Podcasts about uhhhhh

This week Tom & Zeus review the latest Off The Soundboard KISS release, KISS Off The Soundboard San Antonio 1985. This live album was recorded during the Asylum tour which featured a non makeup KISS. This is the 6th Off The Soundboard release by KISS and this one had the longest time delay between the previous Off The Soundboard release and therefore was highly anticipated. Released only on vinyl on KISS' website with controversial merchandise and on CD only in Japan, the album release had issues with the KISS Army. It is the first official live album featuring beloved KISS guitarist, Bruce Kulick. The album does include Asylum album songs, like Tears Are Falling and Uh! All Night, but is also filled with the most 80's Paul Stanley stage banter you can imagine. This is SIOL's 11th live album review. The guy's breakdown the album, the tracks and of course Paul Stanley's outrageous stage banter as well. They list their top 5 favorite tracks and rank the cover (we know) and the album against the 10 live albums by KISS that were previously reviewed.  So take a trip to Thighland and go "Uhhhhh!" To Purchase KISS' “Off The Soundboard San Antonio 1985” on Amazon Click Below:   KISS Off The Soundboard San Antonio 1985   To Purchase Shout It Out Loudcast's KISS Book “Raise Your Glasses: A Celebration Of 50 Years of KISS Songs By Celebrities, Musicians & Fans Please Click Below:   Raise Your Glasses Book   For all things Shout It Out Loudcast check out our amazing website by clicking below:   www.ShoutItOutLoudcast.com   Interested in more Shout It Out Loudcast content?  Care to help us out?  Come join us on Patreon by clicking below:   SIOL Patreon   Get all your Shout It Out Loudcast Merchandise by clicking below:   Shout It Out Loudcast Merchandise at AMAZON   Shop At Our Amazon Store by clicking below: Shout It Out Loudcast Amazon Store   Please Email us comments or suggestions by clicking below: ShoutItOutLoudcast@Gmail.com   Please subscribe to us and give us a 5 Star (Child) review on the following places below: iTunes Podchaser Stitcher iHeart Radio Spotify   Please follow us and like our social media pages clicking below: Twitter Facebook Page Facebook Group Page Shout It Out Loudcasters Instagram YouTube   Proud Member of the Pantheon Podcast click below to see the website: Pantheon Podcast Network Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This week Tom & Zeus review the latest Off The Soundboard KISS release, KISS Off The Soundboard San Antonio 1985. This live album was recorded during the Asylum tour which featured a non makeup KISS. This is the 6th Off The Soundboard release by KISS and this one had the longest time delay between the previous Off The Soundboard release and therefore was highly anticipated. Released only on vinyl on KISS' website with controversial merchandise and on CD only in Japan, the album release had issues with the KISS Army. It is the first official live album featuring beloved KISS guitarist, Bruce Kulick. The album does include Asylum album songs, like Tears Are Falling and Uh! All Night, but is also filled with the most 80's Paul Stanley stage banter you can imagine. This is SIOL's 11th live album review. The guy's breakdown the album, the tracks and of course Paul Stanley's outrageous stage banter as well. They list their top 5 favorite tracks and rank the cover (we know) and the album against the 10 live albums by KISS that were previously reviewed.  So take a trip to Thighland and go "Uhhhhh!" To Purchase KISS' “Off The Soundboard San Antonio 1985” on Amazon Click Below:   KISS Off The Soundboard San Antonio 1985   To Purchase Shout It Out Loudcast's KISS Book “Raise Your Glasses: A Celebration Of 50 Years of KISS Songs By Celebrities, Musicians & Fans Please Click Below:   Raise Your Glasses Book   For all things Shout It Out Loudcast check out our amazing website by clicking below:   www.ShoutItOutLoudcast.com   Interested in more Shout It Out Loudcast content?  Care to help us out?  Come join us on Patreon by clicking below:   SIOL Patreon   Get all your Shout It Out Loudcast Merchandise by clicking below:   Shout It Out Loudcast Merchandise at AMAZON   Shop At Our Amazon Store by clicking below: Shout It Out Loudcast Amazon Store   Please Email us comments or suggestions by clicking below: ShoutItOutLoudcast@Gmail.com   Please subscribe to us and give us a 5 Star (Child) review on the following places below: iTunes Podchaser Stitcher iHeart Radio Spotify   Please follow us and like our social media pages clicking below: Twitter Facebook Page Facebook Group Page Shout It Out Loudcasters Instagram YouTube   Proud Member of the Pantheon Podcast click below to see the website: Pantheon Podcast Network Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Relationships take work, right? Uhhhhh, not really. But if you grew up believing that phrase, you will create the issue you don't want. Chasing perfection—saying the right thing, doing the right thing—only to end up feeling worse. In this episode, Tracy takes a raw and honest look at how the perfectionism you may deny, sabotages your relationship. You'll uncover why striving for perfection creates pain instead of connection. More importantly, you'll get tips on changing that make a difference, What You'll Learn: * Perfectionism is a mask for deeper fears. * Blaming your partner for struggles keeps you stuck. * Taking responsibility for your own triggers. * Becoming more emotionally available and having it all. "Perfectionism doesn't come from love or confidence—it comes from pain, and if you're bringing it into your relationship, it's only creating more of the same." ~ Tracy Crossley

The book was fictional, but a perfect reflection of the treatment I had received since arriving to New York City; nothing was free, and it was almost as if the incessant hazing, entrapment, harassment, and terrorism had been at the cost of my own clarity— no longer could I trust another human being, ever. if these fictional ballerinas could do such horrible things to one another, what could their equally as devious adult counterparts do in order to disarm a potential threat—and if this was the simple and evil way women dealt with one another on a competitive level, how much potentially deadlier could make adults be in targeting potential peers, especially of opposite genders, and particularly—of thr opposite race. I wished race had no impact on anything, but in the United States, as the underlying cause of all conflict, it actually seemed to be at the root of everything. Next was money, and it would be ignorant to say that the two hadn't become so drastically intermingled with each other, the least of it belonging to colored people, and the most of it belonging to the dominant source of global power, the whites. Still, the way that people seemed to move was almost a color coded system in itself, and it seemed as though the pawns most often moved around the map in certain ways were almost always one thing or another, and now, understanding the way that politics were more likely than not conducted in this same way— I had collected, by studying the personal-professional lives of fictional adolecent ballerinas, I kept my head down, and my nose out of it—with no intention at anything besides getting out of New York alive, and put together—knowing that the possibility of my making any real money at all might have been some sort of threat itself, to any opposing party. The whites, as it seemed, would only ever be comfortable in a world where they had more, and better—at all times, and always. Nothing any colored person could ever come close to what they had maintained as their own world; everything was a system kept intricately in place—movement outside of this grid of power was not only forbidden, but nearly impossible. Especially on the grid and especially above ground, which almost everything was. Death of A Superstar DJ. [Hanz brings Gretl into his lair, where he co ducts his experimentation in creating “Ze Deepest Bass” Zis makes ze vierd sounds, yes. Yas, Very vweaird. [He presses a button which activates the system to begin playing the severely awkward sound of a Dillon Francis bass drop; embarrassed, he immediately switches the power completely ‘off'.] Zis is stupid. I'm sorry. Vwat vwere you sthinking? I wvasn't. An entire laboratory of sythezizers, and you've wasted it on this abominable— {Enter The Multiverse} The terror tactics began to become next level; though certain sounds were inaduible by my phone recording, they could still be heard and sensed by vibration within my body; an engine had started and had yet to stop, positioned behind me—and though I knew already that the terrorists were more than likely Americans, the tasks themselves were carried out typically by the black and brown underlings, almost with the intention to hide the fact that these commands were coming from a higher source of power; the illusion however could not be made that these kinds of terror campaigns were of course only carried out by the military itself, or another organization; that the men driving the cars and sent about on motorcycles were following orders and being paid by the military themselves. It was psychological terrorism, but because of its being carried out in New York City, it was almost the easiest thing to hide, masquerading the terrorism as the normal sounds of an only partially gentrified busy intersection—but I knew better. I knew that my phone and documents had been compromised long ago, along with my emails and messages— and I knew that, depending on what I was doing, where I was placed in my apartment, or even what I was writing, the incessant engine reving, the motorcycles