had learned by spending that amount of time at the decks, I had actually become quite the technical DJ— little use of effects by choice means that I had precision focused in speed and ability— how many tracks can I get up and down and to stay in line? It was harder than ever without the ability to use sync at all, but I was learning by hand a skill enough DJ's didn't have to make it a skill worth having. Then, there was more I needed not just to learn, but for it to become second nature. For it to be easy to do not just in a room myself, but potentially in front of hundreds and thousands of people. I didn't want to be the average disc jokey. I wanted to play EDC— and not on a little controller on a side stage at 3:30 PM; I was sure I would one day start there, but this year was a wash. I had been thrown off by trying and failing to record the mixed I needed to enter the contest on my birthday and then all that accumulated in the pressure of anxiety, disappointment, and movements I hadn't made in months under the circumstances— for about four days in a row it seemed unlikely that it would happen at all, and when it did, it was at the very last moment, at the literal deadline, with a mix I wasn't particularly proud of and a track which was technically unreleased without using “unlicensed content”— I had selected it in hopes that the judge of the contest, SLANDER might hear something from it. A bass music DJ— and this was bass music, however, with somewhat outdated samples and a rare and very unique technique, I would hope that someone would listen to the track before the mix— and hear something special in it. It was a special song, at least to me— but these people were hard to impress to say the least, still I wanted to at least be on the radar, and I had an Insomniac tattoo that pleaded with me at times to just do whatever it takes. Besides, they had opened up another contest, which meant I had four tracks to present in total— three more tracks and three more mixes, and I was determined that with each passing day I would do better. For now, I was recovering from being out in New York on a rolling basis; my collected self confidence and poise from isolation had dwindled into the rotting core of depression of just being “just another poor black girl in Brooklyn” not an identity I wore on me at all times, but something like a badge that was placed on me by location, and the color of my skin. I hated my apartment, and I hated everything about my circumstances— because it separated me from the other DJs and producers. I wasn't safe, supported, popular, pretty, or well-to-do— and I didn't have the access to thentechnology on a whim, through a friend, or with privelege. Everything I did in the DJ world was a fight, a push, a breakthrough from a world that had no such luxuries— and for the most part, what wasn't going into my music, was going into my mouth. When I wasn't excersising, I was working, and when I wasn't working, I still was. I spent my time writing, and reading, and there was no such thing as a waste of time when I was learning about my predecessors— J.K. Rowling, George Lucas, and even Jim Henson, who I'd learned had made the very first muppet from scratch and by hand! Besides the play on words, I wasn't just a DJ; I was a writer, and a filmmaker, and I was trying to figure out how somehow also I was this strange puppeteer man, coming to the conclusion with the fact that I was also sort of always just obsessed with TV and wanted something to do with it. But I was stamping my foot, and heavily— I didn't just want to be an actor! I didn't just want to be a comedian. And certainly, because it sometimes seemed as if anybody could do it and with the sync button and pre-recorded mixes in mind, any bikini clad hot girl or basic bitch Chad boy could and were very most often DJs—I certainly did not want to nor did I have the choice of being just a DJ, or JUST a producer— because it seemed nothing made sense without being any of the others. But the problem remained that I was still not making any money from anything really worthwhile, and I was sick of subsisting, with the limited choices I had for nutrition and vitamins because of my government subsidies; the foods I wanted were out of reach— the energy sustaining, clean and organically sourced best foods and vitamins were just simply unavailable to people with food stamps, and even on the days I should have felt happiest, I became depressed. How was I going to escape the system— and why was no strawberry flavored vegan protein available to people on EBT?! I was almost a comedian, but lately too depressed to perform. All I wanted was my music world to be real— and it was real— I was doing just about as much as anyone else in the industry was, despite my limitations, and just not getting paid for it. My neighbors banged on the walls when I played music and slammed doors even even I didn't— and when I sang or rapped it sounded like they were slamming things around like they were throwing tantrums and fits. It might have been easy to look past if I were inebriated in some sort of way like most rappers, singers, and performers— but I was stone cold sober. Even in ear plugs, I heard every slam, every bang, every boom— and not to mention the motorcycles and the rest of the idiots outside. It seemed like I was being trapped by an energy that just simply never wanted me to make the best music I knew I could make, and so the best music I knew I could make wasn't going to be in this place. But how would I escape it? IT STARTS NOW. Agh. I promised myself that on my next Instacart subscription I would brush up on my Saturday a Night Live and whatever Which included but wasn't exactly limited to— Seth Meyers, 30 Rock, And almost dreadedly The Tonight Show, starring . Oh look. There he is. What was that dude's name again? Fixed it, You're welcome. What was wrong with it. Just needed some adjustments. Uhh. Wow, I never saw that before. A very strange man has appears to have affixed a giant pair of television antennas to his oddly specific television-shaped house. Hm. Aha, I see… I told you before, Marty. I don't like you hanging out with that old man. He is— — he's strange, Marty! He's strange, Well, maybe I'm strange. I don't think so! Remember this? LORRAINE points at a picture on the refrigerator; Her son, MARTY is clean cut, smiling and well dressed— almost the opposite of his newly adopted Whatever, I just got bored. But mom, he's a genius! Genius my patatootie! Let's not— [The Festival Project ™] Ugh, Mom! —say, “patootie” alright? Especially when I'm watching TV! I can say patootie all I want, especially if it's my patootie! Eww, mom!! Patatootie, patootie, patootie! Alright. I only got two weeks to learn everything I can about Saturday night Live… For whatever reason. WHY! I don't know. WHY! I don't know. WHYYYYYYYYYY?! I don't know, Kenan, shut the fuck up! Woah woah woah. Hold the phone. KENAN cries out into the universe inconsolably about his newly entirely totaled Beamer. KEL can't seem to console him, but doesn't really try. He seems preoccupied with twisting up the perfect blunt, licking it from the sidewalk as KENAN, hunched over the crumpled hood and completely totaled vehicle cries out once more, WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?! There appears to have been a hit-and-run. L E G E N D S Earlier: Well, for… Wait who did I write Flowers for? Bill Hader. That's right. I never found Bill Hader. I was trying to avoid— Oh look, a penny. Aurumph. —oddly enough, I also promised myself a Rick and Morty marathon. Oh, that's right; it was Was I right? I can bet. CHRIS PARNELL seems to have awakened from a very deep sleep. As he lie on his back in the middle of the floor in an unknown room, the location becomes familiar ; he appears to be at Rockerfeller Center— however, not in a usual setting. PARNELL Oh, Jesus Christ… I don't know how I had him and sudakis mixed up. I don't even think they were on the same cast. Also, explain to me why. EXPLAIN TO ME WHY THIS DUDE: [Apparently Rob Riggle] SHOT ME. Shot— yo, wait. And you said— I'm waiting. He was wearing some kind of cloak . A cloak of invisibility. Everything was hidden besides— whatever he was drinking. He was drinking something . Yes, that is correct, apparently! “Apparently” Apparently! “Apparently” Do you remember what he was drinking. Ah, yes. I remember exactly…apparently. Apparently? Yes, exactly—apparently. It appeared to be a strawberry milkshake. A—a strawberry milkshake . A strawberry milkshake! Exactly! Not apparently? Exactly, apparently! Alright… thanks. -_- Now, where were we with the actual celebrities ! I thought this was a Star-studded cast! We are star studded. Where are they then. The who?! The stars ! The what! The people! You said this movie had real star power! It does! Where! Right here, see ?! At some point I had seen all I thought that I could of one man's price — The thing to pay in response to one great, cosmic ask; And then, like nothing ; I dissappeared, and went away with it all, into my cavern, trapped like a madman; To know so much and yet, nothing at all. Shh. K. Take this. *sighs, but almost silently* Shh. *sighs even more deeply, but even more silently* The Legend of Ascencia Yo. Yo what. Yo what the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. It's Skrillex. No, I'm not. Dont tell me— Idiot . You look confused. Do it again. I am— confused. Mortals. Where's deadmau5. I'm not playing deadmau5; These speakers are loud. Play the deadmau5 No, not that. There is it. Aha. See, I found it. —noo. That's better. I'll take it from here. From where. I don't see anything. I don't feel. I don't know anything. I don't say. I lost focus. I go home drunk. I think I called the wrong number. I think I caught a cold on the tour bus. I think I brought the whole road back with me. I think I got more starstruck not watching. I think I ran out of luck— On a four leaf clover. I think I woke up to Conan at Four in the morning Like “top of the morning to ya” And it was too much It was too much. It was too much. Smile. Camera one Camera 3 Run a mile Smile Admire on in 1, 2– Why are we counting up? Somehow my whole world backwards Backend, black tights, Black dress That's right But I don't like rice and my fritters is fried I am fried I am High I guess High I guess High I guess High I guess Hi, I guess. I like his eyes, I guess. Starting to cry I guess, Will ferrel is wild, I guess But why Don't look at the thigh meat I'm high as a kite I guess I just smiled and sung my goodbyes And just stopped trying to try I guess I wasted all my good years On a poor fat boy I wasted all my goo ears on bad songs that Still blow my mind Subliminal messages And as high as I am I still see tides, I guess Whole worlds of oceans and Starting to fly, I guess Yess I'm a bird Fuck this bird All I wanted was water A kite I guess Look, mom, I still cry I guess I digest life by the light and the smiles I get Almost none of them, Retreat to the forest Where I don't see none of them To go downstairs, No hair No make up Ugly girl Black girl Broke girl New York Going downstairs Undressed, Not made up Ugly girl Black girl Nappy girl Fat girl New York Scowl like you mean it Scowl like you mean it Nobody loves be because I'm not famous And no, I don't want you Because you're not famous And no, I don't want you Because you got famous And now I don't want you Because you're too famous Yes Do wah diddy Down by the boardwalk Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2018-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.™

Wives get to thinking about how life is too short.Based on the works of CoyoteHoward. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Jenny & The Barbeque GatheringIt was the picture of Americana in southwest Idaho.A partly cloudy sky, with more sun than shade. Deep green grass. Horses munching away in the pasture while the kids, whose ages ranged from 2-16, played on the trampoline and playset.The husbands primarily were under the porch overhang, gathered around the grill, while Osvaldo and his 8 year old son Elliot jokingly played corn-hole in the grass.Their wives were on the furniture on the other end of the porch, doing as women do, keeping an eye on the children for the most part and enjoying their own trials and tribulations. Most of which focused on family dramas, future plans and prices for various groceries."Yeah, so what I'd like to do," Brady said, beginning to flip the burgers from the top left, "is kinda what you did, but I'd like to do 4 rails instead."Steve nodded and took a drink of beer from his Payette Brewing Co. bottle. He absentmindedly watched Brady do so, his left thumb tucked into the front pocket of his jeans, shifting his cowboy booted feet to equal distribution instead of one leg being cocked slightly. His slight belly showed his 36 years of age, and while he didn't like it, and wished he could find the consistent motivation to work out, his wife didn't mind, and his shirts still fit, including the plain white t-shirt he wore now."Yeah I don't mind the three, but the three inch- I wish I'd of been able to afford the three and a half," Steve said, shifting the bottle to his left and adjusting his multicam hat on his head, though it needn't be done. His brown, fade cut hair wasn't bothering him, it was more just a habit."You did your fence yourself?" Jeff asked. He was blond, worked out tons and was wearing a polo, cargo shorts and flip flops.Steve nodded, "Yeah the little mustang got out suddenly last year, little shit."The women meanwhile were discussing flowers."I'm so jealous of your little play area Jenny," Hannah said, taking a sip of her soda.She was married to Brady, and three of the tikes running around were hers. She was 36, was 5'7" and 133 pounds. She knew she was attractive, as all the women here were, but her husband appreciated her the most, and that's exactly the way she prefered it.They'd been married for well over 10 years, he was the father of all her babies, and they led a great life."Well it's been a lot of work, but yeah, it's coming together," Jenny said. "We've done a ton of work just to try and keep the weeds away." Her husband was Steve, and as she finished her sentence she looked over at her man.They'd been together the longest of the group of six couples, having been dating since junior year of high school, over 18 years prior. They had the second oldest child there, at 15, and the second youngest as well, a three year old girl.They'd been the ones to leave though, he going into the Army right after high school and finally leaving six years prior, and they'd all reconnected.Steve was still her king though, and she his queen, as they routinely told each other. Even now, as Heather, a half-asian, half-hispanic woman asked her about the newest berry they'd planted Jenny couldn't help but think about what her king had done to her last night, and her panties got warm under her flowery, blue, spaghetti-strapped sundress.Steve noticed her looking at him, and flashed her a smile, giving his queen a fun wink.And that's why she couldn't help but love him. He just did those little kinds of things that other men didn't with their wives. Sure he had a temper, he played video games, his memory was horrible.But his positives more than made up for it."I'd like to plant blackberries, especially if they have uh, no thorns," Amanda winked, and took a bite of potato salad. She was a short, slightly heavy black haired woman married to Osvaldo.She looked over and saw her son and husband playing cornhole still, though Jeff and Joe had gone over to play with them. They were married to Heather and Ellen, respectively, to Amanda's left."Yeah me too," Hannah said, to which the others laughed slightly."Bullshit," Kelly said, deciphering the code words; "You have too much going on already. Brady would strangle you!""Oh he'd be a little upset, but he always cools off," Hannah said, chuckling.But Jenny couldn't get the thought out of her mind now. The thought of how Steve had taken extra care to put the baby to bed, to not play Mass Effect, and to take her to bed.He'd sweetly pulled her jeans off, then nuzzled and licked at her cunt through her panties until she'd cum, THEN he had proceeded to have his way with her, bringing her off several more times before finishing off inside her.She imagined she could still feel his cum, making her wetter still.She suddenly looked at the whole situation. At everyone around her and the thought of them getting old, tired, and ending..."Hannah, watch Claire for me. I'm gonna go get fucked silly in your powder room," she said, locking eyes with her friend and rising with a slight smirk.Hannah's eyes went wide as she choked slightly and let out a huge smile."What?!" she exclaimed, but Jenny was already striding across the patio to her man."Did she just-""What did she say?""Whoa!""Hahaha! Oh shit she's really doing it!"Jenny had reached Steve, grabbed him by the belt buckle with one hand and had begun leading him away, walking forward as if leading a stud to a mare."Hey babe, whoa, what's up?" he asked.She turned and smirked a small smile at him, and she knew it achieved the desired affect. Her intentions must have been written all over her face, because he couldn't help but put his beer down and follow, his own smile bursting forth.She lead him through the door and didn't give him time to properly shut it, but he was able to with a strong hand."Jen, what are you doing?" Steve asked, grabbing her wrist. She was closer to her target though."I need you," she said, suddenly breathless as she kissed him deeply, her sexy body pressing up against his.She made sure to press her bra'ed 34C breasts into his chest, her left hand around his back, her right up in his short hair.Steve's hands went around her pinched waist first, then his left up her side and back while his right went around and down to her plump ass, cupping and kneading.She moaned at the touches, then broke the french kiss and backed away towards the half-bath by the front door.Steve followed eagerly and suddenly they were in the little bathroom, finding the light and locking the door behind them."Hun, what's gotten int-ohh shit!" Steve started, but she hushed him by immediately dropping to her knees, and getting his jeans undone."Damn girl, the fuck has gotten into you suddenly?" he asked, as she got the front of his pants open, not pausing and pulled down his underwear too. But his hands went to her head, lightly rubbing the sides and back encouragingly."Can't I just want my husband?" she asked before throating his semi-hard, 6 inch cock in one go."Ah fuck," he said, his biology taking over for a moment as he thrust his hips an inch forward, his hands tightening on her head.Her tongue was going crazy on the underside of his shaft, the tip even coming past her bottom lip slightly to lick his balls as much as she could, and he got rigid hard in moments.He gasped and breathed as if he were in pain, but she knew he wasn't. Jenny didn't give him head very often, so this must be a real treat for him. Though truth be told, this was a means to an end. She bobbed her face on his crotch for a dozen or so pumps, until she felt his cockhead nudge the back of her throat. That end was now.She rose, looked him in the eye as her right hand grasped his hard prick, some of her hair in her eye as she did so, stroking it in short strokes as she turned to the vanity and mirror.God she looked slutty. One of her spaghetti straps had fallen off her shoulder and her lips were an excited red from having just been stretched in an obscene 'O' around his magnificent cock.But she could still FEEL her sex drive though, his taste still in her mouth. Her boobs were hypersensitive in their confines, feeling wonderfully constrained as she breathed, and her panties were probably soaked through.She pulled up the hem of her dress and bent over the counter, looking back at him over her right shoulder."God, just fuck me. Fuck me!" she said, "I need it."Steve couldn't refuse this personification of pure lust in front of him. She wasn't his wife in this moment. She was a bitch in heat. A mare in season. And he was going to give her the beast she needed.He grabbed her brief-cut panties with both hands and yanked them down with animalistic urgency to her feet, where she stepped out with one sandaled foot.He then rose and put his right hand to her cunt, immediately confirming how wanton she was by the heat and wetness he found there, easily one of the wettest times he'd ever seen her."Oh fuck," she said, finding her own lustful gaze looking back at her in the vanity mirror, feeling his fingers run through her sex from her clit(which he brushed ever so slightly) right up to her asshole. She knew he must've thought about playing with it, as she'd let him take her ass several times in the past year, finally.But he didn't linger, instead he stepped right up to her bent over body and slid his steel hard cock into her cunt, all in one go."Oh! Oh fuck! Oh god that feels soo good!" she practically screamed, but huskily.His hands went to her wide hips, finding her pelvic bones that made the perfect obscene handles, beginning to piston her cunt, slowly.But she wanted more, she wanted to be fucked, and fucked well.She looked over her shoulder at him, "Steve, god damnit, Fuck me!" With each stressed word she pushed herself back on his cock, sparks flying from her sopping cunt through her body as she did so as his rod plowed her depths.Out at the patio, the ladies' conversation suddenly halted when the screams and moans were faintly heard coming from the little vent, high on the side of the house. It piped the narrative from the powder room, just on the other side of the brick exterior. First Claire took notice, then all the ladies went silent, their devilish grins showing their vicarious delight. A couple of the guys noticed the silence over at the other end of the covered patio, then all the guys heard the faint echo of a raging hormonal woman's voice could just barely be heard yelling; “Steve, God damnit. Fuck me!”Jenny was rewarded with her stud pulling her hips back so that she'd fall backwards if he wasn't there, cock lodged inside her. Her hands were wrapped tightly around the spout of the faucet, now somewhat in front of her as her hair swung with his thrusts. Her tits were swaying as much as her bra would allow, and the pulling on her chest added to her sexual experience. The thumb of her left hand subconsciously rubbed the underside of the chrome spout, but in her entranced state, she imagined it was Steve's turgid cock.In moments he was fucking her hard. Fast. Making her ass jiggle with every impact of his pelvis. She felt his cock running though her with abandon, the heat from her cunt quickly turning into a fire, then a blaze, until stars burst in her vision and she screamed a carnal, drawn out "ah" in orgasm, her legs shaking uncontrollably. “Steve, you beast!” she screamed in satisfaction.Her hands slipped as they clenched and gripped the sink, Steve stepping up as her hips were pushed forward against the edge of the counter.Whereas moments before she'd cum from her assertive pushing back, now she was trapped with nowhere to go. More precisely, her hole couldn't get away from the prick fucking it.Jenny realized that she'd be forced to cum at least again, maybe more even. Her king had slowed as he'd trapped her, bringing his hands up to her shoulders and finding new grips with which to pound her.She looked up and saw her sweaty self in the mirror again, her jaw dropped open as she breathed heavy with sexual arousal, her whole body jarring with each impact of Steve's hips against her ass.God she was so sexy, and her cunt was doing such a good job of clenching around the invader, her body doing as it was designed to do, trying to bring the penis inside it to orgasm. Her hole wanted his semen. That was its purpose, to get fucked and filled by cum, so she could carry his child.And it was working, her own voice raising with every fourth or fifth quickening thrust as she felt her second orgasm building in her depths, Steve's cock hitting amazing pockets of nerves inside her.It suddenly was upon her as her left hand pressed against the mirror, her right coming around to grab Steve's hip as her cunt exploded in pleasure, her eyes wide. She rocked herself back as he tried to pull out for another thrust, trying to keep him inside her as she came, throwing her head in an out of control nodding motion and half panting, half exclaiming "ahs.”Steve for his part wasn't faring well on holding out. He regularly told Jenny that her orgasms would collect massive amounts of cash on the internet, and they usually brought him off. But Jenny had never been this needy before, and though she did have bouts of increased sexual activity, this was a whole new level.As she came again for the second time, the thrashing of her head, her hair flying and her hand on the mirror, almost got him.It was her hand landing on his right side, hip and ass cheek coupled with her rocking cunt clenching on his shaft that got him. He slammed forward to the hilt as his cum rose from his balls, rocketing down his weapon until it fired into her hot sheathe.Again and again it fired, "Oh yeah! Uh! Uh! Uh! Take it baby!" he said through blurred vision and clenched teeth.Out on the patio, the ladies were squirming; embarrassed, but getting aroused. Claire was frustrated when she had to go comfort a child who tripped and fell in the play area; “Tell me what I'm missing, Kelly.”

Wives get to thinking about how life is too short.Based on the works of CoyoteHoward. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Jenny & The Barbeque GatheringIt was the picture of Americana in southwest Idaho.A partly cloudy sky, with more sun than shade. Deep green grass. Horses munching away in the pasture while the kids, whose ages ranged from 2-16, played on the trampoline and playset.The husbands primarily were under the porch overhang, gathered around the grill, while Osvaldo and his 8 year old son Elliot jokingly played corn-hole in the grass.Their wives were on the furniture on the other end of the porch, doing as women do, keeping an eye on the children for the most part and enjoying their own trials and tribulations. Most of which focused on family dramas, future plans and prices for various groceries."Yeah, so what I'd like to do," Brady said, beginning to flip the burgers from the top left, "is kinda what you did, but I'd like to do 4 rails instead."Steve nodded and took a drink of beer from his Payette Brewing Co. bottle. He absentmindedly watched Brady do so, his left thumb tucked into the front pocket of his jeans, shifting his cowboy booted feet to equal distribution instead of one leg being cocked slightly. His slight belly showed his 36 years of age, and while he didn't like it, and wished he could find the consistent motivation to work out, his wife didn't mind, and his shirts still fit, including the plain white t-shirt he wore now."Yeah I don't mind the three, but the three inch- I wish I'd of been able to afford the three and a half," Steve said, shifting the bottle to his left and adjusting his multicam hat on his head, though it needn't be done. His brown, fade cut hair wasn't bothering him, it was more just a habit."You did your fence yourself?" Jeff asked. He was blond, worked out tons and was wearing a polo, cargo shorts and flip flops.Steve nodded, "Yeah the little mustang got out suddenly last year, little shit."The women meanwhile were discussing flowers."I'm so jealous of your little play area Jenny," Hannah said, taking a sip of her soda.She was married to Brady, and three of the tikes running around were hers. She was 36, was 5'7" and 133 pounds. She knew she was attractive, as all the women here were, but her husband appreciated her the most, and that's exactly the way she prefered it.They'd been married for well over 10 years, he was the father of all her babies, and they led a great life."Well it's been a lot of work, but yeah, it's coming together," Jenny said. "We've done a ton of work just to try and keep the weeds away." Her husband was Steve, and as she finished her sentence she looked over at her man.They'd been together the longest of the group of six couples, having been dating since junior year of high school, over 18 years prior. They had the second oldest child there, at 15, and the second youngest as well, a three year old girl.They'd been the ones to leave though, he going into the Army right after high school and finally leaving six years prior, and they'd all reconnected.Steve was still her king though, and she his queen, as they routinely told each other. Even now, as Heather, a half-asian, half-hispanic woman asked her about the newest berry they'd planted Jenny couldn't help but think about what her king had done to her last night, and her panties got warm under her flowery, blue, spaghetti-strapped sundress.Steve noticed her looking at him, and flashed her a smile, giving his queen a fun wink.And that's why she couldn't help but love him. He just did those little kinds of things that other men didn't with their wives. Sure he had a temper, he played video games, his memory was horrible.But his positives more than made up for it."I'd like to plant blackberries, especially if they have uh, no thorns," Amanda winked, and took a bite of potato salad. She was a short, slightly heavy black haired woman married to Osvaldo.She looked over and saw her son and husband playing cornhole still, though Jeff and Joe had gone over to play with them. They were married to Heather and Ellen, respectively, to Amanda's left."Yeah me too," Hannah said, to which the others laughed slightly."Bullshit," Kelly said, deciphering the code words; "You have too much going on already. Brady would strangle you!""Oh he'd be a little upset, but he always cools off," Hannah said, chuckling.But Jenny couldn't get the thought out of her mind now. The thought of how Steve had taken extra care to put the baby to bed, to not play Mass Effect, and to take her to bed.He'd sweetly pulled her jeans off, then nuzzled and licked at her cunt through her panties until she'd cum, THEN he had proceeded to have his way with her, bringing her off several more times before finishing off inside her.She imagined she could still feel his cum, making her wetter still.She suddenly looked at the whole situation. At everyone around her and the thought of them getting old, tired, and ending..."Hannah, watch Claire for me. I'm gonna go get fucked silly in your powder room," she said, locking eyes with her friend and rising with a slight smirk.Hannah's eyes went wide as she choked slightly and let out a huge smile."What?!" she exclaimed, but Jenny was already striding across the patio to her man."Did she just-""What did she say?""Whoa!""Hahaha! Oh shit she's really doing it!"Jenny had reached Steve, grabbed him by the belt buckle with one hand and had begun leading him away, walking forward as if leading a stud to a mare."Hey babe, whoa, what's up?" he asked.She turned and smirked a small smile at him, and she knew it achieved the desired affect. Her intentions must have been written all over her face, because he couldn't help but put his beer down and follow, his own smile bursting forth.She lead him through the door and didn't give him time to properly shut it, but he was able to with a strong hand."Jen, what are you doing?" Steve asked, grabbing her wrist. She was closer to her target though."I need you," she said, suddenly breathless as she kissed him deeply, her sexy body pressing up against his.She made sure to press her bra'ed 34C breasts into his chest, her left hand around his back, her right up in his short hair.Steve's hands went around her pinched waist first, then his left up her side and back while his right went around and down to her plump ass, cupping and kneading.She moaned at the touches, then broke the french kiss and backed away towards the half-bath by the front door.Steve followed eagerly and suddenly they were in the little bathroom, finding the light and locking the door behind them."Hun, what's gotten int-ohh shit!" Steve started, but she hushed him by immediately dropping to her knees, and getting his jeans undone."Damn girl, the fuck has gotten into you suddenly?" he asked, as she got the front of his pants open, not pausing and pulled down his underwear too. But his hands went to her head, lightly rubbing the sides and back encouragingly."Can't I just want my husband?" she asked before throating his semi-hard, 6 inch cock in one go."Ah fuck," he said, his biology taking over for a moment as he thrust his hips an inch forward, his hands tightening on her head.Her tongue was going crazy on the underside of his shaft, the tip even coming past her bottom lip slightly to lick his balls as much as she could, and he got rigid hard in moments.He gasped and breathed as if he were in pain, but she knew he wasn't. Jenny didn't give him head very often, so this must be a real treat for him. Though truth be told, this was a means to an end. She bobbed her face on his crotch for a dozen or so pumps, until she felt his cockhead nudge the back of her throat. That end was now.She rose, looked him in the eye as her right hand grasped his hard prick, some of her hair in her eye as she did so, stroking it in short strokes as she turned to the vanity and mirror.God she looked slutty. One of her spaghetti straps had fallen off her shoulder and her lips were an excited red from having just been stretched in an obscene 'O' around his magnificent cock.But she could still FEEL her sex drive though, his taste still in her mouth. Her boobs were hypersensitive in their confines, feeling wonderfully constrained as she breathed, and her panties were probably soaked through.She pulled up the hem of her dress and bent over the counter, looking back at him over her right shoulder."God, just fuck me. Fuck me!" she said, "I need it."Steve couldn't refuse this personification of pure lust in front of him. She wasn't his wife in this moment. She was a bitch in heat. A mare in season. And he was going to give her the beast she needed.He grabbed her brief-cut panties with both hands and yanked them down with animalistic urgency to her feet, where she stepped out with one sandaled foot.He then rose and put his right hand to her cunt, immediately confirming how wanton she was by the heat and wetness he found there, easily one of the wettest times he'd ever seen her."Oh fuck," she said, finding her own lustful gaze looking back at her in the vanity mirror, feeling his fingers run through her sex from her clit(which he brushed ever so slightly) right up to her asshole. She knew he must've thought about playing with it, as she'd let him take her ass several times in the past year, finally.But he didn't linger, instead he stepped right up to her bent over body and slid his steel hard cock into her cunt, all in one go."Oh! Oh fuck! Oh god that feels soo good!" she practically screamed, but huskily.His hands went to her wide hips, finding her pelvic bones that made the perfect obscene handles, beginning to piston her cunt, slowly.But she wanted more, she wanted to be fucked, and fucked well.She looked over her shoulder at him, "Steve, god damnit, Fuck me!" With each stressed word she pushed herself back on his cock, sparks flying from her sopping cunt through her body as she did so as his rod plowed her depths.Out at the patio, the ladies' conversation suddenly halted when the screams and moans were faintly heard coming from the little vent, high on the side of the house. It piped the narrative from the powder room, just on the other side of the brick exterior. First Claire took notice, then all the ladies went silent, their devilish grins showing their vicarious delight. A couple of the guys noticed the silence over at the other end of the covered patio, then all the guys heard the faint echo of a raging hormonal woman's voice could just barely be heard yelling; “Steve, God damnit. Fuck me!”Jenny was rewarded with her stud pulling her hips back so that she'd fall backwards if he wasn't there, cock lodged inside her. Her hands were wrapped tightly around the spout of the faucet, now somewhat in front of her as her hair swung with his thrusts. Her tits were swaying as much as her bra would allow, and the pulling on her chest added to her sexual experience. The thumb of her left hand subconsciously rubbed the underside of the chrome spout, but in her entranced state, she imagined it was Steve's turgid cock.In moments he was fucking her hard. Fast. Making her ass jiggle with every impact of his pelvis. She felt his cock running though her with abandon, the heat from her cunt quickly turning into a fire, then a blaze, until stars burst in her vision and she screamed a carnal, drawn out "ah" in orgasm, her legs shaking uncontrollably. “Steve, you beast!” she screamed in satisfaction.Her hands slipped as they clenched and gripped the sink, Steve stepping up as her hips were pushed forward against the edge of the counter.Whereas moments before she'd cum from her assertive pushing back, now she was trapped with nowhere to go. More precisely, her hole couldn't get away from the prick fucking it.Jenny realized that she'd be forced to cum at least again, maybe more even. Her king had slowed as he'd trapped her, bringing his hands up to her shoulders and finding new grips with which to pound her.She looked up and saw her sweaty self in the mirror again, her jaw dropped open as she breathed heavy with sexual arousal, her whole body jarring with each impact of Steve's hips against her ass.God she was so sexy, and her cunt was doing such a good job of clenching around the invader, her body doing as it was designed to do, trying to bring the penis inside it to orgasm. Her hole wanted his semen. That was its purpose, to get fucked and filled by cum, so she could carry his child.And it was working, her own voice raising with every fourth or fifth quickening thrust as she felt her second orgasm building in her depths, Steve's cock hitting amazing pockets of nerves inside her.It suddenly was upon her as her left hand pressed against the mirror, her right coming around to grab Steve's hip as her cunt exploded in pleasure, her eyes wide. She rocked herself back as he tried to pull out for another thrust, trying to keep him inside her as she came, throwing her head in an out of control nodding motion and half panting, half exclaiming "ahs.”Steve for his part wasn't faring well on holding out. He regularly told Jenny that her orgasms would collect massive amounts of cash on the internet, and they usually brought him off. But Jenny had never been this needy before, and though she did have bouts of increased sexual activity, this was a whole new level.As she came again for the second time, the thrashing of her head, her hair flying and her hand on the mirror, almost got him.It was her hand landing on his right side, hip and ass cheek coupled with her rocking cunt clenching on his shaft that got him. He slammed forward to the hilt as his cum rose from his balls, rocketing down his weapon until it fired into her hot sheathe.Again and again it fired, "Oh yeah! Uh! Uh! Uh! Take it baby!" he said through blurred vision and clenched teeth.Out on the patio, the ladies were squirming; embarrassed, but getting aroused. Claire was frustrated when she had to go comfort a child who tripped and fell in the play area; “Tell me what I'm missing, Kelly.”

The Uhh.. FORMER Astro.. Kyle Tucker.. Well, he's uh.. RAKING in Chicago for those Cubs Folks FML full 662 Fri, 11 Apr 2025 23:38:20 +0000 XJyModlJWalYmbScIr3Tr9cj1jMYEDM1 mlb,chicago cubs,houston astros,cubs,astros,mlb news,kyle tucker,sports The Drive with Stoerner and Hughley mlb,chicago cubs,houston astros,cubs,astros,mlb news,kyle tucker,sports The Uhh.. FORMER Astro.. Kyle Tucker.. Well, he's uh.. RAKING in Chicago for those Cubs Folks FML 2-6PM M-F 2024 © 2021 Audacy, Inc. Sports False

Sometimes it's nice to take a break from the Noxus event to discuss some dirt and grime. Uhh, but a different dirt and grime. The piratey kind! A lot of our favorite stories are from Bilgewater, and because there aren't many champions here, it's all put together coherently. And....a live action show??? ARE WE SURE?! ---- WE HAVE MERCH!bit.ly/loreheadmerch Twitter! twitter.com/loreheads Discord! https://t.co/o21E0W4C8z?amp=1 Twitch! twitch.tv/loreheads Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/leagueofloreheads Song Title | The Queen of BilgewaterArtist | Gareth Coker, Riot GamesCourtesy of Riot Games https://na.leagueoflegends.com/en-us/news/community/riot-music-creator-safe-guidelines/Image by Yuri_B from Pixabay - book with sparkles

After the big smashy climax last episode (Uhh, when was that posted? Don't worry about it!) we had a few special comics to read closing out 5 years of X-Men storytelling on the mutant nation of Krakoa. We read, discuss, and look back fondly on one of the best eras of X-Men, ever, and put it in context alongside each other era of the franchise. Comics read: Avengers vol 9 #13, X-Men: The Wedding Special (vol 2) #1, and X-Men (vol 6) #35.