racing up and down the block or otherwise just in circles, the cars honking and other sounds made with the direct intention of intercepting my personal frequency—was tactical warfare. Once the recording of these events became frequent enough, the sounds had moved only just further away as to be still audible and to disturb my peace, but just out of the range that my iPhone could continue to gather evidence to take to court against the owners of the garages, the city, or even the property management, for having not maintained the peace in the area surrounding their buildings. Still, it was of no coincidence quite obviously that I had been placed here purposely, and that the carlot, the motorcycle garages, the car garages and their respective car clubs, and the auto repair shops all adjacent and within dysfunctional earshot had been created after the year in the homeless shelter where it had been gathered, my sensitivity to sound and synesthesia could be used as weapons in order to dismantle and disable me. The moral reprocussions of these ugly little men on bikes or the even uglier ones in cars were none more then the soldiers that were just as often placed on the front lines of any war— a tactical betrayal of peace and freedom, I could only gather that this operation perhaps intended to pursuade that I should abandon my creativity and instead pursue with passion the humanitarian interests I was capable of, or maybe even political, however—because these things were being carried out in such an in humanitarian way, I became less interested in anything having to do with it, and it only made them more stupid and dirty, lowly and evil like the snakes they were, now that I had rearranged my furniture to always have my backs facing them. Now, not only were they below me, but behind me; once and for all positioned in such a way of knowing that everything they did on the outside of this apartment was underhanded, cold and treacherous, and against the forces of God and of nature. My right to peace and privacy has been violated, and now, worse, my body had been attacked. They were no better, no smarter, and no more powerful than the weakest men on earth—men who could do nothing themselves, but be made to do by others, subsisting entirely by consumption— the product of the light and enchantment had had been wasted with the minimal effort of having created such as these, otherwise useless creatures. The less I chose to interact with people on this level, the less opportunity it gave them to attempt to penetrate my mind or dismantle it am any way, psychological or otherwise. I had become seemingly erratix and unpredictable, moving about at times and in directions that couldn't necessarily be pinpointed— but the more time I spent away from these hostiles, the less erratic I actually was, able to think with clarity and move with stealth, only appearing at the surface for air every once and awhile, and realizing how remarkably desperate the groups that had been stalking and harassing me for to get my attention. It must have been military, and being stalked particularly by men not just simply smoking cigarettes, but intentionally going out of their way to smoke them and blow the smoke into my face— people almost needing to catch up with me or end up in my line of sight and however, it had become easy to avoid them, finally having realized that at this point, most of the time— even I didn't know where I was going. My dismissiveness made me harder to track, and my indecision had suddenly become an asset. I was always ahead of the people who were sent after me in one way or another, and besides the plants in my own building, making themselves obvious as gangstalkers by their particular way of dress and behavior— it was impossible for anyone to understand my way of thinking anymore, because it wasn't in a straight line, nor was it on any grid of systematic standard. I was almost always offline, and off grid, which meant that the people who were online and on grid were of greater number, and more predictable — instead of being moved around, I was the one moving things. I knew that anybody with a cellphone—almost everybody— had to have been connected to something—something that I wasn't connected to, especially moving about, and so the movement and frequency of these beings differed so greatly from my own it was as if playing a two player game in which the other player is simply a computer. The algorithmic nature of things just as often caused me to think about Joel Zimmerman as it did anything in life, and it was just as likely that the more time I spent thinking of anyone or anything fondly enough, then would appear in public anyone that looked just enough like them to momentarily trick my brain out of reason, and typically even more a tiny blonde girl just beside them to remind me of the pecking order of the evil world. The lightheartedness of being ideal in any must be so attractive to the male psyche that its dominance over the structure of the human species will forever stay unmoving. —Tales of a Superstar DJ. MOOOOOOOAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! NOW THAT I HAVE THE PELOTON BIKE AND THIS JUICER, THE ENTIRE WORLD WILL BE MINE! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!! You are psychotic. You think I'm psychotic now—just you WAIT. (I also have a pink treadmill) AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—MOOAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!! Dang girl, chill. I WILL NOT CHILL. YOU CHILL. I'm going to be so devastatingly effing RIIIIIIPED! Srsly. Some.. uh.. Houseplants… Like, a shag rug, Some blackout curtains— Minimal effort here. Uhhhhh. What are you doing? I'm fung shueing. L E G E N D S Last night I slept totally in the nude; Of course, leave it to good old fashioned good timing-/— The return of the hellicoopyer, and whatever's at stake with it No time to breathe, I'm having a spiritual experience on the cycle bike No time to lose— That's right. About face Walk away It's central intelligence Too much sweat in my palms To use my palm pillow? Hi god I love you God knows my timing, Lord know me well Don't tell me it's a writing assignment Really, yo I'm just here to spectate LETS GO! LETS GO!!! If you're not early, you're LATE! Okay, okay. Make my bed, wash the dishes. 2X202-ST5, Aphex Twin Either way, it's a pit of snakes Either way it's a den of wolves Either way it's a rat race, on my way somewhere else, I don't know how to go under the radar. You look ridiculous. Good. Are you sure this is the right place and time. I'm pretty sure that's my eye, up there. CBS Television Studios( New York City. Jesus, oh, Jesus Christ— Just for the ride; I asked nicely— …are the police here. No. Okay. Thx. Terminate, terminate— Hesitate a little. Turn your head around, a mate A million, a mile a minute Temper, temper Remember your severance Remember you made it Remember the parade and what day it's on Who makes up holidays anyway? Banks. Cool it, on your woodwind, would you Smells like barbeque, And I called it Forget to light a candle Summer winds, summer winds With your blood on the ceiling Remember who it is when you get there Hit me one more time Like the nightmare— Way up high I guess; Way less impressive, your crucifix I don't trust nobody with two first names, son So let's try the one With a traditionally masculine. So let's, So let's. Let's try the brown eyes on next, shall we. I like these. Same as. Wonderful, really. What's next. Hands, I think. Eyes, and then hands Ryes, and then hands, Eyes, and then hands Would you get the fuck off of me? I'm. Going to pay my tithes early Get the fuck away from me, you absolutely inferior rodent. At least I'm cognoscenti. I'll actually fucking kill you, And if you come back, I'll kill you again. Damn, I almost wish I was a lesbian. Nothing? Nothing yet. GODDAMIT. What. What do you actually want from me? I told you don't be late. What the fuck are you wearing!? Progress. Ough! —and jewel tones. The fact that I'm not wearing makeup, Could easily be hidden, With larger frames, And a little less giving a fuck About fashion instinct, And intensity The ce el.followed me all the way to the L train; Don't bother me none; She needs somebody, And all I need is a one hour slot, On Comedy Central. Somebody get this robot out of my peripheral. Somebody get the paramedic stat! What happened!? He thought it was payday and it's actually next week! 911– what's your emergency! Quit playing with me. Always look at the way it matters less When you lay attention to the face, and the stance— And it matters why she's mad at me, when after all these years, after all The veil has been lifted, but the mask hasn't And I just happened to make way to the goddamned Goddammit The mansion. So they said they'd give you a million dollars, just to— Yeah. What'd you— No. You didn't. No. You thought I would? Are you ready for wisdom and witches And wishes galore? Not yet. I asked for a prayer and “You're pitiful” —proud as pitaya, But I prefer Açaí, And after all Either one or the other is better than pina colada But of course, I'll take it If the other refreshments Are unavailable What the fuck is that in reference to? Nothing, probably Let's just be honest, I'm not getting In anywhere dressed like this in LA; Which is why I did it— And brought an extra set of clothes just in case Click my heels, two times Who farted. It's the subway; Pick any three people, and you'd probably be right This is hilarious. I ride the subway to Manhattan around lunch time, and it was mostly just— White people on vacation. lol lol Here's the trumpeter counting his money; Here's hoping he plays something Conveniently losing my cash . Means he's missing a dollar The way to the market makes subway trains unbearable, Which could only mean one thing l— Getawayfromme. Sing it! I'm intolerably horny most the time, And that counts anytime between now and forever So the Jptown a it is. As the train rolled slowly into Columbus circle, I started to get that feeling again— the same feeling I had the other night on the way to the comedy club, as if I was about to go on stage. I wasn't, and this, if anything was more of a consumer experience mainly meant for my entertainment, but still, I had butterflies— and there was no reason for them besides not having had any water— I wanted to make sure I had no need to run off to the restroom, either on the way, or during the taping , and— If anything. SOME BACKGROUND MUSIC!! Congratulations, you actually made it somewhere— Anywhere in New York City, On time. ..:I was on time to my stand up show. Exactly. MWAHAHAHHA!!!!! At least you laugh like a real villain, bro. I don't know what what's in reference to— Me neither. Now where was I…? Thank you. Everywhere in New York City is exactly one hour away. Even in midtown— Even in midtown. I told you they're all the devil. That's kind of incredible. Or god Liz Or, it's one in the same l. I might not ever make it on television— Even the assistant is gorgeous, (And majors in engineering) Somebody tell me why it's 100 degrees in fucking October! Global warming! I told you already l! What about the ice caps?! I TOLD YOU THEY MELTED!!!! Then again, Really kid— five o clock shadow at 1:48 in the afternoon. This is Telivision. It's a little ridiculous— Whose kid is this? If nobody claims him, I'll take that instead of lunch. How were you planning on lunch with it your wallet? I wasn't— But suddenly i'm hungry… Shut up! I used to get paid for this. I still do; watch this. I just realized, that I'm not having a good time I am method, so just— try to remember that. Where did the husbands come from? I was just in a room full of women— Now where am I? Remember the portals, and remember the Tenements, tenements— Tenements, tenements!? Old New York. What the fuck ever. Omg is the lady behind me possibly pregnant— And if she is she's keeping it— But she doesn't see herself being with the guy— “He's kind of affermenante” What? “He doesn't have that like, Charisma” I told you I still can get paid for this. Appearances, appearances, Charisma, Charisma So— its voice activated— And then once so many cell phones like, Detect my voice, a small signal is sent to that phone To make them start coughing. We can only assume that what is happening? Almost no one was coughing Until the banter in the bathroom I love this demographic of demigogs And badic bitches And tenements And tenements In intimate settings— OLD NEW YORK. How old Well, there are the tenements. We never really grow up, so we? We never really show out— Goes to show for sure I am indeed a God; For as soon as I walk in— They all start coughing. Where did the husbands come from?! This was, I promise you, an entire room full of women. THERE HE IS. GET HIM. GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY KITCHEN! But—I didn't do anything! GO! Multiple steps in the directions of the Gods; Nothing to lose, but getting lost In the buildings and the tabletops The shadows of the others; Supposedly blocked into our time Blacklisted in hesitation that I could One day Very nearly and dearly Wish for something other than the best for Everyone involved, However I say no, For one million dollars only is a very small sum In accordance to the torture and disorder in the chaos I've come on here And here it is ; Again, Something to live for Something to love by Something it get into go for it, There was nothing other than the storm to come And yet A pool of course, You wanted full force for under The wind blows south And gone so deep under the water, There's no terror system! Here it is! All are actors, The world is a stage and yet, You fear it There's no conforming, Just admittance I came to get the app with the DJ's jumping off boats That's it. That's it. That's what I came for. Move still! Be you mad! I am mad, and envious of thee here, knowing not what I know and— Doing nothing in the midsts of my heartache, None glory being this, knoelege and yet Without wisdom The feeling of teeth sinking in, Hind legs ready to run, Water under no northern skies, But droughted— And mine, the thought of l weary skin The keeping of Times Times Times Tenements Times, Times, times- a Tenements Times, times times Percius, be you still? Still I wait. No honor. No judgement, mine is. There was no gain; There was no wise knowledge There was no wise for wisdom The times here The times here And even when you want to stop recording Turn your phones off— Even when you want to stop You keep rolling until the very last The very last The very last minute. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

The book was fictional, but a perfect reflection of the treatment I had received since arriving to New York City; nothing was free, and it was almost as if the incessant hazing, entrapment, harassment, and terrorism had been at the cost of my own clarity— no longer could I trust another human being, ever. if these fictional ballerinas could do such horrible things to one another, what could their equally as devious adult counterparts do in order to disarm a potential threat—and if this was the simple and evil way women dealt with one another on a competitive level, how much potentially deadlier could make adults be in targeting potential peers, especially of opposite genders, and particularly—of thr opposite race. I wished race had no impact on anything, but in the United States, as the underlying cause of all conflict, it actually seemed to be at the root of everything. Next was money, and it would be ignorant to say that the two hadn't become so drastically intermingled with each other, the least of it belonging to colored people, and the most of it belonging to the dominant source of global power, the whites. Still, the way that people seemed to move was almost a color coded system in itself, and it seemed as though the pawns most often moved around the map in certain ways were almost always one thing or another, and now, understanding the way that politics were more likely than not conducted in this same way— I had collected, by studying the personal-professional lives of fictional adolecent ballerinas, I kept my head down, and my nose out of it—with no intention at anything besides getting out of New York alive, and put together—knowing that the possibility of my making any real money at all might have been some sort of threat itself, to any opposing party. The whites, as it seemed, would only ever be comfortable in a world where they had more, and better—at all times, and always. Nothing any colored person could ever come close to what they had maintained as their own world; everything was a system kept intricately in place—movement outside of this grid of power was not only forbidden, but nearly impossible. Especially on the grid and especially above ground, which almost everything was. Death of A Superstar DJ. [Hanz brings Gretl into his lair, where he co ducts his experimentation in creating “Ze Deepest Bass” Zis makes ze vierd sounds, yes. Yas, Very vweaird. [He presses a button which activates the system to begin playing the severely awkward sound of a Dillon Francis bass drop; embarrassed, he immediately switches the power completely ‘off'.] Zis is stupid. I'm sorry. Vwat vwere you sthinking? I wvasn't. An entire laboratory of sythezizers, and you've wasted it on this abominable— {Enter The Multiverse} The terror tactics began to become next level; though certain sounds were inaduible by my phone recording, they could still be heard and sensed by vibration within my body; an engine had started and had yet to stop, positioned behind me—and though I knew already that the terrorists were more than likely Americans, the tasks themselves were carried out typically by the black and brown underlings, almost with the intention to hide the fact that these commands were coming from a higher source of power; the illusion however could not be made that these kinds of terror campaigns were of course only carried out by the military itself, or another organization; that the men driving the cars and sent about on motorcycles were following orders and being paid by the military themselves. It was psychological terrorism, but because of its being carried out in New York City, it was almost the easiest thing to hide, masquerading the terrorism as the normal sounds of an only partially gentrified busy intersection—but I knew better. I knew that my phone and documents had been compromised long ago, along with my emails and messages— and I knew that, depending on what I was doing, where I was placed in my apartment, or even what I was writing, the incessant engine reving, the motorcycles racing up and down the block or otherwise just in circles, the cars honking and other sounds made with the direct intention of intercepting my personal frequency—was tactical warfare. Once the recording of these events became frequent enough, the sounds had moved only just further away as to be still audible and to disturb my peace, but just out of the range that my iPhone could continue to gather evidence to take to court against the owners of the garages, the city, or even the property management, for having not maintained the peace in the area surrounding their buildings. Still, it was of no coincidence quite obviously that I had been placed here purposely, and that the carlot, the motorcycle garages, the car garages and their respective car