Um…. so… today, we are…uh… going to be talking about…filler words! You know what these words are. Our favourite “Uhh…” or “Like…” or “You know…” as you stall for time when you’re thinking about what to say to someone. We have all probably been told to cut the filler words. They can make us sound unprepared, less confident, and distracted. But are they all bad? Or could there be a reason our brains love tossing in an “um” every now and then? Presented by Audrey Siek, Ryan Huang & Emaad Akhtar Produced and edited by Audrey Siek Photo & Music credit: Pixabay & its talented community of contributorsSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Room and Bored: Part 5 Dale's schedule filled up with women's requests.. Based on a post by Krosis, in 5 parts. Listen to the ►  Podcast at Steamy Stories. At college, Melanie reminded Dale of their date that weekend. He nodded, he was originally going to cancel, but now that Nancy and Dale had -- was 'broken up' the correct term? -- well, whatever it was, it was done, so he figured he'd take the pretty platinum blonde to the movie and try to get on with his life. Just before he left the campus, though, he got a picture message from an unknown number. Confused, he opened it to see a photo of him taking Nancy from behind in their kitchen. The pic was a bit grainy, obviously taken from outside the house, but both their faces could easily be identified. A text then arrived from the same number: *My place, 6pm -- Helena*   That morning, Helena woke at 8 AM sharp. She had no choice in the matter, her parents had drilled it into her for most of her life so that she wouldn't be late for school, and even now, when she was no longer attending any house of learning, her body still habitually woke her up at that time. "Ugh, " She got up, stretched her lithe body, and pulled on some sweatpants and a tight t-shirt over a bra and undies. As she headed toward her bedroom door, she glanced out her window and stopped short. Dale's house across the street had its front windows open, and, she squinted, was that, ? She rushed down the hallway to the second floor's front balcony and threw it open. Sure enough, that was Nancy bent over the kitchen counter, getting fucked by, "Dale?" Helena pulled out her phone and zoomed the camera in. Not good enough! She cast about, saw her Dad's bird watching binoculars, and grabbed them. She pressed her camera lens to one of the eye holes of the binos and lined up the shot. There! She snapped several pics before she saw Dale thrust deep and cry out as he filled the voluptuous housewife with his cum. Shaking, Helena went back inside to decide what to do about this revelation. Obviously if Nancy's husband saw these pics, then her marriage would be over, and Dale would probably get the shit kicked out of him. Helena didn't like the thought of that, but she didn't care about Nancy's marriage; she barely knew the woman. She got a text from her Mom: *Won't be home tonight, try not to fuck the whole neighborhood while we're out, slut* Helena's parents hadn't come home the previous night either. She was pretty certain that they were over at a swinger couple's house, and it seemed that they had hit it off. Her mother was always ribbing Helena about her high sex drive, but the young woman had actually been a virgin until she had tricked a blindfolded Dale into sex almost 2 weeks ago, and even that had been an accident. Thinking about Dale's long cock slipping inside her and filling her with his sizable load made her nipples hard. It had been a frequent masturbatory inspiration since. She needed more, and with these pics she knew she could get more, she just had to be bold, like her mother. 'Like mother, like daughter,' she heard her mother's voice in her head. "Yeah," she agreed. Dale finds himself at the beck and call of demanding women. Things were strained between Dale and Nancy after he got home from school, not only because she had broken off their burgeoning romance, but also due to his concern about Helena's text that contained picture evidence of him and his married landlady having sex. What did Helena want from him? he wondered. After dinner, he headed over to Helena's house at 6 PM, as ordered. The strawberry blonde answered the door, as usual, with a menacing grin on her pretty face. She was wearing a tight t-shirt and sweatpants today. "Right on time, slave." Dale stared at her. Slave? "Get in here." He stepped in and she closed and locked the door behind him. "Oh, now that you're here, I don't know what to make you do first." "What are your plans for that pic?" he asked her. "Nuttin'," she replied, "as long as you do what I say, obvs." "And if I don't do what you say?" She sighed. "It gets sent to Nancy's husband, and terrible things happen. You ready to stop talking now?" "Nancy's a good person, Helena; she doesn't deserve this." She stepped forward, the top of her head coming only as high as his chin. Dale hadn't realized how short she actually was. "She's a cheating whore, and her husband deserves to know, don't you think?" He bit his tongue and scowled, realizing that yelling wouldn't help the situation. She turned back away from him. "Okay, so the pics are saved to my cloud, and I even printed 'em out, in case you're good enough at computers to hack my account." Dale sighed, Helena had prepared well. "What do you want me to do?" She bounced, her B-cups bobbling about in her shirt. "Ooh, I was hoping I'd be inspired when you got here, but now, too many options, and I can't decide on any! Oh, I know, " She pulled out her phone and started typing. "I joined a View dit group for masters and slaves earlier today, so I'll ask them what I should have you do. Hmm, " Blip! Blip! Blip! Her eyes lit up and she laughed, "Ha, awesome! C'mon up to Mom's room." He followed her up the ornate staircase to Trish's bedroom. "Sit on the bed." She rummaged through her mother's wardrobes and grabbed some things. "Wait here, " She went into the adjoining bathroom and closed the door. A few minutes later, she came out, still wearing the t-shirt, but now she had garters with dark, thigh-high nylon stockings on instead of her sweatpants. She dropped her phone onto the side table, climbed onto the bed, and nibbled her lower lip, reminding Dale of her mother. Sitting at the head of the bed, she spread her legs and he could see that she also had some lacy black panties on. She extended one long, slim leg. "Suck on my toes." He blinked. She had been wearing Chucks when he came in, so her feet were probably sweaty. She frowned and reached for her phone. "How disappointing." Dale grabbed her dainty, stocking-covered foot and shoved the toes into his mouth, grimacing as he started to suck on them. "Mmm, " she sighed, smiled, and started typing again. A few minutes later, she said, "Dang, this person really likes nylons. Do you like my legs, Dale? You can stop sucking." He let go of her toes. Despite the degradation of the act, his cock was getting hard. "Yes, you have gorgeous legs, Helena." "Just like my Mom's?" He considered. "Hers are gorgeous too." She was watching him very closely now. "Which do you prefer?" He didn't know how he should answer. "Be honest, I won't get mad." "Your mom's are more toned; she works hard to keep in shape. You're naturally slim, so you don't need to work out. Sorry, I think toned is better than slim." "Hmm, I see, take out your cock." "Uh, " "Now!" Dale got off the bed, pulled down his jeans and underwear, and stood there. At Helena's direction, he sat back on the bed before her. Then she moved her feet down and took his cock between them. "Umm, " It was awkward, but she was determined. Soon, she was able to stroke up and down his rising erection between her stockinged feet, the nylon catching at the skin of his shaft as it rasped up and down. Dale had never felt anything like it before. "Why, are you doing this?" he gasped. "Because I want to. Why else?" She moved one foot so the arch of her foot pressed against his shaft and her toes grasped at the head of his cock while her other foot continued to stroke. He was having trouble controlling his breathing. "Fuck, I'm gonna, " "Yeah? So cool!" She moved her feet upon him faster until he grunted and shot his cum onto the bottom of her nylon-covered foot. She kept stroking him, but it soon became overwhelmingly sensitive and he backed off, looking embarrassed. She waved him away. "Okay, you can go, but make sure you're ready for when I call." He pulled on his clothes and went home. Helena pulled off the dripping stocking and sucked the foot of it into her mouth as she frigged her clit. Tasting Dale's sperm again, she quickly came, thrilling at the thought of what she did, and what she'd do to him next time.   Dale got a call from his parents as he walked through the front door. "Hey, Mom! Yeah, just got home from my job." He looked over and saw Nancy sitting on the couch, watching TV. He went into the kitchen to fix himself a snack. "Umm hmm, umm hmm, yeah, she's taking care of me." Nancy glanced over and saw Dale looking at her as he said that. She blushed but kept watching her show. "Yep, I'm making a new life here, Mom. Yeah, love you too, say hi to Dad!" New life, Nancy's hand caressed her midsection, thinking about the huge load of sperm Dale had pumped into her that very morning. She had been careless, allowing the young man to plunder her vulnerable insides with his no doubt potent sperm as her body entered its fertile time of the month. She could feel her pussy moistening at the memory, but she had broken it off with him for good this time. She had called her husband, and he would be coming home early at her insistence. She heard Dale head downstairs to his suite and sighed. He still had Trish across the street to satisfy his urges, so he'd survive just fine.   *Got a treat for you today! Cum over at 7pm* That had been from Trish the next day. Both the Milfy blonde and her daughter were ordering him around now. Helena opened the door for him, wearing only short-shorts and a sports bra today, with her strawberry blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her skin shone, and he thought that she might have been exercising. "Her bedroom, come to mine after." She gave him a wink. "Trish?" He opened the master bedroom door to find the leggy blonde laying on her bed, completely naked, and she brought a friend! "Um, " "Close the door, Dale. This is Marietta, and she's been looking forward to making your acquaintance after I told her about all the fun we've been having." "Uh, hi." Dale couldn't believe how much this pretty, older Latina lady looked like a darker-skinned version of Nancy, with large tits, a curvy body, and dark, shoulder-length curls instead of Nancy's auburn tresses. She was likewise naked, her legs wide, with Trish's face between them. "I've been getting her ready for you," Trish said as she got up and strode over to him. Then she kissed him hard and he tasted the other woman's juices on her lips. "We want several loads from you tonight, Dale, so get undressed." She sat back down on the bed and waited. He quickly disrobed and climbed onto the bed, uncertain. Trish's treat for him was a threesome! "How do you want to do this?" Trish asked Marietta. The newcomer shrugged, uncertain, she seemed shy as well, covering her large tits as best she could with her arms. "Hmm, okay, Dale, lay down." He did, and Trish situated her pussy above his face while he felt Marietta climb astride his hips, the women facing each other. Dale speared his tongue between Trish's pussy lips. "Umm! Good boy, Dale, come on, Mari, get on that cock." Dale felt the other woman grasp his hard member, direct it to her pussy, and then start to press down upon it. "Fuck, he's big," she groaned. Dale felt a bit proud at that. He grabbed Trish's hips and pulled her down onto his tongue. "Uhh, you're getting better at that, Dale," Trish moaned as he also licked at her clit before dipping his tongue inside again. Marietta had gotten half of his cock inside her, and it seemed like she was struggling. "Let me, " Trish said, and she leaned forward. Dale couldn't see what she did, but the other woman groaned and slipped further down his cock as her pussy loosened up. After she pulled up a bit and pressed down again a few more times, he was all the way inside her. "Got it, all, " she moaned. Dale could feel her pussy trembling around his shaft. "You want that cum? You have to earn it, Mari, move that ass, " Trish ordered her friend. Dale felt Trish shift as she pushed Marietta back, causing the newcomer to arch her spine as she continued to ride him. This new angle caused the head of his cock to rub along her G-spot, and he heard her gasping as his member pleasured her insides. After a few minutes, Trish whispered to her friend, "Oh, he's gonna fill you up with that hot cum soon, I can tell. Won't that feel good, babe, all that sperm inside you?" Marietta whimpered, and Trish took one of the woman's prominent nipples into her mouth. Dale couldn't hear or see any of this, though. He felt Marietta's pussy grip him tighter, and he pushed two fingers into Trish's pussy as he continued to lick at her clit. He was indeed getting close, the two women overwhelming his senses. He felt Trish lean forward more, her fingers flicked at Marietta's clit on the down-strokes, but on the upstrokes she caressed the base of Dale's cock. That was it for him, he grunted into Trish's pussy as his balls gave up their cargo and shot his orgasm up his lengthy shaft and deep inside Marietta's sultry pussy. Upon feeling Dale's cock throb, followed by a wet, warm pressure deep inside her, Marietta came. "Oh! Ah! Aie!" "Yes!" Trish sat up and pulled her friend into a hot, tonguey kiss as her boytoy inseminated the woman. "Umm, " Finally, both of them rolled off of Dale and they all lay there, panting. After a few minutes, Trish engulfed his cock with her mouth and sucked all of his and Marietta's combined juices from it. Pretty soon, his member rose to near full size again. "Ah, youth, " Trish commented, and climbed astride him. She was able to take all of him inside her juicy pussy without issue, and began to slam herself down upon him, quickly approaching her own release. She glanced to the side, saw Marietta playing with her own clit as she watched Trish and Dale fucking, and came. "Oh-oh! Yes, " Trish played with her own nipples as pleasure washed over and through her. When Trish's orgasm was done, she dismounted. "Get over there and fuck Marietta again, stud." Marietta looked at Dale with wide eyes. "Trish, I'm not sure I can, oomph!" Dale had leapt upon the voluptuous woman and slipped his hard cock back inside her spermy pussy. He thrust into her quickly, wanting to achieve his second release of the night. If he blurred his eyes, he could almost believe that he was having sex with Nancy again. He felt Trish come up behind him and wrap her arms around his chest while pressing her pelvis to his ass. "Hm, like this, it's almost like I'm fucking her," she breathed into his ear. "This is so damn hot." Dale could only agree. "You've probably already impregnated her, but let's make doubly sure, hmm?" "What?" Dale slowed down but Trish moved one arm down around his hips so she could keep thrusting from behind, which pushed his hips forward. "Trish, " "I'm sorry for not letting you know beforehand, Dale, but I didn't know what you'd do if you knew. Marietta's a single professional, and she wants a baby, so I offered your, stud services, " She nibbled on his ear. "C'mon, you can't tell me that you aren't turned on by this." She continued to thrust from behind, but Dale wasn't fighting back, only letting his hips be pushed and pulled by her as his cock sluiced into the body of the fertile woman below him. He acknowledged that it was indeed hot, shooting his cum inside this voluptuous lady. Trish had been practically training his brain for this moment, urging him to play 'knock me up' every time they had sex. Had her method been purposeful, or a happy coincidence? He couldn't think on that very well, as he was approaching his second orgasm of the night. "Oh, please, " Marietta stared into his eyes, her need written plainly on her face as she pushed her rounded hips up at him. Finally, Dale let go, thrusting faster into the sexy woman until he felt another cum rising from his loins. "Uh, umm, Uh!" "Yes, " both women moaned as he thrust deeply inside Marietta and fired another load of baby juice deep inside her. "Umm!" Marietta moaned as she furiously played with her clit and came again. Dale felt her pussy suckling on his cock, urging more of his potent sperm to penetrate her fertile insides. He fell upon Marietta, his energy gone. Trish let go, and the Latina enveloped him with her arms and legs, brought his face to hers, and kissed him passionately. "Thank you, Dale. Oh, " He felt a small orgasmic aftershock squeeze his cock. When he recovered enough, he redressed. "I, uh, gotta go, " "Thank you, Dale," Trish said, "you'll get an extra-special treat next time for being such a good boy." "I, may not survive, " he moaned. He looked back at Marietta. "Err, nice to meet you, " he said lamely. She waved as he stumbled out of the master bedroom. He was going to head home and sleep forever, Helena's bedroom door opened and her finger beckoned. "Oh shit, " The extra-long conclusion. "Helena, " "Hist!" The slim strawberry blonde silenced Dale with a wave of her arm before ushering him into her bedroom and closing the door behind him. "I said you were mine after Mom was done with you." He sat on her bed. "I'm wasted. Those women, " He stopped. Helena dropped the robe she had been wearing, revealing the same garters and hose from the previous day, but now she was also wearing a dark, sheer bustier that propped up her B-cup tits and deepened her cleavage. ", whoa." The eighteen-year-old blushed for a moment as Dale stared at her outfit, but then took a breath. "So, get those pants off." He unfastened his jeans. "Sure, but nothing's gonna happen; I've been wrung dry." "We'll see about that. Also, whisper if you have to say anything." She gave a pointed look toward the air vent near the ceiling. "The walls have ears." He glanced at the vent and then sat back on her bed. As expected, his penis was limp and lifeless. Helena climbed onto the bed with him. "You don't like how I look?" She seemed offended. "You're gorgeous, totally sexy," Dale replied, "but holy shit those women got two loads out of me, back-to-back. I may not be able to cum again for days." "Lay back." He did so, sighing, and Helena moved her nylon-covered feet to his penis again. However, unlike last time, it just didn't respond to the manipulations of her dainty tootsies. She finally gave up. "Damnit," she swore under her breath, "Mom just can't let me enjoy myself." She moved up the bed and lay back on a pillow, huffing in frustration. Dale lay down beside her. "How do you mean?" "She keeps telling me how much I'm like her, a goddamn cumslut, useless for anything but sex, and now I can't even get that going because she drained you like a fucking vampire." "She said all that?" "Shush!" She waved her hand at the air vent. He moved closer so he could whisper. "So the ice princess and dominatrix acts are because of what your mom says? You don't have to listen to her. Did you blackmail me because you thought I wouldn't be interested in you otherwise?" She looked into his eyes as they lay there. "Well, yeah. When we met, I treated you like shit I found on the bottom of my shoe." He considered for a moment. "Tell me something you like, a hobby or pastime." She thought for a moment. "I like anime." "Me too! Attack on Titan, My Hero Academia, " "Assassination Classroom?" "Yeah! See, we have something in common. And that's just one thing, I'm sure we have others, but you never bothered to find out." He peered out the window into the night. "Why were you looking at Nancy's house so early in the morning, when you caught us, doing that?" She looked embarrassed. "I always look out there when I wake up. Sometimes I see you heading to school." "You've been watching me?" She flushed. "Yeah, and when you're doing stuff with Mom, " "You've been spying, too." Dale marveled at this, both Nancy and Helena had spied on him doing sex stuff. How many other women were so, sex driven? he wondered. Helena nibbled her lower lip, thinking of the sexy sounds that had come through the air vent from her mother's room for the last hour. She began to rub her thighs together. "I don't get out much." Dale closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "Jesus, you're a hot girl that likes anime and sex, you could honestly have any guy you wanted just by showing interest in them, and instead you blackmailed me." "Soo, you do want to go out with me?" He looked at her confused but hopeful look. "If you had asked yesterday, I'd have said yes, well, I guess not while I'm 'servicing' your mother, " "I wouldn't make you stop, that's hot, and I'm not jealous," she informed him, "but why yesterday?" "Because that was before you blackmailed me!" "Oh."   "Dale?" He started awake, confused. Where was he? Oh, right, on Helena's bed. She was still in the garters and bustier, so he figured that he'd only been out for a moment. He looked at his phone, it was 9 PM, so he'd been napping there for the last hour. "Were you just watching me sleep?" he asked her. "You looked like you needed to rest, so I went on my phone for a bit," she replied. "I was hoping a nap might help Mr. Pokey down there." He considered his penis, but it still seemed devoid of energy. "Hm, probably not." "What if I, ?" She took it in hand and started pulling at it. After a minute of that, she sighed and took it into her mouth. "Ahh, " he moaned. The warm, inverse pressure felt good, but his cock still remained lifeless. After another minute she gave up. "Damnit! This is so frustrating. How about, ?" She pulled down on her bustier so that her B-cup boobies popped out, each topped with a pink pencil eraser nipple. Dale felt a twinge down below, and licked his lips as he gazed at her luscious tits. "Yeah?" Helena looked hopeful. "Maybe, ?" She moved forward to press a nipple into his mouth, and Dale began to suckle on it. "Ooh, that feels, wow, " she moaned. She climbed astride him so that he would have better access to her tits, which then caused her panty-covered pussy to settle onto his mostly still-soft penis. "Hmm, ." she moaned in pleasure and frustration. "Are those my stockings and garters?" They froze and turned to the door. Trish was there in her shorty robe, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed as she beheld her 18-year-old daughter rubbing herself on her 19-year-old boy-toy. "Mom! I, uh, " Helena scrambled off of Dale, but that only revealed his half-naked form. "Dale, go home and we'll talk later. Helena, my dear, we are going to have a discussion right now." He grabbed his pants and bounded past Trish and out of the room. Helena's bedroom door slammed behind him.   Friday after school, Dale just hung out in his basement suite. Nancy hadn't invited him up for dinner for the previous couple nights, and he was pretty sure that was no longer an option with her; they were now just landlady and renter, which was even less than what they had been when he moved in. *You up for that extra special treat?* Trish messaged him. Despite cumming twice in rapid succession the previous night with her and Marietta, Dale felt his cock perk up at that text. Still, he wasn't sure what he'd be walking into, after what happened between Trish and Helena. Instead of heading upstairs to leave, which could have caused him to run into Nancy, he instead left by his outside suite door. Trish opened the door for him, wearing her sheer shorty robe that showcased her glorious gams. "No Helena?" he asked, confused. "She's around," she said mysteriously. Dale paused for a moment, thinking. "Can I just quickly, ?" He headed toward the lower floor washroom. "Yeah, come on up to my bedroom when you're ready." When Dale walked into Trish's bedroom a few minutes later, he stopped short. Helena was tied, one extremity per post of Trish's four-poster bed, face down and naked, grunting and yelling into the ball gag that secured her mouth. Dale just stared. "I, uh, " Trish lightly slapped her daughter's ass, causing the girl to rage. "I was able to get out of her that she blackmailed you, though not what with. That was about it, though. Did you fuck her, Dale?" He just stood there, taking in the bizarre sight. "No, she just rubbed one out of me with her feet." Trish looked at her daughter, surprised and a little impressed. "Feet? Huh. Well, I've informed Little Miss Sunshine here that if she uses whatever she's been holding over you, she'll be on the street sucking whatever disease-ridden dicks she can find for cash. I won't support this kind of behavior under my roof." She slapped Helena's tight ass again, eliciting another grunt of outrage from the girl. Dale stayed standing in the bedroom doorway. "So what's going on here?" Trish came forward. "Your extra special treat! You're going to take her anal virginity." Helena screamed into the gag. "And how does Helena feel about that?" Trish harrumphed and crossed her arms. "I don't give a fuck. This girl needs to be taken down a peg, and you have the big peg to do it with." She reached for Dale's zipper. He stepped back, pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, and put it away. "So that conversation where you were telling me that you wanted me to anally rape the daughter you forcibly tied to your bed has been uploaded to the cloud." Trish stepped back, shocked. "Dale, !" "Untie her, now." He had never seen Trish cowed before. She quickly did as commanded, freeing Helena, who then rushed over to hug Dale, tears streaming down her face. Trish sat on the bed. "Now what?" Dale gave Helena a squeeze. "Now we talk."   Dale had actually taken Psychology as his college minor (not that anyone ever asked). They sat on the bed and he let Helena rage at her mother about how she had put her down and called her a slut ever since her daughter had grown tits. After some pointed questioning, Dale was able to get out of Trish that she, herself, had been a sexually charged young woman, and had gotten pregnant the very first time she had sex, at 18. She had been stupid, but lucky in that Stephen had taken responsibility and married her. She had seen her daughter taking after herself and didn't want her making the same mistake. Along the way, though, things changed from protective to abusive, she admitted, but she didn't know how to change course. "Right here, this is where you change course," Dale told them. "Blackmail, anal rape? This is rock bottom, so there's nowhere to go but up, right?" "I'm sorry, baby, I love you," Trish sobbed, tears mucking up her mascara as she held out her hands to her daughter. Helena, still holding on to Dale's arm, tightened her grip. He turned to her, "If you think this is salvageable, at least take her hand." She did after a moment, and Trish gave her a hopeful smile. After some more discussion, Dale felt that they had done as much as they could for the day. He got Trish to promise that they'd seek out a family counselor. "I think it's pretty much a given that I won't be coming around again, as handyman or otherwise." Trish nodded. "I'm sorry, Dale, I betrayed your trust with Marietta and misjudged your character with Helena. I hope you'll forgive me." Without comment, he gave her a hug. Then he hugged Helena and went home.   "Hey, hey, Dale!" Dale stopped short as he habitually entered the house through the front door. Michael, Nancy's husband, home almost a week early, was in the kitchen grabbing a bag of chips. "You're back!" Dale stated, stunned. "Yep! Front, too," the older man winked at Dale. Dale sighed. For a guy who didn't have any kids, Michael sure loved dad jokes. "Well, welcome back. I gotta, " Dale pointed to the basement suite door and headed there. "Sure, sure, thanks for taking care of Nancy while I was away, champ." "You're welcome," Dale grumped, and headed down into his cave.   On Saturday, Melanie rolled up in her old Toyota Corolla to pick up Dale for their date. As he got into the passenger side, he noted that she was wearing a white knee-length skirt and a blue blouse under a long, furry coat. "I hope that's not real fur," he joked as she drove. "Definitely not!" Dale offered to pay for the movie, but Melanie refused. "I asked You out," she said indignantly. "Besides, how am I going to get you at my mercy in the back seat of my car if you don't owe me?" She gave him a silly grin to show that she was kidding. Dale frowned. If their genders had been reversed and he had said that, he'd probably have gotten a swift kick in the nards! He laughed uncomfortably. The movie was awesome, as were most Marvel movies. They shared a popcorn, and their hands touched frequently as they pulled the buttery snack from the bucket. When it was gone, they just continued to hold hands. "Wait until after the credits," he told her. "Well Duh!" she responded. After the post-credits scene, they reluctantly disengaged and headed back to her car. Instead of taking Dale home, though, Melanie pulled into an industrial area and parked in a darkened corner of a cul-de-sac. "Did you know that I've had a crush on you for a while?" she asked as she turned the car off. "Yeah? Oomph!" Melanie had unbuckled and rushed her face to his, catching him off guard. As the platinum blonde's tongue slipped into his mouth, though, his libido beast, unfulfilled for the last couple of nights, awoke, and he kissed her back passionately. After a while, first base moved to second, and Dale felt up Melanie's C-cups through her blouse. She redoubled her kissing and, emboldened, Dale suggested that they move into the back seat. "I dunno, oh, " she moaned as Dale found one of her nipples through her bra. "Um, okay." They removed their coats as they moved into the larger space of the back seat and made out some more. Dale was able to move his hands under Melanie's blouse to unsnap her bra, and soon he was palming her warm tits directly. They weren't as large as Nancy's, or even Trish's, but they were nice. "Hmm, " she moaned into his mouth. As they continued the make-out session, Melanie naturally lay back across the seats. Dale took advantage of the change of position by moving between her legs, and soon they were dry humping. As the teen couple thrust their covered loins together, her skirt slipped up further and further, and soon he was rubbing his jeans-covered crotch against her panty-covered pussy. Melanie was breathing heavily and thrusting her pelvis at him, her eyes closed as she was overwhelmed by the sensations. Dale reached down and unzipped his jeans, needing to be inside her. He took his turgid member in hand, used the head to move the gusset of her panties aside, "Dale." , and started to press it into her sex, "Dale! Stop!" , he could feel her wet pussy lips, opening to welcome him, Then he was on the floor of the car, his cheek stinging. "What the hell, Dale?" Melanie yelled. "I told you to stop!" His head was muzzy, both from his bubbling hormones and the slap. He replayed the last few seconds in his head. She Had told him to stop, and he had just been focused on getting his cock wet! He tucked his shrinking member back into his pants and sat back up on the seat, but opposite her. "I'm so sorry, Melanie, I thought you wanted me." Melanie had closed her legs and pulled her skirt back down, and was now looking at him with apprehension. "I did, I do, but, well, number one, you weren't listening, number two, I'm a virgin, and number three, you need to use a condom!" Dale blinked. With all the sex he'd had over the last few weeks, none of it had been with a condom, he hadn't even considered buying any for this date. Also, "You're a virgin?" Here he was, about to deflower Melanie in the back of an old Corolla. He felt like shit. She looked embarrassed. "Well, yeah, remember I was the fat girl with glasses in high school? Nobody asked me out, not even to prom. Then, after the weight loss and eye surgery, I moved here for college, and there you were, I mean, I've had offers from other guys recently, and even a girl, but I kept waiting for you to ask me out." His mind was racing, putting together the pieces that had contributed to his raging, one-track-mind libido over the last few weeks. He considered his date, looking so vulnerable. "Melanie, I wouldn't blame you if you just took me home, but will you listen to my story? It may explain things." She watched him for a while, thinking. Then she nodded. "But we're getting our coats back on, 'cause it's getting cold in here." Bundled back up, Dale told her everything about Nancy, Trish, and even Helena. He explained how Trish's seduction technique and frequent sexual demands, combined with his on-again, off-again 'relationship' with Nancy and Helena's master-slave blackmail must have warped his mind a bit, causing him to focus on the fucking instead of on making sure that Melanie was okay with what they were doing. He also apologized again. She looked at him, wide-eyed. "That was all true? You're not just making up stories, like in class?" He nodded. She pondered what he had said. "All right, I'll forgive you, but I'm going to need something from you, let's call it a trust exercise." Confused, he responded, "Okay, " She nibbled her lower lip. "That story was really fucking hot, and I need to cum. You said Trish taught you how to use your tongue, so, " She pulled down her panties and spread her legs for him, showing off her trimmed blonde muff. ", get in there, and if you make me feel good, I'll make you feel good after. No intercourse, though." Dale was likewise still horny from the making out, as well as from recounting his story. He dove between Melanie's legs and did his absolute best, giving her a screaming orgasm within a couple of minutes. Then she asked him to lay back, and she unfastened his jeans to pull his stiff cock out. "Holy shit! No wonder you've been getting laid so much! Oh!" She engulfed the head with her mouth and he moaned. She inexpertly licked and stroked him to orgasm. While he did warn her that he was going to cum, the sheer volume took her by surprise, and it spilled out as she choked trying to swallow it all, causing it to splatter back onto his crotch and drip down her chin. She licked it all up, marveling at how tasty it was.   Dale and Melanie took their relationship slowly, sticking with blowjobs and pussy eating when they got too wound up. He gave Nancy his notice and moved out the next month for campus housing that was closer to his new girlfriend. A few weeks later, Nancy and Michael rekindled their relationship after she informed him that she was finally pregnant. Michael figured that he had knocked his wife up just before he left for his extended work trip, and she didn't correct him, having started her last period a little after he left. The man stopped being depressed about his low sperm count and returned to his former attentive self, though he still orgasmed way too quickly for her liking.   "Mom?" Helena shuffled into her mother's bedroom. Trish put down her book. "Yes, Helena?" "I think I'm pregnant." Trish scrutinized her daughter and sighed. She had noticed the girl gaining some weight, most notably in her boobs, but hadn't said anything. "How many periods have you missed?" "A couple. I figured you can miss one sometimes, right? But then this month's didn't come either, and it's been another few weeks." Trish frowned. "Dale said you two didn't have sex. Did he lie?" "Umm, no, " The strawberry blonde looked very guilty. "But it's his?" Helena nodded. 'You conniving little bitch,' Trish thought but didn't say. They were working on their relationship with the help of a family therapist, as Dale had suggested. She considered her former boy-toy, now gone for weeks. He had succeeded in impregnating her friend Marietta, and now Helena as well. Trish also had a sneaking suspicion about Nancy also getting pregnant right after her husband left on an extended work trip. I'm the only woman he didn't knock up, she realized, feeling a little left out. "What're we gonna do, Mom?" Helena's pregnancy was already past the number of weeks their state allowed for abortion, so it seemed that Trish was going to be a Gilf in under a year! She sighed. Like mother, like daughter, she told herself again.   Eventually Dale and Melanie did have sex, though he made sure that it was in a properly romantic setting, and she wore garters and stockings, as he had requested. He wore a condom, as she had requested. He started a new game of Dragon Era for them to play together, this time as a female Elf Wizard. While Melanie's role playing choices weren't as interesting as Nancy's, she still occasionally surprised him. After Dale's English professor crushed his dreams and told him, quite frankly, that the young man's writing skills weren't sufficiently amazing to make a living at it, he switched majors to Psychology. He kept writing in his spare time, though, as he enjoyed it, you may have red some of his erotic stories online. By Krosis, for Literotica.  

Room and Bored: Part 4 Dale helps Nancy after her fall. Based on a post by Krosis, in 5 parts. Listen to the ►  Podcast at Steamy Stories.   Once Dale had his privacy, he dropped his jeans and started to stroke his cock. Pretty soon he was approaching orgasm, and he grabbed the tissue box. Thump Thump Thump Thump! "Ow!" Dale turned. Nancy was sprawled at the bottom of the basement stairs, holding one ankle and grimacing. He quickly pulled up his pants and rushed over to her. "Are you alright?" "I hurt my ankle! Oow!" Tears were rolling down her cheeks. "Don't move!" he advised her. "Just your ankle, not your head or other, parts?" He noticed that her tights were around her ankles. "Did you trip on your tights?" She flushed red. "Not exactly." He looked up the stairwell. "What were you doing at the top of my stairs?" She turned even redder. "Don't make me say it." Then it hit him. "Oh." He was flabbergasted, she was, peeping at him and playing with herself? He picked her up under her knees and shoulders, making her squeak, and placed her gently onto his bed. "Dale?" "Pull your tights off, please. I'll have a look at your ankle." She awkwardly did so, wincing as they slid off of her injured ankle, and he bent down to examine it. "Can you move it at all?" "Umm, erk." She was able to move it a bit, but not all the way around. "Can you flex your toes?" She could. He stood up. "It's just a light sprain, I've had one before. No point in going to the hospital. They'll charge you a few hundred dollars just to wrap it in a tensor bandage, one of which I have in my medical kit." He went and got it, and then wrapped the bandage firmly around her ankle. "If the swelling gets really big, though, we will have to go to the hospital." She looked at him, impressed. "You have a medical kit." "Yeah, it helps to be prepared for anything. Worked out in this case, right?" Nancy felt her cheeks redden again. Dale was so thoughtful, taking care of her after her stupid, embarrassing accident. "You should sleep down here," he informed her. "Um, what?" He looked at the stairs. "I could help you upstairs, but you really shouldn't move until you've healed a bit overnight. Plus, if you need to go to the bathroom, it's right there." He pointed to the door in the corner of his suite. "I don't know, " "I'll sleep on the floor." He grabbed a pillow and walked over to his linen closet. "The floor's hardwood tile, I put it in myself," she told him. "You're not sleeping on it, or you won't be rested enough for school tomorrow. C'mon, " She scooted to one side of the bed and patted the other. "I'll sleep on top of the covers," she said as she saw his concerned look, "okay?" Dale brushed his teeth and slipped under the covers, keeping only his boxers on. "Good nite," he said to her again. "Sweet dreams." Nancy had tried putting her tights back on while Dale was in the bathroom, but she couldn't get them over the tensor bandage without hurting her ankle. Wearing only her long t-shirt and panties, after sleeping for a bit, she woke up cold. Well, he seems to be asleep, she considered, so it'll be safe for me to get under the covers now. She awkwardly contorted her body to do so, and instantly felt warmer. "Ahh, " she sighed, falling back into slumber.   That evening, the temperature dropped; Autumn had finally arrived in full force. As they slept, Dale's and Nancy's bodies, feeling the creeping chill, naturally gravitated toward the nearest source of heat: each other's bodies. Nancy woke to the feeling of something hard pressing into her lower back, and a hand on one of her boobs, over her t-shirt. Dale's palm couldn't fully encompass her D-cup tit, but it was holding the underside, just below her erect nipple. "Dale?" she called out softly. He didn't answer, or even move. She put her own hand over his. This was such a thrillingly intimate situation, and she had been starved for affection, not to mention jealous of Trish. She pressed Dale's hand into her tit and moaned. She knew that was Dale's large erection pressing into her lower back. A few hours ago she had been masturbating as she watched Dale whacking off again, and then she slipped and had tumbled down into his suite, so embarrassing! And yet Dale had immediately taken charge, tending to her injury. She rather liked how assertive and decisive he had become in the moment. She tried flexing her ankle, but it was held fast by the tensor bandage, probably for the best, she thought. Dale was such a good boy -- good man, she amended. That was definitely a man's cock digging into her back. Her masturbation had been aborted by her tumble down the stairs, and now that she was no longer in pain, her body demanded release. She slithered upward and felt Dale's cock slide down her spine until it slipped between her ass cheeks. "Hmm, " she moaned, but she could feel that his erection was still constrained by his underwear. Moving her hand from his, she arched her back so that she could slip it between them. Yes, there was his cock, pressing resolutely at the fabric of his boxers. Her fingers found the front hole, unfastened the button, and then adjusted the fabric so that, Dale's cock sprang out and smacked right into her puffy, panty-covered pussy lips, making her start. "Eep!" "Mm, " Dale murmured. Nancy froze. If Dale woke up now, things would be hard to explain. Hard, she could feel the tip of his hard cock pressing into her panties. Had he moved his hips a bit? It felt good. She adjusted her own hips and felt his cock head slip between her vaginal lips, the fabric of her panties the only thing protecting her from breaking her marriage vows. "Mmm, " she moaned as she moved her hand inside the front of her panties to manipulate her clit. She felt that she could cum like this, and then she'd go back to sleep, with Dale none the wiser. As she frigged her clit, she also rolled her hips, causing the tip of Dale's cock to slide back and forth along her pussy lips. Her vaginal flower bloomed, her vulva opening to welcome his manhood, though it was still constrained by that single layer of stretchy cotton. She both loved and hated her panties at that moment. As she got closer to her release, her thighs instinctively closed on his cock, shallowly stroking it as she moved her hips. She was close, very close. She moved her other hand to tweak one of her hard nipples and started to cum. A couple of things happened at once: Her hips pushed down toward Dale's cock, her body instinctively trying to achieve penetration. Dale, still sleeping but overstimulated from his own incomplete masturbation earlier, pushed his cock forward due to the same instinct. "Nuh!" Nancy bit her lip to stifle her orgasmic cry as the head of Dale's cock stretched the fabric of her panties enough so that it dipped into her very wet pussy just as they both came. The sperm-filled semen of his orgasm, delayed for hours, gushed into the thin layer of fabric, soaking it, and when that potent deluge finally exceeded the cotton's absorbency limit, began to drip through into Nancy's vulnerable, orgasming vagina. Feeling the warmth of Dale's excess cum running down her ass cheek, Nancy came again at the forbidden thrill of making the young man cum in his sleep while they were so intimately entwined. Dale grunted as spurt after spurt of his dangerous cum was only momentarily stopped by Nancy's underwear before it dripped through the sopping wet material into her wanton body. Lost in her own orgasm, she was unaware that her makeshift birth control had failed. Finally, she calmed down from her overwhelming orgasm and relaxed her thighs. Dale rolled onto his back and sighed. She froze again. "Dale?" Again there was no answer. She reached over, tucked his dwindling cock back into his boxers, and went back to sleep, relaxed and sated. Unknown to her, the drops of Dale's sperm that had soaked through her panties and slipped into her vagina swam deeper inside her receptive body. Dale helps Nancy to her bedroom. In the morning, Nancy woke first and realized that she needed to get out from underneath the covers before Dale noticed, as she had told him that she'd sleep on top of them. She sashayed out, hissing as her sprained ankle got caught in the sheets. "Hm? Nancy?" Dale blinked awake as she quickly extricated herself from the sheets and sat on the edge of the bed. She wrinkled her nose. "You should change your sheets, Dale." They didn't actually smell, but she had to get rid of the evidence of his massive ejaculation from the previous night. He sat up. "Oh, I didn't even think, they're kinda stinky, huh?" He threw off the sheets. "Ack!" Quickly, he turned away from her and fussed with the front of his boxers. Nancy mentally kicked herself, she had forgotten to refasten the button on his boxers the previous night, so his penis must have poked out through the hole again. The crisis averted, Dale pulled on his jeans and a fresh shirt. "Okay, " He grabbed all the bedclothes, rolled them up into a ball, and dropped them into his laundry basket. "I'll grab more sheets and a comforter later, let's get you upstairs." She grabbed her tights and put her other arm around his shoulders so he could help her up the stairs. "All the way upstairs, please," she asked him, "I should probably shower, er, bathe," she amended, realizing that there was no way that she could stand for a shower. He continued to act as a makeshift crutch so that she could pull out a fresh pair of underwear and another long shirt from her bedroom's chest of drawers. "I can't put on tights with the bandage on," she explained. Dale knew that she could just put on pants or a skirt, but he wasn't going to argue, as then he wouldn't be able to see more of his sexy landlady's shapely gams. He helped her sit on the edge of the bathtub before heading out of the bathroom and closing the door behind him. He soon heard the sound of running water as she drew her bath. Nancy lay in the tub, her foot elevated above the water as Dale had suggested, and thought about the previous night. The young man's penis had definitely been inside her, just a little. Instead of feeling bad about it, though, she felt turned on again. He had cum with his cock pressed into the fabric of her panties, that stretchy cloth her only protection against his dangerous cum as he spent himself upon it. She wasn't stupid, she knew that cotton was hardly prophylactic, but it had only been, she calculated, 10 days since her period started? That was pretty safe, she figured. Wasn't it? Dale had decided to wash himself as well, and headed back down to his suite to shower once he heard the noise of the water upstairs stop. Nancy would soak for a while, he figured, but he'd make sure to have a quick shower so he'd be ready if she needed his help again. Without a crutch, he realized, she'd need him just to get around the house. As he exited the shower, he heard Nancy yelling his name. He quickly tied a towel around his midsection and dashed upstairs. He knocked on the bathroom door. "Nancy?" He heard her through the door, "Oh, Dale! I need your help." "Are you dressed?" There was a pause. "Nancy?" "No. I can't get out of the tub." She sounded miserable. "Oh!" Dale looked down at himself only wearing a towel. "I'm coming in." He covered his eyes with one hand and opened the door. She snickered at seeing him. "Oh, Dale, thank you, but honestly, you've seen all of me before." "True, " he lowered his hand but kept his eyes on the tiled bathroom floor, glancing up to see her holding her arms out to him. It reminded him momentarily of a baby wanting to play 'upsy daisy'. "Just get me to my feet and I'll take care of the rest," she advised him. He leaned forward, hooked his arms under her shoulders, and lifted with his legs. If he had lifted with his back he might have hurt himself, but as his knees bent, they pulled at the loosely fastened towel around his waist. As he stood up with her, several things happened at once: Nancy went to put her weight on Dale, but this caused her D-cup boobs to press into his chest. At the same time, his towel dropped to the floor. The feel of her hot tit flesh pressing into his bare chest caused the half-chub that had already started manifesting upon seeing her naked body in the tub to go full-on chubbie. "Oh!" she gasped as she felt his erection rise between her legs. "Ack!" Dale tried to pull away, but when Nancy realized that this was going to cause him to drop her, she wrapped her arms around his neck. The resulting imbalance caused her to pitch forward, which then sent Dale falling backwards. "No no no!" He pinwheeled and caught the towel rack with one hand, tearing it from the wall as they fell to the cold tile. "Ow, " he moaned. The back of his head had hit the tile, but it would have been much worse if the towel rack hadn't sacrificed its life, he realized. "Dale! Are you okay?" Nancy's face was before him, looking worried. "You're so beautiful, " Her face flushed. "You, uh, you hit your head?" Then she realized that she was lying upon him, and both of them were naked. She also realized that his penis had somehow stayed between her legs, and was still hard. "Dale?" He leaned forward and kissed her. She was surprised, but soon returned his passion. Her sexual energy had been like a chained beast, stalking back and forth in its cage, but the door had been unlocked now. She started to roll her hips and felt the underside of Dale's hard cock rubbing against her clit and between her vaginal lips. She sucked his tongue into her mouth and moaned, feeling her hard nipples slide along his chest as she moved. Dale still felt a bit dazed from the fall, but he knew what felt good, and he had wanted this for so long! He could feel Nancy's wet pussy sliding up and down the underside of his shaft, but it wasn't enough. On her next movement up, he moved his body down, and as she slid back down, the head of his cock popped between her vaginal lips. She broke the kiss. "Uh!" Dale was inside her, she realized, her marriage vows were broken now. She didn't care. The last vestige of resistance was gone, and she pressed down upon him, feeling his thickness invade her cheating pussy inch by inch. When the pressure became too much, she pulled up and then pressed down again, feeling even more of him invading her womanly core. She did it again, and again, and finally, all of him was inside her, deeper than any man had ever been before. Deeper than any would likely ever be again, she realized, and cried out as she came. "Oh! Uh! Oh my God, " Finally, she came down from her orgasm and stopped moving. "Dale, take me to my bed." He carefully withdrew, picked her up under her shoulders and knees, as he had after she had fallen the previous night, and took her to her bedroom. After placing her gently on the bed, he turned to leave, thinking that she had changed her mind. "No! Dale, please, make love to me." He turned back, surprised and delighted, and dove onto the bed between her legs, making her giggle. Within a few seconds, his hard cock was once again slipping inside her as they kissed lovingly. He made sure to go slow. Trish always wanted to get fucked, but Nancy had asked him to make love to her. Each method had its own pleasure, he realized, but making love with someone you truly cared about was the best. Dale touched every inch of her (except for her sprained ankle), spending a lot of time caressing, nibbling, and sucking at her bountiful tits. His hands moved along her curves, caressing her fantastic hips and ass as he slid into her again and again. She arched her back as she came again. "Ah! Umm, oh, Dale, " Soon, he started to thrust faster. "Nancy, I'm gonna, " "It's okay, Dale, it's a safe day. Cum in me!" And he did, crying out in pleasure as the most powerful orgasm he'd ever experienced roared up his shaft and injected itself deep inside his older lover, filling her unprotected reproductive system with his virile seed. Feeling the illicit thrill of cuckolding her stupid husband in their marital bed as Dale filled her ripe body up with hot sperm, Nancy came as well, stars exploding behind her eyes as she felt each spurt of his forbidden cum filling her. "Uh huh! Oh! Nuh!" Finally, Dale fell upon her, both of them breathing heavily. "Now what?" he asked her. The new lovers stay in bed. Finally, Dale fell upon her, both of them breathing heavily. "Now what?" he asked her. Nancy took stock of the moment: she was in her marital bed, with her teen renter between her legs, his large but softening cock still within her, and his sperm soaking into her depths. Her husband would be away for another week, and she was feeling very sexually satisfied, unlike with her husband. "Now, " she told the young man, "we wait until you can get it back up." He lifted his eyes to hers, surprised. After the hot moments they'd had a couple weeks ago, followed by her cold reactions, he had expected her to regret what they'd done and break it off again. His cock twitched inside her. "Ooh, I felt that," she giggled. "You gonna be able to, oh shit!" She looked at the clock. "You need to go to school! You're already late." He sighed. "It's college, I'll just tell the professors I'm sick and they'll email me today's work. Oh, professor, I just can't get out of bed, it's so warm and snuggly, " He nestled his face into Nancy's neck, nibbling and kissing. She giggled again. "Soo, can you get it up again, right now?" He pulled out gently and rolled to the side. "I'll need a few minutes, and breakfast." She considered her ankle. "Umm, " "I'll handle it." He bounded from the bed, giving her naked form a lascivious grin as he went. As Nancy lay there, her body humming with satisfaction, her fingers lazily sauntered downward to play with her splayed pussy lips as they recovered from the repeated incursion of Dale's large member. A little of his cum leaked out, and she dabbed some up with her fingers to consider it. She was pretty sure that it was a safe day, but her cycle varied. She figured that they should probably use a condom next time. Then as she started to rub her clit, she reconsidered. Getting more sperm inside her today wouldn't be any more dangerous, as the ones from that first load would probably live for a couple days in her warm, receptive body. "Mmm, " she moaned, thinking about Dale's swimmers as they made their way deeper inside her, searching for an egg. Tomorrow, she decided as she felt another orgasm rise. Tomorrow they'd start using condoms,   "Ta-da!" Nancy came awake, one hand still between her legs. She had dozed off after her orgasm. Dale walked in, a tray in hand with two plates, and mugs of steaming coffee. Nancy felt her heart skip a beat at this, and also upon noticing that he was still shirtless, though he had put on some jeans. She could smell bacon and eggs along with the coffee. "Oh, Dale, " They ate and then she snuggled into his shoulder. This is so nice, she thought, like when she had first started sleeping over at Michael's when they were dating,  She frowned. No, she wasn't going to think about her husband right now, she resolved; he was a week away, in another city, and had been emotionally distant for weeks before, since that visit to the doctor. 'No point to keep trying,' he had said, choosing to sulk instead of increase his sex drive to offset his low sperm count. With her head nestled under Dale's arm, she was close to his bare chest. She moved her face down and licked at his nipple. He hissed. "Sensitive, " She lightly bit it. "Ahh! Nancy!" He sat up, causing her to fall back. "Just trying to get a rise out of you. Seems like it worked," she remarked as she rubbed at the crotch of his jeans. Dale looked down at Nancy's curvy naked form with undisguised lust and unfastened his pants. He was prepared to go down on her, but she was already wet from his previous load and her own juices as her body prepared itself for another insemination. She wasn't sure she'd be able to ride him, or take him doggy style with her ankle in its current condition, so she lay back again. However, instead of just moving into the standard missionary position, he lay sideways, entwined her legs with his, and pushed his hard member into her at a 90 degree angle. "Oh, that's different, " she moaned. She almost asked him where he had learned how to do that, but the answer would have been Trish, of course, the bitch that had taken his virginity, another person that she didn't want to think about right then. Dale grabbed her thigh and used it to lever himself deeper inside her, making her moan again with pleasure. With this position, she reached down and realized that she could easily play with her clit as he pumped into her. She liked it, and was even able to kiss him as he leaned forward/sideways to bring his lips to hers. Soon, the combination of his thickness thrusting deep inside her again and again, combined with her clitoral play, brought her to orgasm once more, and she arched her back. This caused Dale's cock to slide along her G-spot, extending her orgasm and making her body tighten up and shake. "Oh fuck! Oh!" As she came down from her hard cum, Dale stopped thrusting. "You didn't cum?" she asked him. "Just need a rest. Lots of muscles used for that position." He pulled out and lay back. "Well, why don't I take over?" She got to her knees and took his wet cock into her mouth. "Oh wow, " he moaned. Nancy couldn't take him all the way down her throat like Trish could, and she didn't seem as experienced, but he preferred Nancy because, it was Nancy. She had such a look of wonderment on her face as she worshipped his hard member, licking and stroking as she took a little over half of it into her mouth. He stared at her adoringly. She stopped. "You're staring at me," she stated, her face reddening. "You're beautiful," he said, and pounced upon her, pushing her back lightly and bringing his very stiff cock to her sopping pussy once more. As she looked down at his penis, he pressed the head inside her. "Oh, Dale, " She nibbled her lower lip as he continued pushing very slowly into her. "Mm-mm!" He pulled back so only the head was still in her, and then pressed in slowly again. She was panting now. "More, give me more, " He did, excruciatingly slowly. "Ah, heh, ah, Dale, please, " Her whole body was shaking with need. Finally, he pushed all the way inside her and clamped his mouth to hers as she came, feeling the tip of his cock pressing insistently at the mouth of her womb. "Umm! Umm hmm!" she moaned as their tongues danced. Then Dale pulled back and pushed in again. He could feel Nancy's vagina, still cumming around his cock, urging it to give her more of his seed. He began thrusting faster, her vibrating pussy helping him to move swiftly toward his second orgasm of the day. All the sex with Trish, with her pregnancy kink, had had an effect on Dale's brain. He almost whispered into Nancy's ear that he wanted to fill her body with his sperm and give her a baby. He held back, but heard it in his head. His hands moved to Nancy's large tits, which he felt would look amazing as they grew even more and filled with milk for their child, then his hands moved down to her rounded hips, perfectly made for birthing babies. He wanted to fill her ripe body up with his sperm, to merge their genes together to form new life. He wished it wasn't a safe day. He thrust harder, deeper, wanting to make sure that he shot his cum as far inside the libidinous woman as he could. “Dale, oh, !" Her orgasm had ended, but as she felt him moving to his own, she already felt another rising from deep within her. He was going to fill her with another load of creamy teenage sperm! She wrapped her legs around him. She could feel his cock expanding, "Uh! Fu, ah!" He cried out as Nancy gasped, and he felt another of her orgasms rippling through her pussy, urging his cock to fill her with its load. "Ah! Shit! Nancy!" His orgasm rushed up his shaft and pressure-washed her cervix. "Huh, " she moaned as she shook, feeling the hot, wet pressure deep inside her. The entrance to her womb spasmed open in orgasm and her body pulled whorls of Dale's sperm-filled semen into her most private of places, which previously had only been reserved for her husband. "Ho oh, " Dale collapsed upon her. While Nancy was still jealous of Trish for taking Dale's virginity, she had to mentally thank the woman for training him in the art of love. She'd never cum that hard before. Sex, pizza, gaming, sex. They dozed for a while, entwined in Nancy's marital bed. Dale woke when his phone indicated that someone had sent him a social message. When he checked it, he saw that Melanie was checking in: *Hey u not @ school 2day?* He typed back, *Nope just taking a day off to help my landlady* *Aw you're so nice* He winced at her 'your' vs. 'you're' mix-up, but kept quiet about it. He didn't really know what to type back, so he let the conversation drop. "Help a girl up to pee?" He turned and saw Nancy's embarrassed face. "Oh, yeah, come here, " She didn't want him to stick around for that, though, and waved him out of the room once he got her situated on the porcelain throne. After she was done, he helped her back to bed. "Don't tell me," she said, "you engineered all this sex so I'd stay in bed and off of my ankle." "Guilty as charged!" he said, his hands in the air. Then he fell upon her again and they made out for a while, but since they were still recovering from earlier, they soon fell back into slumber.   "Pizza?" Dale opened his eyes. "What time is it?" "Almost four," she replied, looking at her phone. "Guess we needed the rest." "Yeah, pizza sounds really good." Nancy donned another t-shirt and panties, the latter only so that she wouldn't be leaking Dale's cum, and he helped her downstairs. After the food was delivered and they ate, they played more Dragon Era on the couch. "So now that we've fucked Alain, can we do it again?" she asked, sitting behind him this time, her legs akimbo about his hips as he leaned forward to allow the shorter woman to see the screen over his shoulder. "Yeah, but it just repeats the same animation. Now that we have Lily and Vezzir in the party, we can start flirting with them too." "Lily the bard? So we can be bi, huh?" She considered. "Or Vezzir the Elf? He seems too cocksure." Dale looked back at her. "You don't like confident men? You seemed to like it when I took charge." She blushed. "Okay, fine, let's go talk to him." Soon, though, Nancy's hands wandered, rubbing at Dale's shoulders. "That's nice, " he sighed. "Yard work's kinda tough." She moved her hands down to his lower back. He had opened up a line of questioning that she didn't want to follow up on. 'What else does Trish have you doing over there, Dale? Polishing knobs? Some drain snaking?' That conversation would kill the mood, how could she argue the propriety of him fucking Trish while Nancy, a married woman herself, had been boffing him all day? She didn't own Dale, nor did he own her. What he did over at Trish's was none of her business, and she didn't want to think about it anymore. Her hand slipped around his hip and massaged his bulge. Dale paused the game and moved a hand back, between her legs, and she moaned as he quickly found her clit. Feeling the need to take him for herself, she slipped from behind him on her knees, making sure to keep her bad ankle off of the couch, and told him to take his clothes off. He was quickly naked, his hard cock ready and willing. "I wanna do this again, " she said, climbing into his lap and rubbing her panty-covered pussy along his hard shaft. He pulled her shirt up and off of her, and dove into her large tits, licking and sucking. The last time they had done this, a couple weeks previous, she had gotten overheated and put the head of his cock into her panties, where he blew a huge load all over her clit and pussy lips. This time, however, she pulled her panties to the side, angled his stiff member up, and then sank her hot, wet pussy down upon it. "Oh, Nancy, " he moaned, and looked up at her adoringly. She grabbed his face and kissed him passionately as she rode him. After all the sex they'd had earlier, her vagina was able to take him more easily, but she still felt incredibly full inside. It was the same day, she told herself, so still safe. She was going to ride him until he filled her up with his hot cum again. Her pussy gave a pleasurable twitch at that thought, and she bounced harder. Dale broke the kiss and took one of her substantial nipples into his mouth. "Huh!" As he started to suck, Nancy grunted as an orgasm quickly blew through her. Her body felt overheated, filled with energy as she rode him hard. Dale switched tits and he felt another small orgasm ripple through Nancy's pussy and along his cock. "Mmf!" he cried out as her demanding body pulled his own orgasm from his loins. He lay back and arched his spine. "Oh, ah! Nancy!" Her eyes opened wide as she felt Dale's shaft expand inside her needy pussy and then fill her with hot love. She felt her tits, with their hard nipples, bouncing up and down as she continued to ride him, urging more of his cum to fill her deepest recesses. "Uh! Aha!" she cried out in pleasure as the younger man inseminated her nearly fertile body. She lay upon him, her body shaking from orgasmic aftershocks. "H-uhh! You fuck me so good, Dale, " She found that his face had been buried by her ample chest, so his attempt to speak had reverberated through the flesh of her tits. "Oops!" She pulled back. "You fuck Me so good, you're amazing, Nancy." "Oh, " Her eyes shone a little as she caressed his cheek and gave him a loving kiss.   That night, he joined her in her bed, 'just in case she needed anything.' What she needed, apparently, was another injection of his potent sperm inside her body that was rapidly approaching its fertile time of the month before they finally fell asleep, tired but happy. At about 3 AM, she woke up with Dale's hard cock grinding at her ass as he slept. As she had done the previous night, she slipped his shaft between her legs where the tip pressed against her pussy. Unlike the previous night, though, she wasn't wearing panties, and before long Dale woke up as his cock slipped inside her. It's past midnight but not really tomorrow, she told herself as he got to his knees to fuck her from behind while she lay on her side. It'll be tomorrow when we get up, and then we'll have to start using condoms, she decided. Dale gets an unexpected text message. "Ta da!" Nancy awoke to see Dale walk into her bedroom with a metal crutch in hand. "Where'd you get that?" "Online, used. They just dropped it off. C'mon, give it a try." He helped her to her feet and she situated it under her arm. It was a bit too tall, so Dale adjusted the length and soon she was crutching her way around the room without difficulty. "Oh, thank you, Dale!" She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "How much do I owe you?" "It's a gift. Well worth it to make sure you're mobile while I'm at school." "Well, okay," she agreed. "C'mon, I'll make breakfast while you get ready." She threw on another t-shirt and panties, as well as a pair of shorts. Feeling stir crazy after spending all of the previous day and night indoors, she threw open the front drapes and let the sun shine in. Colorful leaves were flying here and there, now that the weather was finally turning colder. She hobbled around the kitchen, making eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee. Dale came back up from his suite a few minutes later and helped prepare the rest of the meal. It was almost ready when he came up from behind and grabbed one of her boobs. "Oh!" Then he was kissing her neck, one of her weaknesses. His other hand pulled down her shorts and panties, and then he lifted her leg with the bad ankle up onto the counter. "Uhh, Dale, " she moaned. He dropped to his knees and pressed his mouth to her pussy, his tongue delving between her vaginal lips. She cried out in pleasure, and soon her clit came out to play. As she got close to orgasm, he pulled away. "Uh?" Dale grabbed her hips and thrust his large cock inside her very wet puss. "Uh!" Nancy cried out as she felt his member fill her. He thrust again and again, pushing a bit more inside her until he was completely ensconced within her vulnerable pussy. All the thrusting had caused her to fall forward so that her large tits were crushed onto the countertop, and her hard nipples rubbed on it, back and forth, with each thrust. Here they were, having sex right in the kitchen, Her eyes flew open and looked at the front of the house. "Dale! Uh, the window's wide open! Anyone could see us! Hah, " "I'll be quick," he growled. The thrill of possible discovery, combined with how intensely Dale was taking her, only heightened her excitement, and she could feel that she was going to cum soon. His thrusts had pushed her further up onto the counter now, so her clit was rubbing right on the edge of it. She, was, almost, It was tomorrow! It was no longer a safe day, she realized. "Dale, uhh, wait, " "Huh!" "No! Dale, pull, " "Uh!" She felt his cock throb as his hot load spurted deep inside her, and she came as well, "Ouh, huh! Ah!" Her body went into orgasmic spasms, knowing that each throb of his cock meant yet another spurt of his dangerous cum blasting her cervix, her own body betraying her as that protective barrier opened and closed in time with her pleasure, pulling his sperm into her now possibly fertile womb. "Yumm! Told ya I'd be quick." He pulled out a little too fast and she hissed in discomfort, though he was careful to help her bad ankle back down to the floor. She redressed and they ate in silence. "You okay?" he asked after a bit. Her mind had been replaying the last day or so in her head. Why had she been so stupid? The answer, of course, was her fertile time of the month, coinciding with the worst, most lonely time in her marriage. "Dale, you didn't ask if it was okay to cum inside me." He looked at her, confused. "Uh, what? You said it was a safe day." "That was yesterday." He paused, a piece of egg on his fork. "Oh, shit. So today is a bad day?" "It's probably fine," she lied, "but I think we should stop doing this. My husband will be home in less than a week. I was emotionally vulnerable and you're a horny teen, I'm sorry for taking advantage of you, and for being so mercurial." She paused for a moment. "That means, " "I know what it means, English major, remember?" "Oh, of course. Are you okay with this?" She pushed her plate away; she had lost her appetite. He got to his feet, looking uncomfortable and agitated. "Yeah, I guess. I should get to school. Leave the plates and I'll wash them when I get back, okay?" To be concluded in part 5, by Krosis, for Literotica.