clubs, and the auto repair shops all adjacent and within dysfunctional earshot had been created after the year in the homeless shelter where it had been gathered, my sensitivity to sound and synesthesia could be used as weapons in order to dismantle and disable me. The moral reprocussions of these ugly little men on bikes or the even uglier ones in cars were none more then the soldiers that were just as often placed on the front lines of any war— a tactical betrayal of peace and freedom, I could only gather that this operation perhaps intended to pursuade that I should abandon my creativity and instead pursue with passion the humanitarian interests I was capable of, or maybe even political, however—because these things were being carried out in such an in humanitarian way, I became less interested in anything having to do with it, and it only made them more stupid and dirty, lowly and evil like the snakes they were, now that I had rearranged my furniture to always have my backs facing them. Now, not only were they below me, but behind me; once and for all positioned in such a way of knowing that everything they did on the outside of this apartment was underhanded, cold and treacherous, and against the forces of God and of nature. My right to peace and privacy has been violated, and now, worse, my body had been attacked. They were no better, no smarter, and no more powerful than the weakest men on earth—men who could do nothing themselves, but be made to do by others, subsisting entirely by consumption— the product of the light and enchantment had had been wasted with the minimal effort of having created such as these, otherwise useless creatures. The less I chose to interact with people on this level, the less opportunity it gave them to attempt to penetrate my mind or dismantle it am any way, psychological or otherwise. I had become seemingly erratix and unpredictable, moving about at times and in directions that couldn't necessarily be pinpointed— but the more time I spent away from these hostiles, the less erratic I actually was, able to think with clarity and move with stealth, only appearing at the surface for air every once and awhile, and realizing how remarkably desperate the groups that had been stalking and harassing me for to get my attention. It must have been military, and being stalked particularly by men not just simply smoking cigarettes, but intentionally going out of their way to smoke them and blow the smoke into my face— people almost needing to catch up with me or end up in my line of sight and however, it had become easy to avoid them, finally having realized that at this point, most of the time— even I didn't know where I was going. My dismissiveness made me harder to track, and my indecision had suddenly become an asset. I was always ahead of the people who were sent after me in one way or another, and besides the plants in my own building, making themselves obvious as gangstalkers by their particular way of dress and behavior— it was impossible for anyone to understand my way of thinking anymore, because it wasn't in a straight line, nor was it on any grid of systematic standard. I was almost always offline, and off grid, which meant that the people who were online and on grid were of greater number, and more predictable — instead of being moved around, I was the one moving things. I knew that anybody with a cellphone—almost everybody— had to have been connected to something—something that I wasn't connected to, especially moving about, and so the movement and frequency of these beings differed so greatly from my own it was as if playing a two player game in which the other player is simply a computer. The algorithmic nature of things just as often caused me to think about Joel Zimmerman as it did anything in life, and it was just as likely that the more time I spent thinking of anyone or anything fondly enough, then would appear in public anyone that looked just enough like them to momentarily trick my brain out of reason, and typically even more a tiny blonde girl just beside them to remind me of the pecking order of the evil world. The lightheartedness of being ideal in any must be so attractive to the male psyche that its dominance over the structure of the human species will forever stay unmoving. —Tales of a Superstar DJ. MOOOOOOOAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! NOW THAT I HAVE THE PELOTON BIKE AND THIS JUICER, THE ENTIRE WORLD WILL BE MINE! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!! You are psychotic. You think I'm psychotic now—just you WAIT. (I also have a pink treadmill) AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—MOOAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!! Dang girl, chill. I WILL NOT CHILL. YOU CHILL. I'm going to be so devastatingly effing RIIIIIIPED! Srsly. Some.. uh.. Houseplants… Like, a shag rug, Some blackout curtains— Minimal effort here. Uhhhhh. What are you doing? I'm fung shueing. L E G E N D S Last night I slept totally in the nude; Of course, leave it to good old fashioned good timing-/— The return of the hellicoopyer, and whatever's at stake with it No time to breathe, I'm having a spiritual experience on the cycle bike No time to lose— That's right. About face Walk away It's central intelligence Too much sweat in my palms To use my palm pillow? Hi god I love you God knows my timing, Lord know me well Don't tell me it's a writing assignment Really, yo I'm just here to spectate LETS GO! LETS GO!!! If you're not early, you're LATE! Okay, okay. Make my bed, wash the dishes. 2X202-ST5, Aphex Twin Either way, it's a pit of snakes Either way it's a den of wolves Either way it's a rat race, on my way somewhere else, I don't know how to go under the radar. You look ridiculous. Good. Are you sure this is the right place and time. I'm pretty sure that's my eye, up there. CBS Television Studios( New York City. Jesus, oh, Jesus Christ— Just for the ride; I asked nicely— …are the police here. No. Okay. Thx. Terminate, terminate— Hesitate a little. Turn your head around, a mate A million, a mile a minute Temper, temper Remember your severance Remember you made it Remember the parade and what day it's on Who makes up holidays anyway? Banks. Cool it, on your woodwind, would you Smells like barbeque, And I called it Forget to light a candle Summer winds, summer winds With your blood on the ceiling Remember who it is when you get there Hit me one more time Like the nightmare— Way up high I guess; Way less impressive, your crucifix I don't trust nobody with two first names, son So let's try the one With a traditionally masculine. So let's, So let's. Let's try the brown eyes on next, shall we. I like these. Same as. Wonderful, really. What's next. Hands, I think. Eyes, and then hands Ryes, and then hands, Eyes, and then hands Would you get the fuck off of me? I'm. Going to pay my tithes early Get the fuck away from me, you absolutely inferior rodent. At least I'm cognoscenti. I'll actually fucking kill you, And if you come back, I'll kill you again. Damn, I almost wish I was a lesbian. Nothing? Nothing yet. GODDAMIT. What. What do you actually want from me? I told you don't be late. What the fuck are you wearing!? Progress. Ough! —and jewel tones. The fact that I'm not wearing makeup, Could easily be hidden, With larger frames, And a little less giving a fuck About fashion instinct, And intensity The ce el.followed me all the way to the L train; Don't bother me none; She needs somebody, And all I need is a one hour slot, On Comedy Central. Somebody get this robot out of my peripheral. Somebody get the paramedic stat! What happened!? He thought it was payday and it's actually next week! 911– what's your emergency! Quit playing with me. Always look at the way it matters less When you lay attention to the face, and the stance— And it matters why she's mad at me, when after all these years, after all The veil has been lifted, but the mask hasn't And I just happened to make way to the goddamned Goddammit The mansion. So they said they'd give you a million dollars, just to— Yeah. What'd you— No. You didn't. No. You thought I would? Are you ready for wisdom and witches And wishes galore? Not yet. I asked for a prayer and “You're pitiful” —proud as pitaya, But I prefer Açaí, And after all Either one or the other is better than pina colada But of course, I'll take it If the other refreshments Are unavailable What the fuck is that in reference to? Nothing, probably Let's just be honest, I'm not getting In anywhere dressed like this in LA; Which is why I did it— And brought an extra set of clothes just in case Click my heels, two times Who farted. It's the subway; Pick any three people, and you'd probably be right This is hilarious. I ride the subway to Manhattan around lunch time, and it was mostly just— White people on vacation. lol lol Here's the trumpeter counting his money; Here's hoping he plays something Conveniently losing my cash . Means he's missing a dollar The way to the market makes subway trains unbearable, Which could only mean one thing l— Getawayfromme. Sing it! I'm intolerably horny most the time, And that counts anytime between now and forever So the Jptown a it is. As the train rolled slowly into Columbus circle, I started to get that feeling again— the same feeling I had the other night on the way to the comedy club, as if I was about to go on stage. I wasn't, and this, if anything was more of a consumer experience mainly meant for my entertainment, but still, I had butterflies— and there was no reason for them besides not having had any water— I wanted to make sure I had no need to run off to the restroom, either on the way, or during the taping , and— If anything. SOME