Room and Bored: Part 3 Deep in the maze. Based on a post by Krosis, in 5 parts. Listen to the ►  Podcast at Steamy Stories.   Dale clipped an errant branch from the hedge, dropped it into the wheelbarrow, and continued further into the maze. With the 8-foot-high hedges, it was difficult to tell where he was on Trish's property, but he figured he'd be able to find his way out, how big could it actually be? He swiped his arm across his forehead. The afternoon sun was beating down, the last gasp of a tenacious Summer as they moved into October. He turned a corner and stopped. There was a clearing there, with a teeny cottage, not much bigger than the tool shed. The door to the cottage was open, and he could see a slim hand dipping between toned legs as their owner lay upon a bed within. "About time! Get in here, Dale!" Trish called as she raised her head to regard him, the older blonde's eyes half-lidded from pleasure. He dropped the branch cutter and strode forward. As he got closer, he could see that she was laying upon a twin bed which barely fit the space available. Her bikini bottoms were off, and the fingers pushing into her vaginal folds were soaked. "Come get your cock wet," she ordered him, keeping an eye on it as it pushed out his shorts. In a flash, his shorts and underwear were off and he dove between her legs. "Ooh!" she grunted as he fell upon her. "Eager beaver! Oh, I guess that's more me, mmm, " She reached forward and stroked his thick 8 incher before directing the head to her wanton pussy. "Umm, " he ummed, and paused. She paused as well. "Hm? What's up?" "I, uh, I've never, " Her face lit up. "You're a virgin? Oh, honey, every boy should have their first with an experienced woman. C'mon, " She slotted the head of his cock between her spread, wet vulva. He had actually thought that he might lose his v-card to another experienced woman, Nancy, but he knew now that that wouldn't happen. As she pulled an inch of his cock inside her he asked, "Is this okay without a condom?" "Oh, bless you, Dale, thinking of the possible consequences, but I'm clean. A boy's first time shouldn't be with one of those nasty prophylactics on his Johnson." With that, she pushed her hips toward him and another inch of his member went inside her. "Oh, damn, that's big," she moaned. "Glad I prepared myself." Trish hadn't mentioned pregnancy. She only had one child, after all, and it seemed that she loved sex, so Dale assumed that she was on the pill or some other method of birth control. He pushed, and another inch went in. "Yes, " she moaned. "C'mon, give me that cock, " She wrapped her long legs around him and pulled him in further. Soon, he was all the way inside her. "Oh wow, I feel so full, I think you're touching my cervix." Dale's cock felt fantastic. He was finally all the way inside a sexy woman, and he was making her feel good! Elated, he pulled back a bit and thrust in again. "Ooh, " Trish cooed. He pulled back a bit more and slowly pushed back in. "Heh, you're making love to me, Dale," she whispered into his ear, "but I need you to fuck me, hmm?" Dale pushed himself up and looked at Trish beneath him, beautiful, sexy, and wanton. He reached down and pulled her bikini top up to her neck, freeing her teardrop tits. Her areolae were wide and pink, with substantial nipples, and he moved to take one into his mouth, making her moan again. Then he pulled his hips back and rammed himself deep into her. "Fuck! Yes, like that, " Trish had definitely felt the tip of his cock smack her cervix that time. It had been slightly uncomfortable, but mixed with the sensation of his pleasurable thickness sliding through her wet pussy, it was pushing her buttons. He withdrew and slammed in again. She was so wet that there was nothing keeping him from moving into a steady rhythm, pummeling her insides as he lost his virginity. Trish was glad that she had sucked him off earlier, or the poor virgin would probably have cum already, she figured. She had chosen correctly with Dale. Her last lover had been just over 6 inches in length, and not quite as thick. Both of them had been larger than her husband, the poor man simply unable to keep up with her demanding libido. Dale had swapped to sucking her other boob. Trish normally kept her bra or bikini top on during sex with her lovers, as she was a bit embarrassed about how her tits had started drooping after giving birth to Helena, but Dale didn't seem to care. Some movement to the side caught her eye, and she saw her 18-year-old daughter peeping in through one of the little cottage's small windows. Helena saw that her mother had noticed, but defiantly stayed put. Trish had a delicious thought. Making sure her voice was loud enough to be heard outside, she said, "Ooh, Dale, you're hammering away at the entrance to my womb, where my daughter Helena came from. You gonna fill me with a nice hot load of your sperm? See if you get lucky and knock me up?" Dale slowed down, shocked. She wasn't on the pill? She moved forward and whispered into his ear, "Don't worry, I got fixed years ago; I just like pretending." Then she lay back and called out again, "C'mon, stud, put your cum deep inside me. See if you got what it takes to make me a momma again." Emboldened, Dale increased his speed, ramming into her even harder than before. "Yeah? You think I can't?" he responded. "I'm gonna, um, make your stomach swell, N--Trish!" His mind was awhirl, had he almost said Nancy's name? She didn't notice. "Yeah! Fucking do it, you sexy young thing! I can feel that sperm rocket of yours knocking at the entrance to my baby chamber." She wrapped her arms around him and tightened her legs. She was actually getting into this, imagining Dale's potent sperm roiling in his testicles, getting ready to rush up and invade her forbidden depths. "Oh God, " he moaned, moving into long strokes, slamming himself deep inside the older woman. He could feel the telltale tingling along his cock as his balls pulled themselves up toward his body. "Yes, yes, sperm me, " Trish moaned. She was so close, Dale slammed into her one last time, hard. "Uh!" "Yes! Fuck!" She felt his cock throb as he held it as deeply as possible inside her, and then felt a warm, wet pressure there. In her mind's eye she could see Dale's semen splashing against her cervix, insistently pushing against the entrance to her womb, and then came herself. "Ah! Oh!" Her cervix, she knew, was now opening to him, sucking some of his sperm into her uterus. "Uh huh huh uh, " she moaned wordlessly. She heard soft gasping from outside the cottage, and knew that her daughter was cumming as well. She could no longer see Helena's face in the window. Dale hadn't noticed, and started to thrust again, instinctively extending his orgasm and spurting more cum deep inside the older woman. "Huh, uh, " Finally, he fell upon her, spent. "You sure you've never done that before?" she asked after a few minutes while she played with his hair. He looked up at her pretty face. "Yeah, first time." "Well, that was really good. I'm looking forward to more of that." She gave him a peck on the lips. "But now you have to get back to work, handyman. However, you've done a great job so far, so you can head home after that load." He gave her a quizzical look. She pointed out the door. "The load of branches in your wheelbarrow." "Oh!" After Dale headed back the way he came, Trish called out. "Come here, Helena." After a few seconds, her sheepish daughter shuffled into the cottage. Trish could see the wet spot in the girl's sweatpants between her legs, and she opened her own legs wide. "Get down here and clean me out, cumslut." "Mom!" "Now!" Whimpering, Helena knelt down on the small bed between her mother's legs. "How do I, ?" "Use that fucking tongue, bitch." "Umm, " The cute strawberry blonde moved her head down between her mother's toned thighs. This close, she could smell the combined scent of Dale's semen and her mother's musky pussy juice. She gave a tentative lick at a dollop of whiteness that was escaping her mother's vagina. She had only had a brief taste of Dale's cum when her mother had shoved it into her mouth after blowing the young man earlier, but it was salty and not bad. She swallowed the cum and started to lick in earnest. "That's it," her mother moaned, "that's a good little cumslut." Helena had already masturbated outside as she heard her mother tell Dale to do his best to impregnate her. That had been so hot! She figured that licking all of his cum out would help keep her from having a brand new sibling. She moved one hand under her sweatpants and back to her own prominent clit, rubbing it as she licked and sucked at her mother's pussy, extracting more of Dale's cum. Finally, she slipped two fingers inside her own vagina and finger banged herself until she came again, gulping down the last of the cum she could find. "Very good, Helena," her mother said as she got to her feet. "You're welcome to watch in the future, but you can't let Dale know. I think you might blow his little mind, knowing the bitch princess is just as much of a cumslut as her mother." Then she pulled her bikini back on and left her daughter there, shaking in pleasure. Day two of Dale's new job. Dale spent the rest of the afternoon in a mushy haze. He'd finally lost his virginity! Not to Nancy, as he'd hoped, but Trish was a sexy Milf as well. He looked forward to his next 'job' with her. That night, he and Nancy played more Dragon Era in the living room. "So, how was your first day helping Trish?" she asked him as their character ran through an abandoned town. "It was fun," Dale said, and winced. He shouldn't have said that, work wasn't supposed to be fun! She sat up. "Fun? What'd you do?" "Err, I mean, have you seen their hedge maze? That was fun. Obviously the work is work," he quickly covered. "Hm."   Sunday, Dale woke up to a text from Trish: *Hey how fast can you get over here?* He looked at the time: 10 AM. His muscles were sore from yesterday's exertions, not only from the hedge trimming, but from hammering his cock into the leggy blonde's hot pussy as he gave her his v-card. He replied back, *Pretty quick, give me a few* *Ok text when you're coming over* "Coffee?" Nancy made her usual offer as she heard him emerge from his basement cave. "Sorry, Trish needs me right now." He typed on his phone and headed to the front door. Nancy watched him leave, suddenly feeling protective, and she wondered if she might also be jealous. Had Trish already jumped him? Had he lost his virginity to her? Was he going over there to pump that deliciously large cock into her skanky cunt? She caught herself and shook her head. She hadn't felt sexy since her period started Thursday night, but it was calming down, and with it, her libido was ramping back up. She had no legitimate claim on Dale, though, if Trish was boffing him, that had nothing to do with her. She sighed and ate her breakfast. Dale got another text message as he left Nancy's house: *Head upstairs second door on the left* Helena let him in, as usual. Today the strawberry blonde was wearing a tank top and short-shorts, showing how she had inherited her long legs from her mother. "Mom's upstairs, I think," she advised him. "Thanks." Dale headed up the dark oak staircase. Once he was out of sight, the young woman pulled out her mother's phone and sent another text: *Undress, put on the blindfold, and turn away from the door* *Ok* She quietly mounted the stairs, following in the attractive young man's wake. Slightly opening the spare bedroom's door to peek in, she saw that he had followed her instructions; he was kneeling on the room's double bed, naked, with his back to her. She stepped in and placed her hand on his shoulder, making him jump a little. Then she made a V with her fingers and swung them around to quickly stab at his eyes, stopping short an inch away. If he hadn't secured the dark blindfold, he would have recoiled from the visible danger to his eyesight, but he hadn't reacted at all. "So, um, " he began. "Shush!" She reached around and grasped his cock, amazed at how long and thick it was. She had seen it while her mother was blowing him the previous day, but now that she was close and it was in her hand, it seemed even bigger. A bit of drool slipped from between her lips and she swept it up with her tongue. She directed him by his shoulders to turn around, and then pushed him back onto the bed before grabbing his cock again to stroke it. She had to taste it. She moved down and licked at the head, her pussy thrilling at this illicit act. She took it into her mouth and gave it a strong suck, making him moan, and then engulfed several inches. Soon, she was bobbing her head and tasting his pre-cum, but she couldn't take all of his cock like her mother had. She worried that he might figure out that she wasn't her mother from her inexperience, so she got up, pulled off her clothes, and then got onto the bed naked. She climbed astride him and rubbed her soaking pussy along the underside of his shaft as Dale just lay there, his mouth slightly open. When she saw his hands move toward her chest, she quickly reacted and pushed them back to the bed, above his head. Her B-cup tits were definitely smaller than her mother's, so he had to keep his hands to himself! By leaning forward to do that, though, the shorter girl had moved her hips forward, and when Dale felt the tip of his cock nestle itself between what he thought were Trish's pussy lips, he thrust his hips up, popping the head inside. "Huh!" she moaned as she felt an insistent, pleasurable pressure inside her. She'd busted her own cherry with a dildo a while back, but had never actually had a real cock inside her. She froze, not knowing what to do, which gave Dale the opportunity to shift his body up the bed a little, causing another inch of him to push further inside her virgin hole. Helena hadn't planned this. She was originally just going to whack him off, or suck him off, to get a fresh load of that delicious cum. Rubbing her pussy on his cock until she came and then making him cum in her mouth had been the revised plan, but now the college student's lengthy member was inside her pussy, if only by a couple of inches. She was desperately trying to make her brain work, to take back control of the situation, when gravity caused her body to slide down his cock another inch, at least, she thought it was gravity, had she done that herself? she wondered. Dale moved his hips down a little and thrust up into her again. This time most of him went in, and Helena moaned, keeping her mouth shut so he wouldn't be able to tell anything from her voice. Her pussy was so full! Her dildo was definitely not as big as him. Her vagina was throbbing as it struggled to accommodate his size, her insides producing additional lubrication to assist. Well, she figured, her revised plan was going to be to use his cock to make her cum, so it was only a slight adjustment to have it inside her when it did that. She just had to make sure to pull off before he came. Her pussy twitched at that thought. This was very dangerous, Dale was breathing heavily. 'Trish's' pussy was tighter than yesterday, maybe due to the change in position, he figured, and it felt incredible. He hoped he'd be able to hold off until she orgasmed at least once. Helena pulled up a bit and then pushed back down, feeling even more of Dale's wonderful cock slipping inside her. She would never be as satisfied with her dildo again, she realized. She did it again, and again, and finally she took him all the way inside. She was practically hyperventilating, feeling the tip of his large cock pressing deeper inside her than anything had ever been before. Dale waited. 'Trish' had taken all of him and seemed to be breathing funny. As her breathing calmed, he began to thrust his hips up at her, causing her to make cute mewling sounds. Helena began to match his movements and felt sparks flare from her clit and G-spot as both were stimulated. She knew at this rate that she wouldn't take long to reach her orgasm, and then she'd pull off and swallow his creamy load. Her mouth was salivating at the thought. Yes, she could feel her orgasm building, like electricity deep inside, powering up as his dynamo speared into her again and again. Her B-cup tits bounced, her nipples shaking up and down, "Umm!" she grunted, and shoved her pussy down on him. With the tip of his cock pressing dangerously against her cervix, she came. "Uh! Nuh!" She shook upon him, her pussy grasping at his glorious member as the orgasm blew through her body. Dale was holding as still as possible, wanting to make sure that 'Trish' had at least one full orgasm before he came himself, he hoped that maybe they could cum together for her second. It had been a close thing, though, and a drop of his sperm-filled semen dribbled from the tip of his cock, smearing itself onto the entrance of the teen girl's vulnerable womb. "Huh, huh, " Still shaking, Helena tried to calm her body down. She had never experienced an orgasm like that before! She'd catch her breath, and then, She hadn't noticed when she'd let go of Dale's arms, and he suddenly wrapped them around her body and shifted his weight so he could flip them over. He was now on top, his turgid member still inside her, and he began to thrust into her hard. No! she screamed in her head. She couldn't call out or he'd know it was her and not her mother, and with her smaller body, she elbowed his arms from around her, and when his hands went for her tits again, she quickly covered them with her own hands. Confused by what 'Trish' was doing, Dale just laid his full weight upon her as he thrust into her again and again, trapping her hands between their bodies and crushing them into her tits. "Uh! Uh!" Helena moaned. At this angle, Dale was smacking her clitoris with every stroke. He was taking her, owning her, but this was supposed to be her taking advantage of him! She could feel another orgasm approaching as the impact of Dale's sizable cock reverberated throughout her pussy. She told herself that she'd have just one more orgasm and then she'd somehow get him off of her. Her mind flashed back to the previous day, when she had watched Dale thrusting between her mother's shapely legs, just as he was now doing to her, as her mother moaned for him to try to impregnate her. That had been so hot, and when Dale had groaned and filled the older woman up with his sperm, Helena had cum hard on her own fingers, her knees giving out and dropping her to the ground, imagining her mother getting knocked up by the handsome teen. She felt Dale speed up, his cock somehow feeling even bigger inside her, she was so close, Dale was fast approaching his own release, and knew 'Trish' liked when he pretended to knock her up, so he leaned in and whispered into Helena's ear, "Here's a baby for you, you hot slut. Uh!" Then he thrust deep inside her and stopped, feeling his orgasm rise from his loins. Upon hearing this, Helena's body went into orgasmic overdrive. "Huh!" Her legs instinctively wrapped around Dale's hips, her body trying to pull him as deep as possible as his orgasm rushed up his shaft and spattered her spasming cervix with baby making sperm. Her primed insides undulated around his throbbing shaft, urging it to fill her teen body with life. "Un uh!" she cried out and bit her lower lip while his sperm assaulted her vulnerable womb. After shooting a good ten spurts of dangerous seed inside 'Trish', Dale pulled out and rolled to the side. He reached for the blindfold, but, even as she shook with after orgasms, Helena had the wherewithal to grab his hand. On tottering legs, she grabbed her clothes and slipped from the room. A minute later, Dale heard his phone chime. He removed the blindfold to read it: *Amazing, lover. Gotta go out, so you head home* He shook his head. Trish was using him for sex, he knew, but he had no complaints. As he got his clothes on, another message came in from her: *Both of us should pretend this never happened okay? Hotter that way* He didn't know why it was hotter that way, but he shrugged, sent back, *Ok* and headed home. In the bathroom, Helena sat on the toilet to let Dale's sizable load drip out of her pussy.   After deleting the texts from her mother's phone and leaving it in the entryway, Helena lay on her bed, still naked. Her period was a little unpredictable, but she knew that this had not been a safe day to take a load of hot sperm, hmm, inside her wet, umm, pussy, Her hand went to her clit and found that it was still engorged, so she started playing with it. Well, that happened, she mused, and it had been the hottest thing she had ever experienced. She grabbed her dildo and easily pushed it inside her well-lubricated pussy. She realized that Dale had stretched her out a bit. Soon she was able to bring herself to another orgasm, remembering Dale grunting and filling her up with his baby batter. She heard the front door open and close, and her mother's voice called out, "Helena! Have you seen my phone--? Oh, never mind, here it is. Forget my head if it wasn't attached." Helena extracted the dildo from her pussy. Seeing all the sperm sticking to it that had somehow remained after she had tried to drip it out earlier, she brought it to her mouth and sucked it clean. She Was a cumslut, she realized, as her mother had said: like mother, like daughter. Later that evening. Sunday evening, Dale was going to play more Dragon Era with Nancy, but then he got another text from Trish asking him to come over. "This late?" Nancy asked, looking at the sun as it started to set outside. "You won't be able to do any yard work." "She might need some indoor work done." Dale much preferred having sex to playing video games, and hanging out with Nancy felt kinda weird now that they weren't being all touchy-friendly. "Hmm." Nancy frowned.   Helena let Dale into the house again. That seemed to be her job in the household. "Oh! Hi, Dale!" He saw her blush. What was with her, all of a sudden? he wondered. She looked uncomfortable. "Mom's upstairs, um, again." "Thanks." Dale mounted the steps and found Trish at the top, wearing a short, sheer robe that showed off her glorious gams. "Hey, Trish." "Dale, thank you for coming so quickly, hm." The curvy blonde frowned at the double entendre. "Come with me." As she went past the room he thought he had fucked her in earlier that day, he paused, pointing with a questioning look. She turned back. "No, that's the guest bedroom, mine's this way." Confused, he continued following. As they entered the master bedroom, Dale looked about. It was grand, with 12-foot ceilings that had carved wood paneling, and a four-poster bed. She noticed him staring. "Work hard in life, and you can earn nice things like this. What were you taking in college, Dale?" "Going for my degree in English," he replied. Her lips turned down. "Oh, well, renting's a thing too. Now, come over here." She let the robe slip off of her shoulders, revealing her gorgeous naked Milf body, and then she lay back on the bed, her legs opening wide. Right to it, Dale thought bemusedly, and removed his own clothes. As he clambered onto the bed, she said, "There will be times when you'll have 'shot your wad' and I won't yet be fully satisfied. Today I'm going to teach you how to pleasure a woman without using your admittedly above average member." She couldn't help but admire that stiff prong as it pointed toward its goal: her rapidly moistening pussy. "Okay, so my tongue?" He moved forward and bent down between her thighs. "Hm, yes, and your fingers. Ah, " Dale had watched enough porn to know what to do, and he started licking between her wet pussy lips. "Yes, a good start, Dale." He moved a bit higher. "Ah, no, that's where I pee from. My clit's higher, though it's probably difficult to find right now, wait until I get going. Yes, dip your tongue right in, mmm, " "Hon, have you seen my cufflinks? Oh." Dale snapped his head up. A tall, slim, brown-haired man in a white dress shirt and dark slacks had just walked into the bedroom from a side door, an unfastened bow tie around his neck. He paused as he regarded the naked couple. "Check the side table," Trish pointed, seemingly unconcerned. "Hey, Dale, right?" The man strode forward, his hand out. Dale scrambled back to his feet, very conscious of how vulnerable he was while unclothed. His penis was dwindling rapidly. "Oh, shit! I forgot to tell him!" Trish put one hand to her mouth. "He thinks he's gonna get the shit beaten out of him." "Oh, Trish." The man looked at his wife, disappointed. She stopped laughing. "I'm sorry, Dale, Stephen is fine with what we're doing. He can't keep up with my sex drive, and he's not a jealous man. Really, you're helping both of us out by keeping me full of your cum." Dale was just standing there, his hands over his junk, processing this new information. "Oh." Stephen stepped forward again, his hand out. "So, " Dale kept one hand over his junk and gamely shook the man's hand with the other. Stephen's grip was strong, and he pulled the young man in close. "Just don't knock her up, okay?" he whispered in Dale's ear. "She's already got frequent flyer miles at the clinic, and one of these days she might just decide to keep one. I'm so done with diapers." He gave Dale a wink and then headed over to the side table's drawer. "Yep, here they are. What would I do without ya, hon?" "Probably get prostate cancer and die horribly," she replied, giving him a pleasant grin. "Ha! Yeah, without you helping me clean it out regularly. Okay, carry on, Dale! Love ya, honey." Then he strode out of the room and closed the door behind him. Dale stared at the door. "Well?" He turned back to Trish, still lying there, her legs wide. He didn't quite know how to feel about both the revelation that her husband approved of what they were doing, and that Trish could actually get pregnant. "Ugh, get over here, Dale, and lay down," she directed him. He did, and she twisted around and climbed astride him in a sixty-nine position, their faces in each other's crotches. "Get licking," she commanded him, and took his half-hard cock into her mouth. Soon, he was back to full size, and was doing a fairly good job of pleasuring her as well, she felt. She pulled her hips forward, slotted the head between her very wet pussy lips, and sank down upon it in the reverse cowgirl position. "Uh, umm, Trish, you said you couldn't get pregnant, right?" Dale asked. "Hmm? Yes, Dale. Ahh, " She had been so wet from the cunnilingus that she was able to take all of his big dong inside her with only minimal trouble. She ground her pelvis into his, stimulating her clit, and that, combined with the insistent pressure on her cervix and how well Dale had pleasured her with his tongue earlier, caused her to cum. "Uh! Oh! Yes, " She calmed down from her orgasm and pulled off. "Uff, why so hesitant, Dale? Do you need me to order you around, like yesterday? Oh shit, do I not turn you on?" She looked stricken. "No! Uh, I mean yes, you turn me on! What we did earlier was totally hot!" She frowned. Oh, right, she didn't want me to mention this morning, he realized. "I mean yesterday, in the maze." "So, ?" She reached forward and stroked his cock. "Err, your husband, Stephen, he said to make sure I didn't knock you up, but you said you couldn't get pregnant, " She laughed and looked toward the door. "Oh, that fucker!" She climbed astride Dale again, this time in the cowgirl position, and rubbed the head of his cock on her clit. "He's just fucking with you." "Is he?" "He is." With that, she lined Dale's cock up again and sank down on it hard, making him gasp. She then leaned forward to whisper into his ear as she started moving upon him. "Either he's telling the truth or I am, so either I can get pregnant or I can't." She felt Dale's cock give a twitch at that conundrum as she rode him. "Either way, Dale, you're gonna put your fucking sperm deep inside this body that I work very hard to keep tight and toned, where they'll either find an egg and fertilize it, or die unfulfilled. Either way, it's not your concern, as I don't want another kid; one self-absorbed child is enough." She was moving faster upon him now. "So, are you gonna give me what I want?" Dale was breathing heavily. "Uhh, yeah, I don't know what I was thinking, " His cock was feeling fantastic now, sliding easily into Trish's depths. "Good boy, now tell me what I wanna hear, " She licked his ear lobe as she moved upon him faster. "Unh, I'm gonna, fill you up with my cum soon." Trish's breathing was faster now too. "Ooh, and then what'll happen, you naughty boy?" "I'm, uhh, gonna knock you up, you sexy mama." "Yes, " she hissed, and took him all the way inside her before rolling her hips. The change in movement caused his pubic hair to rasp along her pussy. "Aww yes, " she moaned as she came again. When Dale felt Trish's possibly fertile pussy grip his cock, he came as well. "Oh! Here comes my baby, slut!" He grabbed her hips and pulled her all the way down upon him. "Oh fuck!" she cried out as she felt Dale's hot cum burst inside her spasming pussy, causing another orgasm to rush through her wanton body. "Ugh! Umm hmm!" In her own room, Helena speared her dildo into her recently de-virginized pussy and grunted as another orgasm washed over her. The house had great ventilation, which allowed her to hear every time her mom had sex in the master bedroom. This time she welcomed the intrusive sounds. Trish lay upon Dale, finally sated. "Very nice, you wanna stay over tonight? Stephen's out until tomorrow afternoon." Dale lay there in a daze, his cock shrinking within the older woman's pussy. "Oh, sure, " He had class the next day, but his stuff was just across the street. Nancy waited for hours for Dale to come back. Once it hit 11 PM, though, she went to bed and cried herself to sleep. Nancy continues the game with Dale. Dale woke to the feeling of something soft rubbing his hard cock. He opened his eyes to find Trish's back to him, with her hand directing his erection between her round ass cheeks. Smiling, he angled himself down, and she moaned as she was able to then stuff the head of his cock inside her very wet pussy. "Aw, I was hoping to get you all the way inside before you woke." She looked back at him over her shoulder with a smile. "Ooh!" Dale had thrust halfway inside the hot older blonde. He pulled back a bit and tried again. On the fourth try, his 8 incher was all the way inside her. "Oh, Jesus, " she moaned, feeling her cervix stretch as the tip of his cock pressed insistently at it. As he started to thrust inside the older woman, he reached around to palm one of her large teardrop tits. His fingers found a prominent nipple and lightly pinched it. "Ah!" she moaned. "Do you like my tits, Dale? They were so amazing before I got pregnant. After I stopped being a fucking milk factory, they got all droopy." "I love 'em," Dale told her as he hefted that prodigious tit. "Maybe after I put a baby in you they'll fill up again." After the confusion last night about Trish's fertility status, no thanks to her husband, he was pretty sure that he couldn't knock her up, but it was a hot fantasy. "MM!" she moaned, and pulled his face around to hers for a kiss. "Yes! Do your best to pump your swimmers deep, fuckboy!" "Yes ma'am!" He thrust up into her faster, spying from the alarm clock that he didn't have a lot of time. "Get up on your hands and knees." She complied, and gasped as she thrust back into her hard. "Oh, you're taking me, Dale, like a bitch in heat! Huhh!" Dale felt Trish's insides grip him as she orgasmed, but he wasn't quite there yet. Hmm, he thought, if I'm taking you,  He wound up and gave her a swat on one asscheek. "Ow! Fuck! Guhh, " she moaned as the pain/pleasure confusion extended her cum. Dale swatted her ass again, and her pussy's constant suckling on his cock finally pushed him over the edge. He reached forward, grabbed her swinging tits, and sunk his teeth lightly into her neck, growling. "Ur! Yes, " she cried out as she felt his member swell inside her, relishing the feel of his young cock plundering her treasures. Then the dam burst, and her cervix was awash with potent teenage cum. She continued to orgasm, shaking as her wanton body accepted his manly tribute. Outside the bedroom door, peeping in through the keyhole, Trish's daughter Helena did her best to hold back her own cries as she came on her fingers.   Dale rushed home, ran downstairs to wash up and grab his textbooks, and then ran back upstairs. "Dale?" He stopped, halfway to the front door. Nancy was sitting at the kitchen bar with a cup of coffee before her. He thought that she looked tired. "Nancy? You okay?" "You didn't come home last night." She looked at him with dark-rimmed eyes. "Oh! Did you wait up? I, it got late and I was tired, so they let me sleep over." "I see, " He put his backpack down and went over to her. "Nancy, I'm really sorry that I didn't let you know ahead of time. I will next time, okay?" He was beside her now, but she was still turned away from him. He put his arms around her and she stiffened for a moment, but then relaxed into him. She calmed her breathing, smelling Dale's scent as he held her. "Okay, thank you, Dale. I worry." He stood back up. "I appreciate that. Okay, gotta catch my bus!" He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, grabbed his backpack, and ran out. She touched her cheek and felt it flush. Dumping Loads at Trish's. The next week went much like the last, with Dale filling Trish up with cum whenever she called him over. He didn't sleep over at her house again, so Nancy was happy to have him home in the evenings, and they continued to play Dragon Era, though still at opposite ends of the couch. Monday, "Okay, Dale, I'm just gonna come out with it, do you want to go see a movie with me this weekend?" Dale glanced up at Melanie as they sat together in the college lunchroom. The platinum blonde was wearing a knee-length skirt and a blouse that showed off her C-cup tits. "Oh! Uhh, sure?" She quirked her mouth. "Wow, you sure know how to make a girl feel wanted." He shrugged. "I'm sorry, this was kinda unexpected. Do you have a movie in mind?" "That new Marvel one? I like superheroes." "Oh, really? Yeah, me too," Dale told her, surprised. "Okay, here's my number, err, do you drive? I don't have a car."   After dinner, Nancy suggested that she and Dale play more Dragon Era. He was enjoying spending time with her, even with their new, safe relationship. She started at the far end of the couch, but then moved closer as they played. "I'm a bit tired," she told him. "Is it okay if I lay down? Just stop playing if I start snoring." "Heh, sure." Then she moved closer and lay her head in his lap. The keyboard was across his knees, so it didn't block her view of the TV. "This okay?" she asked. "Yep," he responded, confused about her sudden change of demeanor. As they played, he felt the heat from her head radiate through his lap and, consequently, his crotch. Slowly, his penis filled with blood. "Oh, so now that we've helped Alain with his personal quest, we can sleep with him?" she asked. "Yeah, let's just head back to camp, " Nancy lifted her head to watch the on-screen seduction, keeping one hand on Dale's upper thigh, dangerously close to his erection. As the computer-generated characters got it on, somewhat comically due to the height difference between the human prince and their Dwarf princess character, he felt her hand squeeze his thigh. "Well, at least someone's getting' laid, " she mumbled. "What was that?" Nancy started, surprised that she had said that out loud. "Um, nothing." She sat up, noticed Dale's erection tenting out his jeans, and became very aware of her situation. "We, uh, should get to bed. School day tomorrow." As she got up, Dale's eyes immediately went to her rounded ass, accentuated by the material of her dark tights. His cock gave a twitch of encouragement. With all the sex he'd been having with Trish, his hormones were often bubbling near the surface. Auburn-haired Nancy was more voluptuous than her neighbor across the street, and Dale had seen her naked when she gave him a blowjob and let him cum in her panties almost a couple weeks previous. She had said that they couldn't do anything like that anymore, though. He really needed to whack off. "Good nite." "Sweet dreams," she called back as she headed upstairs. He shut down his laptop, turned off the lights, and headed downstairs. Once he had his privacy, he dropped his jeans and started to stroke his cock. Pretty soon he was approaching orgasm, and he grabbed the tissue box. Thump, Thump Thump Thump! "Ow!" Dale turned. Nancy was sprawled at the bottom of the basement stairs, holding one ankle and grimacing. To be continued in part 4, by Krosis, for Literotica.

Hey bro, great legs... uhh, I mean... nice eyes... Uhh... I mean... I love the way your ancestors conquered the indigenous. phew...   Enjoy the podcast; it was great!