BACKGROUND MUSIC!! Congratulations, you actually made it somewhere— Anywhere in New York City, On time. ..:I was on time to my stand up show. Exactly. MWAHAHAHHA!!!!! At least you laugh like a real villain, bro. I don't know what what's in reference to— Me neither. Now where was I…? Thank you. Everywhere in New York City is exactly one hour away. Even in midtown— Even in midtown. I told you they're all the devil. That's kind of incredible. Or god Liz Or, it's one in the same l. I might not ever make it on television— Even the assistant is gorgeous, (And majors in engineering) Somebody tell me why it's 100 degrees in fucking October! Global warming! I told you already l! What about the ice caps?! I TOLD YOU THEY MELTED!!!! Then again, Really kid— five o clock shadow at 1:48 in the afternoon. This is Telivision. It's a little ridiculous— Whose kid is this? If nobody claims him, I'll take that instead of lunch. How were you planning on lunch with it your wallet? I wasn't— But suddenly i'm hungry… Shut up! I used to get paid for this. I still do; watch this. I just realized, that I'm not having a good time I am method, so just— try to remember that. Where did the husbands come from? I was just in a room full of women— Now where am I? Remember the portals, and remember the Tenements, tenements— Tenements, tenements!? Old New York. What the fuck ever. Omg is the lady behind me possibly pregnant— And if she is she's keeping it— But she doesn't see herself being with the guy— “He's kind of affermenante” What? “He doesn't have that like, Charisma” I told you I still can get paid for this. Appearances, appearances, Charisma, Charisma So— its voice activated— And then once so many cell phones like, Detect my voice, a small signal is sent to that phone To make them start coughing. We can only assume that what is happening? Almost no one was coughing Until the banter in the bathroom I love this demographic of demigogs And badic bitches And tenements And tenements In intimate settings— OLD NEW YORK. How old Well, there are the tenements. We never really grow up, so we? We never really show out— Goes to show for sure I am indeed a God; For as soon as I walk in— They all start coughing. Where did the husbands come from?! This was, I promise you, an entire room full of women. THERE HE IS. GET HIM. GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY KITCHEN! But—I didn't do anything! GO! Multiple steps in the directions of the Gods; Nothing to lose, but getting lost In the buildings and the tabletops The shadows of the others; Supposedly blocked into our time Blacklisted in hesitation that I could One day Very nearly and dearly Wish for something other than the best for Everyone involved, However I say no, For one million dollars only is a very small sum In accordance to the torture and disorder in the chaos I've come on here And here it is ; Again, Something to live for Something to love by Something it get into go for it, There was nothing other than the storm to come And yet A pool of course, You wanted full force for under The wind blows south And gone so deep under the water, There's no terror system! Here it is! All are actors, The world is a stage and yet, You fear it There's no conforming, Just admittance I came to get the app with the DJ's jumping off boats That's it. That's it. That's what I came for. Move still! Be you mad! I am mad, and envious of thee here, knowing not what I know and— Doing nothing in the midsts of my heartache, None glory being this, knoelege and yet Without wisdom The feeling of teeth sinking in, Hind legs ready to run, Water under no northern skies, But droughted— And mine, the thought of l weary skin The keeping of Times Times Times Tenements Times, Times, times- a Tenements Times, times times Percius, be you still? Still I wait. No honor. No judgement, mine is. There was no gain; There was no wise knowledge There was no wise for wisdom The times here The times here And even when you want to stop recording Turn your phones off— Even when you want to stop You keep rolling until the very last The very last The very last minute. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

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“The Legend of Supacree” L E G E N D S “Tales of A Superstar DJ” My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is myhel Now i do't wanna live no more My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell Now I don't wanna love no more i don't wanna live no more I don't wanna love no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna love no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna– Boy gets the girl– but in the end, i'm not either, I Still have to wonder why The nanny How I met yurr' Mother I'm neve gonna get all that God magic I need if I don't stop working. This isn't “work” Oh, yes it is. Deadmau5, a canadian DJ also known as Joel Zimmerman, hosts an anti-superbowl Star Wars Party, which turns unexpect— Look at me, feeling me, feeling you Now look at you, feeling you feeling me Feeling you feeling me Feeling me feeling you Feeling me feeling you Feeling you feeling Feeling you feeling –sorry. —Unexpectedly into the “superbowl party of the century”, when hundreds (eventually thousands) of “invitees” I've never been a man before, (that I know of) But ive got my hand over your heart , And it sure seems hard It sure seems hard -AHEM. Sorry. Receive an invitation via [SUPER JEW RABBI] AHEM What?! –Email, which was actually AHEM. WHAT! Oh My GoD! [Looks at clock] Oh. sorry Rabbi. When did you get to be such a Jew FLASHBACK Age: 12 Mom. I want a dreidel. …What's a dreidel? –And A Menorah! CUT BACK TO But honestly more recently, it was– [Stops traffic in Midtown Manhattan Rushour to pick up a penny.] [Jewish woman] Woooow. [JEWLUMINATTI] You see! I told you! Oh my God, why are the Jews in this series so stereotypically jewish? Because Jews are stereotypically Jewish. FLASHBACK: But what am I really saving here. Gevault! CUT BACK TO: YOU'RE A PEANUT BUTTER JELLy SaNDWHICH WITH NO PEANUT BUTTER AND NO JELLY. So just bread? –yes. But–[Anime sword swish] I don't eat bread. [Anymore] [FIGHT] Dang what DJ battle is THIS. The One You've Been Waiting For Mad men avatar the last air bender Grounded for life So how long's this whole thing supposed to take. –as long as it takes. What kind of answer is that. It's an answer. Don't be so sure of yourself. I am sure of myself; Just because it's not the answer you wanted doesnt make it any less of an answer. Now, sit down Watch out, and watch this: Too many apps on my phone I'm better off alone I'd better kill myself Nobody will ever love me Nobody will ever love me Watch out, watch this: My iPhone is trying to kill me, For real? See; It's natural selection I'm trying to unselect me Caviar, a delicacy How delishish The devil in me says to keep digging my grave I was once at a rave, And he gave me a halo A lion, I'm brave— I once said Spin it, Spin back the record again If it's all in my head Then I'm better off dead I'm better off dead Watch this! @Dillon Francis I'm stuck in a trance— Hanzel was lighting the candle And summoned me, Out of a dead sleep, With no pants on— It was a tech house set But I'm on acid Spinning an axis And stuck in a state of trance —i thought it was armin van buren at one point I have to give up at some point, writing, right? Now this is just point in history Point me away from the misery Mystery flavor is like Fruit punch, Or raspberry— Something like that, If you ask me; But white as the rabbit I pulled out the hat In the back seat I'm hatching a plan to go mad, But I need the recepits from Pasqualle for my taxes What the Fuck does that mean? I don't know; I'll read this In a year, When I unbury it Maybe I married my best friend, Deserved to get hit So I'm just going back to him Scratch that, he's mad at me I have no family Reckless abandonment God I'm attracted to everything Except for that See? She's racist. No, it's my ovaries! The lighter you are, the less the adversity I see you eyes turned to grey; Don't abandon me Yes, I wear contacts I'm faking attractive I laughed at him, had to He actually had magic @Dillon Francis How many hats to you have? Thanks to Hanzel, I'm back on this planet Why light a candle, when you know I haven't an answer; What did you ask? No, i haven't had breakfast yet — Thanks for reminding me I'm in a casket Goddamnit @Dillon Francis What are you? I'm an adversary GOOGLE: adversary ..??? ad·ver·sar·y /ˈadvərˌserē/ noun one's opponent in a contest, conflict, or dispute. Hmm. Oh. Opponent to what?! Could be anything, really. I don't like him… 2 for $ MIX AND MATCH INCLUDES BIG KING REALLY. Which one's the Big King? The little one, I think. He's not little In fact: LOOK AT EM. Dawh. Look at Skrillex. Dawg. Look at Skrillex. He bossed up. He was already boss. Well. He Sauced up, then. What kind of sauce is that?! I don't know, but looks like Dillon Francis is eating it. DILLON FRANCIS IS EATING IT pause. How am I still writing this show. She doesn't eat? She hasn't eaten. She doesn't eat. I haven't ate yet! BET. BET. OK—Bet. Nice. Sick. What are we betting. … … … WAIT. ,,, josh pan? … … Did you unpause? Unpause what? Uh. The game. This is the game. No, the game. This is the game! What are you talking about?!! Now I'm famous> This is The Game. sup. This is Sunni Blū Sup. It is?! Yea it is. Wait, it is?! I thought you were the kidd?? I am the kidd. Then, why is The Game meeting Sunnï Blu? For a collab. Duh. Wait. Pause. QUIT PRESSING PAUSE. Wait. Go back. I didn't get that last part. WE WATCHED IT A HUNDRED TIMES ALREADY. Screw you. We're watching it again. Ugh! I hate this! Dude. I hate watching this with you. It takes 3 hours to watch an episode! You guys are talking over all the good parts! It's all the good parts! This shit's exciting. I'm defaulting. What? This isn't—this isn't fair. I'm not doing this. What?! It isn't safe anymore. It was never “safe” SAFE! Oh nice. Baseball. It is baseball. Who's playing? All the DJs. What. For what?! It's the DJ GAMES. THE DJ GAMESsssssssss ITS THE DJ GAMES! OH FUCK YEAH. I fuck this. I quit. what. You can't quit. I can quit. I just did. You can't quit the DJ games. I just did. But you can't. I just did. Hey. Hey, what's up. I'm gonna be late. What's going on? My bus driver's drunk. Are you sure? CITY BUS DRIFTING IN SLOW MOTION /Hans Zimmer Music Yes. Welhp. What. That's it. I'm just gonna have to kill myself. Why, what happened? I'm pretty sure that's the only way to beat this level. What, really? Nah. I'm pretty sure Let me see. *SUPACREE jumps into oncoming traffic* YOU DIED. Aww. I died. WHAT THE FUCK. Well, you said. GAME OVER [fade to black] I HAD NO LIVES LEFT. WELL, YOU SAID! THATS'S NOT THE WAY TO— [fade to white] NEW LEVEL UNLOCKED: GOD MODE OOOHHHHHHHH. WHAT?! LVL i - DREAMSTATE What is this. SUPACREE. I— what? Hello? Follow me. Who is this? I know you. Oh. The above and beyond part. That's funny. I was just— So wait. If the end of this episode, is the end of that movie, then… I guess whatever's happening about now is whatever happened before that part. What part? I, having run off from I, runs into a forest alongside The Endless River, which opens out into a beautiful meadow, the micolored cosmic sky twinkling sweetly above, strange auroras dancing in the skies; a field of glowing and stardusted singing wishflowers at her feet, she frustratingly falls into them, soft grass puffing with the twinkling sounds of fairy dust and sprites (a homage to the lion king) the wishflowers softly sing her to sleep with the subtle and sweet frequencies of Skrillex. (A homage to the wizard of Oz) From Above & Beyond, a flock of Cosmic Creatures in flight spot a golden glimmer from afar; they descend dimensions-- to get a closer look; Closing in on the universe within the confines of a massive structure, which propels itself seamlessly through galaxies faster than the speed of light and sound, though she appears as a large golden space station, slowly drifting through the atmosphere. Manned by yet unseen beings, the golden ship descends upon Skrillex, almost silentl— a swishing whir as the ship, more similar to a futuristic building, an ovaline rounded structure seemingly structured in brass, gold, and silver as it docks to the soft soil of planetary terrain. The landing is soft enough not to have awaken Ū, still sleeping; but an immense light pours from the openings of the ship, waking her--and blinding Sonny as he finally approaches from behind, having been searching for her. She is drawn into the light; he shields his eyes as the beings emerge from their massive station. Monologue/Montage I fell in love with you...it was an accident. I fell in love with you, because I had to; I hadn't thought about it before, but i've been thinking about it ever since. Had I succeeded in my attempted suicide, we wouldn't have come face-to-face… Had I succeeded in my attempted suicide, I'd have no reason to write something so pathetic as this, pititul letter, which you will probably never read. Probably, anyway. I've spent a majority of my lifetime very deeply troubled, yearning for all the attention one could ever crave--until suddenly, I no longer craved any at all. Solitude, rather than isolation, became sacred, and safe to me; It was in the solace and quiet of my very own world, that you entered my kingdom...and it became ‘ours'. Silence. Nature. Astrology. My greatest found pleasures, in a cavalcade of endless self-doubt, self-loathing...a tiresome collection of all the hatred I've harbored for myself in my twenty-something years. I fell in love with you...I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to do anything, except be. Another festival, another escapade...another chance to dance, in the sunlight--the moonlight, under stars… And under the stars, is where I was forced to find you. Now, it seems, can't escape your presence--or lack-thereof. Unrequited? Perhaps. But, not unprovoked. I love you because it is in me to do so. I will always love you, always. There is a world where you're in love with me, as I am you; All I can do now, is hope that this is that same very world, and that as days go by, we draw closer to one-another, rather than further apart. In truth, friendship, in the very least, would serve as a worthy reward...for all the worry, all the wonder, and all the willing I've done for you; in honesty...I'm ashamed in my inability to let go--yet also proud, that I am able to love this much, this hard. To see you with someone else, now, would be a gentle relief; to know that you are kept in love, with graciousness...a subtle gift, an answer to a prayer I asked. Loneliness, I wouldn't wish upon you for anything--love is, in fact, my whole wish for you--be it mine, or not. While I can wish that it will be mine, I've also wished for you, the very best--I would want not for my flaws to burden you. Flaws are what create our perfection; God is, as I am. Losing you, the flame of fear that set my heart and soul to fire; Cancerous, weakened, plagued--premonitions impolitely penetrated my fragile, eggshell mind… the death of a friend, fast-forwarded and reflected into my mind's-eye; How could I forget a face like yours--eyes like those? How could I not know you, as I have? Tears bearing your name roll over my nose, like the rain on a rose...the burden of belonging to one, rather than some; To all, rather than none. So now, I keep my favorite photo of you in my phone...a comfort, to the weary and wounded heart I carry. I can pretend that your sweet voice accompanies mine, as I sing to soothe myself, as I sway in solitude; A gentle kiss, I imagine to give, if ever the chance. I love you, without reason to--and with every reason to, I love you. Find me, again As the ship departs, charging to go into warp speed, Sonny is left alone on his own planet; as a slight panic falls over him, A key-like object falls from the ship as it dissappars at warp speed into a portal. As his hands clap together, catching the object, the sound rings outward--this clapping pages The Skrillex, which lands promptly beside him, exclaiming-- "I AM SKRILLEX"; he has never seen this ship before, however proceeds onto the ship as though familiar with extra terrestrial phenomena all together. We only see him enter the ship; we do not follow him inside, but instead cut to Ū on the Interdimensional SpaceTime Station. Ah wait. So Skrillex is a planet? Skrillex is a lot of things SKRILLEX is a planet . That explains it. No it doesn't. I mean, it might. No it doesn't! I mean, it kindof does, if you think about it. BleepBleepBloop bleeepbleepbloopBloop bleepBleepBleeppBoopBoop bloopbloopBloopBloop. bleepBleep. bloop. Bleep? … This is a disaster! Don't look at ME. I'm not looking at anything! I can't stand it. __ This is the best thing on TV. Damn right it is. What channel is it, anyway? On Channel 43. What! I thought it was on Insomniac TV. They keep fucking with me. The Lord giveth, and taketh away— I thought you were Jewish. I want a sandwich. You're so useless. __ Who's this bitch? I won her in a bet. No you didn't. Royal Flush, bitch. What'd you get? It's a secret. __ My Lord. (Petrutheio Humphs) You look awful. I've been—working. Working on what, your majesty. Just—working, is all. Very well, then. Theodore— My leige? MEANWHILE, IN SEASON 4 [ When the 4th Wall Actually Broke] GO! I found this gym because of Dillon Francis— I found Dillon Francis because of my evil ex husband; I think the lesson here, or at least one of hundreds— Is to trust no one, And love unconditionally, No matter what. — 02-12-2022 Well, there's a conundrum. KEY/BPM: Slip, deadmau5 Conundrum. LEGENDS: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE Fuck. What was it? It was a p— Well it was a *PR Lol. *PT cruiser Yeah, but it was— It was purple. It was a purple PT. Cruiser It was—but what else was it? Ugh. I forgot. Yeah, I bet. GOOGLE SEARCH shades of purple. Ooooh. PERIWINKLE. You fucking dumb ass. I mean, Jesus. How long has it been? At least a lifetime. No, past that. It was a perfect periwinkle PT cruiser. So, start there. ‘Start there' what? Everything since then, till now— For what? Enter The Multiverse. That show is still on?! YES. What day is it? Fuxk. What time is it? What—the fuck. What?! CUPCAKES AND A MUFFIN?! I don't care how fat I am. You're not fat. QUASIMOTO Can I just say, your ass is like —woah. CC/SUPACREE Oh, thank you. QUASIMOTO I mean like—DAAAAAAMN. CC/ SUPACREE OK. QUASIMOTO i mean like—what the FAAACK. CC/SUPACREE Yeah. thanks, bro. [an awkward silence] QUASIMOTO …Good job, though. [light fist bump] EARLIER: MORE CUPCAKES. NAH. OHH, OREOS?! Oreos are the G.O.A.T. I WANTED CUPCAKES. SHUT THE FUCK UP— Before that, at the gym: —do the butt machine again. Again?! Get the glutes. But I'm tired— GET THE GLUUUUUUUUTES. SONNY/SKRILLEX Where am I? Ū Hell. ANGEL 1 In bed. ANGEL 2 In mexico. CUT TO: SUPACREE finally gets to Heaven, looking for SKRILLEX. SUPACREE So, where is he? JESUS Somewhere else. ANGEL 1 At home. ANGEL 2 In mexico. JESUS Who knows? CHAK CHEL Someone must... DILLON FRANCIS I'm someone. JESUS But I don't. ME I don't know anything. MYSELF I don't need to. I I just wanna go home. SUPACREE Can I come home now? JESUSYou always could. SUPACREE But really, I mean-- CHAK CHEL Really's all it really takes. ANGEL 1 You have to know, ANGEL 2 You have to mean it; Don't