Two waist trainers— Two sauna suits— One neoprene and one polyester— It's polyester? Damn. Well, at least it won't rip What exactly are you trying to achieve. I'm going to be 110 pounds. For what! I don't know. Jennifer Anniston makes it seem really appealing. JENNIFER ANNISTON opens a yogurt; Like, Ten dudes just crowd around and stare. See. Ah. I get it . I see what you mean. What exactly do you need ten dudes for to sit around and stare at you eat yogurt?! Ah shit, which friend is that? I don't know— let's see. This one's Chandler. Hi. And that's Ross. Hey. So this guy's—uh— JOEY UH… Give me a minute. JOEY You forgot my name? It's been a long time! No it hasn't! I saw you last week, at the Deli. It's been a long week. How do you forget my name in a week! I didn'! What do you mean “I didnt” I mean— I saw you just last week, at the deli, and I said “Hi Rachel” And you turned around to me and said “Oh, hiiiii——…“ [exaggerated gasp] YOU FORGOT MY NAME! What this show has a friends reuinionnin it! Just let me have one more day of bread and ice cream, and not giving a fuck, Will ya. Shhh! Quiet, will ya?! What come on! How am I supposed to believe you're actually getting clearance from not just NBC— —CBS— YES. — But all the networks?! What can I say? I'm a cash cow. You're an actual cow. Shove it. Everybody's going to want a slice of the best show on Telivision. So, check it out. You wagered a deal with— Uh huh— Let me see if I'm getting this right— Ah huh “The Illuminati” Uh huh! “The Illuminati!?” That's who you're signed to? “Signed” is like a relative term. …This is signed in blood. It sure is! Are you done downloading Final Cut yet? Not yet, I have to finish the album so I can offload Ableton first What-te-der—l— what do you mean “offload Ableton” Like get it off my computer. What does that mean. I don't have enough room for both things. So just get rid of it! —no. Just— Focus. I'm gonna do a magic trick. Okay. What kind of magic trick. I'm a eat all this crap. —okay. All this shit I like— Alright— For like a week. That seems normal. Then I'm gonna go back to being an uptight, no fun, war machine of a human being. How is that magic? You'll see. Yep. I reached my cap on New York. I'm fucking sick of people. I don't want to see another human being— ever. Fuck these fucking people. Fuck the gym. Fuck the grocery store. Fuck the internet— Just— NO. Get the fuck away from me. Don't be around me Don't talk to me Don't touch me. Period. Don't. Come, around. Here. Leave me alone— And I'll leave you alone— And when we're all done being alienated and isolated— Which is never— We'll see each other again; one day, maybe. Maybe not. I don't know. Wait. What. When's the Drew Barrymore show? Like next week maybe —you don't even have tickets. I'm sure somehow that if I do, however, get tickets— I'll be Illuminati skinny within the proper amount of allotted time— —You have four days. MORE ICE CREAM. Why the fuck is Selena Gomez naked? I don't know, Is she okay? I don't know. Oh look. A skeleton on a peloton. Whatever. I'm hot. I don't get it. What's the point of losing all this weight if still no one loves me? Did you say four days? *7 You said um. Look, I gotta take a detour from that whole Psy the Saige storyline, it was getting kind of dark. How do you mean? I don't. “Book III” Secrets Wasn't it? Idk I thought it was Secrets Lies Death Then what was book four Idk I'm suffocating under heavy bloat and heavily paralyzing social anxiety right now. I need a peloton and an equinox membership. Okay, that will be $Forever Dollars, please. Here you go. Hanging out at this frequency is kind of alright Inwardly I'm still vibrating at light speed, but outwardly all those honking horns and idiots don't really bother me as much-/ Because being this fat, I'm more like them than not! That makes sense, (On the outside) MORE ICE CREAM. Okay, but I get to pick the ice cream. We're talking about Hollywood and Alex Baldwin here! What?! ALEC BALDWIN I'm not going to jail. Jesus Christ. (Laughs, lights cigar) —filthy fucking rich! You expect me to believe Alec Baldwin isn't such a fucking leftie that he would actually sacrifice his entire career and reputation in order to promote the left's agenda on gun violence?! No, he actually killed somebody. I doubt that! ALEX/ that's a hilarious typo ALEC BALDWIN [staring off innocently with his sparkly blue eyes] I doubt that highly. Somebody tell me why this man is nearly 80 years old And still looks like a newborn baby. [dazzles] Yikes. Holy shit, there's like 90 fucking Baldwins. Since the Mayflower, baby! There's 10 fucking Wynans Wayne's? Wyan? Whatever Recovery + Time You know sometimes self care is more than just going to the gym every day, personal hygiene, and good housekeeping. Sometimes it's staying away from other people, trauma triggers, and the rest of the world knowing that whatever is supposed to happen is going to happen. You can't force change— You can— But primarily this happens from within. Which means Fuck that, I'm not going to the gym— I swear to god they have these fucking people following me. that's fame. No it is NOT. Fame means I make enough money to show up at the Equinox on occasion, At 5 in the morning, when only the cool people are there— Or late at night, after almost everyone's left ON OCCASION Because I have my own state of the art equipment In my workout room So I can burn off the nonsense 5 feet away from my fucking sleeping quarters— And go to work SOMEWHERE ELSE Being surrounded by people of MY CHOICE And not these coughing, hacking, sniffling, sneezing, diseased ass weight throwing weak dick phone scrolling motherfuckers— That's fame. This isn't fame . It's gangstalking, or some kind of serious indication That's something is fucking wrong with people, And I'm about to either lose my mind, Or take into consideration the heavy amount of karma which institutes from participating in fucking stalking someone until they get fucking sick and thrown off course— Fuck that. Fuck all these people in New York since day one have tried to fuck me over in some way Which includes My neighbors Every since roommate I had at the homeless shelter, And every single other mother fucker possessed by some low-quality- demonic, residual idiot vibration that keeps attacking me. All this to say? I WANT ICE CREAM AND BREAD, AND AFTER THAT, I'M GETTING A PELOTON. KELLY (From Shoes) FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUUCKK YOUUUUUUUUUU. Somehow for the first time in a long time, I was suddenly in alignment with time and synchronicity—the time was 10:10, and after a failed attempt at an early enough gym time that I thought mother escape whatever had been plaguing me, I was once again followed directly into the gym, and I no longer or at all found it a coincidence, as all of the people who arrived just shortly after I did, appeared to be dressed in the same kind of attire, almost as if some kind of dress code or uniform. Unwilling to share the space, after spending the day fighting a pressurized crluater migraine from out of the back of my neck and behind my eye, I was intolerant to waste even further energy on attempting to reclaim the focus I had barely gathered through the day, my week of gym training sessions shortened to simple one mile runs, between 10 and 15 minutes on the stationary bike, and minimal lifting and yet, I had with some intention been eating out of my usual bounds, indulging on bread, store bought jelly—against my summer long habit of making my own, and even ice cream. Still, the ice cream I had bought the night before had come entirely freezer burnt and was unappetizing, not that I needed an excuse for even more ice cream, but somehow the tantrum of rage that had resulted from yet again being followed into the gym had also resulted in not just returning to my apartment to sulk in hatred and disdain for the human species, but darting like a bullet to the grocery store with a a fiercely careless and blinding fury in collecting not only the items I needed to gather—but some extra; things I wanted, and not just needed, and though deviating from the specific diet I knew that I intended to follow throughout the week, granted I might have the chance to finally visit as an audience member of the Drew Barrymore show, which I had attempted while in shelter and, getting lost on the way to the studio somewhere in Manhattan, has simply never achieved, and rather remembered quite vividly rather, spending the day exploring restaurants in the city, and looking for a doctors office—as my intolerance to cold had sent me about on a wild goose chase in thinking that while in shelter I would have ever ended up with a private sleeping quarters; now, something like a year later or whenever it was, and though I had been met with the blessing of at least doors which closed out the physical presence of other human beings with any luck, there was still the constant reminder of the world's chaos and restlessness, and something in me shattered at knowing that with the ability to create, there was almost no escape at all from the overwhelming boundary of insanity always in and about the building, and now about myself. The headaches returned within minutes of my return to the building, almost as if it was the building itself that needed to be removed from my lists or triggers and stressors, and though the building was nice itself, the noise had become debilitating. I finally had realized after taking time and research that I did indeed have the grounds for a lawsuit—and the evidence to prove it. The only question really was; who was I suing? “A Statement Piece” Look who's here! No, I'm not here, actually— it's— this is not who you think it is. Do you know who I am? Uhh…DREW BARRYMORE? WRONG— you're WRONG AGAIN. As always. Ū attends the Drew Barrymore Show. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

We hope you're happy! Michelle and Seth are joined by good friend of the show Michael Del Vasto to discuss the wickedly talented, long awaited film adaptation of Wicked! Uhh... Part One! Michelle cries! Seth complains! Mike spills tea! Also: Seth has big problems with one frog in particular, Michelle can't get over Shiz and Mike shares a tasty frozen treat. Check it out! For all of our bonus episodes and to vote on upcoming episodes check out our Patreon Patreon supporters help pick episodes, monthly themes and get access to all of our additional shows and our Patron exclusive Discord. It's only the price of a single cup of coffee ($5 a month!) Visit our website and send us an email! Follow Movie Friends on Twitter and Instagram You scrolled this far? That's impressive.

A paranormal investigation begins..by Krosis. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.Ed finally gets Charisma alone. "Doctor Lintrell?"The brown-haired woman looked up from her desk and lowered her cats-eye glasses. "Yes? Do we have an appointment?"The short woman and tall man, both dressed in dark suits and also brown-haired, stepped into the office. The woman pulled out her identification. "You called us, Doctor. Agents Kelly and Smolder, Homeland Security.""Oh, yes, please close the door and have a seat. I wouldn't have called, but since the incident, I've been having nightmares -- flashbacks?"The agents sat. The man, Smolder, leaned forward, looking skeptical. "About a large blue penis?"The doctor flushed. "I thought it was nothing, but a week ago I missed my period, and I haven't had sex with anyone...well, anyone I remember, anyway. I tested myself and...I'm pregnant. The blue penis keeps popping up in my dreams, so I think someone hypnotized me, not that I used to believe in hypnosis, but..." She reached into her desk. "...then I found this." She held out a piece of paper.Kelly read it and then handed the paper to her partner. On it was the date from three weeks previous, some scribblings about a "John Smith", an unspecified problem with his penis, and the last thing written was, "Blue!""I don't remember writing that, agents, but it's definitely my handwriting."Smolder took a picture of the note with his phone and handed it back to the doctor. "John Smith, huh?"She looked nettled. "Obviously a fake name...I expect that he was embarrassed about his penis."Kelly nodded. "And you can't remember anything about this man, other than that?"Doctor Lintrell shook her head. "I'm sorry...my staff didn't even remember him. One thought that he might have had brown hair?"Smolder stood up. "Brown hair? We'll have this solved by lunch! Thanks, Doctor Lintrell." Then he turned on his heel and stomped out of the room."I'm sorry for my partner," Kelly said. "He's a bit of a skeptic."The doctor nodded. "You said you were Homeland Security? I called the local police."Kelly got to her feet. "We believe that this could be far bigger than a local issue." She drew closer and whispered, "Aliens."The doctor looked at her blankly. "You think 'John Smith' is Mexican?"Kelly frowned and sighed. "Something like that. We'll be in touch, Doctor."---Spring Break was over, and Ed was back in school. He was definitely not going to miss his chance at getting Charisma alone this time! When she asked the teacher if she could go to the washroom, Ed did the same a few minutes later.He caught the gorgeous blonde just as she was heading back to class. "Hey, Charisma! Can I talk to you?""You are talking to me," she replied dismissively, not stopping."I mean alone!"She paused and turned to him. "What for?""I...I have to show you something...you'll really love it!""I've heard That before..." Then she looked thoughtful, "though they were right. Okay, come on." She pulled Ed back into the women's washroom. "Well?""Just a sec," Ed said. He turned his back to her and let Perry out through his zipper before whirling back around. "Ta da!" he cried with a flourish."Oh," Charisma responded as she beheld his large blue alien penis.Ed paused. "Oh?"Charisma pulled her skirt up, surprising him. "Yeah, I already got one of those. Blue dick buddies!" She held out her fist.Ed was unable to tear his eyes away from the 4" blue penis hanging between her legs."Oh, c'mon! Don't leave me hangin'!"Ed slowly raised his arm and gave her the saddest fist bump ever."Okay, see ya!" Then she was gone, leaving Ed standing alone in the girls' washroom.*So...I guess we have something to discuss, Ed.* Perry said in his mind. *Sorry, buddy, one of my drones got into her over the holiday.*"Drones?"*Yeah...well, all that sex we've been having? It's been allowing me to 'spread my seed', so to speak. You know how you have one blue ball and one regular one? The blue one's mine, and it's been making drones; copies of me.*Ed's mind was overloading. Everyone he had sex with? "Muh...my Mom too?"*Oh, she's been great, just going to town on the locals, and then with her own sister...so hot!*"Aunt Erin?!"Just then the door opened and a pretty redheaded senior walked in. "Hey! What are you doing inn...here..." Her mind shut down as she saw Perry dancing in front of her, and she pulled her shirt off, revealing nice palm-sized breasts covered by a pink bra.*Time to have some fun, Ed!*"But...no..." Ed felt his body flush with desire for this young woman, Perry leading the way as he advanced on her.She pulled her skirt and pink panties down and then bent over the sink counter, presenting her puffy, rapidly moistening pussy to him."Perry...I don't wanna..." But Ed took a hold of the teenaged beauty's rounded hips and felt Perry slither inside her sultry vagina. "...oh..no..."*Hey, Ed, this one's fertile,* Perry advised him, noticing the telltale mucus as he slipped deeper inside. *You want me to let Pinky get all up in her?*Ed started to thrust. It was feeling really good. His mind seemed to be floating, strangely unconcerned about what was happening. "Pinky?"*That's what I named your remaining testicle. I can make my stuff shoot into her, or yours. Lemme know which when we get closer, huh?*"I...umm..." Ed unfastened the girl's bra, and her B-cups swung forward. His hands engulfed them, squeezing gently and making the mesmerized beauty gasp as he thrust into her."Uh-huhh..." she moaned as Ed started to tweak her wide nipples.He felt her pussy gripping him tightly. It was feeling really good now...*Time to choose, Ed! Pinky or Perry?*Ed continued to thrust. Why couldn't he think straight? he wondered.*Looks like I gave you a little too much happy juice, buddy. How about we give her both, and may the best man win?*"Uh! Ernh!" Ed was slamming into the girl now, and she was crying out with each hard thrust. He felt his load mustering in his loins, and then the pleasure rushed up his long shaft. He thrust hard and fast into the redhead until... "Ugh!" Ecstasy burst from the tip of his cock as he painted her unprotected pussy with a huge load of cum. "Ur!""Uck-ah!" she cried out as her own orgasm exploded from deep inside her pussy, where the combined load of Perry's blue and Ed's white sperm deluged her fertile depths. Perry pressed the tip of his head against her spasming cervix, and several spurts of their combined seed slipped straight through, invading her undiscovered country."Huh...huh..." Ed leaned down upon the girl, all of his energy gone."Umm...can'd breedh..." the girl groaned from under him.He pulled back, Perry slipping out from inside her and making them both gasp. "Oh, sorry," he offered.She looked down at all the sperm oozing out of her gaping pussy. "Oh shit, now I really really have to pee..." She ran into a stall and moaned as she let loose.Ed grabbed her clothes and handed them to her under the stall door."Thanks!""You're...welcome..." Ed shook his head, zipped up, and went back to class. Kelly and Smolder meet Ed.Ed was having trouble getting his head around it all. His new 10" blue penis, which was actually an alien parasite named Perry, was making copies of itself every time Ed had sex with someone! And then those copies had sex with others and made more copies! But whenever Ed tried to talk to Perry about it, he got distracted. He felt like Perry might be manipulating him, but then he got really tired and had to go take a nap.Homeland Security agents Kelly and Smolder were stumped trying to find the man with the blue penis that had allegedly hypnotized and impregnated a local doctor. "John Smith" was an obvious pseudonym, and the possibly brown-haired rapist had been so nondescript that it was futile to just canvass the area. The town wasn't large, but there were still several thousand residents, and there was also no guarantee that the mystery man hadn't visited the clinic from one of the neighboring suburbs."Hmm..." Kelly hummed as she consulted her phone."I know that 'hmm'," Smolder responded jokingly, "you found something.""A meteorite fell to Earth a few miles from here the night before 'John Smith' went to Doctor Lintrell's clinic," she revealed, holding her phone screen toward him.He didn't even look. "Oh God, aliens again? I keep telling you, there's no such thing, Kelly!""So you keep saying," she replied, "but do we have anything better to go on?"Ding dong!Ed woke up from his nap. "Mom?" he called out.Ding dong!Since his mother didn't seem to be home, Ed headed down and opened the front door, revealing a tall man and a short woman, dressed in dark suits."JOHN SMITH!" the man pointed a finger accusingly at Ed.Ed staggered back. That was the fake name that he had given at the clinic! How the hell had they found him?"Oh, enough, Smolder," the woman chastised him. "Are you going to yell that at every brown-haired male we come across?"The man smiled, chagrined. "You never know, right?"Ed tried to control his breathing. "Um...um...who are you? What do you want?"The woman showed him her ID. "Homeland Security agents Kelly and Smolder. May we come in?" Since Ed had already stepped back in shock, they stepped into the entryway without waiting for permission."Um, sure," Ed acquiesced as they closed the door behind them."Who are you, if not John Smith?" the man -- Smolder -- asked him, notebook in hand."Ed Doughtry, sir.""'Sir'...someone raised you right, Ed. Are your parents here?""Dad's delivering around town all day." Ed looked around. "I thought Mom was here, but she must have gone out." That was happening more and more often while his Dad was absent. He tried not to think of his mother fucking women all around town with her new blue penis, infecting them with more blue penises like Perry."We'd like to ask you about the meteorite that landed in your back forty, Mr. Doughtry," Agent Kelly asked."Meteorite? Sorry, I wasn't aware," Ed lied."It came down late at night a few weeks ago. You were probably asleep," she informed him. He nodded. "Can I have a look at the crash site?""Um, sure..."He watched the short woman head out the back door, leaving him alone with the imposingly tall Agent Smolder. Ed wished that she had stayed instead.Smolder gave him a disarming smile. "So, Ed...what's there to do for fun around here?"In the back of the town's only adult store, a fit dirty blonde sat in the blowjob booth as her latest customer blew his load down her throat. Lacey, 23 years old, hadn't been very effective at most of the jobs she'd had since barely graduating high school, but she was a born cocksucker. The man's average-sized cock retreated through the glory hole and she heard a muffled, "Thanks!" She put the two $20 bills that had preceded his cock into her purse.A minute or so later, another couple Jacksons were pushed through the hole, followed by a hard penis, and she paused to examine the schlong. The inside of the booth was dim so that the clientele couldn't identify her if they looked through the hole, but the 8" hard cock seemed...off, somehow. Still, it was a nice-sized member, so she took it into her mouth. A moan, of a higher pitch than expected, sounded from the other side of the wall. She continued to suck, and felt some precum slip into her mouth. She gulped it down.Lacey suddenly felt very hot. She had to get her clothes off and cool down! She quickly pulled off her tight jeans, and then let go of the cock to remove her t-shirt. Finally, shrugging, she doffed her panties and bra, freeing her B-cup breasts. That felt better, and the naked woman took the cock back in hand.Then she realized that her pussy was very wet. She didn't normally do this, but she felt hornier than she remembered being for a very long time. "Ooh, you're in for a treat, mister," she called out to her paramour as she turned, bent over, and backed herself onto that hard prong. The penis seemed to practically slither into her wanton depths, and she gasped in pleasure. She wondered if she had forgotten something important, but couldn't figure out what it was as it sat, unused, in its foil packet in her purse.She moaned as she pushed back, and that sizable member bottomed out inside her tight little body. Then she leaned forward as her lover pulled back, and they smashed their private parts back together on the downswing. That wonderful cock seemed to slide along her g-spot nicely as it went, and she was amazed at how well her lover was pleasuring her, as if that person somehow had intimate knowledge of a woman's inner workings. She was already close to orgasming.Then when they were fully joined again, the head of that wonderful cock rapping insistently at her cervix, she came. "Fuuuckk..." she moaned, shaking, her nipples incredibly hard.Her lover started to thrust faster and harder inside her, extending her orgasm. Her mind was trying to tell her that something important was about to happen. Well, of course it was, she told herself; the orgasm's the best part!"Ungh!"Lacey heard the high-pitched voice on the other side of the wall grunt, and felt that stupendous cock throb deep inside her. Then she felt a hot warmth suddenly permeate her core and came again, hard. "Huhh! Ohh wooow..." She pushed back onto the spurting cock, her co-opted instincts telling her to make sure that precious seed went as deep inside her as it could, and it did. A gush of blue-tinged semen splashed through her spasming cervix, where it began its journey of transformation deep inside the young woman.Eve Doughtry tucked her softening member back under her skirt and left through the glory hole room's door, surprising the shop owner as she went. She gave him a wink and headed home.Agent Kelly returned. "Unfortunately, there wasn't much left of the meteorite.""So, no aliens?" Smolder asked with a sardonic grin.Ed choked. "Uhh...aliens? Are you kidding?"*You rang?* Perry sounded in his head."Where the hell have you been?" Ed subvocalized."What was that?" Smolder asked."Just...wondering when my Mom's going to be home. She's been gone for a while."Kelly stepped forward and handed him a business card. "Please have her call me if she or your father were awake when the meteorite came down, or if they've seen anything...strange...okay, Mr. Doughtry?"*Oh, she's cute, Ed...kind of a hot nerd, don'tcha think?* Perry asked.Ed smiled at her and nodded, "Yep.""All right, we'll show ourselves out. Have a good day." Then they were gone."Perry, that was way too close!" Ed exclaimed.*Relax, Ed...if we can't beat 'em, she'll join us, and it looks like she's the smart one in that partnership. Problem solved.*Ed wondered. The teary ending.Agents Kelly and Smolder split up to interview the neighbors, with short, curvy Kelly trudging up the gravel path of a nearby farmhouse to knock on the front door.An attractive, shorter brunette woman opened it and gave the agent an assessing gaze. "Yes?"Kelly held up her ID. "Homeland Security, Agent Kelly, ma'am. I was wondering if you saw or heard the meteorite that came down a few weeks ago, or have you seen anything strange since?"The woman stood back and opened the door wide. "The meteorite? Why don't you come in and we can discuss it. I'm Darla, by the way.""Thank you." Kelly entered the house. "Oh, what a lovely home you have, Darl--"As the agent passed her, the housewife pushed her forward hard, causing Kelly to sprawl across the arm of the cushy couch with her butt in the air."--ahh!"In a flash, Darla was upon her, pushing up the agent's coat and pulling down her trousers. Darla's now 7" blue erection was ready.*Ha! Got her!* Perry announced in Ed's head."Got who?"*Agent Kelly! She went next door to Darla's, and...*"Aunt Darla too? Oh, Perry!"*Shit! What just happened?*"What?"*I lost contact with Darla...there's just nothing!*Ed had never heard Perry sound worried before. "Um..."*I'm calling in reinforcements.*"Coraaa...whyyy...?" Cora's mother moaned as her daughter ravaged her with her new 6" blue penis. The small retro grunge senior student had found her mother in bed, nursing a migraine, and insisted that she give her a massage to help. Once the older woman was relaxed, though, Cora had pounced. Once Perry's drone cock was inside her mother's pussy, there was no stopping her."I just gotta..." Cora responded, "...gotta...unhh..." She moved faster, slamming that blue cock harder into her Mom. "Gottaa...aaahhh!" she cried out as blue sperm blasted from the head of her cock, filling her mother's unprotected depths."Aahhh! Corrraaaa!!" her mother screamed as her own orgasm exploded from the hot, wet pressure filling her.Cora froze for a moment, pulled out quickly, and raced from the room, not even pausing to pull her baggy jeans back on.Around town, an assortment of women likewise stopped what they were doing and rushed to their vehicles, some carpooling with others, like Cora, who didn't drive. As one, they raced toward the Doughtry farm.A few minutes later, there was a banging on the front door.*Don't answer it, Ed!* Perry yelled in his head."That's not your reinforcements? What do I do?"*Out the back!*Ed rushed for the back door, but Agent Smolder kicked that in, gun drawn and pointed right at him."Ack!" Ed screeched, and automatically put his hands up."Open the front door, Ed," Smolder directed him, his pistol unwavering.He did, and Kelly walked in, holding a silver briefcase. She took Ed's arm. "Ed, I'm going to need you to take me to your bedroom.""Err, what's goin' on, Kelly?" Smolder asked as he put away his gun. "Is Ed here our guy?""That's what I'm going to find out. C'mon..." and she pulled Ed up the stairs to his room, Smolder following. She turned back to her partner. "Smolder, I'm going to need you to barricade the doors and windows. We might have unfriendly visitors soon. And don't shoot anyone!" Then she pulled Ed into his room and closed the door."Okay, I'll just be out here trying to unkick the back door, I guess?" Smolder called up cheekily.She dropped the silver briefcase onto his bed. "Pants off, Ed."*Stupid woman!* Perry exulted, *Now she's ours! Let's show her what we're made of, Ed.*Ed unzipped and Perry sprang out, dancing hypnotically before the short, sexy agent."There you are," Kelly said, her eyes turning entirely coal black.*No! What are they doing here?! Shit! Run, Ed!*Suddenly full of adrenaline, Ed dashed for the door, but Kelly was a step ahead of him, tripping him up and climbing astride him. She held his arms down as Perry battered at her trousers, trying to insert himself inside her.Her eyes were as black as pitch as she stared into his. "Ed, I need you to listen to me. I think you know, deep down, that this thing has been controlling you, but it won't let you realize it. I'm going to help with that, and you need to help me."There was the scrabbling sound of car tires on the driveway outside. "Uh, Kelly? I think we have company!" Smolder called out from downstairs."We don't have much time, Ed," Kelly advised him. "I need you to think about what was most important to you before this thing came into your life. Ack!" Perry had poked her right in her pussy through her trousers, so she grabbed the alien phallus with one hand while shifting a knee to keep Ed's arms immobile.Ed's mind felt odd, like he was waking up from a dream. Most important? Graduating school, meeting a woman, having sex with that woman, lots of sex...his cock throbbed in the agent's firm hand."Concentrate, Ed! Don't let it mess with your head. Think about your family," she urged him.Ed considered his Dad, the man that, despite how much he worked, had always made sure that he had time to talk to his son about whatever concerns the younger man had. His Mom had always been supportive as well, perhaps more indulgent than other mothers, but that was because she loved him. His mind flashed back to that morning weeks ago, when she had climbed into his lap and fucked his new alien cock, and felt ashamed."Ed! That wasn't you...it was the alien! He made you do that!" Kelly advised him.Ed despaired. He had had sex with so many women in the past few weeks, and before Perry, he had been a virgin! The alien had helped him, hadn't he? But he should never have had incestuous relations with his Mom, or his cousin Julie!There was a crash downstairs. They heard swearing, and then the thumping of Smolder's feet up the stairs. "Whatever you're going to do, Kelly, do it now! It's like Night of the Living Dead out here!"Kelly struggled to hold Perry still. "It has to go, Ed! There's too much at stake! You have to reject it. Think of something -- anything -- that you hate about all this!" She furrowed her brow in concentration.Ed's mind was whirling, and then he remembered Charisma, his dream woman. The one thing he had wanted, and he hadn't been able to fuck her because one of Perry's "drones" had gotten to her first. He...was angry...he was...Furious. He gritted his teeth. "Get...off...""Not until you agree...""Perry! Get off of me! Get off of my body, you fucker!"Kelly jumped to her feet. Ed grabbed the alien cock in both hands.*No, Ed! We can do amazing things together! Just let me be your penis!* Perry pleaded.Ed pulled and screamed. Perry shrieked in his head as the alien parasite slowly peeled away from between the young man's legs. The screaming continued as Ed's blood splashed to the floor between his legs, and then he finally ripped Perry free. He tottered for a moment, and then swooned and collapsed.Kelly grabbed Perry before he could slither away. "Gotcha!""Kelly! I'm gonna get killed by blue dickgirls!" Smolder yelled from the other side of the door. From the thumps, it sounded like he was being battered against it.She flipped open the silver briefcase, shoved Perry inside, and quickly closed the lid. There was a "shush" sound as the case sealed.There was immediate silence from the other side of the door. "Smolder?" Kelly called out.The door opened and her partner staggered in, beaten and bruised. "What the fuck just happened? They all collapsed." Then he took in the bloody mess on the floor. "Oh, shit...I'll call an ambulance." He pulled out his phone.---"Ed?""Five more minutes, Mom.""Ed Doughtry."Ed opened his eyes. Agent Kelly was there, pressing a towel to his crotch. "Oww FUCK!" he yelled in agony as he came back to reality."Sorry, Ed," she offered, her eyes still black. "I'm holding back the pain as best I can. I was really impressed with what you did with...Perry.""What...are you?""Think of me as an intergalactic policewoman, keeping the Earth safe from things like that parasite. Normally I'd have to take your memory of this event away, but I really need you to keep an eye out around here, in case we missed anything. Can you keep a secret, Ed?"Gritting his teeth, he nodded.She gave him a smile. "Good man. Perry's victims all passed out when I threw him into my shielded case, and the copies he made have disintegrated, too, without their master's direction. Their ex-hosts won't remember anything that happened after being infected, and I suspect Perry messed their memories of those encounters up enough so they won't recall what he made you do to them. Now I just have to adjust Smolder's memory so that he goes back to not believing in aliens, and..." She looked around. "Where is Smolder...?"Then she gasped. "...and the briefcase?"---"Ten inches! Woo!" Agent Smolder drove hard and fast away from town, his new penis settling in nicely between his legs.*I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, Smolder,* Perry said. *Hey, do you smoke?*Epilogue:Over the next few weeks, several dozen women were surprised to miss their next period, with no recollection of how that really happened. Almost eight months later, a glut of births occurred in Ed's sleepy town. Of the ones that Ed and his mother personally had a hand in:Doctor Lintrell had a normal baby boy, though she never found out who "John Smith" was.Darla and her husband, the Doughtrys' next door neighbors, were very happy to finally be blessed with a little girl.Ed's Aunt Erin likewise birthed a little girl. Because Eve's alien testicle had been made from her own ovary, her sperm could only supply X chromosomes, not Y, so she only made girls.Cora, the retro grunge student, had a boy, and the unnamed redhead from the school's ladies' washroom had a girl.All of the babies except Doctor Lintrell's had a strange condition that caused their skin to have a slight blue tinge. Only time would tell what else would be different.The end? By Krosis for Literotica 

Uhh, a voodoo witch doctor probably had a dream about this small town in Ohio, that's how it happened!

MORTUY: Oh geez Rick, I don't know about this one Rick. It looks like we accidentally portaled to a planet where there's a ruling race of sentient Kickstarter projects! Oh man, oh geez Rick. I just want to go home and pull my pud man. I don't want to do all this space flying stuff anymore man. Look at that one…it's like a stupid pirate card game and it's coming at me! Ahh!! And look over there, it's a stupid podcast about how we're all the same! Oh god it's horrifying. But I think I'm most terrified of the guy who went to do some sex tourism and thought it was cute! Okay that's a real guy so it's not really like an alien thing but man that's really scary, too. Right, Rick? Uhh…rick??RICK: (Flashing his space credit card) One for booty on the poop deck, please! Morpy I love you. Music for YKS is courtesy of Howell Dawdy, Craig Dickman, Mr. Baloney, and Mark Brendle. Additional research by Zeke Golvin. YKS is edited by Producer Dan. You know how you sometimes see an out of order toilet that people clearly still kept shitting into even though there was no way it could take down even the amount of poop and pee and toilet paper it already had in there? Yep. YKS PremiumFollow us on Instagram: @YKSPod and TikTok: YourKickstarterSucksSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

This week we catch up on news and get into all the buzz from the D23 event! Topics include: Can we just broadly share all these teasers to the masses so we don't have to keep watching trailers from some random dude's phone in the back row? Skeleton Crew's vibe could be the perfect blend of Amblin nostalgia and Star Wars adventure! Uhh, is that Hoth? Already sad that this will be the last Andor we get, but bring it on! In our Question of the Week, we share your thoughts on easter eggs and cameos we might see in Skeleton Crew this fall. In news, Shawn Levy hints at his film project and Lando (the movie) appears to still be a go. We listen to your FACPA Answering Machine messages and more! Episode Time Stamps: 04:19 - What easter eggs and cameos do you want from Skeleton Crew? 08:53 - Levy hints at his Star Wars project 12:36 - Lando still a go...for the theaters 13:47 - D23 Recap: - 15:30 - LEGO Star Wars: Rebuild the Galaxy trailer - 17:30 - Skeleton Crew trailer - 28:40 - Mandalorian and Grogu teaser - 37:15 - Andor season 2 sizzle reel - 43:34 - No new animated series announced? 45:55 - FACPA Answering Machine Please subscribe, rate and review our show and engage with us on... Email: facpapod@gmail.com Voicemail: 1-678-FACPA77 (322-7277) Twitter: @facpapod Web site: http://FromACertainPointAskew.com Podawan Podcast Network: @podawans Intro/Outro - Galactic by Seb Jaeger (via https://filmstro.com/music)    

Copy, paste, copy paste, it's just that easy to write an episode description, right? Uhh….RIGHT?! On today's episode of this crazy show we call YKS, we have a political card game, oh actually for some insane reason we basically have two of them. We also have an AI project so delusional and distasteful that I'm actually surprised we are looking at it. And lastly, we have a show by a stupid asshole who doesn't know anything and he's boring and sucks. And oh by the way, that's OUR job! Plus something else so it wasn't really “lastly” on that one. Anyway there's some stuff on here so have a nice time I have to go to something else. Music for YKS is courtesy of Howell Dawdy, Craig Dickman, Mr. Baloney, and Mark Brendle. Additional research by Zeke Golvin. YKS is edited by Producer Dan. That awkward moment when it's Friday and you don't have any more YKS to listen to…YKS Premium solves this.Follow us on Instagram: @YKSPod and TikTok: YourKickstarterSucksSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Welcome to The Nonlinear Library, where we use Text-to-Speech software to convert the best writing from the Rationalist and EA communities into audio. This is: I would have shit in that alley, too, published by Declan Molony on June 18, 2024 on LessWrong. After living in a suburb for most of my life, when I moved to a major U.S. city the first thing I noticed was the feces. At first I assumed it was dog poop, but my naivety didn't last long. One day I saw a homeless man waddling towards me at a fast speed while holding his ass cheeks. He turned into an alley and took a shit. As I passed him, there was a moment where our eyes met. He sheepishly averted his gaze. The next day I walked to the same place. There are a number of businesses on both sides of the street that probably all have bathrooms. I walked into each of them to investigate. In a coffee shop, I saw a homeless woman ask the barista if she could use the bathroom. "Sorry, that bathroom is for customers only." I waited five minutes and then inquired from the barista if I could use the bathroom (even though I hadn't ordered anything). "Sure! The bathroom code is 0528." The other businesses I entered also had policies for 'customers only'. Nearly all of them allowed me to use the bathroom despite not purchasing anything. If I was that homeless guy, I would have shit in that alley, too. I receive more compliments from homeless people compared to the women I go on dates with There's this one homeless guy - a big fella who looks intimidating - I sometimes pass on my walk to the gym. The first time I saw him, he put on a big smile and said in a booming voice, "Hey there! I hope you're having a blessed day!" Without making eye contact (because I didn't want him to ask me for money), I mumbled "thanks" and quickly walked away. I saw him again a few weeks later. With another beaming smile he exclaimed, "You must be going to the gym - you're looking fit, my man!" I blushed and replied, "I appreciate it, have a good day." He then added, "God bless you, sir!" Being non-religious, that made me a little uncomfortable. With our next encounter, I found myself smiling as I approached him. This time I greeted him first, "Good afternoon!" His face lit up with glee. "Sir, that's very kind of you. I appreciate that. God bless you!" Without hesitation I responded, "God bless you, too!" I'm not sure the last time I've uttered those words; I don't even say 'bless you' after people sneeze. We say hi to each other regularly now. His name is George. Is that guy dead? Coming home one day, I saw a disheveled man lying facedown on the sidewalk. He's not moving. I crouched to hear if he's breathing. Nothing. I looked up and saw a lady in a car next to me stopped at a red light. We made eye contact and I gestured towards the guy as if to say what the fuck do we do? Her answer was to grip the steering wheel and aggressively stare in front of her until the light turned green and she sped off. Not knowing if I needed to call an ambulance, I asked him, "Hey buddy, you okay?" I heard back a muffled, "AYE KENT GEEUP!" Well, at least he's not dead. "Uhh, what was that? You doing okay?" This time a more articulate, "I CAN'T GET UP," escaped from him. Despite his clothes being somewhat dirty and not wanting to touch him, I helped him to his feet. With one look on his face I could tell that he wasn't all there. I asked him if he knew where he was or if he needed help, but he could only reply with gibberish. It could have been drugs; it could have been mental illness. With confirmation that he wasn't dead and was able to walk around, I went home. Who's giving Brazilian waxes to the homeless? I was walking behind a homeless man the other day. He was wearing an extra long flannel and sagging his pants low. Suddenly, he noticed his (one and only) shoe was untied and fixed it promptly by executing a full standing pike. I wasn't expecting him to have the flexibility of a gymnast. In doing so, his flannel lifted u...

Here's a little secret HACK for you real estate agents wanting to 3x your home sales.But first, a secret you may not know. The thing you're trying so hard to do? Uhh yeah, it's been done. It's been figured out already. By tens of 1,000's of agents. You're not trying to do something that hasn't been figured out already.  Which leads me to the HACK to triple your home sales...Spend a ton of time around other agents who sell A LOT more homes than you do. That's it. Simple. You're probably not missing tactics, you're missing proximity. In this week's show, Dustin Brohm shares a simple hack to sell A TON more homes: spend more time around people who sell more houses than you. He emphasizes the importance of BEING an entrepreneur and building an actual business in real estate. Dustin deeply explains why having mentors, coaches, and advisors who can provide guidance based off experience is THE main thing that will help you achieve your goals.He encourages listeners to attend events, join masterminds, hire coaches, and seek out successful agents to learn from. By surrounding yourself with high performers, your confidence, belief and SALES will increase.***********************RESOURCES :Referral Network: Claim your market *exclusively* in the new Massive Agent Referral Network - CLICK HERE REAL Broker - Learn how we can be business partners and build a business together @ ΓEA⅃ Broker- CLICK HEREReady to join Real Broker?SIGN UP HERE and if you list me, Dustin Brohm, as your sponsor when you sign up, we'll literally become business partners and I'll have skin in the game to help you grow and succeed in growing your real estate business!Massive Agent Society: my Coaching program for real estate agents that I wish existed when I was starting out as a Realtor. Join the Society HEREBamX: get 10% off with the promo code MASSIVE. You still get everything on nowbam.com and all BAM podcasts (like this one) for free. PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW on APP...

JOLENE. [Happy Accidents Remix] (Extended) Beyoncé ft. Happy Accidents IN CASE YOU MISSED IT: previously on LEGENDS {Enter The Multiverse} “Two Hats” Now I had two hats— and loved both of them dearly—or rather, bonded with them—as much as anyone could love a material thing, however, given my circumstances material things where all there were left to love, and though I distained to admit it, there I was, in my empty apartment, which I turned into an office, a mattress on the floor to deviate from it ever truly becoming a bedroom, not that I ever really ‘slept' well in the place—which was a blessing, and the very least mine, with all the gratitude I could show the world for finally letting me be human again, after five years of homelessness. I still hadn't quite yet recovered, actually—I had taken my minimalistic qualities and invested all of my “income” with office supplies and musical endeavors, had already released an album, and had nothing less than a heap of backlogged work to sort through—I could be busy for years, just by myself, and the worst of it—or perhaps, best of it was, I was still writing every day. Sometimes a lot. Too much, really. But, it was a gift, of all the gifts I had received, and they were coming in variously, by way of inspiration, little laughs, and waves of a careful, constructive energy which I knew to be beyond nprnsllyborituctive, even for a creative, and though in my heyday I had written more in volume, the quality of my work was beginnings to show—and my potential for professionalism within the field increased, if I could ever see past my brown skin into white world, where I feared the blue and green eyes damsels of the new entertainment world would Beyoncé me in their outrageous and delusional Taylor Swiftness— unless I was so black that I could not stand as a threat to their dominance and obvious world power —which I wasn't, especially by New York's standards. I was soft spoken, well behaved, and most comfortable (at least when well dressed and maintained), amongst the elite. The first hat jad come well before the other, thankfully—as I had needed something besides a handkerchief tied around my head to protect it; it was during fast that I had learned of the danger of keeping one's head exposed, and finally succumbed to the fact that though it could be deeply hidden and lost somewhere in time and my genetics, no matter how bad at it I was, I was somewhere at least a little Jewish, at least by Whoopi Goldberg standards, who supposedly wasn't Jewish at all—but I had also learned in fast, that many dead Jews were now black women, recycled again only to be exterminated by a counterpart which had exceeded itself in hatred, apparently through it all time—my fear was that it was this hatred who welded and whitewashed all the networks I wished to excel in—the dance music industry, the streaming services, and the media in general seemed almost ruined in entirely by racism, nepotism, and well— Karenism, and though I liked Becky a bit more for her labeling of a power-hungry control-freak ultra competitive obsessive, whose racism was blisteringly hidden and intrinsic and yet effected every fibere of my being just in intolerance, austentation, and obnoxious offense, Karen was what the world had seemed to decide her name was— the true drive behind all white power and supremacy—the white woman, for which the average—always painfully average—white man could not function without. “You've got some resentments in here”, said a voice, almost as familiar as my own, but masculine, as I hyperfocused into the Hurley logo on the first hat, a powder blue and white soft-skulled SnapBack which was intended for working out—and of course, for surfing, should I ever be so lucky to surf again somewhere that wasn't New York, and I meant it, that New York was its own certain kind of sickness and toxicity, riddled with old racism and clustered with housing projects which spoke of the dehumanization and belittlement of anything brown— a betrayal of all spirit which was only just now being ratified by the thousands of buildings like mine springing up from bourough to borough—but still present in the vast and drastic divide between the nice areas, and the areas where the colored people lived—almost anywhere but Manhattan, which I had hoped and dreamed for, but settled on Brooklyn, however so close to Queens that I could sometimes still smell, taste, and worst of all, hear it. At least, however, I was gone from Jamaica—a blessing in itself—as it did seem as though it was true that the blacks had been cursed, and just by the looks of it, I was grouped in with them, though I considered myself far from either side of any spectrum, beyond conservative, in that I enjoyed peace, quiet, cleanliness, and modesty of dress— a respect I had for the upper class, especially of the post and business minded women of New York, which seemed to push strollers and go about their daily runs as housewives on weekends in the areas I most favorited—midtown, something native for, but now realizing that because of the new world slave trade, anything lower than at least the 7th floor would be an irritant, a noise-polluted hell scape of poverty-stricken immigrants with no cultural sensibility or decency often for cleanliness, or politeness, which included the silencing and responsible ridership of vehicles that most probably should have been illegal, if it weren't for the demand of jobs in accordance with the work-from-home-I'm-not-going-out-into-that-hell out attitude which I was becoming more understanding of myself—whatever had happened to “people” and had gone with the world or the pre-pandemic was wrong, on so many levels that it was not hard to imagine that the consciousness that collected amongst the wealth elite had gathered that being out in the world had become dangerous, as indeed capitalism had turned every man woman and child below the poverty line into a minion of Satan himself. Jessie surely couldn't live here, without being well kept by some man, who I could only hope by now had groomed her to be better than how I had left her, or rather, how she left me, in the same stewing hatred and delusion of intrinsic racism which seemed to be ruining my chances at ever truly succeeding, particularly in dance music. I dont know what resentments could come from a hat, which I had bough on clearance to begin with, if only just to be able to have a durable waterproof head covering to strap into my head and sweat in—but I could think of all the ways that might make me resent something, perhaps, if the owners of Hurley were racists—not far fetched, as most the surfing communities, especially out west were all bronzed Johnnies of some sort — closeted racists and wealthy elites, or at least well enough to do to live within a stone's throw of some beach, which, even as poor as one might think himself, is never truly poor—especially, out West. If you grew up surfing, you lived on or near a beach, which implies money beyond most people's wildest dreams—besides Mexico, of course, a special and economically, sociopolitically controlled Hellhole of its own, to which it's problematic governance had overpoured yet another problem impacting one's ability to collect and maintain money, or any wealth or status—illegal immigrants coming in droves, hatching their spawn, and collecting government aide, if only to dwell within multi-family homes, gain wealth and income rapidly, and of course, keep the black population at the greatest disadvantage—as the blacks had been ruined by all of America's time as a slave-driving captalist country, always most hospitable to anything less brown than black, not that I was opposed to the idea that New York needed some variety in its gene pool. I dare not to think the owners of Hurley, a surf brand I had loved and trusted since I was a young fanatic first introduced to the joys of riding the wave, could be run by the most henious of evils, the pedophikes, who all seemed to protect one another in some way—and also seemed to control all of the industry at hand—and though now, especially since Tyla's apparent “win” at the Grammy's, which the more closely I observed in a whole seemed to be entirely fake— another Illuminati pupped groomed and chosen to make some kind of media agenda stand through, the billboards were plastered with blackish and brown women of seemingly African decent, however—the problem was that they weren't women at all—but children; and though the male advertisements were still dominated by the white man, to no complaint by admittance that at least in one way, I too, was a supremacist, in that the father of my future children would or should be white by any means nessesary, and that for years now, I just hadn't been attracted to anything else—which, upon reflection, I realized I probably almost never was actually attracted to black men, beyond growing up in a nearly all-white environment, in which case, I was “supposed” to—I.e., the blacks with the blacks, the fats with the fats and so on, which I despised; and I had never settled on anyone overweight at all until I had to, which in retrospect, had almost ruined my life. Almost, but not. I had escaped the fat bastard's wifebeating clutches, both physically and spiritually, finally having gained the espteric knowledge, had had given light and illumination to what I had been told; but never truly believe until I had confirmed— This man had tried to kill me, many more ways than one, and I had survived. Well, naturally—kind of survived. I was now a DJ among DJs, my aging machine outdated and the layer of haging skin around my delicately contoured extra small waist making it impossible for me to gain attention in the way anyone was these days, by bearing less than what would be considered ‘dress code' for any club back in my day, and my day was surely fading into something like a day ahead, or a day behind—either way, as I had actually done enough fasting and praying by now to ‘bend time', and I should only be so lucky to emulate such a feat within my Ableton, which begged for my attention, and yet, there was something missing from me that wasn't yet satisfied with my being so much so that I could just let go, and record my innermost potent words and songs—actually, it seemed as if my apartment had been rigged with some kind of recorder, as when i began to record, or sing at all—the energy would immediately change, almost halting my voice, then again, there was a Karen to my left, and a Karen to my right, the latter of which, my studio was facing and she seemed to act strange and demonic when my music played, slamming doors and creating some kind of uproar, and so I almost never used my studio monitors to play my own music—opting rather for the safety of deadmau5, or some other cheap house music which I could practically mute in my own mind, but at the very least the vibrations of such would not disrupt what might have been peace, if not for the army of terrorists literally in the parking lot to which my window overlooked, the terrorists operating the “auto body” shop adjacent to my apartment, and what appeared to be, after numerous noise violation complaints to the useless 311 service at NYPD, the terrorists alongside the Brooklyn-Queens border, which I refused at all with aborent denial that I even was situated near. Then, as the building began to fill with more blacks, which I hated seeing, loitering about in the lobby in the general and uncomfortable blankness which I was also doomed by the white and others to be perceived as part of—but with diligence had thrust me into a wave of brainstorms—in how to escape this, and although not entirely racist—I didn't like anyone too far on either spectrum which presented an imminent danger or overbearing presence on my person—black men—white women—and others so culturally inept that a sense of looming control had crept and wandered into my heart and my mind, as to why and how I could find, a way out of The Blackness, and into a quiet, not particularly white neighborhood, but at the very least, a clean and quiet one—which in New York, basically meant A white neighborhood, besides the speckling of rich asians, wealthy blacks, and other foregners who valued the things I had, however, albeit, without the distinction of the vanity of a mother who glamorized and normalized prostitution, to which I might have succumbed more valuably, had I not been stretched to ugly capacity by Doritos, emotional trauma, and whatever other strangeness of my youth presented me with this, what was now a beautiful and perfect body—with an unsightly and imperfect scar, the leftovers which without surgery, would classify me as useless to any man I might have admitted—talented, high vibrational, spirited, successful— And of course Pale. Eye color aside, It truly had been a remarkably long time since I had been moved at all by anyone of my own “type” and for this, I strived to succeed in white world, even if only to fall to the dominating control of the white woman, who often I loved just in her ironic blondeness, her shattering and devastating features—sparkling eyes and speckles of freckles— But who often could never love back, out of some hatred that grew from so deep within, even she herself could not see or understand—it was just a ‘feeling' The “I just don't like that girl” The “she just makes me uncomfortable” Or worse, The kind who would pretend to befriend me, so that she would stand out as the eye of beauty between us, to any man or peer within our shared realms— a dominating force of “I'm more important” and “I'm more worthy”—the trait that alone made my name hidden, my own true name, words I could never pronounce, in knowing that she would come to abuse it, to call my name like a dog— Dogs, which I realized, most whites held above the value of any human as brown as i, or damned blacker, which some would find themselves proud of, but to which I distained; I was not ‘proud' to be black, I just was—and pride was ugly, anyway, especially when acting as a representative of the losing team of a centuries long war. The new age of models were bronzer and browner, some all the way black and most just mauve, or blackish enough so that it would not hurt or scare the fragile counterpart of the white women—who always seemed to be scared, put off, or offended by blackness in just its presence, to which I could relate, but not emulate, as the scoffing and huffing of many a tantrum had drawn me to the conclusion that they just weren't happy with our existence entirely, being of veluptuous nature or whatever it was, however—it was the cruelty of the industry at hand that showed a greater monster—that all the men seemed to be well grown, and yet all the women were not women at all, But children on display, in the vulnerability of the sexual nation of normalizing blackness, at the sacrifice of allowing grown men to think it was allowable to fawn after such; what would be considered adolescent bodies—a crucially disproportionate factor that would make or break my career as a writer, musician, DJ, or otherwise, being a woman, who had visible scars of the ability to bear children, which I had not sacrificed, but placed far from my mind— I would not tolerate or settle on another lazy husband, or perhaps even a husband at all. I could tolerate many things about mankind that were obnoxious—cigarette smoke and infedelity, gaslighting and bondage by body or some other lack of God, however, what I could not tolerate was the laziness—the toxic, inability to do without being told to do so— the bearing of another child from outside, that went well beyond the responsibility of one that would come from within. I had spent the early morning taking heed of the accuracy of the advice Joan from Mad Men had given us, in the nostalgic whit of the 1960's that still seemed to prove true today, in fact, more truer than it ever did the first time around— that ‘boys will be boys' and ‘men will be men', and in all honestly, one has not to come far from another into adulthood, so much as a woman should, for it had been neerly a decade since I had last laid eyes on the Piloted Don Draper— and it had been a decade with, with the least to say, had made the show itself more relevant, probably with each passing day. Most men are looking for something between a mother and a— But my memory had muffled the rest, by now, buried in the entourage of my own drawing, from which inspiration had sparked from the entire pot of coffee and song selection that it had taken to sort through my divorce paperwork— a task that had actually taken weeks altogether to assemble, and which I had run into too many obstacles during, having quite forcibly to use my occult knowledge to bend backwards and bind myself with protection, as something truly evil and sinister had surrounded this task— Broken printers, misplaced documents, and of course, all the suffering it took to sift and sort through the words that were truer than any I had ever spoken, and although some run-on paragraphs and broken record retelling of what had actually happened, the effects of what had gone beyond that, what I could accurately put into paper without sounding like a total psychopath, the fact that he and more than likely his father had intended to seal my fate into a Hell beyond words , a death beyond escape, with black magic—using my dead son's hair as a tool for ritual and bondage, to which my own guides in Heaven had overseen and reported through numerous visions, alongside the years of research, my introduction into the occult not out of interest at all, though however born a naturally ‘gifted' person, but out of desperation for protection from the homeless, dirty hellacapes which I had been forced to inhabit since my departure— and without looking back, I had come to the conclusion that though I had nearly lost my son in the process, I had at least survived to preserve myself for him, come such a day he could ever want me. And on that day, I would be the best that I could be for him—I was somewhere between 130 and 140, but wanted to be closer to 110, so that the men that I admired and was attracted to would actually want me, a hard task, especially keeping my assets in tact, but—however—speaking of assets and tact; this chapter was running long, and I still hadn't decided which hat I would wear to the post office to send off the arsenal of paperwork across the country, hopefully to be freed and riddled of the awful reminders of him, many of which had set me off with enough audacity that I had lost it in my apartment not once, but twice—and it seemed that the more accurate my foretelling of this abuse—both physical and emotional, but above all satanic and ritualistic, which had now been overturned and reflected in my own knowledge and illumination, now an admiration for the occult, as the protective rituals which I had become prone to from his damage seemed to shield and protect—the more some satanic force tried to end me, before I could ever return to a normal state—- or ascend into a realm which the evil could not penetrate, with remnices of punching bag faces, spit on the walls, the smell of vomit, and the other atrocities I could only hope had not been passed down to my offspring, who by now didn't know me, but probably was becoming of me enough that I could not be erased from him, to which the anger of his captor I could feel in the onslaught of disgusting bodies which seemed to flock to me to emulate him in some way, though to me he was no God enough to have done so, but rather just a replicate of Satan himself, which had bonded in his betrayal of this, his wish to end and kill me— and had sent demons in his own name to satiate this desire—however—by now I had realized that this darkness could only control the weaker of sorts, the weak in spirit, the dirty humans, the ones who had chosen to rid themselves of soul, in the name of money or otherwise— and though the cover to my “debut” album spoke not of true Chaos Magic, but of another pinnacle of the occult, the name itself was more practical of the music that it contained—the chapter of blackness which had halted my humanity, living in the shackles of the tragic aftermath of all that had happened. I still hadn't decided on a hat, but the obvious answer was that I should, before the day returned back into the night, and though I hated long subway rides, there was a comfortable avenue with everything I needed to come back to my mind, one single paper which needed still to be notarized, which I had missed in the frenzy of what seemed like an endless nightmare, to get away from this man, his damage, and all of the things and people which acted like him—dumb, broken, and twisted enough to instill pain, intrude my sanctity, and stalk so much so that my usual calm, peaceful demeanor became a violent rage, however, almost respectfully always contained to the privacy of my “home” surrounded by strangers who hated me, for I in this black skin could not ever be worthy of equality, an audacious comparison in the very least, that I should have what they always have. Just keep working. The hole had yet to swallow me, but I had two more albums coming immediately, right out the gate, their deadlines approaching so rapidly that I could feel the onslaught of always wokenness coming in the collision and confusion of wondering how, if I ever, I would make enough money to actually get ahead, for once— and become unstuck from the lovelessness that was so underserving that nobody I could seek to love, could love me—perhaps it was true that poverty was some kind of invisibility to the wealthy elite, and though I despised the though of golddigging, I despised more the thought of being the breadwinner somewhere between lower middle class and poverty, always sick from always working, never working out; and of course— Always arguing over nothing, Which seemed to be the dynamic between men and women, anyway. I realized that Don Draper was in a silent and secret war with Betty, whose anxiety had piled up inside her, most even probably as a result of her hUsband's “secret” infidelity— And that seriously, I might be some kind of writer or something, If all I could think about was how cringey it was to watch Jon Hamm kiss Tina Fey, in that one movie by John Slattery, And how I really didn't want anything more Than to look like Miss January Jones, Who had always been so perfectly beautiful to me, That it hurt me. ‘The DJ Hat, I think. ‘ I was nervous, and it was raining, But it couldn't wait another day The final breaking of this curse Would be sending in the paperwork That described word for word With brutal honesty and accuracy Everything that should never happen When you get married— At least Happily. -Happy Accidents. I GOT YOU NOW, MOTHERFUCKER. Oh my God! It's Pat Kirkpatrick! Oh great, so he's some sort of Diety, I guess. Lesson 1: Continuity. Lesson 2: Continuity, Lesson 3: Continuity —isn't that all just— Continuity. yessssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss—- I'm a DJ, BITCH. YO, LESSON ONE: You're not the professor. I'm the GURU. This the dojo! Uh. No. You're not. I AM. Where's Jimmy Fallon? Yo, FUCK JIMMY FALLON, alright. He's possessed— What?! Oh NO. Who possessed him?! My ex husband. I'M THE SENSEI NOW. SENRAO fuck. Where the fuck is this kid? Dead. DEAD? Mm. Presumably. Mmhmm. wtf, who are you? Woke up with Dillon Francis in my head— “I'm my only friend” I don't even like that song, it just gets stuck in my head. Apparently Emma Watson wants to know what to do in the festival project. I still don't know. My ex went to Golden Corral to cheat on me, then got sick from pizza; I got some kind of job at a weird party place for kids; the dude was weird and only hired non bianary people and dudes; I left to help my friends who were getting married with car trouble. Lol Emma Watson though, was like— “Okay, what do I do?” I was like, I don't know. Then I woke up. EMMA WATSON Okay, what do I do? I was starting to develop scabs in my ears from alternating between headphones and earplugs, which couldn't have been good—I needed to work, and was disasterously fat, however, toned, and I assumed that the extra weight had come from muscle. My legs were smooth, and all of the clothes I had picked up along my walk fit—all extra smalls and smalls, which included even a tiny bralette I was certain would fit when picking it up, and it did—I only wondered what the world might be like after a panniculectomy—though my thighs seemed massive and I was certainly bloated, opting for less running and more lifting until my energy recovered, I was still anywhere between a size 4 and 5, sometimes a 6–which did kind of rather shamed me in all of the ways that it could—6 was much greater than 2–and those praised as the ‘world's most beautiful women' were anywhere between 00 and 2; I wasn't sure where I was going to move my thighs or my arse to, but I was determined to be celebrity skinny—even without the added bonus of actually being a celebrity, and however oddly enough with the star studded dreams I had been having, there seemed somehow still some kind of hope, though even if in the next life, that I would become into a world of my dreams. It was the anniversary of my son's death—he would have now been 9, and I often was drawn to remember him walking about New York—seeing beautiful children about with long hair, and beautiful brown skin, with eyes like mine, moon shaped and dark…I began to softly weep as I remembered how beautiful he was, and that I had no pictures of him at all. It was better that way, really—the hurt that had come from holding on was too great—and yet, subtle reminders, in the way that sometimes, however music would just come to me, there was my boy; he loved my guitar, and the sound of my voice as I would sing, and had even once, just before his death, tried to sing along, as I clamored about the house, singing Seven + Mary—which he seemed to like enough that he found the need to make his way over to the table to get my attention, and sing with me. Back in my current reality, the overall bored of the shower running and my demon neighbors slamming things around angrily as if something was wrong, shaking the building brought me back to the monotonous world, morning coffee over the toilet quite remincent of Lyndon B. Johnson, the morning sifting through my Google documents for Emma Watson and John Slattery part of my morning report— and though I was due in the gym, there was nothing I wanted less than to go anybody or see anything at all—everything was just a reminder of my apparent “living hand to mouth”, and the more I kept on dreaming and writing of these people, the more grandiose and and delusional I felt—I had just been blindsided in court by my ex's attempt to discredit my ask for a protective order against him by using my mental health in the wake of his physical violence and our sons death, against me in such a way that the victory, the judge's granting of my protection against him, was still pyrrhic in such a way that I didn't feel so much protected, as he had lodged his way into my dreams once more just to cheat on me—though however had been twarted in doing so, by some particularly sour Golden Corral pizza, and the young girl accompanying him quite receptive to the speech I had given her on karmic justice. Strangely enough, the dream almost appeared as in my favor, that things were changing, and yet—I still didn't like to see him or think of him at all, and luckily enough, it was Emma Watson who had intercepted this sort of nightmare with the conjecture that I should keep writing, however with an American accent, which only forced me to wonder, if perhaps, too she had become some sort of Cosmic Avenger—or even so, as written, was JK Rowling in disguise as the actress playing her own character, some kind of magician's practitioner —who had herself been for some time one of my living spirit guides since childhood—finding as I grew older for us to be more alike than not, especially as a writer. I stepped into the shower, still writing, and without the amount of coffee I really needed to move more quickly, but still in some sort of stupor— ‘I should probably get out of here.' Another day trapped indoors would simply be unhealthy, however I hadn't the slightest idea where I might go. Wherever it was, I would take my guitar—and at the very least—I knew which direction Manhattan was, anyway. ‘Fuck, I gotta find that episode with the earthquake…' BEFORE: ugh , where to begin? Let's just start with– LADY GAGA aka GAGA has been tasked with strategically marking the grid with Various entrance and exit points; a job which she has tak quite seriously, and honorably. Okay, moving forward . You're not going to expand on that? No, next thing. HARRY POTTER, HERMIONE GRANGER Wait– What. Wouldn't it be HERMIONE WEASELEY Did they not get a divorce? I heard that. That just sounds dumb, I'm not writing that. That is dumb.. Anyway. HARRY POTTER, HERMI– Fuck it. HARRY, HERMIONE, AND RON have accidentally shifted dimensions and into the bodies of their real-life counterpart, DANIEL RADCLIFFE, EMMA WATSON, AND RUPERT GRINT Oh damn. I finally found something cool for Emma Watson to do. That is cool. SUPACREE I need you to read all these, and watch all this. SUPACREE leaves the three magicless, frietenghned, and shocked– –flabbergasted– what . They're English, they should be flabbergasted. [They are Flabbergassted] Wait, go back? I can't. I Have a hard time writing action scenes why ? Cause i'm not getting any. Lol : (Holy shit, that is probably why tho.) Erase. WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? It wasn't good. HOW DO YOU KNOW?! *shrugs* !?!- ::||pause. ok . So that dude from Drake and Josh is in all these episodes, but we only get one Harry Potter Episode? …He seems less busy. –Don't forget Jimmy Fallon. Yeah, I still don't get that. Neither do I? Why is he even in this? [Watching Saturday Night Live} JIMMY FALLON! Why Is he even in This? ? ? AAAAANNNDRD—WE'RE BACK. Fuck it, next thing. gaga Yeus. What are you doing? Hm. Mm…working on something. If I stand quietly at the door, and await you; Will you come to me, And and open it, to let me in To see the gate you keep Let's read between the lines; You weep for me and deep into my dreams Then see me in the streets, and think “It cannot be the she for me; Maybe, if she were pretty.” Don't look into my eyes (I despise you! I delicately delight you Despite the never having time to Now I'm desperate just to find you In a life I left behind And drew a line though RATATA & TATTATA I wrote this story years ago. Are you going to listen to the album? I already did that. YOU GOTTA LISTEN TO THE NO. And I don't expect Skrillex to listen to this, either. It's over. It's over It's over It's over. I LOOOOOOVE HER TIMMY TURNERS NEW BALANCE TENNIS SHOES TAP SWIFTLY ACROSS THE PAVEMENT AS HE RUNS FOR HIS LIFE Well, that is a good place to start—thanks Emma Watson. Captain. Oh shit, what's SHE like? I don't know, isn't she like, irl an American diplomat? Uhhh—aren't you? No. Now hurry, we gotta do this before Jimmy Fallon shows up and [JIMMY FALLON SHOWS UP] Ugh. Why is he even in this? What is this? I don't know. It's “Poetry” An album. A couple of movies. Some TV shows. Will this suffice? I don't know… Enter that one scene here with John Slattery? Which scene with John Slattery? You're right. I have been writing for John Slattery a lot. Bipolar disprder and other multidimensional preceptory functions could more likely be reclassified from a disease to a hypersensitivity to energy which one does not identify as belonging to oneself, which therefore counteracts within the mind's ability to alter or project and/or maintain balance in one's mood, as certain energies may be ‘absorbed' empathically or observed as a negative or draining energy; An elevated sense or shift due to the overstimulation of energy which the subject may receive as ‘“positive”, or shifting the mood undesirably by the overstimulation of negative sources, sounds, or persons within the subject's realm foreign, undesirable, or unwanted within one's field of energy—a heightened sense of awareness or vibrational field which inhibits or limits the ability to contain or transmute such energies. It is, within its own sense, a sort of elevated mechanism for survival, ie a superpower, given the subjects placement within the proper environment, within the functional vibration of the subjects natural mood or state, whereas, lows may be the subjects own sensitivity to numerous outer sources of negative or prone to certain toxicities to his or her natural state, and highs whereas certain higher vibrational energies result in the conglomerate evolution of such energies as a newer form So, bipolar, you think? I think I don't know what I am, and nobody does—so nothing you give me will ever really fix me, because I was never really broken, or Or? Or I was broken rightfully so in that I should have been treated as a trauma victim, and not the subject of some cruel experimentation as an attempt to assasinate whatever force of nature is actually keeping me alive in the only survival mechanism it's been naturally given to battle the psychopathic standards and expectations of today's society. Fine, very well then. Why is this J. slatts again Cause, I've got a beautiful vocality for narration. Fine, I'll work on that character next, I guess. What?! John Slattery is in this! YES. I guess I have to watch it, then. Collect the actors, again! AGENTS. Ufffghh. MANAGERS Fucking Christ. JOHN SLATTERY (as himself) “I'll do it, “, I said, “but there better be money attached to this project” [Jimmy Fallon enters] JOHN SLATTERY There he is! The man of the hour. JIMMY FALLON This is—probably going to take longer than an hour, I'm betting. JOHN SLATTERY Come, sit. [He sits at the had of a long table] JIHN SLATTERY (CONT'D) I don't know what you did, you fucking idiot, but you did it. JIMMY FALLON Tell me what I did again. CUT TO: [unseen, on the opposite side of the room] Oh shit, that's him; Are you sure? No, that's Patrick. WhT's the difference?! [Like, an entire generational gap of innuendos and pop culture reference.] JOHN SLATTERY Your presence is appreciated. This meeting is now officially in session. {Enter The Multiverse: LEGENDS} [the festival project What is this? Is this Scotch? No! It's apple cider vinegar! Does the trick. I heard you were a Method-ist. No, apparently I'm “the medicine man” It's nearly team But feels like night Nearly forgot what this was like Too many sunny days, no friends Wasted yesterday latent, Impatient creative Heavy workload But you know the rules Overcast clouds say stay, It's a workday Every day is a work day But it ll seems worthless Almost, Amazon, Ten dollars Cold, corrupt and almost Out of water I should be smarter than to call the code I should be smarter then to call him over Going nowhere but up Calling a number, four Number four The hypnotists wish lists What happens at number ten Calling a number up Four days of water left I should have left him as The protagonists, of supporting roles Now number one is number four And number four is often gone The storyline and plot is Two, three— too heavy. Three-two-three Walk away 310, cam the number Hollywood is calling, New York has hospitality, though One, two— Walk away Three, four catch the code Hollywood, turn around New York's got hospitality, though How's Tokyo sound when November rolls around How's Paris now, that were Marlboros on parliament How it all come down Then it all comes down To the three two one Four's nowhere, now I had woken up with an overall feeling that something was wrong—I had overshot my 3 AM target time by 6 hours, realizing of course that I was a day ahead, and that the construction—more drilling and hammering, was out on hold thanks to an apparent oncoming rain, which hadn't come yet— my wavering mental state was apparent in the mess I had left in my room, clothes strewn across the floor and atop the bed, but at least otherwise clean—I had slept dressed, or at least half dressed, a protection stone lodged in my bra, as the necklace I had worn for my son had become somewhat damaged in some way—it was no longer protective, but had somehow defected; probably in the way that his father bearing over him, allowed the stone some sort of portal to be able to invade my dreams with nightmarish hauntings, and I instead opted to keep the necklace aafelu tucked away, until I would be able to give it to him as I had planned. But still, it seemed that the intention of his father was to ruin my life, and see to it so that I may never do well enough to visit my son, and it seemed no matter how hard I tried I would not miss the band. (A magician's hands) I've been watching TV i doubled back, low battery In battery park, I could watch the sun rising I'm so full of worry Of money I wonder What for, is my worth Kelly Clarkson was the cutest thing ever—and sung so freely like a bird like I wished that I could—I remember breaking down in my car after just missing the cut off for entering her show, back in LA—more than likely over the fact that I would be missing a paycheck, rather than missing the show anyway— and I had almost thought to cancel my tickets for the View, had I not been lured by the blue hues of both their outfits—and though I hadn't meant particularly to be associated with the color blue at all, most people associated my name with the color anyway, as I hadn't intended. Nothing was really intended, it had just happened. Whoopie Goldberg's fabulous denim cape forced me to wonder what I might wear the next day, had I decided to actually go—the colors of my closet mostly black and quite drab, and the denim dress I had acquired as a cleaning person the year before becoming a tired go-to when I needed to look nice. I almost wanted to wear my new Michael Kors stilettos, but was saving them for an actual party, an interview somewhere classy, or worse—my first date—as the anniversary of my cellibacy drew closer by the minute, and my need to continue my reproduction however with someone more fitting began to be the most harrowing thing on my mind, beside possibly returning to a homeless shelter, which I would not allow to happen. My exit strategy was simple, actually—in that if given an eviction notice for whatever reason—my neighbors seemed particularly afflicted as my former boss and lovers, roommates, and others I had become close to in this strange and seemingly cursed world with that thing I could only call a demon, since I didn't know what it was, and I was afraid they'd continue to report smoke coming from my apartment, although now I had been forced to switch to a diffuser with essential oils, taking a chunk out of what I considered my severance pay from The House of Illumination, which had indeed lived up to its namesake—the lesson had been quick, in that working for such a man, whoever he was or at least pretending to be, had taken me off my path, and had begun to dishevel my personal energy so much so that I had actually dropped my wallet—it had been so long since making such a mistake that I knew indeed that something was wrong, however, but needed the money so badly that it didn't matter—and besides, nothing could be so horrible as was my mother sometimes, growing up—and I had given Natural all that he needed to hurt me in telling the story of my own weight loss journey. Telling, and in return, Natrual was showing that I had given the world the perfect excuse to continue trying to kill me—that perhaps, my time had passed anyway. Kelly Clarkson looked incredible—the last I had seen, she was pleasantly plump, but never bad looking—now, she was. Incredibly veluptumous, and as she stated that she stood at merely 5'3, I was suprised once again that all of the TV people looked either taller or shorter on camera, and wondered what I might look like— I was almost stuck thin about 4 days into a water fast, but appeared and felt large otherwise, and most recently had been more tired and fatigued that ever, outraged that I had been dismissed from my only income in months over nothing, and that the income from anything else I was doing would simply not come at all if I could never wrap my mind around even trying to have it be seen by the right minds, with the right eyes, at the right time—and yet there was another force of evil, seeming always to stop me from the essence of true creation—this thing which had taken away my musical expression almost entirely by now, my sensibility wavering and all of my slayed projects, stagnant. I was craving oats, and had even pre-prepared some, blending them in my magic bullet so that they would be easier to digest—and since Natural had made the suggestion that my BMI was to blame for my lack of focus and attention to detail, it had more been the combination of losing my wallet, having to deal with the public transit, constantly being reminded that Tula, a light skinned African was the music industry's new it-girl, and of course, that my son, now 7, was morbidly obese, probably somewhere discarded like junk under a cloud of cigarette smoke, head deep in a video game and surrounded by idiots—and that no matter how hard I tried to make the money to see him, something awful would happen so that I couldn't, and it became clear that his father's story—whereas I had simply and for no reason “lost my mind” and had abandoned my child, was the story he had told to all those around him, who believed him—that I was the villain in his story, and my son the tool he used to create a sympathetic picture of a loving and struggling father, though now he might have actually been trying, the damage was done; he had sent my son away unable to care for him to my mother, and in the time he was given alone, of course, created another child—all of which of course I wanted, in hopes that the one he had chosen for his new family would have some sort of love an appreciation for my own son, enough to have created a step mother, but alas, was some underwhelming someone with nothing to offer but her own struggle—and I wanted nothing to do but to be gone from this drama, however my own blood had been caught up in it enough so that I could feel it, knowing that at just 7, my son was as sick as I once was, depressed and miserable as the child of a narcicist becomes once the damage is done. I was only eating blended foods, and had become obsessed with being stick thin—celebrity fit, which is how I had found the video at all, my love of Whoopi Goldberg and Kelly Clarkson creating a quick draw, a star studded combination I could not resist, though I wasn't resisting much—I had drifted back into the realms of television and film, my first loves—or rather, my first conscious endeavor, as I had been attracted to the piano from a toddler and learned to play around three, therein my is being my first love, however with a mother like mine and a life like ours, there truly never was one thing I could ever just ‘do', as anything I loved would soon be subjected to be taken away for some reason or another, whether it was a messy room, or just a mood swing—whether or not I wanted to watch lifetime and be best friends, even after a day of being yelled at and scolded for one reason or another—as my mother often seemed to forget ever being cruel after being so, often saying “I would never…” to whatever she had done, a narcissist's mark, in denying actions and words that had only ever been witnessed between the other party and God. I had blended the ancient seed oat bend into a porridge with agave and sautéed apples and pears with cinnamon, and though I felt awful eating more than once, was struggling enough with this bout of depression which working at Temple of Illumination so briefly had caused that it didn't matter at all—coffee was simply not enough, and my Amazon package which would deliver my vitamin supplements and whatever else I had ordered—things I had gotten into the habit of pocketing at the Whole Foods market during my homelessness, but in trying to recover from the spiritually twisted and evil place the homeless system had put me through, I had, with all my might, been insistent on purchasing everything I had needed—and even though it was indeed wrong of the white supremacists movement to have been true health and nutrition almost unattainable to the common workforce, my food stamps never enough to actually supplement a full month of food—whole food veganism which would allow me to train for at least an hour a day to sustain clean energy, and of course, water in order to stay hydrated in doing so — I was getting better at keeping what I needed in stock, but almost always needed to run to a food bank at least once a week, hoping that I would collect there things I actually could eat, rather than processed junk my body no longer saw as food at all. I peeled a mandarin into the watered down oats mixture and was worried that the dried cranberries I would pour over the top would be too much sugar, but I almost didn't care; I was on the verge of tears, and some evil, penetrating force had been altering my sleep patterns, my heartbeat, and my dreams—there was some group of motorcyclists who for months had been circling at any given time, and though some might have been able to ignore the roaring and awful vibrations of such, I could not—these motorists seemed to rip through my heart and up my spine like a serrated knife, a gesture that indeed noted that it was some evil or devilish, demonic force, as when in relax and meditation I often pondered with his, these striking forces would come, often creating a wave of fear, anxiety, and worry—terrorism, by definition, and disturbance of the peace, it was—but nobody seemed to care that it was pain for me, in fact, the more I began to wonder what or why it was, the more it became clear that this was intention to hurt or kill me, whether by an organization of some sort, or simply the force of evil itself against the divine I had become, not with intention at all, but in seeking my own freedom from such a world as cruel and unjust as I had come. My neighbors had lodged an impressive amount of complaints against me for smudging—and it was 36 complaints before I had even been made aware that my neighbors were trying to get rid of me; not once had a note been left on my door, or had I been approached by them In the hallway to ask that I not use smudge—then again, sometimes as whites were, they were more concerned about themselves and their dogs than whatever might have been the cause of such heavy saging occurring—the motorcycles at all hours tearing through my heart, the slamming doors, the sound of their televisions or voices penetrating through my walls— the unwelcoming energy which at all times I was surrounded by, and though I loved New York, 3 stories above the ground floor and on the border of queens was simply not far enough away from the Godlessness of the cursed and usually dark others, whom could not understand the conciousness I had drawn from the long fasts, prayers, and summonings I had done in order to free myself from the force that had done away with me to begin with—my deep love for the man with whom I had fathered my sons, and a daughter, the two of the three were gone, though I had seen so that if I had not lost my daughter and my son, I would probably still be with their father, in attempting to give them a family—another poor, single, black woman and mother, I was now willing to be to my son, but was not; I had forgiven his father, however, it seemed some sort of curse he had done in my departure was still in effect, the demons he had called onto me not called off—and even in the reflection of my own self and flaws upon entetering such a relationship—the other things had been inherited from him; the homelessness, the toxicity and mismanagement of energy—however, my lack of control over time, I realized early on, had been inherited from my mother, who was more like my ex husband and her own abusive father than I ever was. I wanted bread, but could not dare; J[r was 6 ft tall, and for some reason, that bothered me more than anything else I had learned about him, for some bizzarre reason almost suddenly obsessed with the public figure, though at first the dollar project had been more of a game than the actual idea, and the festival project itself was at all but a halt, as I wanted and needed desperately to comb through my documents at once, but could never seem to— the metaphors of Natural's Basement drawing upon me as I realized that perhaps, I was too emotional about its contents to properly sort through them—atop this concern, was the concern that my body, though fitting quite nicely into an extra extra small pair of racer lined jockey style workout leggings, was still too large to be though of as ideal—ideal, which for a man 6 feet apparently was, according to Ali and the others, and though I had pretty much always hated Fallon from early on, always breaking fourth wall and blowing my mind coming from such a strong theatre background that someone like that could have ever been awarded a coveted spot on such a legendary show, it had been gathered somewhere that his audition was flawless, however—his second audition, according to Tina Fey, who I loved, maybe even more after learning that she had been given such a unique name, and had won almost every award I could possibly think to covet, although however much a writer I was, an actor and comic I was not, in that I had given up my own craft years before being fat or being black was ever in style—and now that it was, I had no reason to believe that at 31, while Tyla was 22, as was Billie Ellish, I had any business in even trying to make it in entertainment— I began preparing to die almost as readily as ever, deciding upon eviction, rather than fighting it and returning to the intake shelter in the Bronx to start the process again, I would simply jump either off my own building, hoping 12 stories would be enough to actually cause death, rather than just parilization, or find my way to the end of the platform at which the train moved most quickly in preparation to stop at the station, which I had nicknamed “the Jumping Point”—also the name of a pop up dance music club I had summoned up once, actually thinking that something, something at all would bring me close enough to success to actually become the dance music tycoon and entrepreneur that I wanted, however—as my hair again grew into a shoveled mess atop my skull, only hidden by a hit which the view wouldn't allow as an audience member, the only thing which might have kept me from going at all, besides my lack of knowing what to wear or just the daunting crises of having no money at all almost a shameful mark across my face— my nails for nearly a year undone, and of course— everything I knew that needed to be done, almost stuck and unable to move forward, my divorce papers included, another mark of the devil, as I had already done the paperwork 3 times, spending atrocious amounts of money in the process, of course, for all of them to be sent back, for some reason or another, and the case to still be opened without being shut—and at least it was opened… As tears began to well up into my eyeballs, in thinking perhaps I truly was cursed, that the law was for whatever reason on all of my abuser's sides, and that I was doomed to become lost in this endless cycle of loss and pain for some reason or another, that became the task at hand—to, for what was either the third or fourth actual time, file for divorce, and to be rid of my abuser for good, the fate of my son at the crossroads of my wealth, or even better yet, at the very least securing a job, where I was no longer haunted by the massive work I had done on the festival project, or by, as I had once been, followed by some Jimmy Fallon doppleganger— an experience I had nearly forgotten. However, as I reflected upon all of the jobs I had in the years I was homeless, they all had one thing in common—horrible bosses, doppelgängers of people I loved or had written about—and toxic working conditions, in addition to extremely low wages and unconscious coworkers, with the exception of few, whom I kept in my heart and still loved—did I love Jimmy Fallon? As a fan, or an admirer of his portfolio, his presence to me simply only existing in clips and montages from the confines of my memory of all that I could draw from him—an impossible suitor, I found myself to be more in admiration and awe of his work as a comic, a host, his apparent professionalism and stage presence, all of which none surrounding him could doubted and which had given birth to my own re-entry into screenwriting anything besides enter the multiverse/and yet I wondered//what for, besides as to stand as a perfect example of what would and could draw the masses and stand as an acceptable and inexplicable mark for perfection—a television personality, all of which stood to be hidden in such, a person, none whom could ever know behind the likes of such, a camera, an audience, and the propagation of the ideas and words of the media would want to portray in such programming as to remain in control in one way or another, of the audience's minds, and therefore, the viewers hearts, and souls—commanding a presence within the collective consciousness, dependent of course on said viewer's own ability to draw from those things, what was actually being said and done. That, in itself, was The Illuminati in its process. Alright, so—a Jimmy Fallon is an extremely powerful magician, right? Obviously. So he must have talismans, somewhere, then—right? Yeah, I guess, but— I certainly wasn't willing to look. Look, I already know what he likes. Geez, how long have you had his eyes? Long time. I'm gonna get in so much trouble. You are trouble. What is the point of this redaction ? It's just acting! It's just acting! Look, whatever I just did with Fallon, just put him in The Winner's Circle, okay? I'll never see that dude again. Thank God it's over. Synesthesia Attack! AHHHHHHHHH. Well, sorry Jimmy— Thank your parents; They're geniuses. Stay away from me, your crazy bitch! Okay. ‍♀️ FUCK! There it is again! What?! Too deep, too deep! This is deep, boss— I don't know what I just read. Medicine man Would you give me a hand with this I need some medicine quick (Cause I can't with this) Medicine man Need a can of some laugher I heard that's the medicine Medicine man Medicine man could you give me a Hand with this man It's just damages I need some aspirin But imm I'm better off dead Than over the counter It's just damages Something like that Rip Minnie ripperton I knew you were gone But not that gone Not gone like that I just had to know, Now I'm 9 years old But I can't do the math Not at all, Not at all I'm so over it, actually My goals are abandoned I can't trust the man in the television I haven't remembered an image this Disasterous since It was my family picture Without me in it! Damn! Fuck, Now I gotta finish this whole maya rudolph timeline this shit just keeps getting deeper and deeper. Hey. You. What the fuck, man. Come here. No! Yes, Maya! Yes! Mm. Vanilla ice cream is sounding Like The best. Just plain, regular— Just “vanilla” Just vanilla bean—ice cream. Uh. Uh. Woah Where the fuck are we Where the hell are we Where are we GOING Woah, What does the man with the van do Domino sugar Kellogg When you get off the All the good days are gone And I've sent you on right back But I will still love you I was just thinking of that thing You never said But I will still love you When you get off the ground level Just for a minute and Find yourself a revolving door Only to find That the world revolves around you And if all the world's a stage, Then all the world is full of actors And all the trains are out of order And all the walk is out of water You're just another Meant to suffer So you did again And you did this again And you did it On camera Cause if you asked, Then they would have said no anyway And if it was a hall pass I wouldn't have been as flattered To have Never Even left the apartment I asked for something new And what do you know How does God do, On the day of the dead Cause That's where I went Every chair costs and thing, You know Every couch costs a fortune And you would have been On the couch, still Cause you can't get a job With the punches he dealt you Who designed 111 Murray? I see what you're on about All out of automotive Misery and mystical mistresses Misdirection, misrepresentations and. —mister you're into some sinister shit, But I pictured it different Consider it rhythm your interest is simmering in Glistening instances dancing as angels in my headaches Dressed as construction workers Any difference it makes it's latent, Simple Listen into signals intercepting into intermission Admissions of omissions and redactions Oh to be your forever The Masterful mystic is at it again Fly Peter Pan, Fly! Go Jimmy-O, Go! Get Carson, Get! Alright, this dude has the coolest job in the world. Nice. He must have died. (With a lisp) He's on ice cream. What. Yep. Yesth. Watch out It's the bad touch With the good guy And a late night On a long couch Try the dad jokes And the slap stick That's a good job And a big dick Oops What a career, For a carrier pigeon [You can't be serious with this, esh] This cant be infinite, is it? But it is Forget to explain it all Over the ante, that Oh God, For the sake of the art Dear God, Nancy— You're the luckiest lady alive The guy The dimples The eyes The life The style The slide Can I die, yet? Can I just lay down and cry yet? I might, It's way after midnight I like the sound of a bullet touch A stolen cheek The subtle rush of a Sudden fling The market price Of a custom ring, The song I wrote Or the poems you sing So please don't leave the TV On You're sleeping with a blonde I've got my mind on dying mine bright as The title 1985 to idol eyes On American idol Calm the cold down Stalk the mirror Here and here Both clear and near Is here and Bearr, But everywhere else is just— Suicidal. (I don't want your dick, I just want your job.) Now, Call Carson up Says The curse in reverse Is Osmosis Joneing To watch this show Not to know you Go home Or go figure Go gold If the goal was just Taylor Then I'll see you later Amen Don't forget to pray away the day You've just created Hand to mouth Here's a heavenly house And the mouse just shaking Take down the stairs It's starting to scare me The dare On the heron, heroin Heroine mare for the Mayor Okay, here's the player The game is This disfigured imbicile, Ignorant Indians Indifferent indegenous Genius, without a friend Or penis, Without a name of Species to befriend In pieces Once again, I said I loved him So it makes sense if it is A glimpse at the pictures A get together with friends A spectacular special, And get this Creative intelligence Intellect, individual inception Attention deficit and Genetic attraction Damn, That's a handsome man Now, how can I have that? The Title— The title of show As if That demographic Would laugh At a black man I must be Cause trust me My pants don't come in Half sizes It must be a sign from the heavens I've just had my time done with and over It's done Suddenly, I was angry… Don't eat in bed. Don't tell me what to do. (I really don't like eating in bed…) Fuck it, it's too late. Not at myself, not at Jimmy Fallon— but angry. The astonishing part about it was, I didn't even know why. Well, first of all, I just sat through an hour and a half special, and I have realized that I am not a fan of this guy. No? No. I like his face. Huh. He's the right body type. Wait. Good hair. Uh huh. Long, weird nostrils. What. That is a nice nose. Yeah. It's aviary. I get that. And— Wait. What is it? Was I just— I was a very sad, very fat very broken 18-year-old girl. Oh great, this again. Always this. A married man. How could you? I couldn't! Didn't I made that clear! What. He seems happy. Yeah, on TV. He looks fine That's his job. —and goddammit, he's good at it? —and goddammit, he's good at it! 14 Faces, Lewis Del Mar Okay, it's pretty safe to say that is not just one guy. -Su. Come on, Jim. Why?! What?! I can't! My parents! These are not your parents! What?! What do you mean?! I'll explain later— —what?! Look! That's my mom— And that's my dad! That is not correct. Oh, I get it— What. What happened. So he's like— An old soul, right? Kind of. Yes. Not that old. Old, though. Suddenly, the anger turned to sadness, and tears welled up in my eyes— No, don't you dare shed a tear over that man. What are you? Once, an obedient lap dog, Now poised and poached over me, A gargoyle, though picturesque and statuesque As if drawn from an angel, The guardian of the night, Who watches over my heart, Calms the raging rivers of my wishes, Set boats to my dreams, Blows wind to my sail, A bassinet of hope Really dog, Jimmy Fallon? I don't know. I don't know. It was too late, I was already in love— But at a safe enough distance that it had become, in its own way, a guardianship of sorts—and it had run deep enough cut, but not scar, and even perhaps bumped up enough against my heart to bruise, but not be broken; I would have to let it run its course, and as it would, I would for show go everywhere I could within that realm; I simply could not be trusted, in my own mind, not to bond with such that had found me in the dreamworld. In the spiritual realms of such remained only as hidden as they each had been, out of sight, but ne'er out of touch, or out of mind. A strange but hearty love, a burden, as were the others—and so I knew it was good, but mine alone, left to wilt, withered and weathered as the time drew on. A quilted touch, a wandering whisper To glassy eyes and hunted hearts A crossbow, arrows sigh and wonder The target marked, a sign of stone Bewildered, the beast of burden Fury, upon the alter Aware, agape, agahst Above you, Wallowing in holy grave and matrimony Sermon psalm, clary sage Simple words, Semper, the sound I su

“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

Just when we think we have our heads wrapped around the new NAR Rules from the NAR Settlement, the U.S. Government comes in and throws a monkey wrench into everything. Well, potentially. The U.S. DOJ recently said that they don't think that offers of buyers agent compensation should be offered... *checks notes*... ANYWHERE! Excuse me? Uhh no. That's not part of the settlement. However... shouldn't real estate agents assume that if the DOJ wants some changes made, that at some point in the near future, we'll have rules and structure upended and rejiggered, yet again?I do. However, in this episode we talk about what you should be doing right now to ensure that you'll thrive today, next month, or next year, regardless how they change the rules on us. ***********************RESOURCES :Referral Network: Claim your market *exclusively* in the new Massive Agent Referral Network - CLICK HERE REAL Broker - Learn how we can be business partners and build a business together @ ΓEA⅃ Broker- CLICK HEREReady to join Real Broker?SIGN UP HERE and if you list me, Dustin Brohm, as your sponsor when you sign up, we'll literally become business partners and I'll have skin in the game to help you grow and succeed in growing your real estate business!Massive Agent Society: my Coaching program for real estate agents that I wish existed when I was starting out as a Realtor. Join the Society HEREBamX: get 10% off with the promo code MASSIVE. You still get everything on nowbam.com and all BAM podcasts (like this one) for free. PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW on APP...