look both ways before you cross, if you honestly want off the cross Christ, for your sake Honestly It's probably wise to admit that you've tried For the third time; Mankind's just not worth it. Mankind, maybe; But humanity's my baby And this earth is definitely worth something I love it-- Her. And the rest of the planets, but Look how she spins, It's magnificent, Look at the way the ocean's Make this mist; And the wind-- If i sing loudly enough I might Vibrate the trees, How they love dancing and laughing for me; And I just can't help but to laugh at her inhabitants; They dance oh-so rhythmically They're very creative-- and grateful, they always give thanks to me It's no need, but the Earth, she keeps feeding them She makes these beautiful things, So sweet; Mangoes, I think. Greed; The Parable of the Mango Tree Mango VIP. In the pre-existence, a young God prepares for her journey through the Land of The Living; Her older brothers taunt and tease, as she shuffles through notes and index cards, studying her predetermined fate on Earth. I That's easy. The cover art's just got a Mango On it, White Backdrop; It looks super juicy; with a green leaf, I think. E Who made it? I Uhhhhh. ^> Uhhhhh... O You forgot! I No! I know, I know. It was.... A Who? U She forgot again. I I did NOT. E Did too. Who made it? I It was...it was...Herobust! Y Herobust? I Wasn't it? E Wrong! A Loser. I I am not a Loser. It was…Was it Ganja White Night? E I don't know, was it? A Was it? I I don't know! Just tell me. E I can't. I Yes you can! E I can't. Your rules-- I Exactly, it's my rules! Just gimmie the answer! E I think you're going to have to GOOGLE it. I Ugh, no way. E So is Liquid Stranger your final answer? Y Liquid Stranger?! I I never said Liquid Stranger. A Idiot. O Now she's never gonna get it. U What did you say before? I It was...oh... A See dude. I Shut up, I had it-FUCK. A Damn dude, you broke her. I I'm not broken, I just forgot - E Liquid Stranger, going once-- I I never said Liquid Stranger! I know it wasn't Liquid Stranger; Why would it ever be Liquid Stranger? CUT TO: A pair of mysterious dudes Suits in Sunglasses are collecting famous DJs. SUIT Martin Stääf? LIQUID STRANGER ...Yes... SUIT. Come with me. ___ CUT TO: Two fans are watching interdimensional cable. SUPACREE It's a practical-- FAN 1 WHAT HAPPENED? FAN 2 IT JUST CUT-- __ Aliens in an Ascended dimension of hyper-intelligence are studying our three-dimensional existence from an unknown cosmic world. BRAMF Remember that planet I showed you--the-- ARLA Yeah, with the Axis? BRAMF Yeah. ARLA Yeah? BRAMF Something happened to it, ARLA Like what? BRAMF It's flat now. ARLA WHAT? BOTH Woah. >^ Sometimes, even i'm surprised by the things I've written. ME I didn't see that one coming! MYSELF Neither did I: I was gonaa say it was off it's axis. I Flat's funnier. ME Yeah, and probably not as tragic. MYSELF I mean...that would be pretty tragic. I Probably easier to manage. ME Perhaps…But I mean, if you have a whole planet, and then it just collapses-- MYSELF It's just flattened; nobody said it collapses. MEANWHILE The planet collapses. __________ CUT TO: SUPACREE is now a full-blown superpowered vigilante; She seeks revenge for GETTER sending her through the interdimensions at AUDIOTISTIC. SUPACREE Getter, we meet again. GETTER I've never met you before; what are you doing in my dressing room? SUPACREE Why does a DJ have a dressing room? GETTER I don't know; get out. [She swiftly leaves; as she exits, THE SUITS approach the dressing room door.] SUIT 1 Tanner Petulla? GETTER Yeah? SUIT 2 Come with us. GETTER Fuck that! [He doesn't have a choice.] Oh shit, the next scene is already written, I remember this. Oh, okay! I get it! Yeah. She's still at-- She's still on the-- ____ JUST KILL YOURSELF ALREADY. For what? You're suck in this until it's done. What's done? It'll never be over, it's just infinite. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE ^ UNTITLED DOCUMENT >< >< >< ANGEL 1 YOU'RE GONNA LISTEN TO SKRILLEX ON YOUTUBE? ANGEL 2 DON'T. JESUS I mean... ANGEL 1 DON'T you dare. SUPACREE I might as well, by the time I finish downloading it I probably won't even be able to listen to it. ANGEL 2 You shouldn't. SUPACREE I shouldn't, but I know i have to. ANGEL 1 In PUBLIC? JESUS Could go Incognito... ANGEL 2 INCOGNITO; The “oh please don't look at this:” easy algorithm engine for “LOOK AT ME, I'M HIDING SOMETHING.” MEANWHILE...IN DEEP MEDITATION…(IE OMNIPOTENCE) SUPACREE So... if a song is... nothing but question and answer, what's a song which references another in an attempt to address the question which was asked? ME A conversation between one song and another? MYSELF I guess, yes; I Well, that would be a symphony, I would suppose. SUPACREE It would, wouldn't it. ME That is, if the songs were in sync. MYSELF They could be made to be. I Every song is made to be in sync; ME I mean, two songs, made to be in sync with each other. _______ SUPACREE is on the floor at a rave. BASSGOD WAKE UP. SUPACREE This isn't funny anymore. ANGEL It was never funny. You have to get up. SUPACREE I'm up. BASSGOD You're NOT UP. ANGEL Come on, you have to do this. SUPACREE I'm doin it. GOD NO. ANGEL It's no use. She's so, so under there. It would take all of us to try to pull her out--that is without... [The darkening sky crumbles, as the thunderous storm rages, the battle between worlds expands throughout the outer galaxies.] ____ You're not skinny enough You're not pretty enough You're too dark, And you don't work quickly enough Much younger girls are putting in such Efforts, just to be, the perfect little beauty queen You wish you were, But couldn't be and kids these days are Everything that means anything Sometimes I Don't Wanna Be Happy… It was bad, But better than I'll ever be A basic remix, For the basic bitch that sings it And, I'm basically a Dillon Francis fiend, Have you seen this? Now it's getting serious, I seriously doubt there's anything I can do about it It's in God's hands and, I live in Satan's house How did he do this? How did this happen? The sad result of the damage, Cause i'm pretty sure The very last time my ex ever hit me Something got stuck on repeat; It's just eating me up. ___ [Untitled Document] What did we call that place, between “The Blackout” and waking up. Hazy. I thought it was something more clever. Maybe, but i'll never find it if i'm just scrolling through these documents. Write ”Untitled Document” That's all I've got, I guess. _____ [A DJ] Can be played by literally any DJ. A wild, wild party has happened. A DJ wakes up, previously having been sprawled out across the floor. A DJ Whose house is this…? Ugh. [Looks in mirror.] A DJ ughhh. [S/he gets up and stumbles groggily, stepping over bodies hunched and perched, slung about sleeping. Peacefully. The sun is bright, a curse to the eyes of the clearly hungover, and likely still quite inebriated DJ. ] CONCURRENTLY: >>> SUPACREE awakens from a ‘stupor' herself, displeased. She looks in the mirror, at first disgruntled, then “picks up her face” adjusts her perception, and decides, SUPACREE (“I'm good.”) Yep. [And she keeps it steppin, still asking aloud, as she ponders to herself;] SUPACREE Whose house is this? [And makes her way into the kitchen, where she (probably in a montage) cleans around the many bodies of hot people and rave babies still smudged and dripping in everything glittery; she appears to have ‘frozen time', as she vacuums faces and erases permanent marker penises drawn onto the foreheads and other exposed body parts of those who have fallen asleep with no shoes on. She cooks breakfast and straightens the entirety of what is now more recognizable as someone's home, though the owner still remains unknown. She sips coffee and reads the newspaper, as she steps behind the freshly detailed decks; and prepares a set through the headphones shes hung happily around her neck.] PAUSE ME See! THIS IS RIDICULOUS. MYSELF It is. Ridiculous. You can't vacuum someone's face! I Not that part-- MYSELF --Especially white people! ME You never said they were all white people. I I mean, predominantly; it said hot people and rave babies. MYSELF That's racist! ME It isn't. This whole scene would be entirely different, if it had nothing but black people in it. ALTERNATELY: She wakes up in the same house, but it's clean. SUPACREE ...Whose house is this? BEYONCE It's my house. SUPACREE It's... nice. BEYONCE Yes it is. ______ DILLON FRANCIS has the master plan. SUPACREE Ugh, he knows everything. GOD Not everything, dear, believe me. SUPACREE Everything that matters. GOD There's no such thing as everything that doesn't matter. SUPACREE ...What?! __ Don't look in there! You won't find anything in there. I hate these things. ____ It doesn't work if you don't practice. How do I practice without decks? You don't. How do I Dj without practicing? You don't. So DJing is just for rich people? I mean, primarily, or just...anyone with money, if you have it. Fuck this, I quit. You can't quit. If you quit we forfeit the game. No... You idiot. What game? I thought she knew about the game. What. game. Well, it's not just a game, it's a language. WHAT GAME. She's about to be so angry, dude, just--- Just run. ___ 8 Dimensional--wait, what? Oh, she finally made it. I never thought she'd get to this part. Well, she stopped eating meat and cooks asian food-- ---yeah, but that's like 6 different places-- She's not listening to Skrillex. --She's not skipping it-- --yeah, but she isn't listening to it actively.