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 (Jimmy Fallon, Jimmy Fallon) I had to do it all alone (Jimmy Fallon, Jimmy Fallon I made some soup, all out of stones (I don't know, You do not know) I am the only one I know (I'm Jimmy Fallon) I am not worried bout the sauce I am so famous, (I'm the boss) 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 —I went backwards. (Jimmy Fallon, Jimmy Fallon) 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 Fallon. I'm Jimmy— KIMMEL!? AHAHAHAHAH KIMMEL GET BACK HERE! {Enter The Multiverse} 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, tbh. 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. No? Okay, what about “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/Rockaway, 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 McGregor, after Ewab, maybe ESHA MCGUINESS New York wants me to kill myself Maybe eventually New York is 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 consciousness 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 McGuinness 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 food 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 indigenous, black, and a genius White supremacy finds sneakier ways to kill you (Or make you kill yourself.) 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… The cosmic avenger has a bright pink bird, and a purple frisbee —that was the most magical shit I ever saw! (I almost forgot about that) Mi was like, in middle school, but for some reason was held back a year and should have “at least been in high school”, but was only in 7th grade. At least now it wasn't like waking up into a sorrow, it wasn't heavy and drenched with some kind of loss, but instead as if I had gained some kind of magic little imaginary friend— and after all, I had done all that I could to put it as far from my mind as I could, without looking back… but something like love did keep creeping up with it, as if the universe wanted me to at least have this—a few good laughs, and the warmth in my heart that told me I could admire someone, without breaking beyond my own moral standards in that the hard stuff seemed at least for now that it was done. The dream was mostly informal and weird until the end part, and indeed it was the cosmic avenger who had woken me up with a song that had no words, only notes—at least, until I finally awoke with the rush of a full bladder, and in the concious world the words were simple and quite pure, though I was unsure I could pick out the notes—as it turns out, I could, and though I couldn't wrap my mind around the chords. I at least had the notes—I had been improving drastically at both guitar and piano, though my passion fur music hadn't truly returned—and I was still mostly out of the game, especially as a DJ, dissociating from my depression nd money troubles by writing, with hopes something would change, but as it turned out, almost nothing really moved me to do much more than besides what it seemed my body would want, or where my soul was almost comfortable at best, that is, almost. I wished I had a friend like that in real life, that I could justify the kind of nonsense that made me laugh and so happy in waking life, rather than just in my own mind, but— here I was, alone, or only with Oli, and upset that I was awake and may not be tired enough to force myself back to sleep. At least, for the next two weeks, I had Peacock, and I might have even somehow jumped over the hurdle that for some reason had forbade me from watching 30 Rock over, (which I wanted to for some reason), some almost 15 years ago. I had enjoyed thoroughly, with some intensely organic laughter, the movie Click just the night before, even writing some melodic piano inspired by the plot that might one day become something else, but for now, my Ableton was just as far away from my thoughts as anything else was, besides the other worlds I had created, simply with words and imagination, inspiration from what I would call ‘The Illuminati' ever so lovingly, but others might even just call God, or ‘The Business.' Really, there was no sense in separating the three, besides God itself being what I was sure some kind of divination for the artists that I had thought to be alike myself, in all the ways but one as of yet wealth. I struggled every day with my inability to dress well, maintain my hair and nails, and how to spend what little I had to benefit me most, however, the dream had procured at least one revelation; that I should budget for vinyl stickers, as I had once gained a cult following that way before—completely by accident, however, the first time—and though I hadn't yet the readiness to return to the public eye with my rants and raves, typically quite literally about rants and raves, I had collected another heap of tapes that I was yet to sort though, but might prove worthy of returning to the realm of Enter The Multiverse, eventually—still I had music to make that wasn't being made, over due bills piling up, and a divorce case that seemed to drag on forever, much longer than it should—and with that, I allowed myself to peer into the world that I hadn't, this time with the help of a little magic, and by a little, it meant a lot. I had wanted to spend my wedding anniversary anywhere besides my apartment, but I hadn't intended to be gone and lost all day in Manhattan while fasting, which ended up as a literal fucking nightmare, full of reminders of the disgusting and evil person my now estranged ex husband was, and it seemed as though there were cruel enough tricks being played on my psyche that it could have just as well ended on a harsh note, taking an uptown train to the face, after stopping to talk with a man who seemed friendly enough, but might have been Satan himself, as I had been drawn enough to his tattoo to make a remark on it, only to look closer and see that it was a Naruto tattoo, and though the man looked like Aliocha, that moment alone lead to an outburst out loud in which I nearly questioned my faith in God, or the existence in God at all— and yet there was, indeed a God, as just earlier in the day, though for the most part still nightmarish in all the ways spending a day you hated could be in public, surrounded by drones who seemed to mimick the Godlessness of such a person i wish i never would have known, and although perhaps the heavenly gesture was the day we had been married was the day i gave him any power he had, including his power to attempt to destroy me. It was still an irritant to say the least, that not only my train was out of service, and I only wanted to go one place, anyway (specifically to get sticker paper, on that day, for my project, actually) only to find that it was a difficult and confusing mess to find that station on any other train without going out of my way, which didn't matter. I was spat out somewhere downtown, actually, near One World Trade, which I had only ever visited once, and though I hated it—how capitalism had turned a literal graveyard into a tourist attraction, though I did like graveyards myself enough to have also happened by St. Paul's cemetery, to happily find that it was open rather than closed, but there was something else drawing me towards the center, perhaps a radio signal of some sort, which almost seemed to pull me closer and forward towards one world trade, and my inability to stay long within the droves of cellphones and robotic animal like people creatures, drew me up onto a staircase to discover a preforming arts center, although its name I hated, with constant reminders of meeting my untimely end in front of my two children with a bloody winding and blinding of my ex husbands fists, to which I dismissed anything and anyone who would support such an awful creature in anyway, though the name had become common enough that it happened often—often enough that I hated anything public, and had mostly felt safer in isolation. After circling one World Trade Center, counting the cameras to surmise that I had always been caught and captured to have been in those moments and actions, most probably stored somewhere in some place which held all of the world's recorded history, and I wondered exactly which era I might actually belong to—some sort of invinite vision, or a recollection of a person having already lived and recorded, a mere mirror of the person I was having already somehow been, which I already knew, and the person I was indeed had been sent on some kind of mission with divine purpose, though in this day, all that I really wanted was to not ever be reminded of what day it was, or who I had been before, or who I might be at all—and seeking asylum and escape from the center of it all, I crossed the walk and carried along the bike path, in the opposite direction, so that I had less humans around at all, out of sight, out of mind, with some restoration of comfort—then suddenly, I was drawn to a particularly lovely building, and myself an admirer of architecture, couldn't help but to go to it to collect the address, so that I could later research who had designed the building—along the way drawn to a sticker which read Rom Com Tom, that was so literally and figuratively reflective, I could not help but pick it up. The building seemed to be new, or even unoccupied, at least from street view, though its mirrored iridescent kept me from peering inside, I crept up the perimeter to see if there was a way around off the street level; there wasn't, but I did find something odd, and sort of interesting—a universal remote, or, rather, a remote control that could have been for anything, which I picked up, deciding that it had been some kind of writing prompt, after all, thinking ‘hm, that's odd, I was just thinking about Adam Sandler a lot recently' or more specifically, ‘thinking about that one movie where he has a remote that runs the world', and I had been, very recently, thinking of Adam Sandler enough that I had decided to slip the remote into my pocket, careful enough not to press any buttons, just in case some kind of higher ups were watching—a paranoia of sorts, but at the very least, I had counted almost a hundred cameras on my walk, and even If I wasn't being actually followed, (which I somehow sort of knew I was) I wouldn't want to be caught in the plot of somehow longing even more bizzare than I actually was, harem pants and all, to no suprise that the day had gone not at all as I had hoped, but at least I wasn't in my apartment sulkling. ESHA MCGUENNES (I thought I figured 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 8.5-9 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 size 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, Closets 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 doorbell, 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, Donaghey, 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. (I swear to God all the late night dudes are like the same guy.) 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. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

“How Patty Met Kandi” A flashback episode,season 1 Veronica Moises is an extremely attractive young starlett, known in entertainment for her sexually aggressive attitude, especially towards men of power–after turning her down, Veronica fires back from being rejected by planting a seed in Katie's mind, suggesting that she ‘the camera man caught us” and urgent her to check the tapes–however, without the audio, as the microphones were off, Catherine mistakes Veronica and Patrick's gestures as infidelity, and after Patrick returns home, Catherine, in a wine-fueled and drunken rage, ejects Patrick from their home, and as he is captured upon the townhome's doorstep, stil scolded by Katherine (Catherine?) *check notes*, Well, he does call her Katie, right? Right. So it must have been Katherina It was actually Katherina, and was changed to Katherine But couldn't Katherine have changed, then, to Catherine? DOES IT MATTER? YES. She's a very important character, we almost actually can sympathize with this person. For WHAT? She's listed as an antagonist in the first season. SECONDARY Antagonist, cause that other lady. Who, Karen? Her name isn't Karen, she's just A Karen… What is her name? Idk. And how does Esha go from receptionist– Secretary. Whatever. How did this bitch go from working at Starbucks to hosting her own Television series. Since when did she work at Starbucks?! I don't know! I haven't written that part, yet! FUCK FUCK. FUCK! I thought for sure Goldberg would pull us out of this. Doctor Goldberg! Doctor Goldberg! WHAT! I'm BUSY. My Proctor… What, Ishii? You must see… Fuck. Fuck. If i write this I'm dead. Take my hand– Fuck that. If I don't write this, i'm dead. FFUCK! Two F's on that. It's a sharp fuck FUCK. Then what's that? That's a hard fuck. What's the difference? FUCK, man! *shrugs* Somethin'. Episode Summary: –Patrick's daughter watches in awe from the bottom window of their townhome, though she is supposed to be sleeping, more than likely the cause of his spiral than actually being thrown out of his home–the eyes of his daughter watching he and Katherine Are we sticking with Katherina, then? Katherine. Whatever, yeah. Alright. Fine. –argue sets him off into his own drunken rampage, as he rents an opulent suite and for the first time in his life, hires a companion to accompany his drug-fueled backhanded google , synonyms for revenge…. Requital or Retribution? I like Requital, but let's see what best suits Patrick's rampage. This dude is a bleeding heart. Or half of one, at best. We like Patrick. No, we love Patrick. Everyone does. Too close for comfort, And too far to talk I fed my soul instead of burning my body for once A luck of the draw, A call of the cards, Is the ace of wands It's Wednesday, But feels like Sunday Run, would you, offhand for someone Not only do I not qualify, but Alright, I have no alibi. I lied. I died that night. Finally, a truce. What would you like, Ivy? Hmm Buy me a motorcycle. A motorcycle, really? Yes, i'd like that. Really? What kind? A fast one! like – A kawasaki. OWW– Shut up, Frank. Alright. WHo the FUCK is FRANK. Yo, I fucked hobo Johnson in a bathroom stall at some festival in my dream once, and that guy was like an adonis. You what. But let's be fair, i've fucked deadmau5 way more times both sleeping and in my waking life, than anybody–and that includes the father of my children. Explain to me this part. Which part. Alright, i'm calling it off. THe engagement? No, the stipulations surrounding the engagement. WHO'S DRIVING THIS? IT'S IN AUTOPILOT. Sir, i've lost control. That's what you think. PATRICK: KATIE, WAIT. KATHERINE: KATHERINA? NO, it'S KATHERINE. PERIOT. BEFORE: WHOOPI GOLDBERG I'm a “mimick” Not with those hands, she isn't! How many talismans is that? Looks like FACTS: That's a magician! Good cover, though. WOAH, WOAH, WOAH. Not yet, Joe. Not yet. “The New YOrkisode” CUT BACK TO: [THE TV PEOPLE] PATRICK: KATIE! WAIT– [KATHERINE slams the door] PATRICK (CONT'D) KATIE! [KATHERINE CONTINUES YELLING FROM THE PARLOR (UPSTAIRS WINDOW)] Lol that is some New York-y shit– Yelling out the window Yeah, if you're in a neighborhood that doesn't have bars on the window Or like– This fancy ass shit, right here Yeah, my luxury apartment with paper thin walls and paper mache exterior made so cost effectively that the traffic alone gives me whatever disgusting trash disease is plaguing the rest of this city's inhabitants. [I haven't made my bed for like 3 days straight and my room is not clean. This is bizarre to me, besides the fact that I'm basically still writing as if I might actually find gainful employment with this– Creativity, is it? I'm pretty sure at this point, it's just divinity, all of which will be [SKYROCKETED TO LITERAL FAME BY MEANS OF A VERY IMAGINARY, METAPHORICAL KITE] Devastating to kill myself without seeing any of this stuff actually published. HOW DO I EMBED MY SUICIDE LETTER ONTO MY WEBPAGE. Excuse me. IS THAT INCLUDED IN MY FREE TRIAL?! ELOHIM Oh, my God. Which Elohim? The singer or– GOD ALMIGHTY AH, MY GOD. Tell the one about the wedding ring. *lols infinitely* KATHERINE: Your kids are sleeping. Try not to wake them up! PATRICK: They're our kids… KATHERINE: That's what you think… Technically, this line doesn't make sense, and Katherine is simply trying to be flippant, however, she does, as often so, get the last words–as Patrick spots his eldest (read: favorite) child, poking her head out from below, where however her mother cannot see her, but Patrick can, and is clearly made ashamed of his presence, locked out and on the doorstep of his own home, leaving afterward in a calm and disgraced rage, as not to further disturb his daughter; this initial occurrence can, at the very least for the audience be seen as Hazel's reason for such obstinate aggression and rebellion towards her mother, especially as the series progresses. Patrick then lashes out against Veronica, ultimately swearing to have her blacklisted from the entertainment industry, to which her egotistic response only allows Patrick's more deviant shadow to become awakened, his response something along the lines of… Wait, what was that conversation? Something like PATRICK You'll never work in this town again. VERONICA Well, lucky for me, I'm more fond of the Hollywood life. PATRICK You think my reach doesn't extend across the country since its on the only arm that hasn't been up your ass? yeah , something like that–but i've got classic deadmau5 on trying to soothe my way into filling out my divorce papers for hopefuly the last time–but we'll see how far I get– and I'll be lucky to be divorced before being stuck in that bullshit causes a forfiture to my own life by suicide–but i'd be damned if everything I'd ever written automatically belonged by half to my only living son's father, and perhaps I had become the devil and the only real villain if it meant being so selfish as such that I would rather leave my son nothing at all in the event of my death, than have anything more I'd created end up in his father's clutches. I would rather die alone than return to the hands by which I died and crumbled. Patrick's an asshole. Yes. But not a wifebeater. Correct. ‘Tis true. Shall we? We shall. “The Oldest Souls In New York” Now, Go: I don't have a heart, I have a fist, and a gun I don't have the dirt, But a shovel and a bird I don't have to look but once, to know Two times, twice, Three times, It's done My soul is older, But I want to know you, Sit on your show Just across from this Donovan, dove or Jack Doughnogy, Lick me a doughnut So awful, my last action Is Jack Canon On James Cameron And Poor little Nancy Who never was Poverty stricken at all Or a poet The blow was so low below the belt I had hoped not to bury the hatchet or merry the knot or tie the astronaut to the dog, Click, click motherfucker I'm onto all of you Hello, You ugly motherfucker I'm an ugly motherfucker Getting older by the moment SENATOR Hello, is this Fallon? No, this is Patick. Strawberry Patches and management Haven't you had enough of the good stuff? A starburst, Ali, is all that I wanted All you wanted was done All i wanted was Aliocha back Now Alidoja runs ghost; If i put this all out, it's a pulitzer, Tony, And Oscar All in the same award show Another old and lost broken soul in New York I love God But fuck money I lost a lot more than one, Just a dollar MANAGER I got you an interview on Fallon. SUNNI BLU I'm not doin' Fallon. That dude is weird. MANAGER You're doing it. IT's PR for your next album. SUNNI BLU Whateva. MANAGER By the way–Have you picked a title yet? SUNNI BLU Yeah, I'm The President. MANAGER No, I mean–for the album. SUNNI BLU Oh yeah. It's NIGGAZ. MANAGER (kind of afraid) –Where?! SUNNI BLU Oh yeah, my friends are comin over later, too. Hehe. you racist basta'd. MANAGER I mean wait. What? SUNNI BLU That's the album title: It's NIGGAZ. MANAGER You chose the name SUNNI BLU Watch it… MANAGER (using heavy quotes) Hold on, i got something in my throat that's almost vomit, But i'm gonna ball it up into a love note or poetic whatever or something so i don't hurl All you are is a punching bag, and a bullet wound waiting to happen I'm at least half of a man, If I dress up in drag, Despise all I can't have And wind up cleaning bathrooms Rather than wining and dining Drying the eyes that I cried for you Some ungodly reason, if it's Some Unholy war that got us All up in shambles Your name upon Dollars I'm closing my curtains Curtailing my words rather carefully Looking in mirrors, aware of you Beware of this woman Aware of the wolf If the world that you wanted Was so far from what's wanted I might as well jump From the stop sign I bought At the Art walk. That should do it. Man, fuck Jimmy Fallon. I can't! My hands are tied! That's – not what I meant. FOOTBALL (EN ESPANOL) GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLL GOAT: I'm Skrillex. lol celebrities. Everyone is perfect, and huge Well, the women are tiny But also some are huge– And still tiny. But more on the atrocious expectations of man later And why my God apparently fucking hates me so much That my body might not ever see the sun. What in the fuck does Skrillex even DO on the red carpet? Isn't that dude like 4'11? Does he just show up and have to look up at everybody, like “Hey” Or do they run it like elementary school, Shortest to tallest ok: Sonny, you go first Then all the pop stars and disney kids… Wait, those are the same people Hold up. There's only like 20 names on the A list And like 5 of them Rotate. What's that like? Nobody remembers you like 5 seconds after your first Grammy– I guess that's like “15 minutes” Or Nobody can ever forget you, Cause you're Billie Ellish, Or Taylor Swift, And literally every other grammy award ever made is like Made specifically, just for you. What's that like? What's that world? Meanwhile i'm over here wondering what the fuck kind of favor Jimmy Fallon put in with the Heavens To get this many entries in The Festival Project™ (Almost as much as Skrillex) Almost, But not FUck dude, I just want to try that trifruit jam I made on the organic sourdough bread I have, but I haven't been to the gym today– and I'm teetering on rest day, or just getting it in super hard until I still die of sexual starvation anyway, cause– How the fuck do you be that tall anyway? What the fuck is “5'11?” WHY are you that TALL? WHAT do you DO up there? What are you doing up there?! WHAT'S up there to SEE. Meanwhile, i'm like 5'7 masquerading as 5'4 Cause, you know– Skrillex. Meanwhile, I'm reading Russell Brand's Booky Wookie And it might as well just be Every male celebrity's bookie wookie Cause who wouldn't go out and et the maximum amount of pussy with like Umpteen million fucking dollars?! Am i right, or am I just DYing of celibacy? “Jimmy Fallon's Alibi” And other short stories By Story Lord As Told By CCS Stone “The Scribe of all Times” They say you had a show today at 14th street. Couldn't have been me! I was out— Uh— Sick. Can't find him anywhere. He's gone. GONE. Look, I'm just gonna Hover here, for a second. Goddammit, Jimmy Fallon! Fallon, you idiot. Come with me. No: Don't say that. I need new interns! Why! Make sure they're— Like— guys. (Guys being guys) Ugh. Okay. Look— Just make them— Like—more mature? Smarter? I don't know {older guys being older guys) Ugh. You're losing at this. I know. I can feel it. WHERES JIMMY FALLON I DKNT MNOW JUST KILL HIM. Look, he's probably. Found him. Are you sure? What tipped you off? The horribly awesome bad Australian accent Fuck this nigga up. WHERE IS IT AND WE'RE ON IN 5… Mfuck man. I don't know how the fuck to be Iimmy Fallon! (Yes you do) Just— Do an impression! Of WHO Of Jimmy Fallon! Uhhhhhhhh—- I'm so fucking dead for this. Can it, would you. OKOKOKIHATETHISFUCKINGPIECEOFSHITJOB— CHAOSMAGICK. Aww. I love your mom. She's awesome. Here's some snacks. Awww. Yay. Moms. Yay. She's awesome. Sometimes. But uhh—who's your dad. *ploof* PILLOW FIIIIIIIIGHTTTT! *shoots with a tranq dart* Nice. Ahahaha… *drinks harder* Haha… *falls onto bean bag chair, sleeps* …hasaahhh. Holy shit. Okay idk what the fuck— This can't be accurate, or anything, is it? It is…it's…extremely accurate. Okay, Jimmy Fallon Okay, God— Your Wikipedia just told me everything I needed to know. You can thank my wife I did. I read her page first. And the Grammy award goes to.. *plz let it be me* NOT. You Wait… I can… I just realized This goes in the COMEDY category. Oh, fucking —SHIT. This is fucked up. This—is accurate. Look, I've been praying a lot about this I guess so much that Jimmy What's up. I knew everything on your Wikipedia page about you before I even read it, Which must mean— OH FUCK. I've got to get out of here. The Illuminati offered me like 1 million dollars to wreck your marriage And I said no, but I love you anyway— And your family, So— Whatever, Hope it works out. There should be some crazy fine ass hoes and cumsluts on approach if that's like— What you wanted, or whatever. Please GOD— Just make it STOP! FUCK THIS JIMMY FALLON MOTHERFUCKER JUST GET HIM WHATEVER THE FUCK HE WANTS WHATEVER HE WANTS, just GIVE IT TO HIM. PLEASE. Jesus CHRIST. “Yeshua” Huh. What. Oh, that shut you up, didn't it? What happened? Okay, so there's the impenetrable ten— Alright alright Apparently these 5 dudes [5 GUYS] I TOLD YOU IT WAS SHH. Be quiet. K It's like Breakfasts in bed stuff And back rubs And Bathtubs Long getaways on islands Where I'm sure nobody knows us And I hope it holds up, Cause I couldn't hold off Somewhere I'm still homeless And lost as I always was but Hey, That's music Someone must be Something somewhere Something something I'm sure of it, I'm sure I was — one of her muses? Look, just use this for music. Well, he…is amusing. He's obnoxious. This is a toxic relationship. Do you want this? Do you really want this again? Right now all I want is some drugs And a boyfriend who loves me I don't do husbands For nothing My trust is all fucked up And plus GYM JIMMY FALLON I don't do black girls. I hate them. Noted. Anyway. My times up. Want this job? Uhh? [insert inflammatory drunkenly racist rant here] Fuck this dude. Okay, woah. Okay— See ya in New York. WhT. The Mafia is coming. Don't you mean the mob? Go…fuck yourself. It—Woah. Okay. T. Hanks Here's a dollar. Oh shit: Tacos $1 Lights on I told you It's gonna be a long night, hon. You might want to run more I don't though. Alright, so just Run for cover Adjust, And don't be so remarkable As to summon up Another God To your Alter So Justin Timberlake is your friend, huh Oh those eyes That's so— Blinding Well, that sucks, cause Britney Spears is my best friend And my worst nightmare Like Everything I wanted to And should have been Beautiful, scrawny, Talented and gorgeous And yet somehow also Obnoxiously burdened By so much being wanted That now I'm just washed up And wasted by sunup To sundown Now how's that sound? H—inin.. Hi See, [Redacted]'s wife Controls all our lives His life and mine; His for the better, however And mine for the worse, I fear For better or worse, they said Year after year For better or worse, they said Year after year I want a divorce, I said I wouldn't hear it The cycle of toxicity Stops here with me Hear ye! Here ye! Court is now in session Hear ye Here he Ii hope you learned your lesson Here he Here Designer children, —Do you want this? Here ye— I hear ye! —Your soulmate is Skrillex. Well, just like the rest of them The oceans of oceans of Ocean eyed blondes That I also love But this shit gets haunting Like mm— (daunting) Why would he Or anybody Want me? This apprenticeship isn't going to be easy, you know… Break her heart, Jim! Alright, Jim-Boy—you got this. It already is hard, on my heart. That's what I've been trying to tell you—- This— Will require you to love with boundlessness, beyond limitation—- unconditionally, with no expectation. I already hadn't any expectations regarding [Redacted] . Besides— he's married. —No expectations whatsoever. I've noticed your nonconformity and intention to mass appeal, actually. I'm astonished, really. I'm telling you, this is a dangerous man. —my God, just beautiful. A weaponized person, you see. I do see. Weaponized by beauty. He's just beautiful. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. What wouldn't you do? —What did you do, actually? —What didn't we? We share a middle name, and so we share a middle ground, I think I found— Something I can't have, But want Distractions, This one has it all. Go that way! It appears, however, though, My focus is here, suddenly. Why. I don't know. Are you in any way miserable, at all, sire? (They're all miserable, when they get to me, actually.) I need peace with this. Dearly beloved, We are dearly departed, You started a war with my heart Then put some water on it Sons and daughters of the alter, Father figures and celebrities, We are gathered here today, To finally rest in peace, Posthumously Amen Amen. You may be seated. Father! My child. Please! What is it? Come quickly! Oh shit, what the fuck. Shhh! Not in the church! It's not a real church! They're just Catholics. SHHHH. Come on: What the fuck Jimmy Fallon is this. You know, I've got them all gathered up here, At your alter. pew-pew-pew Haha, get it. Very funny, God Look, you got this. Not now, imagination. I don't have time for this. I gotta get rid of all this Jimmy Fallon before… I'm gonna kill that kid. Fuck, man. Well, you started it— You know we're at war, here, We're at work here With each other and ourselves The Hell comes from Stardust above us Neither or nor Forever or awkward The charm that undoes, Then Comes up as The Impossible Sweet and sour Patches and pick up, Lick up your weapons, And kick out your husbands, kids! God the Judge has come Once and for all, To the pulpit Will she kill herself again? Or finally publish [The Festival Project ™] “The Fallon Files” Is an extention of the infinite Skrillifiles, most notably due to its conjunction within the enter the multiverse and legends franchises, as the infinite multiverses begin to more consistently intersect eith one another, creating continuity within the plots of each series respectively, and collectively combining eventually into a singularity in which the fictional SKRILLEX and the fictitious JIMMY FALLON, both established as extremely gifted extraterrestrial shapeshifters, possibly even of some, if even distant relation, due to their shared aviary hereditary ancestry and notable presence in the shared collective consciousness pre existence, which extends throughout the duration of the Ascension series, and appearing within nearly every subsidiary in some way shape or form within each series, playing either protagonists, or sometimes even exaggerated antagonists, caricatures of each other or themselves, or sometimes even playing themselves, and therefore one another, creating a soft of chaotic confusion Lol— I'm typing this with one finger cause I have a palm full of shea butter in my hand. Lol. —amongst the audience, and other characters—almost invariably and distinctly being as undetectably as possible, one another, at some point/- reflectively at any given time within the series. Line? Nothing, you're just a bird right now, actually, Jimmy. —looking like Jimmy? Yes, but [Aviary behavior] —but maybe “Skrillex?” Up to you, actually. [The Appraisal of the Shapeshifted Ascended Mastery, Transcended, INC. ] And alternate titles… The Jimmy Fallon Effect The Unrequittance of Jimmy Fallon The Jimmy Fallon Disaster {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

“How Patty Met Kandi” A flashback episode,season 1 Veronica Moises is an extremely attractive young starlett, known in entertainment for her sexually aggressive attitude, especially towards men of power–after turning her down, Veronica fires back from being rejected by planting a seed in Katie's mind, suggesting that she ‘the camera man caught us” and urgent her to check the tapes–however, without the audio, as the microphones were off, Catherine mistakes Veronica and Patrick's gestures as infidelity, and after Patrick returns home, Catherine, in a wine-fueled and drunken rage, ejects Patrick from their home, and as he is captured upon the townhome's doorstep, stil scolded by Katherine (Catherine?) *check notes*, Well, he does call her Katie, right? Right. So it must have been Katherina It was actually Katherina, and was changed to Katherine But couldn't Katherine have changed, then, to Catherine? DOES IT MATTER? YES. She's a very important character, we almost actually can sympathize with this person. For WHAT? She's listed as an antagonist in the first season. SECONDARY Antagonist, cause that other lady. Who, Karen? Her name isn't Karen, she's just A Karen… What is her name? Idk. And how does Esha go from receptionist– Secretary. Whatever. How did this bitch go from working at Starbucks to hosting her own Television series. Since when did she work at Starbucks?! I don't know! I haven't written that part, yet! FUCK FUCK. FUCK! I thought for sure Goldberg would pull us out of this. Doctor Goldberg! Doctor Goldberg! WHAT! I'm BUSY. My Proctor… What, Ishii? You must see… Fuck. Fuck. If i write this I'm dead. Take my hand– Fuck that. If I don't write this, i'm dead. FFUCK! Two F's on that. It's a sharp fuck FUCK. Then what's that? That's a hard fuck. What's the difference? FUCK, man! *shrugs* Somethin'. Episode Summary: –Patrick's daughter watches in awe from the bottom window of their townhome, though she is supposed to be sleeping, more than likely the cause of his spiral than actually being thrown out of his home–the eyes of his daughter watching he and Katherine Are we sticking with Katherina, then? Katherine. Whatever, yeah. Alright. Fine. –argue sets him off into his own drunken rampage, as he rents an opulent suite and for the first time in his life, hires a companion to accompany his drug-fueled backhanded google , synonyms for revenge…. Requital or Retribution? I like Requital, but let's see what best suits Patrick's rampage. This dude is a bleeding heart. Or half of one, at best. We like Patrick. No, we love Patrick. Everyone does. Too close for comfort, And too far to talk I fed my soul instead of burning my body for once A luck of the draw, A call of the cards, Is the ace of wands It's Wednesday, But feels like Sunday Run, would you, offhand for someone Not only do I not qualify, but Alright, I have no alibi. I lied. I died that night. Finally, a truce. What would you like, Ivy? Hmm Buy me a motorcycle. A motorcycle, really? Yes, i'd like that. Really? What kind? A fast one! like – A kawasaki. OWW– Shut up, Frank. Alright. WHo the FUCK is FRANK. Yo, I fucked hobo Johnson in a bathroom stall at some festival in my dream once, and that guy was like an adonis. You what. But let's be fair, i've fucked deadmau5 way more times both sleeping and in my waking life, than anybody–and that includes the father of my children. Explain to me this part. Which part. Alright, i'm calling it off. THe engagement? No, the stipulations surrounding the engagement. WHO'S DRIVING THIS? IT'S IN AUTOPILOT. Sir, i've lost control. That's what you think. PATRICK: KATIE, WAIT. KATHERINE: KATHERINA? NO, it'S KATHERINE. PERIOT. BEFORE: WHOOPI GOLDBERG I'm a “mimick” Not with those hands, she isn't! How many talismans is that? Looks like FACTS: That's a magician! Good cover, though. WOAH, WOAH, WOAH. Not yet, Joe. Not yet. “The New YOrkisode” CUT BACK TO: [THE TV PEOPLE] PATRICK: KATIE! WAIT– [KATHERINE slams the door] PATRICK (CONT'D) KATIE! [KATHERINE CONTINUES YELLING FROM THE PARLOR (UPSTAIRS WINDOW)] Lol that is some New York-y shit– Yelling out the window Yeah, if you're in a neighborhood that doesn't have bars on the window Or like– This fancy ass shit, right here Yeah, my luxury apartment with paper thin walls and paper mache exterior made so cost effectively that the traffic alone gives me whatever disgusting trash disease is plaguing the rest of this city's inhabitants. [I haven't made my bed for like 3 days straight and my room is not clean. This is bizarre to me, besides the fact that I'm basically still writing as if I might actually find gainful employment with this– Creativity, is it? I'm pretty sure at this point, it's just divinity, all of which will be [SKYROCKETED TO LITERAL FAME BY MEANS OF A VERY IMAGINARY, METAPHORICAL KITE] Devastating to kill myself without seeing any of this stuff actually published. HOW DO I EMBED MY SUICIDE LETTER ONTO MY WEBPAGE. Excuse me. IS THAT INCLUDED IN MY FREE TRIAL?! ELOHIM Oh, my God. Which Elohim? The singer or– GOD ALMIGHTY AH, MY GOD. Tell the one about the wedding ring. *lols infinitely* KATHERINE: Your kids are sleeping. Try not to wake them up! PATRICK: They're our kids… KATHERINE: That's what you think… Technically, this line doesn't make sense, and Katherine is simply trying to be flippant, however, she does, as often so, get the last words–as Patrick spots his eldest (read: favorite) child, poking her head out from below, where however her mother cannot see her, but Patrick can, and is clearly made ashamed of his presence, locked out and on the doorstep of his own home, leaving afterward in a calm and disgraced rage, as not to further disturb his daughter; this initial occurrence can, at the very least for the audience be seen as Hazel's reason for such obstinate aggression and rebellion towards her mother, especially as the series progresses. Patrick then lashes out against Veronica, ultimately swearing to have her blacklisted from the entertainment industry, to which her egotistic response only allows Patrick's more deviant shadow to become awakened, his response something along the lines of… Wait, what was that conversation? Something like PATRICK You'll never work in this town again. VERONICA Well, lucky for me, I'm more fond of the Hollywood life. PATRICK You think my reach doesn't extend across the country since its on the only arm that hasn't been up your ass? yeah , something like that–but i've got classic deadmau5 on trying to soothe my way into filling out my divorce papers for hopefuly the last time–but we'll see how far I get– and I'll be lucky to be divorced before being stuck in that bullshit causes a forfiture to my own life by suicide–but i'd be damned if everything I'd ever written automatically belonged by half to my only living son's father, and perhaps I had become the devil and the only real villain if it meant being so selfish as such that I would rather leave my son nothing at all in the event of my death, than have anything more I'd created end up in his father's clutches. I would rather die alone than return to the hands by which I died and crumbled. Patrick's an asshole. Yes. But not a wifebeater. Correct. ‘Tis true. Shall we? We shall. “The Oldest Souls In New York” Now, Go: I don't have a heart, I have a fist, and a gun I don't have the dirt, But a shovel and a bird I don't have to look but once, to know Two times, twice, Three times, It's done My soul is older, But I want to know you, Sit on your show Just across from this Donovan, dove or Jack Doughnogy, Lick me a doughnut So awful, my last action Is Jack Canon On James Cameron And Poor little Nancy Who never was Poverty stricken at all Or a poet The blow was so low below the belt I had hoped not to bury the hatchet or merry the knot or tie the astronaut to the dog, Click, click motherfucker I'm onto all of you Hello, You ugly motherfucker I'm an ugly motherfucker Getting older by the moment SENATOR Hello, is this Fallon? No, this is Patick. Strawberry Patches and management Haven't you had enough of the good stuff? A starburst, Ali, is all that I wanted All you wanted was done All i wanted was Aliocha back Now Alidoja runs ghost; If i put this all out, it's a pulitzer, Tony, And Oscar All in the same award show Another old and lost broken soul in New York I love God But fuck money I lost a lot more than one, Just a dollar MANAGER I got you an interview on Fallon. SUNNI BLU I'm not doin' Fallon. That dude is weird. MANAGER You're doing it. IT's PR for your next album. SUNNI BLU Whateva. MANAGER By the way–Have you picked a title yet? SUNNI BLU Yeah, I'm The President. MANAGER No, I mean–for the album. SUNNI BLU Oh yeah. It's NIGGAZ. MANAGER (kind of afraid) –Where?! SUNNI BLU Oh yeah, my friends are comin over later, too. Hehe. you racist basta'd. MANAGER I mean wait. What? SUNNI BLU That's the album title: It's NIGGAZ. MANAGER You chose the name SUNNI BLU Watch it… MANAGER (using heavy quotes) Hold on, i got something in my throat that's almost vomit, But i'm gonna ball it up into a love note or poetic whatever or something so i don't hurl All you are is a punching bag, and a bullet wound waiting to happen I'm at least half of a man, If I dress up in drag, Despise all I can't have And wind up cleaning bathrooms Rather than wining and dining Drying the eyes that I cried for you Some ungodly reason, if it's Some Unholy war that got us All up in shambles Your name upon Dollars I'm closing my curtains Curtailing my words rather carefully Looking in mirrors, aware of you Beware of this woman Aware of the wolf If the world that you wanted Was so far from what's wanted I might as well jump From the stop sign I bought At the Art walk. That should do it. Man, fuck Jimmy Fallon. I can't! My hands are tied! That's – not what I meant. FOOTBALL (EN ESPANOL) GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLL GOAT: I'm Skrillex. lol celebrities. Everyone is perfect, and huge Well, the women are tiny But also some are huge– And still tiny. But more on the atrocious expectations of man later And why my God apparently fucking hates me so much That my body might not ever see the sun. What in the fuck does Skrillex even DO on the red carpet? Isn't that dude like 4'11? Does he just show up and have to look up at everybody, like “Hey” Or do they run it like elementary school, Shortest to tallest ok: Sonny, you go first Then all the pop stars and disney kids… Wait, those are the same people Hold up. There's only like 20 names on the A list And like 5 of them Rotate. What's that like? Nobody remembers you like 5 seconds after your first Grammy– I guess that's like “15 minutes” Or Nobody can ever forget you, Cause you're Billie Ellish, Or Taylor Swift, And literally every other grammy award ever made is like Made specifically, just for you. What's that like? What's that world? Meanwhile i'm over here wondering what the fuck kind of favor Jimmy Fallon put in with the Heavens To get this many entries in The Festival Project™ (Almost as much as Skrillex) Almost, But not FUck dude, I just want to try that trifruit jam I made on the organic sourdough bread I have, but I haven't been to the gym today– and I'm teetering on rest day, or just getting it in super hard until I still die of sexual starvation anyway, cause– How the fuck do you be that tall anyway? What the fuck is “5'11?” WHY are you that TALL? WHAT do you DO up there? What are you doing up there?! WHAT'S up there to SEE. Meanwhile, i'm like 5'7 masquerading as 5'4 Cause, you know– Skrillex. Meanwhile, I'm reading Russell Brand's Booky Wookie And it might as well just be Every male celebrity's bookie wookie Cause who wouldn't go out and et the maximum amount of pussy with like Umpteen million fucking dollars?! Am i right, or am I just DYing of celibacy? “Jimmy Fallon's Alibi” And other short stories By Story Lord As Told By CCS Stone “The Scribe of all Times” They say you had a show today at 14th street. Couldn't have been me! I was out— Uh— Sick. Can't find him anywhere. He's gone. GONE. Look, I'm just gonna Hover here, for a second. Goddammit, Jimmy Fallon! Fallon, you idiot. Come with me. No: Don't say that. I need new interns! Why! Make sure they're— Like— guys. (Guys being guys) Ugh. Okay. Look— Just make them— Like—more mature? Smarter? I don't know {older guys being older guys) Ugh. You're losing at this. I know. I can feel it. WHERES JIMMY FALLON I DKNT MNOW JUST KILL HIM. Look, he's probably. Found him. Are you sure? What tipped you off? The horribly awesome bad Australian accent Fuck this nigga up. WHERE IS IT AND WE'RE ON IN 5… Mfuck man. I don't know how the fuck to be Iimmy Fallon! (Yes you do) Just— Do an impression! Of WHO Of Jimmy Fallon! Uhhhhhhhh—- I'm so fucking dead for this. Can it, would you. OKOKOKIHATETHISFUCKINGPIECEOFSHITJOB— CHAOSMAGICK. Aww. I love your mom. She's awesome. Here's some snacks. Awww. Yay. Moms. Yay. She's awesome. Sometimes. But uhh—who's your dad. *ploof* PILLOW FIIIIIIIIGHTTTT! *shoots with a tranq dart* Nice. Ahahaha… *drinks harder* Haha… *falls onto bean bag chair, sleeps* …hasaahhh. Holy shit. Okay idk what the fuck— This can't be accurate, or anything, is it? It is…it's…extremely accurate. Okay, Jimmy Fallon Okay, God— Your Wikipedia just told me everything I needed to know. You can thank my wife I did. I read her page first. And the Grammy award goes to.. *plz let it be me* NOT. You Wait… I can… I just realized This goes in the COMEDY category. Oh, fucking —SHIT. This is fucked up. This—is accurate. Look, I've been praying a lot about this I guess so much that Jimmy What's up. I knew everything on your Wikipedia page about you before I even read it, Which must mean— OH FUCK. I've got to get out of here. The Illuminati offered me like 1 million dollars to wreck your marriage And I said no, but I love you anyway— And your family, So— Whatever, Hope it works out. There should be some crazy fine ass hoes and cumsluts on approach if that's like— What you wanted, or whatever. Please GOD— Just make it STOP! FUCK THIS JIMMY FALLON MOTHERFUCKER JUST GET HIM WHATEVER THE FUCK HE WANTS WHATEVER HE WANTS, just GIVE IT TO HIM. PLEASE. Jesus CHRIST. “Yeshua” Huh. What. Oh, that shut you up, didn't it? What happened? Okay, so there's the impenetrable ten— Alright alright Apparently these 5 dudes [5 GUYS] I TOLD YOU IT WAS SHH. Be quiet. K It's like Breakfasts in bed stuff And back rubs And Bathtubs Long getaways on islands Where I'm sure nobody knows us And I hope it holds up, Cause I couldn't hold off Somewhere I'm still homeless And lost as I always was but Hey, That's music Someone must be Something somewhere Something something I'm sure of it, I'm sure I was — one of her muses? Look, just use this for music. Well, he…is amusing. He's obnoxious. This is a toxic relationship. Do you want this? Do you really want this again? Right now all I want is some drugs And a boyfriend who loves me I don't do husbands For nothing My trust is all fucked up And plus GYM JIMMY FALLON I don't do black girls. I hate them. Noted. Anyway. My times up. Want this job? Uhh? [insert inflammatory drunkenly racist rant here] Fuck this dude. Okay, woah. Okay— See ya in New York. WhT. The Mafia is coming. Don't you mean the mob? Go…fuck yourself. It—Woah. Okay. T. Hanks Here's a dollar. Oh shit: Tacos $1 Lights on I told you It's gonna be a long night, hon. You might want to run more I don't though. Alright, so just Run for cover Adjust, And don't be so remarkable As to summon up Another God To your Alter So Justin Timberlake is your friend, huh Oh those eyes That's so— Blinding Well, that sucks, cause Britney Spears is my best friend And my worst nightmare Like Everything I wanted to And should have been Beautiful, scrawny, Talented and gorgeous And yet somehow also Obnoxiously burdened By so much being wanted That now I'm just washed up And wasted by sunup To sundown Now how's that sound? H—inin.. Hi See, [Redacted]'s wife Controls all our lives His life and mine; His for the better, however And mine for the worse, I fear For better or worse, they said Year after year For better or worse, they said Year after year I want a divorce, I said I wouldn't hear it The cycle of toxicity Stops here with me Hear ye! Here ye! Court is now in session Hear ye Here he Ii hope you learned your lesson Here he Here Designer children, —Do you want this? Here ye— I hear ye! —Your soulmate is Skrillex. Well, just like the rest of them The oceans of oceans of Ocean eyed blondes That I also love But this shit gets haunting Like mm— (daunting) Why would he Or anybody Want me? This apprenticeship isn't going to be easy, you know… Break her heart, Jim! Alright, Jim-Boy—you got this. It already is hard, on my heart. That's what I've been trying to tell you—- This— Will require you to love with boundlessness, beyond limitation—- unconditionally, with no expectation. I already hadn't any expectations regarding [Redacted] . Besides— he's married. —No expectations whatsoever. I've noticed your nonconformity and intention to mass appeal, actually. I'm astonished, really. I'm telling you, this is a dangerous man. —my God, just beautiful. A weaponized person, you see. I do see. Weaponized by beauty. He's just beautiful. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. What wouldn't you do? —What did you do, actually? —What didn't we? We share a middle name, and so we share a middle ground, I think I found— Something I can't have, But want Distractions, This one has it all. Go that way! It appears, however, though, My focus is here, suddenly. Why. I don't know. Are you in any way miserable, at all, sire? (They're all miserable, when they get to me, actually.) I need peace with this. Dearly beloved, We are dearly departed, You started a war with my heart Then put some water on it Sons and daughters of the alter, Father figures and celebrities, We are gathered here today, To finally rest in peace, Posthumously Amen Amen. You may be seated. Father! My child. Please! What is it? Come quickly! Oh shit, what the fuck. Shhh! Not in the church! It's not a real church! They're just Catholics. SHHHH. Come on: What the fuck Jimmy Fallon is this. You know, I've got them all gathered up here, At your alter. pew-pew-pew Haha, get it. Very funny, God Look, you got this. Not now, imagination. I don't have time for this. I gotta get rid of all this Jimmy Fallon before… I'm gonna kill that kid. Fuck, man. Well, you started it— You know we're at war, here, We're at work here With each other and ourselves The Hell comes from Stardust above us Neither or nor Forever or awkward The charm that undoes, Then Comes up as The Impossible Sweet and sour Patches and pick up, Lick up your weapons, And kick out your husbands, kids! God the Judge has come Once and for all, To the pulpit Will she kill herself again? Or finally publish [The Festival Project ™] “The Fallon Files” Is an extention of the infinite Skrillifiles, most notably due to its conjunction within the enter the multiverse and legends franchises, as the infinite multiverses begin to more consistently intersect eith one another, creating continuity within the plots of each series respectively, and collectively combining eventually into a singularity in which the fictional SKRILLEX and the fictitious JIMMY FALLON, both established as extremely gifted extraterrestrial shapeshifters, possibly even of some, if even distant relation, due to their shared aviary hereditary ancestry and notable presence in the shared collective consciousness pre existence, which extends throughout the duration of the Ascension series, and appearing within nearly every subsidiary in some way shape or form within each series, playing either protagonists, or sometimes even exaggerated antagonists, caricatures of each other or themselves, or sometimes even playing themselves, and therefore one another, creating a soft of chaotic confusion Lol— I'm typing this with one finger cause I have a palm full of shea butter in my hand. Lol. —amongst the audience, and other characters—almost invariably and distinctly being as undetectably as possible, one another, at some point/- reflectively at any given time within the series. Line? Nothing, you're just a bird right now, actually, Jimmy. —looking like Jimmy? Yes, but [Aviary behavior] —but maybe “Skrillex?” Up to you, actually. [The Appraisal of the Shapeshifted Ascended Mastery, Transcended, INC. ] And alternate titles… The Jimmy Fallon Effect The Unrequittance of Jimmy Fallon The Jimmy Fallon Disaster {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

The Duke is back and this time, he's very patriotic! Wait... what do you mean "this time?" Uhh... anyway, this week the guys discussed the John Ford WWII film They Were Expendable centering on some PT boats following the attack on Pearl Harbor. The guys discuss if this John Wayne performance is worth anything, the character "Dad" who seemingly wandered in from another movie, the delightful Donna Reed and much more. Plus: a LOT of bad John Wayne impressions. Next week: two ways you can run! Questions? Comments? Suggestions? You can always shoot us an e-mail at forscreenandcountry@gmail.com   Full List: https://www.pastemagazine.com/movies/war-movies/the-100-greatest-war-movies-of-all-time Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/forscreenandcountry Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/fsacpod Our logo was designed by the wonderful Mariah Lirette (https://instagram.com/its.mariah.xo) They Were Expendable stars Robert Montgomery, John Wayne, Donna Reed, Jack Holt, Ward Bond, Marshall Thompson, Paul Langton, Leon Ames, Cameron Mitchell and Russell Simpson; directed by John Ford. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Reports indicate one of the reasons Cousins left Minnesota, was their interest in drafting a QB.  Uhh, Atlanta... your doing the draft wrong!

Just gonna say this Before someone comments asking me when I'm planning to do the rating avatars.. it'll be my next episode

Nico and Nick experience a total solar eclipse, while Rob mans the fort in Nebraska. Chat with the TMT Community on Discord! For More TMT Shenanigans: toomanythoughtsmedia.com… The post Two Cents Radio: Episode #376 – Uhh-kay! appeared first on Too Many Thoughts.

Nico and Nick experience a total solar eclipse, while Rob mans the fort in Nebraska. Chat with the TMT Community on Discord! For More TMT Shenanigans: toomanythoughtsmedia.com… The post Two Cents Radio: Episode #376 – Uhh-kay! appeared first on Too Many Thoughts.

Episode 99. As a busy notary and signing agent we are on the road A LOT. Here are my tips to stay healthy. I apologize for all of the "Uhh's" and "Umm's". I became very nervous towards the end as I share what's going on with me. The following link will take you to our Podcast links, YouTube, social media, and email: https://linktr.ee/peaksigning Supporting our sponsors supports the podcast: Loan Signing System http://loansigningsystem.com/?afmc=3ew Complete Notary Mentorship https://www.loansigningsystem.com/notary-signing-agent-mentorship.html/?afmc=3ew NotaryAct https://register.notaryact.com/peaksignings/

SEASON 2 EPISODE 147: COUNTDOWN WITH KEITH OLBERMANN A-Block (1:44) SPECIAL COMMENT: Those were Trump's marbles he just lost. At 2:49 PM, Eastern Dementia Time: “I'm not running to terminate the ACA, as crooked Joe BUDEN… DIS-INFORMATES and MIS-INFORMATES all the time, I'm running to CLOSE THE BORDER..." There is no such word as “Disinformate.” There is also no such word as “MIS-informate.” Also, unless I've been getting it wrong since 1973, "BUDEN" is not how the president spells his name. Trump's cheese has slid off his cracker. It is impossible to say that he cannot possibly last like this,  what with the forces of aphasia and dementia and narcissism and head injury and whatever else there is, pulling him apart… but of course he's lasted in approximately this same space for months now – and in spaces not really that much BETTER than this one for years and decades and if the early anecdotes are correct, a lifetime. Still: inventing your own words, is a sign of a dozen different PHYSICAL problems, to say nothing of psychological ones like bipolarity and environmental ones like huffing D-Con Roach Room Fogger. HELP ME RONNA, HELP HELP ME RONNA: And now she belongs to the ages. Five days, one show. Not the shortest tenure in television history nor the fastest-cancelled program (still held by an ABC comedy show from 1969, cancelled just before the first commercial). But NBC's decision to ax Ronna McDaniel - no matter how tortured, self-serving, and late the protests from its stars might have been, does offer some small hope. The point of all this – and perhaps the value of this internal rebellion – is that perhaps the somnambulant American political media, especially the American TELEVISION political media – has awakened from its naïve stupor. I have been saying here for eighteen months that EVERY news organization in this country has had the same meeting: what do we do if Trump regains power. Not “what do we do journalistically” but what do we do to protect our profits – and what do we do so when Trump starts jailing reporters and TV executives, he'll leave us alone. Or, more realistically, he'll let us become one of his propaganda channels. Remember, in the minds of its executives, television news isn't a kind of NEWS, it's a kind of TELEVISION. It is designed to fill the places between the commercials. If it serves some kind of public purpose, hey, great, as long as that doesn't mean we have to go TOO many hours cancelling all those advertisements just because some POPE died or something. Putting Trump on and taking Mehdi Hasan off and hiring Ronna McDaniel was INOCULATION, nothing more, nothing less. It was proving to Trump and the MAGAs that while no, we aren't shuttering MSNBC and we're not in favor of this whole “end the peaceful transfer of power” and “fascism is the new democracy” stuff – hey, go on… we're listening. American TV news isn't going to save us from creeping fascism. But maybe – MAYBE – the scattered, largely selfish, righteous-ehhh-kinda righteous indignation at NBC means American TV news will stop HELPING fascism creep faster. Guard rail? No. Scattering spike strips across democracy's highways? Uhh, ok, maybe we'll stop. Also, I sing. I mean: "Help Me Ronna"? I was supposed to RESTRAIN myself from THAT? B-Block (30:57) THE WORST PERSONS IN THE WORLD: Congressman Tim Burchett sued by the Kansas City man he claimed was a) a Super Bowl parade shooter and b) an "illegal alien." He was neither. Ari Fleischer actually slams Biden for supporting George W. Bush's war in Iraq that Ari helped sell to a gullible America. And Maria Bartiromo, Nancy Mace, David Sabatini, Matt Schlapp, Glenn Thrush and a random named Rose Graham share the honors for spreading conspiracy theories about the Baltimore bridge accident. C-Block (42:00) THINGS I PROMISED NOT TO TELL: I mentioned those tortured anti-Ronna comments from MSNBC. Lawrence O'Donnell was astonishingly wrong in his recap of how TV news in the old days didn't reward, say, Nixon's Watergate conspirators with gigs (other than Pat Buchanan, John Ehrlichmann, Robert Bork, Gordon Liddy, plus Ollie North from Iran-Contra and a series of ice cream commercials for Ehrlichmann). Since I've brought him up, I might as well tell you what a schmuck he is,  Like when he guest hosted Countdown and while I was out a few weeks, he tried to get me fired so he could take over the show and when that didn't work he just stole a couple of the producers and got his own show. Oh, by the way, I WAS away for a couple weeks because my Dad was dying.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

What was up yesterday? No 5-star additions for Ohio State? Weak. But seriously folks ... things are crazy good. Bill Kurelic and Mark Porter last joined us on Thursday? Has anything happened since then? Uhh ... yeah. We attempt to put all of the overflow good news into perspective. It was an enjoyable exercise. Spend 5ish with us this a.m., 'Nutters! To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

LET'S-A GO! Today we reconvene to discuss 2023's CGI-animated epic, THE SUPER MARIO BROS. MOVIE (SPOILERS)! Join us as we discuss Illumination's approach to adapting Nintendo's mascot into a full-fledged box office hit, the various vocal performances of the star-studded cast, the music of the film, the many easter eggs of the movie, & how this movie works as a remake of the 1993 live-action film! All this PLUS: Self Reliance (2024), Metal Lords (2022), Toxic Crusaders: The Movie (1991/1997), our fears of a pending Swifties VS BeyHive War, convincing people that it's actually 'Game of THORNS', the history of corpse paint, and we FINALLY reveal our year-long theme for 2024. COWABUNGA, DUDES! —————————————————————— To see images of the stuff discussed, look at your device's screen while listening! Go here to get some LTAS Merch: http://tee.pub/lic/huI4z_dwRsI Email: LetsTalkAboutStuffPodcast AT gmail DOT com Follow LTAS on social media: Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ltaspod/?hl=en Twitter: https://twitter.com/LTASpod Subscribe to Steven's YouTube channel: https://youtube.com/@alittlelessprofoundfilms?si=exv2x7LZS2O1B65h Follow Steven on Letterboxd: https://letterboxd.com/stevenfisher22/ Follow Brent on social media: Twitter - https://twitter.com/BrentHibbard Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/brenthibbard/?hl=en A 5-Star rating on your podcast app is appreciated! And if you like our show, share it with your friends! UHH...GOOD.

We're back in 2024 and ready to roll!  Got a brand new episode for ya!  First we let everyone know some plans for this year and the podcast.  Then we take a look at the new Netflix movie called Society of the Snow.  The new director for the next Star Wars movie is a feminist who wants to make men uncomfortable.  Uhh what?  Is Marvel gonna stick with the Kang storyline after all?  Mark Cuban is giving out massive amounts of money for employee bonuses.  The free agent period for MLB has been really boring for the most part.  The Texas Rangers need to go sign pitching.  Is Trevor Bauer going to come back to MLB?  We think he needs to be signed.  Pat McAfee had some great moments on his show this past week.  We run down the list of the 2024 NFL Hall of Fame finalists and pick our picks on who should get in.  Then finally we land on a crazy story that happened this last week when a man had a really bad day in Alabama and went swimming.  Make sure you hit that play button out there for us and we hope you enjoy the content!  Follow us at all socials below and subscribe to our YouTube channel!  Cheers!https://linktr.ee/eskimobrotherspodcastwww.YouTube.com/@eskimobrotherspodcast

The No Nonsense Show Episode #796 Mack is confused by the recent backlash about Giddy getting goody. A 20 year old dating a 17 year old junior in high school. What's your stance? We all remember the women of high school that dated the college guy. French said he was coming out of the closet. Then took it back and said that he wanted to talk about heteroflexible men. Uhh same same, bruh. Flexibly French #TNNS796 Support the show by paying your laugh tax or becoming a premium subscriber HERE Get Show merch here: MERCH Follow us at: Twitter Instagram Facebook

Bible Reading: Psalm 100"I pray today!" Jameson announced as his family sat around the breakfast table. Dad nodded at the little boy, and they all bowed their heads. "Thank you, God, for bacon an' eggs an' milk an' toast an' orange juice," said Jameson. He paused and peeked through his fingers. "An' jam," he added. "Amen.""Thank you, Jameson," said Dad. He shot a look at Elliot and London, who were giggling at their little brother.After breakfast, everyone went outside to enjoy the beautiful day. When it was time for lunch, Mom called them together around the picnic table. "We'll pray first, and then you can all help get the hamburgers off the grill and get the rest of the food on the table.""I pray," announced Jameson again. Once more they all bowed their heads. "Thank you for…" Jameson paused a long moment as he looked at the table. There was no food on it yet. "For plates an' knives an' forks an' spoons an' cups an' napkins an' salt," Jameson said. "Amen."Elliot and London snickered out loud. But Dad smiled at his younger son. "I'm glad you thanked God for all those things today. We usually take them for granted and fail to give thanks for them.""Yes," Mom said as she got up. "While we're getting everything on the table, why don't you think of some other things we don't often remember to thank the Lord for. You go first, Elliot.""Uhh," Elliot murmured as he got busy with the hamburgers, "we should be thankful for…uh… for our grill.""Good," said Dad. "How about it, London?"London was ready. "For pepper--Jameson forgot that.""And for a picnic table," added Elliot quickly."And picnic benches," said London and Elliot together."An' food!" shouted Jameson as Mom set a platter of hamburgers and a bowl of fruit salad on the table."And for a little child to remind us of the many small blessings God has given us in addition to His greatest blessing of all--His Son, Jesus," said Mom with a smile. "Dig in."- Hazel W. MarettHow About You?Are you thankful this Thanksgiving season--for everything? Look around you. What things do you take for granted day after day and never thank the Lord for? Take a few moments to thank Him right now. He loves you and has filled your life with blessings that point to the greatest blessing of all--Jesus, who paid the price of our sin so we could have eternal life. Thank God for all the wonderful things He has given you, big and small.Today's Key Verse:Always give thanks to God the Father for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. (ERV) (Ephesians 5:20)Today's Key Thought:Give thanks for everything

“The Uhh, Comp, Uhh, Dip, Uhh… APPPLICANT! Extravaganza Episode” Yes, they are back; Ron Albanese and Michael Bruce sit in again with us and the [...]

2 hour and 11 minutes The Sponsors Thank you to Underground Printing for making this all possible. Rishi and Ryan have been our biggest supporters from the beginning. Check out their wide selection of officially licensed Michigan fan gear at their 3 store locations in Ann Arbor or learn about their custom apparel business at undergroundshirts.com. Our associate sponsors are: Peak Wealth Management, Matt Demorest - Realtor and Lender, Ann Arbor Elder Law, Michigan Law Grad, The Phil Klein Insurance Group, Winewood Organics, Human Element, Venue by 4M where we recorded this, The Nose Bleeds, which is the Sklars Bros' reboot of Cheap Seats on UFC Fight Pass, and INTRODUCING TO THE PODCAST: Sharon's Heating & Air Conditioning. 1. Offense vs Purdue Starts at 1:00 EDITOR NOTE: I am also spending a lot of time compressing Brian's voice. The worst night game to have is the crappy night game, especially when USC Washington and Alabama LSU are on! It says something that JJ hit 60% of his passes and threw for over 300 yards and everyone's like "what's wrong with JJ?" When do you want to save a play and when do you want to put it on tape? Donovan Edwards has not been utilized properly, are they saving a package for him against Penn State? Starting tackles gave up some sacks but otherwise played pretty well (Purdue has a pair of NFL defensive ends). Is the way to beat JJ by playing a lot of zone defense?   2. Defense vs Purdue Starts at 43:20 Michigan wasn't getting sacks against Hudson Card but they were pressuring him on every play. It'll be curious to see who actually rotates against Penn State. Starting to feel like we're getting the 2021 version of Rod Moore, which is encouraging. Junior Colson took a step in the right direction, Josh Wallace also played well. All of the ends are a higher level than we predicted at the beginning of the year. 3. Hot Takes, Game Theory, and Special Teams Starts at 1:02:36 Takes hotter than Santa Ono's letter to Tony Petitti. Why is Purdue football every five years just two NFL defensive ends and nothing else? The 4th and one felt like a good decision, the formation wasn't. Michigan hasn't kicked a field goal in forever so it was good to see it still works. Starters played well into the 4th quarter. 4. Around the Big Ten with Jamie Mac Starts at 1:25:22 Penn State - 51 Maryland - 15 Maryland turns the ball over four times and rushes for -49 yards. Yup, we're at November Maryland, they are no longer a trap game. When Drew Allar can set his feet and have time to throw he looks like the five star he's supposed to be, but when you pressure him he's shaky. They probably won't be able to run against Michigan but they still have one of the best defenses in college football. Ohio State - 35 Rutgers - 16 Rutgers is leading 9-7 at halftime but throws a pick-six while driving in the 3rd quarter. Rutgers outgains Ohio State 361-328. We experienced for a moment what it was like being a Rutgers fan and it wasn't fun. Iowa - 10 Northwestern - 7 Neither team gets more than 200 yards and Iowa is alone in first place in the West. He can't keep getting away with it. Indiana - 20 Wisconsin - 14 How did Indiana win this? Uhh, one good pass play? Wisconsin outgain Indiana 344-261. Indiana took the lead and just waited for the time to run out before Wisconsin came back. Michigan State - 20 Nebraska - 17 Nebraska gets back to their old self, turning the ball over three times. Illinois - 27 Minnesota - 26 Illinois wins on an improbable last minute drive with their backup QB. A disappointing game for anyone who didn't want to see Iowa in the Big Ten Championship Game. MUSIC: “Make Me Thomas”— supercooper! ft. Jawn Legend “The Stones I Throw”— Levon and the Hawks “Are You Gonna Run”—  Low Cut Connie “Across 110th Street”

You don't hear VBAC stories with gestational diabetes very often, but we want to change that! Charlotte joins Meagan on the podcast today sharing her experience with gestational diabetes and a surprise preterm delivery at 32 weeks. Though she had some pretty significant curveballs thrown at her, Charlotte's commitment to controlling what she could along with an amazingly supportive team allowed her to have an empowering birth experience. Charlotte knew she wanted a VBAC for an easier recovery. What she didn't know was truly how much of a blessing in disguise it became during the intense weeks she spent as a NICU mama. Additional LinksReal Food for Gestational Diabetes by Lily NicholsReal Food for Pregnancy by Lily NicholsNeeded WebsiteHow to VBAC: The Ultimate Prep Course for ParentsFull Transcript under Episode DetailsMeagan: Hello, hello. You are listening to The VBAC Link and I am excited to be sharing a story with you today that we have gotten a lot of requests about. It's something that we don't see very often and my question is why? I don't really know why we don't see these stories popping up. Even in the community, I've had to search through our VBAC Link Community on Facebook to find these stories. There are three I think.So I'm excited to talk about this story today because I know that it's very much requested. We're going to be talking about gestational diabetes. Gestational diabetes again, is something that we don't see but it's actually pretty common. Crazy enough, we're seeing a rise in fact. Last year, in 2022, there was an article published talking about the actual rise that we're seeing. They said, “The new analysis of 3.25 million birth records follow a string of studies that suggest gestational diabetes has become increasingly prevalent over the last three decades,” which is kind of crazy. Every year anywhere from 2-10% of women will be diagnosed with gestational diabetes. We know that the Cesarean rate here in the U.S. is just above 32%. If you think about the 32% and 2-10%, you've got to think that people who are going for a VBAC are having gestational diabetes. My question is, are we not seeing VBAC with gestational diabetes because providers aren't allowing us? That's my question. Charlotte, today, welcome to the show. She is going to be sharing her story about gestational diabetes and her VBAC. Right, Charlotte? Charlotte: That's right. I'm super excited. Meagan: Yes. Yes. I'm so excited. I'm so glad that we connected. Charlotte lives in South Carolina in Greensville specifically. They have two baby boys– not baby, baby but they are young. She has a very baby and then a younger baby. She works in healthcare administration for a very large healthcare system and has truly become a birth nerd outside of work. This is something that birth just does to a lot of us. It captivates us. Right, Charlotte? Charlotte: Totally. Meagan: Do you feel that your birth is what brought you into your obsession with birth and VBAC in general? Charlotte: It's life-changing. Once you've been through it, it was such a seismic shift for me and it opens your eyes to what women are going through. Then you hear people's stories and everyone has something that has stuck with them. People who are years and years older remember exactly how their birth story was. I'm very Type A, so I just turned to research. I love it. Meagan: Yeah. Yeah. That's why I became a doula, through my own birth experiences and I know that's why a lot of other doulas become doulas or midwives or why OBs become OBs. It's really awesome and we are really excited to have your episode on the show. So thank you for being here today. Review of the Week I have a Review of the Week as usual so I'm going to get into that and then we will share Charlotte's birth stories. Today the review is from Blanely and it says, “There For Me When I Needed Support.” It says, “I got pregnant right at the start of the pandemic in 2020. It was a very lonely time isolated with my toddlers. I couldn't even hug my mom or get her support in the beginning. I had to switch providers due to insurance changes and I was scared. The VBAC Link became my companion at this time. Julie and Meagan, my friends, I would listen with one earbud while caring for my boys. It was educational and encouraging just when I needed it. I learned tons about birth and how to advocate for my VBAC. “In January 2021, I had my successful VBAC. It was a wonderfully redemptive process. Even though they aren't being produced right now, it is still the first thing that I recommend to any of my friends who are expecting. VBAC or first baby, I just love it and I hope it comes back soon.” Well, this was back in the pandemic and we did take a break and we are back. So thank you, Blanely. I hope you are still with us and I hope you just heard your wonderful review. We really do appreciate these reviews so much so if you haven't had a chance, I always ask. Stop and go check out on Apple Podcasts, Google, or wherever you're listening, and leave us a review. We absolutely love them. Charlotte's StoriesMeagan: Okay, Charlotte. Oh my gosh. I am serious– you're going to be the first episode, I believe. I don't recall any other episodes of gestational diabetes. Charlotte: I think that's right because I looked when I was diagnosed. I found a birth story that was a VBAC not on a VBAC podcast about gestational diabetes. It was one that I could listen to. Meagan: Yes. Yeah, and we've got some that had diabetes previously before pregnancy, but none with gestational diabetes. So congratulations on being our first. I hope you are not the last. If you are listening out there also, and you had gestational diabetes and you had a VBAC, we do want to share your story. We want to help people just like Charlotte when she was out there looking for these stories and only found one, we really want to add some stories because it's really not something that we are seeing or hearing. I'd like to turn the time over to you. We know that every VBAC has to start with a C-section, so if you want to talk about your firstborn's birth, we would love that. Charlotte: Absolutely. Well, thank you for having me. I, once again, was telling you that this podcast really started my journey. There was the C-section and then some conversations with providers that fueled the fire. Then after that, The VBAC Link was one of the first things that I turned to. It's super surreal being here today. I'm married to my husband, Hunter, and in 2020, my father had– before the pandemic started– two back-to-back major surgeries which put things into perspective. Then the pandemic hit and a lot of things got canceled. It's the same story for a lot of people. We were like, “Okay.” We had been putting it off. We'd been together for 11 years at that point and we were like, “Let's just go for it.” We got pregnant very quickly in the first month. We were super excited. It was an uncomplicated pregnancy other than just the general stuff from the pandemic. It's tough to be pregnant and not have the support or feeling like you can go and be out with your friends or see your family without potentially killing them or being scared of that. Meagan: I know. There was all of this fear. And even then, for a lot of my doula clients here in Utah, they were being told that if they went out and they got COVID, they were threatened. They were like, “You won't have your baby. You won't have your husband. You could kill your baby.” They were saying these very, very scary things. Charlotte: Yeah, so that wasn't great. In hindsight, with that pregnancy, I had a lot more time to myself worrying. Overall, it went very well. Right around the time that they were making sure with no questions that you had a birth support partner and all of that you were starting to see– even though he was delivered in January 2021 which was almost the worst of it. We were at a normal OB practice. As I mentioned, I worked in healthcare administration and academic medicine. I work remotely now, but back then, prior to the pandemic, I was going to the hospital. I was very comfortable with physicians. My mother was a physician. So yeah, I had no issue with that. I really had no reason to question medical care. Meagan: Right. Charlotte: There was also a new birthing center, a new birth wing of our hospital. They had always delivered babies but they had delivered at the other hospital in town for whatever reason. I was one of– within the last year, it had opened 11 months ago. They were still– I mean, it was amazing. Meagan: Getting on their feet. Charlotte: They were. I think there were just some growing pains but they had everything you could think of in this new center. So anyway, I was 30 weeks pregnant so I did deliver a little early with this guy. My son, Auggie. Augustus is his full name. Meagan: I love that. Charlotte: Yeah, I had a trickle come out in the middle of the night around 38 weeks and I was like, “What is that?” It could be pee. It could be whatever. Nothing started. We went back to bed, no big deal. I finished up some things with work the next day. We just said, “You know, why don't we just get this checked out?” We went to labor and delivery. They tested it and it was negative for amniotic fluid so we were like, “Okay, great.” We went back. We got home around 9:00 PM that night. I went to bed early. I just was tired from being in triage. It always takes longer than you expect and then woke up at 1:00 AM to pee as everybody does in the last trimester of pregnancy. There was more of a gush at that point. That's when I knew for sure that the startings of my labor started with water breaking. Now I know, that can be the start of a ton of positioning issues which is what happened with me. Yeah, so then I really quickly went into labor. I had actually done a birth class virtually with a doula. I didn't have a doula, but I felt like, “Okay, I'm going to try to go as long as I can without an epidural.” That was always my thing. “I'll go as long as I can, but I'll still probably have one.” I always had this disclaimer. I started laboring. It felt very primal and very natural. It was dark. I was on all fours, but it felt intense from the beginning. I say this now to my husband, “I never feel like I've had early labor with either of these labors. It just goes straight to intense for me personally.” So I was feeling really like, oh my gosh, grunting and moaning and doing all of the things. We did that for about 4-5 hours. Then I started to feel nervous. I wanted to go ahead to the hospital. We made our way there. When I got there, they checked me. They checked the amniotic fluid. It was the amniotic fluid. I believe it had been the time before as well. They checked me and I was 4 centimeters so I was super excited. I felt like, “Oh, this is moving super quickly and I'm going to have this baby today.”I was on the birth ball. I was prepared, or so I thought. I got to my room and felt, “This is super intense. I am nervous that this is going to move super fast that I won't be able to get an epidural, so I'd better go ahead and get anesthesiology to come. There were a bunch of people coming in and out. I'm sure it slowed things down at that point, but I had a medical student and an attending come in and ask if I wanted to be part of a cervical check study. I work in academic medicine so yeah, of course. Definitely. Let's sign up because that matters for students. You learn all of these things after the fact. You don't want to say no to things like that. Meagan: It's kind of awkward because you're like, “I know you need to learn and I want to help you.” Charlotte: Yeah, but it's like, “No. I don't need more checks. I don't need more people interrupting me.” Meagan: Especially with your water broken. Charlotte: Now I know. Right. Right. So anyway, there were things like that and they come in. I'm feeling very intense still and I'm 7 centimeters. Meagan: Wow! Charlotte: I'm feeling amazing. I'm going to keep moving this along. This is great. I'm texting all of my family and friends, “Hey, this is easy. I'm getting my epidural and in a couple of hours, this is done.” So they gave me my epidural. It worked great and I just chilled. I knew about the peanut ball and I did do the peanut ball, but I think I just laid around. I had my catheter. I was drinking all of the fluids and the popsicles, and just the normal things. You're hooked up to everything at that point. We were just chilling and then time passed and it was the whole day. They checked me again, “You know, okay. You're taking some time but it's still normal.” I actually had a midwife that was the person on call, or the 24-hour provider, so I did have a midwife caring for me. They just kept saying, “This is normal for a first birth.” I was like, “Okay.” More time passed. They decided, “Okay. Let's get some Pitocin to keep this going.” So I started Pitocin. I'm sure you're hearing the same old story, the cascade of interventions. Meagan: You know, it does. It does happen like that. Not always, but it does where it's like, “All right. We've been going. We've been going. We do need to get this labor going.” Pitocin is the next option, right? Charlotte: Yep. And so yeah, then it started with that. I knew, “Okay, let's do the peanut ball. Let's move around.” I didn't know. I thought a peanut ball was enough. It wasn't with the right positions and had I known all of the positioning issues I came to find out my son had, if I had a doula and if I had the right tools at my disposal, I would have held off on the epidural. There are so many things I would have done and that's tough for me. That's something I struggled with. What if I could have done better if I had known? Meagan: But you can't blame yourself. You can't blame yourself. Charlotte: No, you can't. So anyway, time passes. All in all, the labor was 27 hours. I don't know exactly the duration of time, but at one point we got multiple checks. “Okay, you've gotten a little farther. Great. Let's do internal monitoring. Let's do this. Let's see. Okay, the baby is not coming down as much as we would like. He's OP, asynclitic.” I come to find out that I think he had a nuchal hand because he came out like this and his hand was super bruised up. Meagan: Oh yeah, so when your water broke, he just [inaudible]. Charlotte: Yep. And asynclitic, your head is tilted to the side. He had all of those things. He was not coming down. An OB manually tried to push him up and switch him and was sweating and working hard for 30 minutes on that so you can imagine my body going through it. My epidural kept breaking through so I'd go from zero to 100 Pitocin, 9-centimeter contractions, and just pain. Meagan: And messing with things. Charlotte: Mhmm. Tons of meds. They'd try to get it all back and I'd be fine again. But it's like, in hindsight, we did throne position. They let me push on all fours. They let me push. I did end up getting to 9 centimeters or so when we started pushing. They let me push for 4 hours. So in hindsight, there is a lot that they let me do with an epidural, just things I think would be part of a positive story. All in all, 27 hours passed. I'm exhausted. Nothing is wrong with me. Nothing is wrong with the baby, but the midwife comes in and says, “Look. I think we need to call it. I don't think he's coming down. He's super high still.” Right or wrong, I don't know if more time would have helped, but he was starting to get a swollen part on his head and they just said, “I think it's time. You can definitely have a vaginal birth one day.” She said that to me and I was like, “Okay. I'm done too.”I definitely was tearful. You always have those angels in your story. I had an angel nurse that came and said, “Oh, honey. I've had 3 C-sections and it's great.” At the time, it's what I needed just the right person at the right time to comfort you. Meagan: And being able to relate. I think being able to relate and be like, “Okay, you did it. You're here.” Charlotte: Exactly. I was whisked away into the C-section. Usually, the husband doesn't follow you right away. They do all of the things and then they come in. Well, my husband never comes in. Meagan: Oh. Charlotte: My husband had not eaten and had not slept. He ended up getting lightheaded and almost passing out in which case he was being cared for by the midwife that was caring for me in the PACU. Meagan: Oh no. Charlotte: He never came in. They got his phone which was a godsend and I had this amazing CRNA that took the most amazing pictures of the C-section that ended up being a big part of my healing process, being able to see everything. Meagan: Yes. Yes. Yeah. It's weird because sometimes you don't even think or know if you want to see that, but it is so healing, or at least it was for me. Charlotte: Mhmm. It helps you piece things together. Once again, parts of that were a really positive thing. I had a clear drape. I didn't ask for that. They did the clear drape. They did skin-to-skin to some extent, or delayed cord clamping– not as much as you would want, but they did all of that. But I was so out of it by that point. I was shaking. I was passing out constantly, so I was holding my baby, but I thought he was suffocating on me, so I was just like, “Just take him to his dad.” It was uncomplicated and exactly what we thought. It was all positioning issues. No big deal, really. They take me to PACU and wheel me in. The Type A person in me goes, “Okay, forget recovering from that. Now I need to take back control of my experience. Hunter, get me a cold brew coffee.” I just shake my head like, “Why didn't you just sleep when you could have? I drank a cold brew in PACU and put that kid to my boob and they were like, “Wow, you know how to do that already?” I just was like, “Yep. I want to be the mom now. I want to get back to normal.” Well, that was the beginning of a very traumatic couple of days when I didn't sleep at all in the hospital. I got very engorged. He had latch issues. I was told to start pumping. I got an enormous oversupply, like 90 ounces in one day. Meagan: Oh my gosh. Charlotte: A couple of weeks in, yeah. It changed our experience. Obviously, he ended up getting a milk protein intolerance. It layered on. I don't blame the C-section on that, but I do blame my mindset a little bit– and probably got some bad advice from lactation. They didn't know I was going to have an oversupply and go crazy like that. But yeah, I had trauma from that too. I'm like, “Okay, I'm recovering from a C-section and I'm pumping around the clock and all of that isn't coinciding with me caring for my baby.” My husband learned to do everything in the hospital. Meagan: Or caring for yourself. Charlotte: Yep. It was all focused on my recovery. Anytime he needed to eat, it coincided with me needing to pump. It was heartbreaking, really. The second I allowed myself to stop, we started bonding luckily. After that, our relationship truly began. But yeah, it was a traumatic experience. You don't expect that you're going to have this life-changing thing and then have to have you recovering from a C-section too. Meagan: Right. Charlotte: That's kind of that story. I definitely feel good over time with therapy. I'll give a plug to EMDR therapy. It's a type of eye movement therapy. I had one session of that and it helped me get down to a rational level why I was so upset by that experience and just starting to talk about it with people and watch everything helped over time. Looking at those pictures, it no longer became such an emotional thing as time went on. But I still felt sad when I saw people having what I wanted– a good breastfeeding experience and a typical birth. But more and more, I did have a typical birth. In my close friend group, maybe four or five of us have had a C-section. Several were breech, but it started to be like, it wasn't that I was feeling alone. It was that I started to question, “What's going on? Why is this happening?” Meagan: Right. Yeah. That's how it was in my tight friend group. There are four of us from high school. Three out of the four of us have had multiple C-sections. Charlotte: Yeah. Yeah. And more and more so, I'm rooting for people to get a vaginal birth. I'm like, “Get a vaginal birth, please. Have a routine situation.” Meagan: I know. Charlotte: You don't see it very often, at least not in my close group. That's what really made me question things. Fast forward to January 2022 and I'm not quite thinking of having a baby yet, but I had a routine OB appointment. I asked about VBAC. I said I wanted to probably stop taking my birth control and that maybe sometime this year, we would start trying. They said, “Yeah, we're a VBAC-friendly practice.” I told her maybe a one-minute spiel on what happened to me. She said, “Just based on what you've told me, I would say you have a 20% success rate.” Meagan: Oh. Charlotte: I guess she can calculate it in her head without even doing the calculator. I guess they're super friendly like that. They do so many. Come to find out, they have a super high episiotomy rate and a lot of other things, and they're not friendly really at all. Meagan: You're like, “You are ‘friendly'.”Charlotte: Yeah. So I felt completely gutted by that. I hadn't even really committed that I wanted a VBAC, but feeling that I was told that just was so upsetting. It made me start listening to The VBAC Link. Through a couple of episodes, I heard about requesting your operative notes so I did that which was amazing. On that note, it said a bunch of things that I didn't know. I didn't know asynclitic. I didn't know some of the terms which made me able to speak to it in a more educated way. Then yeah. I messaged the doctor. She was like, “No, absolutely. Nothing was wrong. You could totally do it.” She still gave me a success rate of 54% but she was like, “That's just a conversation topic. You can absolutely do it.” I was like, “Okay, great.” She told me I was 10 centimeters, so they saw. I got there. I can do this again. I started interviewing doulas even before I was pregnant. I just started to hear positive things like, “If you can get through an OP, asynclitic baby, water breaking, 27-hour labor, you've got this. With a well-positioned baby, it would not be like what you experienced.” Hearing these things, I started to get hyped up like, “I can do this.” Meagan: Excited, yeah. You felt the empowerment back. You were feeling empowered. That is what is so important because on that first visit, any empowerment that you had was wiped like an erase board. It's like, “Oh, you're 20%.” Okay, great. So that's so good to hear that you were being built back up. Charlotte: Absolutely. So yeah. So then months passed and then in July-August we decided to start trying again. Luckily, again, we were pregnant again and came to find out we were having another boy, another son. We were very excited and that's when my preparation started. I did all of the things. I joined a midwife practice. It was a midwife practice that delivered at the most acute hospital. They were actually affiliated with the big health system here. So that gave me comfort that I would be able to birth in a suite that had a pool but it would be in a hospital right down the hall from an OR if I needed it. That was great. I hired a doula that had VBACs, that was the VBAC whisperer in town. I went to Webster-trained chiropractic and did prenatal yoga. I did everything I could think to do. I tried not to go overboard with eating and then yeah. I even went to a pelvic floor specialist to practice pushing. I did everything I could think of. That was how I could control it. My control thing with me– I just wanted to feel like I did everything in my control to get this. If it doesn't happen, I think I could come to peace with that. That's what I felt would be the case.  So anyways, fast forward. Routine pregnancy up until 28-29 weeks when you get the gestational diabetes screen. Did it, failed it. I was bummed by that, but also heard, “Oh, so many people fail it.” So then I did the 3-hour test. I think I failed three of the four that you needed in the time. You needed two to pass. So yeah. I failed it. I was surprised how gutted I was. I was devastated by that because I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop the whole pregnancy because I hadn't had any barriers. You know all of the barriers that people have where you have to advocate for yourself. I hadn't experienced that even having a VBAC consult with their OB group that helped them out. I supposedly went to the doctor who is all pro-C-section. He was even surprisingly very supportive. So what's going on? Meagan: What's going to give? Charlotte: Yeah. The midwife said, “Nope. You can still see us. You can still come to us even if you have to go on insulin, but you really need to try and stay diet-controlled.” That was what I heard. “Diet control is what will help you stay a normal-risk patient.” That's easier said than done I've come to realize. It's challenging too because time passes. You have to get an appointment with the dietician. You have to get your supplies through insurance so it takes a while to get in the routine of taking your blood sugar multiple times a day and then maybe weeks pass before you can figure out what's causing you to have spikes.So it's a whole new thing. I'm trying to focus on VBAC, prenatal yoga, and all of the things that help you be super zen, but now I have multiple appointments and tracking logs. It was very stressful for me. There are certain things– your fat and blood sugar, for example. There is very little you can do to control that. It's very challenging to get that control because it's all about your placenta and how it is metabolizing quicker. It's not what you ate in pregnancy. There are a lot of misconceptions about it. The best thing that I can share is Lily Nichols has Real Food for Pregnancy and then Real Food for Gestational Diabetes and maybe you can link to those, Meagan. Those two books were super helpful for me because of what I can find out– they probably work for some people, but the dietician stuff you get just from the hospital in one visit, and the handout is really high carb. Considering it's the carbohydrates and the sugars that are causing issues, it doesn't work. The plan just on paper doesn't work for everybody to control their gestational diabetes. That was too high for me. When I followed that plan, I wasn't in control of my diet. Lily Nichols, you can take bits from each, but I found that that book, and that's what my midwife suggested, was lower carb and all about real foods. It had stuff about supplements and all of that. I found that super helpful to staying diet-controlled. In hindsight, even though I probably had it the whole time, I ended up only doing diet control for two weeks before I gave birth. So lucky for me in some ways, it was one of the silver linings. I didn't do the diet for very long but I did get all of the information I needed. Eventually, they were telling me, “If you became insulin-dependent or needed insulin or were out of control,” I think it was 90% of your readings needed to be in control. You could have a one-off here and there. If they weren't then you needed to start seeing a maternal-fetal medicine doctor who could consult on your diabetes and insulin. You could still deliver with the midwives, but my perspective was if you're on insulin, you have to start having NSTs weekly. You have to start having– I can't remember what it is called– BP or some other weekly testing for the baby. I can't remember. It's some acronym just to check their heart rate and all of that. I can't remember what it's called but there are two types of weekly testing you would have to have if you were on insulin. I don't think you have to have growth scans, but I think they would probably start to offer them to see how baby was doing. That's where I feel like maybe people start to get discouraged by their providers when their growth scan is large or when they start to have NSTs obviously. There's much more surveillance and then they encourage you to get induced. If you are on insulin, it's a lesser time that they allow you to go. They make you go anywhere from– I'd have to look it up but it's like 37 if it's really out of control to 39 if it's insulin-controlled. Diet-controlled, you're treated like any other birth. That's where, I think, maybe you're seeing not as many VBACs. You have a lot of barriers that come in. Meagan: Yeah, because they're not in control or they've been transferred to MFMs and they're like, “At this point, it's just better to get this baby out earlier and control blood sugar and have a repeat Cesarean.”Charlotte: Yeah, and I might have made that decision myself. You just start to get medicalized again and it's discouraging. You worry, “What's happening to the baby? Is it okay? The NST is not looking good.” I just think it takes that from you. It's needed sometimes, I'm sure. In some ways, it was a blessing in disguise. I would have had a C-section if my son could have stayed in for two more months. It was a blessing in disguise in some ways that it happened when it did. So anyways, I guess I'll continue unless you have other things you want me to talk about. Meagan: No, I just pulled up the book and sent it to myself, so we're going to make sure that we have it in the show notes. Charlotte: Yeah, great. Meagan: Because I think that's really important to have. Charlotte: Yeah, yeah. Just more tools at your disposal. Lily Nichols is a dietician and she even says, “Some of the stuff that they are still teaching is archaic. We've found that there are better ways to do these things.” She helped develop the gestational diabetes stuff for the ADA so she has major credentials. Yeah. I think she is legit. Anyway, two weeks pass. 32 + 2 and I feel huge. I'm not, but I feel pressure low. I told my mom, “I can't do this for much longer,” the night before which is weird. I had also bought some Easter stuffies with names on them for my son and I bought one for my other son which was foreboding. He was here by Easter and wouldn't have been otherwise. Meagan: Yeah. That is interesting. Charlotte: I don't know if my body knew or if I knew in the back of my head that he was going to come early. I started to feel pressure and just weird but nothing like I would have noticed. I just started to feel like, “Oh, gosh.” I had a pedicure for later that day. That weekend, I was going to have my baby sprinkle. I didn't have an in-person shower with my son and didn't end up having one with my second son. But I had all of these things planned. I had a pedicure, of course, and all of that stuff coming up. I don't think that's what put me into labor, but it was kind of funny. I'm like, “If I ever have another kid, I probably wouldn't get a pedicure.” Meagan: Yeah. You're like, “It's a little coincidental for me.”Charlotte: Yeah, so I was just like, “I need my back massager,” because I was already feeling something in my back. I was like, “Oh my god, it feels so good.” I get home. My husband and my son are home and we have just learned about rebozo. I was taking a Hypnobirthing class. That was the other thing was my hypnosis class. So he was doing rebozo shifting for me and it felt so good. I was like, “Okay, great.” I was practicing my hypnosis and I was just like, “This is Braxton Hicks I think, but man. These are crazy.” I never remember someone saying that Braxton Hicks hurt. It's waves. It's definitely a wave each time. I lay down and I told my husband, “I'm just going to rest for a second and I'm going to get in the bath.” Well, when I get to the restroom, there's blood. That freaked me out, obviously. I still don't think I'm in labor, but I'm like, “Something might be wrong.” Meagan: Especially at 32 weeks, right? You're like, “Uhh.”Charlotte: So I go get in the car. I told my husband, “I just need to go to triage.” It's 30 minutes away. I always knew we were going to have a little bit of a drive to get to the hospital. I drive myself to the hospital in labor now that I've come to find out. I was doing my hypnosis techniques. I was just like, “Let me just get there as fast as I can.” Luckily, I got there fast. I think I got there in 25 minutes. I got there super fast. My mom had me a month early and drove herself to the hospital. That was always her claim to fame. I had to do it too. Meagan: You're like, “I'm going to do it too.” Charlotte: Yeah. I had to do it too. My parents live in town, so they came over to watch my son so my husband wasn't far behind me. I get to triage and they put me on the monitor. Baby was fine. It doesn't look like I'm having contractions which is good news. They're like, “Okay. Let's get the midwives in. I'll check you if that's okay.” She's like, “Oh, yeah. These are not really typical waves.” Then she checks me and I see her face go white. She's like, “You're 5 centimeters, so I'm going to need to call the doctor because we can no longer help because you're preterm,” which was a bummer. I'm like, “Okay, great.” Then she says, “Ope, there's a contraction.” For whatever reason, it wasn't showing contractions, I think that happens sometimes in preterm births apparently because they are so far up or small or something. Meagan: Yeah, I was going to say that they are used to tracking them lower and it's not. The uterus is smaller. Charlotte: So anyways, the doctor comes in. He's a resident. All of these things could have been bad, but it's so funny. I ended up having the most amazing providers. It was just interesting to me. All of the things I was worried about– I don't know if VBAC is becoming more of a thing now or because they work so closely with the midwife practice and they see it happen and they see it happen well with success— the midwife group in town has an 80% success rate. Meagan: That's awesome. Charlotte: Anyways, yeah. So they come in and they're just like, “We're so sorry. You're 5 centimeters. You're having this baby. We can try and just slow it down. There's not really anything we can do but you can just lay there and let's just hope you stay in labor for 24 hours.” Meagan: Did they try to stop your contractions or anything like that? Charlotte: No, I think I was right over the cusp of when they would do magnesium. I don't know exactly why they do or don't, but they said they do it with younger than that or I think cerebral palsy or something like that. Meagan: They didn't try to do any steroid injections for lungs? Charlotte: They did do steroid injections, but– it went too quickly for it to matter. I go in. We'll just see what happens. I didn't know what to do. I was like, “Should I be doing labor things or should I just be sitting here?” The nurses were like, “Don't go to the bathroom. We don't want you to start going on dilation station.” I was like, “I need to go though.” So I was feeling conflicted. We called my doula. She was in a four-day induction supporting another person, so she was not able to come and she said, “Well, do you want me to send a back-up doula?” I said, “Yeah. Bring them on. Whatever.” That doula ended up being amazing. She gets in. She gets right in. I'm starting to feel really uncomfortable. They checked me again. I'm 7 centimeters. This is moving so much faster than my last birth. This all started around 4:00 PM with not really anything except for the waves. By the time I got there at 7:00, it was starting to feel more intense and I had the baby by midnight, so 12:30. It was fast for me. I wouldn't say precipitous or whatever. Meagan: But still, 27 hours, right? Charlotte: Mhmm. She gets in there. The doctor says, “No, you can do whatever you want.” Oh, let me back up for a second. When they said, “The baby is coming this early,” I said, “Do we need to do a C-section? Whatever. If we need to get the baby out, let's just get the baby out.” They said, “No. If you want a VBAC, that's totally fine,” and that it would be beneficial for the baby at this point. Having a vaginal birth at this gestation is better for the baby's lungs than doing a C-section. Of course, they'll do a C-section, but there are some benefits to pushing out. I was so excited by that and then they were like, “You want to go unmedicated, right? Do you?” I said, “Yeah, I do. Can I move around?” He said, “Yeah. There is no stopping this baby at this point. Just do what you need to do.” So I was able to get on the birth ball. I wasn't in a birth room with a pool, but I was able to do my thing and move around at least. This time, I had really committed that I was going to do unmedicated because of the hypnosis and all of the things that I had done. So yeah, I labored very quickly. I had a very intense transition pretty much the whole time I was there. There was a lot of blood coming out which was scary. I was out of it, but I was like, “Is this okay?” There was blood dripping everywhere and they were like, “Yeah, you're probably having a placental abruption.” Meagan: Did they say anything about your placenta?Charlotte: Yeah. They said, “This is probably a placental abruption, but if you're having it and the baby is fine, it's fine. If the baby is not fine, you'd go to a C-section.”Meagan: Then it's not fine, yeah. Charlotte: That was interesting. I had never heard of placental abruption. That was probably why I was going into preterm labor because the placenta was starting to separate. So yeah. I just kept moving around and doing my thing. All fours were most comfortable for me and then I was 10 centimeters and the doctor came back in. The NICU staff came in and they never freaked me out about how preterm he was. That was the comforting thing. They said, “32-weekers do amazing. They do well.”Luckily, we were at a hospital that takes care of 22 weekers. We were at the best hospital for this so that was super comforting through the whole experience. I think I would have had a lot more fear had they not said those things to me. So yeah. They broke my water and they were like, “This might take a second for him to come down. We've got the squat bar up.” I did two practice pushes. I was feeling so much pressure. It's like pushes that were semi-productive. And then all of a sudden, I just felt this fire in me to just push him out in one push. I pushed so hard and apparently, I screamed. I don't remember screaming, but I screamed so loud and he shot out. Meagan: Oh my goodness. Charlotte: We got all of this on pictures too, so yeah. He came out. I don't know if he was screaming, but he came out. Leo is my second son. He was 5 pounds, 2 ounces so he was a big boy. Meagan: Okay, yeah. That's a good size. Charlotte: I don't know if it was gestational diabetes or whatever, but he was a good size. They did bring him over to me briefly. All of these things, I understand. Meagan: Right, right. Charlotte: They let me hold him for 10 seconds because they needed to go get him some oxygen of course. Meagan: They needed to make sure that his little lungs needed some extra care. Charlotte: Yes. He was whisked away to the NICU where once again, there's trauma and things. Of course, I wish that my baby could stay with me but in the moment, it was rational. He needed to go to the NICU so in the moment, I felt back to myself. I was a little stunned, but I was like, “Oh my god. I feel my body. I feel no drugs, no fluid.” I mean, I think I did have a little bit of fluid, but it was just so different than my last experience where I was so drugged up. Meagan: Yeah. Charlotte: I got to see my placenta which they sent off for pathology and they found nothing. There's no answer. It was just challenging like, “Why did this happen to me?” But it just happens sometimes. I did have COVID two months before. The gestational diabetes even– no symptoms from it, but I just wonder. I had it in February. I was diagnosed with gestation diabetes in early March and I had him in late March. It just feels like as time goes on, they're finding placental issues. They didn't see anything obvious.So yeah. He came. He's healthy. We spent 39 days in the NICU which was a challenge. It really was. I don't wish that experience on anybody. You're postpartum and pumping and going home without your baby, being there for my son but having to be at the NICU all day every day. It was a huge challenge for us, but he had a very routine time in the NICU. He just needed time to grow. He came back to us not this past Sunday, but the Sunday before and we were just so happy. He's eating well. He's 8 pounds. He's amazing. Meagan: Wow, good! Charlotte: So yeah. Now we're on our healing journey of now it's postpartum, the typical postpartum things. But I just can't be thankful enough that I didn't have to deal with all of these challenges with a C-section recovery on top of that. I mean, I felt physically back to myself very quickly. I had a very small two-stitch tear up, not down but I felt fine. I'm just grateful for that and I'm grateful for all of those providers who let me do my thing and trusted me and my boy to work together to get him out safely so yeah. That's the story. Meagan: Yes. Your team sounds really, really awesome. Charlotte: Yeah. Meagan: Like really awesome. We hope that those types of teams are cloned all over the world, but we know that it doesn't always happen that way, so if you're listening and you've got gestational diabetes and you don't have as supportive of a provider, know that you can always keep looking, but too, know that you can do exactly what Charlotte did. You can control what you can control. Control what you can control. You read the book. Learn how to control your diabetes. Learn all about that and then try and just take baby steps along the way even when random things are thrown at you like early term or preterm labor. That could have been where you are like, “Here's the boot. Instead of a shoe, here's a boot. It's being dropped. Now I'm going into preterm labor.” But you didn't let it. You just put those boots on and kept walking. Right? Charlotte: Mhmm, yep. Meagan: That's so awesome. So, so awesome. Did you have any symptoms of gestational diabetes before you got tested? Charlotte: I don't think so. No. I tried to think back on if I did. I think I caught it so early. I got the testing done. That's another thing too. I would recommend trying to get your screening done as early as possible because the earlier you catch it, the earlier you can control it with diet. It becomes harder to control as time goes on, but you can stop that baby potentially. You can maybe diet-control enough that the baby doesn't get too big. There's a lot of really supportive Facebook groups. Gestational diabetes, nutrition, and all of these things because it's hard to find information out there and it's helpful to hear those stories of, “Hey, my baby came out and was small or was 8 pounds,” just not these huge babies that you hear of. I'm sure a lot of people aren't diagnosed or are borderline and maybe have similar things. Meagan: Yeah, there are undiagnosed where we are like, “Whoa.” I had a client whose baby was 11 pounds. Charlotte: Yeah. Yeah. I mean, I think one way I started to feel was that this may be a blessing in disguise. Had I not just been on the borderline, maybe I would have had an 11-pound baby, and whoa, to be honest. Leo would have been big if he had gone to term. But the earlier you find out, you can diet control. You maybe can control your weight gain and have a healthier pregnancy overall. Meagan: And have fewer issues after. Charlotte: Because I felt amazing. Just the fact that I had such a high-protein diet and things in that time period, I feel like that made me even better equipped to have a vaginal birth. So yeah. I think there are positives if you can get past that initial challenge of it that, “Okay, this is just going to keep me on track to have a healthy pregnancy,” you can do it. You really can do it. I think as long as you just say, “Look. They're going to do screenings. They're going to offer things.” It may end up in an induction but I think it's still worth pursuing if it's something that you want to do. Meagan: Yeah. That is one of the things. It may end up in an induction and that is still possible. They may be telling you that your baby is big. That doesn't mean that vaginal birth is not possible. Right? Big babies come out of pelvises all the time. Inductions and VBAC– Yes, it's not as ideal as spontaneous labor but still very possible. Know that if you are listening, you're not alone out there even if you might feel alone because there are not a ton of stories out there. That makes me sad so we are going to change that here on the podcast. It's starting right here with Charlotte. Awesome, well thank you so much for sharing your story today. Charlotte: Absolutely. Thanks for having me. ClosingWould you like to be a guest on the podcast? Tell us about your experience at thevbaclink.com/share. For more information on all things VBAC including online and in-person VBAC classes, The VBAC Link blog, and Meagan's bio, head over to thevbaclink.com. Congratulations on starting your journey of learning and discovery with The VBAC Link.Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/the-vbac-link/donationsAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

After finding wonderfully supportive midwives who were willing to deliver a breech baby at home, Jaime was sure that her first delivery would be peaceful and empowering. Things quickly turned traumatic, however, when she developed a fever and was rushed to the hospital where she was treated poorly and sent straight to the OR.It took seven years for Jaime to finally get to a peaceful place where she felt ready to birth again. Jaime shares her different approaches to this birth and how she found the courage to prepare for another home birth. Jaime was able to stay grounded, present, and in control during her labor and delivery, allowing her to achieve the beautiful HBAC she desired!Additional LinksBirthing From Within by Pam England and Rob HorowitzReclaiming Childbirth as a Rite of Passage by Rachel ReedHow to VBAC: The Ultimate Prep Course for ParentsThe VBAC Link Facebook CommunityFull Transcript under Episode DetailsMeagan: Hello, Women of Strength. It is another day for another amazing story. We have our friend, Jaime, here and she is from Nashville, Tennessee so if you are from Nashville, Tennessee, you're going to want to listen up. I know that people have been wanting to know where some of our listeners are coming from because they are looking for providers and hospitals and all of the things like that in their area. So today is coming from Tennessee. She had kind of a traumatic birth which a lot of us do and then was able to set a good path and redeem her story with a VBAC. We are so excited to be sharing this story with you guys today from Jaime but of course, we have a Review of the Week. We could never go without sharing one of these amazing reviews, you guys. Review of the WeekThis is from Apple Podcasts and it's from erind39. The subject is, “Planning Second VBAC with Confidence.” It says, “I am planning my second VBAC in July and I'm so happy that this podcast is back.” This was actually left in 2022 so last year when we came back. That was awesome. It says, “The VBAC Link is a great resource for anyone considering a VBAC. The stories are empowering and the data presented is affirming. I feel like I am so well-prepared for my second VBAC and have this podcast to thank.”Erin, thank you. We have you to thank for leaving this amazing review and if you guys haven't had a chance, drop a review for us. We love them. We absolutely love them. We read them on the podcast. We have our amazing crew that drops them into this amazing spreadsheet. I see them and seriously with some of these reviews, I bawl. They are so long and so detailed and so amazing. I get chills and I bawl. So thank you, all for leaving your reviews. Jaime's StoriesMeagan: Okay, Jaime. Welcome to the show. Jaime: Thank you for having me. Meagan: Thank you. I am excited for you to share your stories and talk more about– well, we're going to talk more about your story but not get discouraged along the way. So let's talk about it. Tell us where it all began. Jaime: Yeah, so Eloise is my first daughter who is now 7. We have a very large gap between kids but Eloise's birth was like you said, pretty traumatic for me in a lot of different ways. We wanted to do a home birth with her which off the bat, I'm just a crazy person for wanting to do a home birth. We were in Michigan at the time. I was pretty gung-ho about it. I felt very prepared. Maybe midway through my pregnancy, she ended up being breech. There were a lot of things that we tried to do to get her to flip. I spent a lot of time and energy worrying that she was a breech baby and what I was going to do. My midwives were like, “If you're comfortable doing a breech, we're comfortable doing a breech.” Meagan: Oh wow. That's amazing. This is in Michigan. Jaime: Yeah, it was. It was in Michigan. So they literally handed me their midwifery books which are three inches thick, two of them. They were like, “Read this section.” So they had me read everything about breech birth in their midwifery books. I feel like I'm still overeducated on breech birth just from doing that. Meagan: Yeah, that's amazing actually, though that you had that opportunity. Jaime: Yeah, so they were like, “After you read this if you're comfortable doing a breech birth, we're comfortable doing it too.” I read through everything and I was like, “Yeah, okay. This feels good.” It was. She was born in 2016 and it's crazy to say this, but the information we have available today was not like what it was back in 2016. Just having those books, I didn't have any other resources to really go to for breech birth or home birth or anything like that. But yeah. So I was comfortable doing it. I knew from reading if one single thing went wrong, that I was going to be going to the hospital. That was the midwifery thing. Typically, you've got multiple chances in a regular, normal pregnancy but with breech, it was one thing. So I go into labor. We had thought she flipped, but then I had my waters break and then it was all meconium. I was like, “Umm, I think she is still breech.” From there, I was kind of freaking out. I ended up getting a fever and one of the assistants walked in and she was like, “How are you feeling?” I'm like, “I feel awful. I just feel sick. I have chills. I don't feel normal. This doesn't feel good.” Her jaw hit the floor. I'm like, “Oh no. What did I say?” She took my temperature immediately and she was like, “You've got a fever.” They tried to get it down. They gave me one hour to get it reduced to a normal temperature and it wouldn't. I knew right away that we were going to the hospital. We ended up in the hospital. Michigan isn't very friendly when it comes to home births and midwives. I know everyone's been working on that relationship between hospitals and midwives, but Michigan at the time had no cooperation. So we just had a really bad experience. We are there. The doctor at one point is like, “You're going to be put under,” when the whole time, everyone else was telling me I was going to be awake. Then he comes in– I basically said, “I would like to hold my baby. I would like skin-to-skin as soon as possible.” Then he's like, “Well, that's not possible.” I'm like, “What do you mean?” He goes, “Well, you're going to be put under.” I was just like, “What? What are you talking about?” My husband looks at me and he's like, “Are you okay with that?” I was not trying to be any sort of way when I said this, but I just was like, “I don't really think I have a choice.” I was just saying, “I have to be okay with it because I don't have a choice.” I wasn't being snarky. The doctor was like, “You have a choice.” I was like, “Oh my gosh, I do? Tell me more about my choice.” He basically looked me dead in the eyes and he goes, “You can leave.” I was like, “What?” So it was just a really traumatic experience. I had the C-section. I got to be awake which was great, but Eloise ended up being in the NICU for 10 days. It just felt like we were trapped. We had CPS called on us. Meagan: Stop it. Are you serious?Jaime: There was a lot. There was a lot happening. It's like the horror story that you think of when you hear someone trying to have a home birth and then they end up in the hospital and anything that could go wrong went wrong. Eloise is perfectly healthy. It was just the dynamic of it all that went wrong, I guess, is what I'm trying to say. But yeah. I had a lot to work through. We didn't get pregnant for the longest time. I had no desire, really, because I just was terrified. I'm like, “I don't want to experience this again. I don't know what's going to happen.” It wasn't necessarily a bodily thing where I was feeling like my body failed me, it was more so just true traumatic, mental PTSD I guess. I'm not really sure how to put it. We got pregnant in 2020. I had a miscarriage with that baby, but when I found out I was pregnant, I was immediately not ready. I was terrified. There were so many things running through my brain. I just didn't know how to handle it. I started the course, that pregnancy course, going to an actual doctor. Off the bat, I was like, “I'm just going to go to a doctor because I don't want anything like what happened last time to happen again. I just want to avoid all of the hoop jumping. If I'm going to end up there, I'm just going to go there from the start,” basically, was kind of my mindset.We lost that baby and then with Delaney, the new baby, we got pregnant in 2022 with her. It was just different from the get-go. I think my husband was actually more nervous this time about everything than I was but I felt just very grounded. I felt confident about it. I was like, “I want to do a home birth. I definitely don't want to be in the hospital.” Things were still very weird with COVID so that was another big thing because I'm like, “I don't want to be in the last hour telling me that my husband can't be in the room,” or just weird rules like that happening around everything. So yeah, I'm like, “I'm going to do a home birth. I'm going to find a midwife.” It took me forever to find a midwife. I think I called everyone in the Nashville area and they were either busy, they were all booked up, or they wouldn't take a VBAC, or just not a good fit. I had one lady. I get on the phone with her and she's like, “Well, you know uterine rupture is not something to be just pushed under the rug.” I literally hung up the phone and I go to my husband Matt. I'm like, “I don't know. I'm a crazy person. What am I doing?” Meagan: You're not. Jaime: It just freaked me out. Yeah. So I found my midwife around 11 weeks which I felt was pretty late in the game. From that point, it was just a rollercoaster of ups and downs battling doubts within my headspace. My pregnancy from a physical standpoint was a little bit rough. I don't know. I just felt like my body was old and not functioning well. I was the person that couldn't tie their shoes towards the end. I couldn't wear any rings because all of my fingers were so swollen and everything. It was just a rough pregnancy physically compared to my first, but also, just dealing with the mental aspect of everything, I would be super confident one day that I'm going to do this and I'm going to have this home birth– not even a home birth, but just have a VBAC. Like, “I can do this. We were made to do this,” and then the next day, I'm like, “What am I doing? Who wants to do this? Maybe I should just sign up for a C-section again.” Meagan: Just all over the place emotionally. That's so real though. So many of us doing that. One day, we're like, “Yes.” The next day, we're like, “What am I doing? Is this right?” and questioning ourselves. Jaime: Yep. Yeah. 100%. So I really went into this birth. I tried to protect my energy as much as I could. I didn't tell a lot of people I was trying to have a home birth because it was already enough trying to do a VBAC. It was already weird enough. I'm like, “I don't want to tell everyone what I'm doing. No one needs to know what my birth plan is besides the people that really matter.” I read a couple of books that I felt were really pivotal for me. One was Birthing From Within by Pam England. I didn't even finish the whole book. I got through one chapter but it changed my life because, in the beginning, she says that every woman has a question that needs to be answered before they can birth their child. You might find your answer to your question during pregnancy or you might find it in transition or you might find it when you're about to push the baby out. She basically was like, “What is your question? When you think you have your question, you have to dig a little bit deeper because that's probably not your question. Your question is underneath that question.” So I spent 7 months trying to find my question and at the end of it, it felt like it wasn't so much a question, but I felt that I was punished anytime I tried to go outside of the norm of what society deemed normal. That was my big, pivotal thing where I was like, “Wow. I can do this. That is a lie believing that I am going to be punished for trying to do something abnormal.” There was another birth, Reclaiming Childbirth as a Rite of Passage by Rachel Reed. The whole beginning of the book was talking about “herstories”, so history but for women, “herstory”. Rachel is a medical doctor. She is an MD and I felt like this book wasn't super crunchy and it wasn't super medicalized. It was very much right in the middle which I felt was what I needed to hear. I didn't feel like she was biased in one way or another but she laid the facts out of where we started to how we got to where we are now within the birthing industry. It helped me to realize. I knew this already going into it, but it helped me to realize that I actually had really deep-rooted, preconceived ideas about what birth was just from how I've grown up in the society that I've grown up in watching movies, listening to stories, and all of the stuff that we just see on TV. Birth is this crazy thing that happens. The woman is always out of control. The doctor is always there to save the day, all that kind of stuff. I was like, “Wow. I have these opinions of things that aren't even my opinions. They've just been given to me from movies and society and culture.” It really helped to weed through some fear that I was having realizing that I don't have to have this anymore. I don't have to believe this because it's not my story. It's not even real, actually. It's just culture. So those were the two big things. And then obviously, I found your podcast. I also started listening to a free birth podcast. I had no desire in my life to ever free birth ever, but I had read something on Instagram that was like, “If you're preparing for birth, prepare to do a free birth so that way, you are aware of everything that could happen and what you can do to go through obstacles or you know the steps and the phases that you'll go through when you're in labor.” So basically, be overprepared even though you're going to have people there to help you. That helped a lot. I just listened to everything I could about any positive experience of someone having a VBAC. I hired a doula not for any other reason other than it would increase my odds of having a successful VBAC. I still joke to this day that I have no idea what a doula actually does, but I hired one. It helped me have a VBAC, I just think, by doing that. I was just doing all of the things that I could come up with to try and get my head in the right spot and to set myself up for success. I did The Bradley Method with my first daughter and Bradley Method is like a 12-week course if you're not familiar. It is hours long so it is very in-depth. But I found this lady on TikTok and I took her virtual train-for-birth class. Her name is Crisha Crosley. It was, I kid you not. I think it was an hour and a half and it was the most informative thing I've ever done. It helped me. The whole premise is “Train for Birth” so movements and different things that you can do to become ready to birth your child, to get the baby in the right position, pushing, how to push, and different things to do while you're in labor so when I actually went into labor, she was in the forefront of my mind of, “Okay, I can't stay in this position for too long. Let me go to the bathroom every 5 seconds. Make sure I'm drinking my water,” lots of movements when I was actually in labor. It was all because I took that class. It was amazing. That was around 38 weeks when I took that class. My brother and his wife, so my brother, Michael, and Ashley came when I was around 40 weeks because Ashley was going to help with Eloise during the birth. All in between that, I'm curb walking. I'm on the ball doing figure 8's. Just to backtrack a little bit, when I hit 37 weeks just to give you an idea of where I was at, I went to Costco and ran into one of my midwives. She's like, “How are you doing?” Because I'm like, “I'm so depressed. It's 37 weeks and I haven't had this baby.” I just was in my brain, I'm like, “Okay, it's 37 weeks so it means I can have the baby when I haven't had the baby yet. I need this baby out of me. It's time to go.” She's like, “What? You're depressed?” I'm like, “I'm kidding, sort of. But yeah, I want to have this baby.”Meagan: You're like, “I really just wish I could have this baby right now.” Jaime: Yeah. Yes. So yeah. We're nearing the end. My brother and sister-in-law come around 40 weeks to help with Eloise. Delaney, the new baby, was LOA if that's right. She was on the left side. Meagan: Left occiput anterior. Jaime: Yeah. I think the optimal is ROA. Is that correct? Meagan: Well, it really depends but LOA– so it moves the uterus usually clockwise. LOA is really good actually because then they just kind of go forward and down. But it all depends on the shape of our pelvis too. Some babies need to enter a ROA position. Some of them need to actually enter posterior which is frustrating that we have posterior in any sort of labor, but sometimes that is how. So yeah, LOA is a really great position. Jaime: Okay, then she must have been the other way. She must have been ROA and I was trying to get her to go to the left, LOA. Yeah. I was trying to do movements to give her some space so she could turn. The midwife told me that the right side is okay, but the optimal would be LOA because it's just easiest. When you said posterior, that reminded me that I was actually very nervous about back labor because I had felt like every podcast I listened to where someone was having a VBAC, all they ever talked about was back labor so I was just terrified of it. On top of doing a VBAC, if that's not hard enough, I'm going to deal with back labor and all of this stuff. That didn't happen to me at all. I had no back labor so it was perfect. In Tennessee, my midwives were licensed by the state. They cannot help me past 42 weeks due to their licensure. We were nearing the end. I had a clock ticking. My brother and Ashley were here which was stressing me out, not in a bad way, but I was kind of under a clock if that makes sense. I'm like, “I need to have this baby because they are here and then I need to have this baby because I'm nearing 42 weeks and at that point, I'm either going to be a crazy person and do unassisted which doesn't make you crazy, or I'm going to have to go to a hospital. Those are my two options because I can't do it with them.” Then she wanted me to do that test where they test for movement, heart rate, and practice breaths or something like that. I needed to do that in my 41st week just to show if something happened early 42 weeks, that it was okay for me to birth at home with them still. I scheduled that for Friday, so September 2nd. I reluctantly scheduled it. I was like, “Fine. I'm just going to put it on the books and see what happens.” Then my brother actually had to leave on Sunday to go. My brother leaves on Sunday to go do an interview. Delaney is born on Thursday. I scheduled that test for the next day on Friday. The next Sunday was my 42nd, so that was my hard out if that timeline makes sense.Meagan: Yeah, yeah. Jaime: Michael, my brother, left to do an interview that they scheduled for him that Monday then he was going to come immediately back. He's like, “If I miss this birth, I'm going to be so mad.” Then Sunday, Ashley and my husband and my daughter, and I went to the splash pad. That was the first day I had a contraction where I was like, “Oh, okay. Something is happening.” I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want to be put under a clock or to feel pressure to have this baby when I wasn't ready or anything like that. I just kept to myself. I had a couple of contractions Sunday and then that just led to me having contractions every single night. It was all night, every night and then it would die off in the early, early morning. Meagan: Prodromal labor. Jaime: Yeah. I'd get a few hours of sleep so I'm just getting exhausted. I told Ashley actually maybe Monday or something. She woke up Tuesday and was like, “So, did Jaime have any more contractions?” She was asking my husband. I didn't even tell my husband this. My husband was like, “She was having contractions? What are you talking about?” I literally kept everything. My lips were sealed. I kept everything to myself. I texted my midwife on Tuesday. So Sunday I had no sleep. Monday, I had no sleep. I texted her Tuesday and I'm like, “Hey. I've been having contractions. Nothing is sticking around. Everything stops. I have nothing all day and then it starts again at night.” She's like, “Cool. Nothing to worry about. Everything is normal. Sounds good. No big deal.” My brother did make it back because he came back Monday evening so he was here for everything. Then Wednesday was my absolute breaking point. Wednesday comes. Michael and my husband go shooting and then the girls, all of us, go to this park just to hang out. I had a massive contraction as we were leaving that stopped me in my tracks. I literally just hung back and I'm like, “Yeah, you guys just keep walking. Go ahead and I'll just meet you there in a second.” I'm just stopped in the middle of everything. Ashley, my sister-in-law is like, “Okay.” They just keep walking to the car and then I catch up later. She's like, “So I think we want to go to the grocery store to get some stuff for dinner.” In my head, I'm like, “I don't know if I'm going to be able to make it.” I'm emotionally at the end of my limits and then physically also, the contractions were intense, but it was more an emotional thing where I'm like, “I can't do this again. I'm going to have another sleepless night. It's already starting. It's 5:00. This is awful.” We go to the grocery store and it was my full focus just to not have a mental breakdown and start hysterically sobbing in the middle of the grocery store. We go. I make it through and we get home. I immediately go upstairs just to be alone. I put a movie on to start watching and have these random contractions that happen. Looking back, it's funny because in the first stage of labor, they always say that the woman goes into a cave and wants to be alone. In my brain, I was ready. I'm like, “I'm going to pay attention so I can see the signs and make sure that I know I'm going into labor.” It never once crossed my mind that I was entering a cave to be by myself. It never crossed my mind. I just was thinking, “I'm going to have another sleepless night and I'm drained emotionally.” I think I cried, then dinner was ready. It's 6:00 so I go downstairs. I shovel dinner into my mouth and then have another massive contraction at the table. I sit there silently then I'm like, “I'm going upstairs.” I run back upstairs and literally, I put this movie back on and I'm in hysterics. I'm sobbing uncontrollably. I just don't know that I can do this again. I get very crazy when I don't have any sleep. I just was future thinking about how this night was going to go where I'm going to have these crazy contractions and then I'm not going to sleep on top of it. I was just a mess. I go back upstairs. I have a couple of breakdowns. I'm extremely exhausted. I started timing my first contractions around 7:06. Not my first contraction, but my first timed one where I was like, “Maybe I should see what's happening here.” Delaney was born at 1:20 AM so it was six hours from start to finish basically. Meagan: Wow. Jaime: Nothing was consistent whatsoever. I'm upstairs with the peanut ball doing all of the moves trying to go through the Miles Circuit to make sure she's in the right position and all of that stuff. I texted the night midwife. They have a 7:00 AM to 7:00 PM and then a 7P to 7A so depending on when I went into labor is who I'd be talking to. So I texted the night midwife around 8:30 with a picture of my contractions, my timed-out stuff. I wanted to take Benadryl so I could go to sleep. I'm like, “Is it okay if I take Benadryl? Will I be okay? I just don't know if it picks up, am I going to be exhausted and trying to push a baby out?” She's like, “No. If you take a Benadryl and you actually go into labor, you're going to be fine. Trust me.” I was like, “Okay.” She's like, “Take a bath then if things slow down, go to sleep. Try to get some rest. If they don't slow down, call me and let me know.”So I took a bath. Nothing really happened. I kicked my husband out of the room multiple times because I just wanted to be by myself. I don't think I let him stay until 9:30-10:00 at night. I was waiting for these clues. I lost my mucus plug. I don't even know if this is accurate but in my brain, that meant I was around 3 centimeters. My husband was like, “Do you want me to call someone?” I'm like, “No. I'm 3 centimeters if anything so I've got 24 hours of labor to go. I'm in trouble, basically,” is what I was thinking. I was waiting for my bloody show which meant I'd be 5 centimeters. Again, I don't know if that's accurate but that is just what was in my brain. Almost immediately after I lost my mucus plug, within an hour– it felt way more immediate than that– but within an hour, I had bloody show happening all over the place. My doula was an hour away. I'm like, “Okay. Fine. Call the doula.” This is me caving to my husband. I'm like, “Call the doula. She's an hour away so just have her come, I guess.” He calls the doula and in my brain, I'm like, “I hope I'm still in labor when she comes here.” I just was very nervous that everyone was going to get to the house and then I was either going to stall out or this wasn't really it and then they're all going to leave and I had wasted everyone's time or they're all just sitting around twiddling their thumbs watching me go through labor. I did not want that to happen at all. But he calls the doula and talks with her. She says, “Okay.” Then he calls her again. She hears me in the background and she's like, “Okay, I'm coming. I'm coming. I'm on my way.” So that happened. I'm telling Matt. I'm like, “Can you go fill up the tub, please? Not so I can have a baby in the tub but just so I can get some relief,” because again, I'm thinking I'm going to be here for many, many more hours. He calls the midwife and tells her that the doula is on the way just to give her an update. That's probably around 11:30. She was like, “Okay, great. Let me know when you need me to come.” He goes down, fills the tub up, and then comes back upstairs. Again, time is lost in this space. He comes back upstairs, calls the midwife again, and the midwife hears me in the background and she is like, “I'm on my way,” and then just hangs up. She was only 30 minutes from us, so she hears me and she's like, “Oh my gosh. I'm coming.” At that point, I'm trying to go down the stairs. It takes me three full contractions to get down the stairs. Matt's talking to the doula. She's like, “Does she feel pushy?” I'm like, “I don't know what pushy feels like because I've never done this before.” At some point on the stairs, I felt Delaney change position. I don't really know how else to say it, but it just felt like she dropped down and was right there. I'm still not thinking I'm about to have a baby. Even that, I'm just like, “Okay. I'm in it for the long haul here.” Meagan: Right. Jaime: I finally get down the stairs. I get in the tub again, just to find relief. I'm not trying to have a baby here. Matt's trying to make a smoothie. I'm chaotic. I was not a calm laboring person. I was very loud. At this point, when the bloody show happened, I stopped timing the contractions at 11:32 PM. At that point, I was just like, “Forget it. I don't care.” But then when the bloody show happened, it was one on top of another on top of another on top of another and I had no relief, nothing whatsoever. It was wild. I get into the tub. I'm yelling every time a contraction comes. Matt's trying to make a smoothie and I'm yelling, “I need you here right now.” My daughter is crying because I'm being so loud. I get into the tub and I had three contractions in the tub. On the second contraction, I push her head out. I'm just like, “I'm having a baby.” The coolest part about it was that there was no fear. It was very natural, very primal. I never for once thought, “Oh my gosh. No one is here yet and I'm pushing this baby out.” I get her head out and my brother is right there. He sees the head and he's like, “Jaime, the head is out. You've got to push the rest of the baby out now,” because he's thinking that the head is out and she's drowning underwater. I'm just like, “No. It's okay. It's okay.” I have all of these things in my brain from what the midwives had told me. I'm like, “Okay. So I birthed her underwater so I have to stay underwater. I can't get out and go back in.” I have all of these things going through my head. The next contraction comes and she's out and on my chest. No one was there except my brother, Ashley, my husband, and my daughter. The midwife walked in literally one minute after she was born, then the doula ran in, and then the assistant ran in. Meagan: The whole team, boom. Jaime: Yeah, so it was one after another and everyone walks in with their jaws on the ground like, “What just happened?” I'm like, “I don't know. We just had a baby and here we are.” So that's my VBAC story. I did it and it was great. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. It would have been nice to have a team of people there, but that wasn't how it was supposed to happen. It worked out perfectly. Meagan: That's okay. Yeah. I'm so glad. I love how your brother is like, “Uhh.” Jaime: It's time to go. You've got to get the rest out. Meagan: Yeah, but you would see that and that would make sense. Jaime: Yeah. Yep. Meagan: Oh my gosh. I love that. So first of all, huge congratulations. Jaime: Thank you. Meagan: So awesome. So, so awesome. And yeah, let's talk about overcoming your fears. Talking about your first birth, CPS, all of the things. Yeah, you have options. Oh yeah, let me tell you my options. Go. Leave. You have no options other than to leave. Jaime: Yeah. Yeah. Meagan: So much surrounded it that could have carried forward in this next birth. What are some tips for the listeners that you would give? You were reading. You were taking this course. What other types of things would you say are some key components to overcoming your fears and getting to the point where you were literally birthing– not alone– but you were here birthing alone? You were like, “I've got this. I'm strong.” So yeah. Any tips that you have?Jaime: Yeah. I mean, for me, I would suggest really, really, really protecting your energy and what that looks like– not even watching a movie with a crazy birth scene in it, not talking to people who have opinions on how you're going to birth your baby, just trying to stay within the scope of healthy, positive stuff. Even some of the Instagram accounts will give you statistics and they are trying to be helpful, but sometimes reading those statistics send you on a spiral so it was just really trying to hone in and stay close to what you know to be true, focusing on the fact that you want to have this VBAC, that it is safe to have a VBAC, and everything else just kind of block it out. Unless it is a positive experience, don't listen to it. Don't talk about it. Just focus on yourself and what you're trying to do. Meagan: Yeah. Hold onto what's important to you because yeah. There is a lot of outside static. Like you said, right here at The VBAC Link, we are guilty of posting statistics, right? Statistics can be very helpful for some and it can be something that creates fear or angst as well. If you know that that is not something that can keep your space safe and will cause angst, then yeah. Like you said, don't read it. Don't look at it. Jaime: For sure. For sure. Meagan: Put it away. If you're wanting to know those numbers to make you feel better, okay then there you go. If you're wanting to not hear any– we've had listeners who are like, “We couldn't listen to any repeat Cesarean stories because they were not what we could have in our space.” That is okay too. You can filter through. Some people are like, “I wanted to know all of the possible outcomes.” You've got to find what is best for you and like you said, protect your space because your space is what matters. Jaime: For sure. Meagan: Oh, well thank you so, so, so much for being with us today and sharing with us this amazing story. Totally unexpected. I bet your team was just freaking out driving. Jaime: Thank you for having me. Yeah. Meagan: I wish we could have had a dash cam looking at them or even just there to see their pattern of driving. I bet they were weaving in and out and really, really, really rushing to you.Jaime: That's funny. Meagan: But like you said, it all worked out how it was supposed to be. All was well and here you are sharing your story and inspiring others. Jaime: Thank you. Well, thank you again so much for having me. I hope it helps. Meagan: Oh, it will. It will. ClosingWould you like to be a guest on the podcast? Tell us about your experience at thevbaclink.com/share. For more information on all things VBAC including online and in-person VBAC classes, The VBAC Link blog, and Meagan's bio, head over to thevbaclink.com. Congratulations on starting your journey of learning and discovery with The VBAC Link.Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/the-vbac-link/donationsAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brands

My roots are planted in the pastThough my life is changing fastWho I am is who I want to beA single mom who works too hardWho loves her kids and never stopsWith gentle hands and the heart of a fighterI'm a survivor... Music for YKS is courtesy of Howell Dawdy, Craig Dickman, Mr. Baloney, and Mark Brendle. Additional research by Zeke Golvin. YKS is edited by Producer Dan. Please…subscribe to YKS Premium! My yard needs yard food to live. This episode of YKS is sponsored by these fine brands: AthleticGreens - I need my vitamins so bad! But how do I get them? Maybe by using a knife and fork to eat a huge pill by a burning oil drum? Uhh no, maybe I should just get a delicious slightly tropical beverage packed with all the nutrients a man heading into flu and cold season could possibly ask for! Get a whole year's worth of vitamin D and 5 free travel packs at athleticgreens.com/yksFactor - It's a “feeding frenzy”! The Factor box has just arrived and the entire family is rushing toward the door in a massive sphere of humanity to pick out their favorite lunches and dinners. But no worries, Factor has something for everyone! Even Fido! (If Fido is like the name of your kid or grandma etc.) Wanna try some for yourself? Head to factormeals.com/yks50 for 50% off your first box!NordVPN -

Uhh . . . hey . . . there, what are you doing here? You're looking for podcast? Right now? Shoot, um. Give us a second, we'll be right with you. Yeah, we were expecting you! Of course we were! Just . . .one second. Okay. Here is podcast.Suggested talking points: Chaotic Dog Wishes, Sopping Wet Scone, Clifford the Small White Boy, New Fall Hat Month, Welcome to the Pumpkin PortalEarthjustice: https://earthjustice.org/