-- Josh Pan. Yeah. I am. Why. I thought we were past “why” We were, we were WAY past “why” It wasn't really a question, guys, don't worry about it. “Don't worry about it” Tsh. Tsh. ___ It's just an expression. “expression” yes. I get it-- ___ He named it “Kliptown Empyrean” What. What's “Empyrean”? I'd love to know, but I don't. Don't google it. I won't, I just. __ GO KARTS. With A K. __ Where's Kliptown? South of Capetown? South? South Afri-- Stop. HE”S AFRICAN? Stop. What's more offensive; Being called an African, or an Alien? ___ One off...hmmm… Always one off. ___ Get out of my house! This is your house? Thank God, I was starting to worry the owner like wandered off and got lost; or, you know (makes slitting throat) I... no, this is my--wait. Who are you? Me? I'm S U P A C R E E “S U P A C R E E”? [having been yet unrecognized, shes is used to having to spell it] Yeah; ___ Key of Cringe: I'm in a box with all my thoughts, And I am not on top of the world Or taking shots, I'm just rocking back and forth Like broken record, Repeating sequences, a robot A beat box of kittens Nobody wants I'm lost (if rock and roll will take me I wonder how much it costs) ____ What did this kid do? Nobody knows _Oh, shit, it's the Jews again. I love the Jews. We know. I keep telling you, you're jewish I'm not jewish my mom's… That's not your mom. Of course that's my mom. It's not, I already told you what planet you're on? __ Now, tell us why we wear our masks! Oh, there are lots of reasons for that. Tell us about the Sauce! All the sauce? Yeah!!! That would be a long story. __ Oh, the Google kids are cute, too. I especially love that little chunky one. He is cute, he's probably my favorite, actually ____ PIERCE? Who the fuck is PIERCE? Google it. I like this, this is- It's different, isn't it? Yeah, and then it __ Sunni—are you Jewish? I...identify as “Jewish” You can't just identify as Jewish. Well, I do. No, you can't just “identify” as Jewish; your mother has to be Jewish. Okay; my mother is Jewish. Sunni—you don't talk much about your family; who's your mother? Who's your mother?! Oh! Okay, we're done. See you next time, bye! What are you doing? What? “Identify as Jewish”?! WHAT?! I do! No I don't! You don't know me! Maybe not! But I know TMZ. I'm not on TMZ Sunni Blu is on TMZ What did I do?! YOu know what you did. ∆ Well, alright then. ∆ Must be something. ∆ I got it. . Don't look at me;; I'm a catastrophe, I'm just waking up now Don't look at me, I got so high i think I might not come down It's not a bad thing But I'm a bad guy, i promise It's not a bad thing, Don't look in my eyes; Especially if I like you Especially if you have other plans tonight, Or this morning That's right Time flies when you're (dynomite) Time flies when your mind right I didn't mean to stay here It's been nearly half a year, you know It's nearly half a year It's nearly half a y AHEM ALRIGHT. JESUS CHRIST. No, not that! [sighs heavily, frustrated] Enjoy Your Day. FARRO nobly sacrifices his own life during The Lovers Quarrel, as PETRUTHEIO attempts a final and fatall blow unwittingly against ‘CESMET' A saturn of satirical Return of reverb Expanding explosions of Outward and unearthly Worlds within words Or words within Worlds on the Curve of the Unwritten overtures of -Mother wow . I guess. Do you want a cup of coffee? I want you to shut the fuck up. What if Jimmy Fallon had a diary as a kid. And I found it when i shapeshifted into his body. Yeah, what if. What if this is it? [SUPER HUGE GASP] Oh, AHEM- No, i Gotta write this. AHH– Oh, the things i would do to you Oh, woah, The things you would do to me Oh, no, no, woah The things i would do AHHH– Don't be mad I'm a writer I'm like this Hi kids wanna see how sharp my knife is yikes Sigh, bitch, ive been sitting in silece With the lights off cause i like it Ilike it a lot, but uhm Ahem, The rabbi's mad cause that i'd write this And it's shabbat This is why i don't listen to deadmau5 anymore. What are you talking about *listenining to* GODDAMIT. what The invisible man, in Manhattan The sunglasses matches her madness The cloud cover looks just like Texas The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… 03. JIMMY FALLON All ya'll are all worth bout a dollar; I am a cyclone, watch me holler I lived my whole life underwater I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon All ya'll are only bout a dollar I work so hard, I guess for nothin I am not worried bout a dollar I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon I guess I'll do it on my own I had to do it all alone I made some soup, all out of stones I am the only one I know I am not worried bout the sauce I am so famous, got a stalker I am so famous Can't go no where I got a dollar, Jimmy Fallon I'm at the office, Not my home No collab I work alone Opened a business, got a loan I got a hundred of them passwords I went frontwards —1I went backwards Went to Manhattan, took a walk Went to the rock and dropped a rock Now put your money where your mouth is I got a thousand Jimmy Fallons (What's that) (I'm the host) What's that, what's that I work alone What's that what's that I dropped a rock into the rock What's that what's that I'm the host, I'm Jimmy {enter the multiverse/ as seen on tv} Story/ music video Moderately famous household television Jimmy Fallon suddenly begins appearing everywhere—that is—on every possible TV screen imaginable— The Protagonist, in confusion, can't seem to escape, and also amusingly begins finding Pennies in very strange and seemingly random places—these Pennies then begin opening up portals, breaking the fourth wall and opening worlds to other dimensions— Have you seen this? Uhh, hmwhat is it? Mits m “Two dumb Jews, starring Seth Rogen, and some other dude— Who's the other dude— some Jew,but it's got Adam Sandler in it. Oh, so three dumb Jews. So, no, then? I'd watch the shit out of that, though, tvh. Why's the synopsis? Uhh. Two Jewish musicians struggling to make it in new York's congested underground music scene hit it off in comedy by complete accident, after being booked as a duo for a comedy club they mistook for a bar. Heh. Okay, who does Adam Sandler play? “The Bookkeeper” What. Who the fuck is “the book keeper?” We'll see, I guess. “Two Broke hoes@ It's like two broke girls, but actually funny. What, be nice . Okay. Two Broke Ghosts That's better— — And marketable. Are you pale, or just— No, I'm dead. I'm dead. X.X Be NICE. Now our musical guests, SWAGGARBOMB. What in the fuck kind of music is that It's called “Dorkstep” [the doorbell rings] Great, who the fuck is I got a train car of your body count I got way far out to far rock away, way out Stop to talk to me, or don't, Kill your culture You need some? I got u— Probiotics, yo The truth hurts Your shit stinks Must be a mirror over herer Cause that's me I m your hero. Esha I think McGuiennes? Or McGrefor, after Ewab, maybe New York wants me to kill myself Maybe eventually New York if full of the devil The devil is money And everyone wants it The root of all evil, Is getting even The root of all evil Is people Beside myself, But besides that The ones hurting me, are soon to be where I am That's just karma The gangstalkers are soon to be stalked Coughed, and shot at The neighbors are soon to be eaten by their own demons When I don't clean them The root of all evil is evil, And that's all I see here White power wants me to kill my self The Caucasians get crazy when the race war is waging The elections are coming up And they see us coming up on conciousness They don't want us Just being honest They're hateful, They washed all the love out Thanks Karen But she don't care White firms just wanna have fun And they get to Meanwhile, me and I Eat shit( bro, And die Why's it nice to be white Even when you're wrong, you're right All you gotta do is lie, Open up your big blue eyes real wide and Decide what you want, Put us under your foot, And make us pay for it Thanks Karen Caucasians are terrorists I think it's McGuennes or however you spell it, cause half the names are like plays on Okay, I lie: You made a world where I have to Okay, I steal You took everything that I'm after already Or your ancestors did Call the luxury apartment reparations But ain't got no privacy, and hells angels and the kkk Ride motorcycles every time I get my eye on the prize So what's the price for being indegenous, black, and a genius White supremacy finds sneakier ways to kill you ESHA MCGUENNES (I thought figure out how to spell that. My left side's off I guess I got Stuck in the love of the art I was writing that part When the life of my love Fell over me A lover huh I'm so confused. I'm sorry bro, But if you're morbidly obese, But your feet are like a size 6– You are not BIG BONED. My doctor said I have a small frame, my feet are size 9, I went from a 10 to an 8.5 after losing 200 hundred pounds, I'm like “goddamn! Even my feet were fat! Fuck” But if you're fat like I was and your feet are size 6, your feet might be like a si3 4! You're a fat fucking pixie that fucked around and can't do little pixie shit now, cause you like pixie sticks Too much I'm just the rat in the dumpster I made this whole world up I swallowed the doctor I hearted the surgeon I locked up the dog catcher; I cauldron'd the Mormons I called it a sermon, but He called them all — Wait, who is Herman?! I don't know! Some black guy on that show I'm writing! what. I don't know. You're writing a show?! I'm on it! Ugh, I don't know. No fair, You really know how to make me cry When you give me those ocean eyes Those ocean eyes Good looking people In good looking places Doing good things; I just want to be Good today Good looking people Good looking people Bye, bye little bird, Think of the dreams we made Think of the drummer boy, Your lover boy, Then, the other boy There we go again, With the drums we played And the love we made It just won't make it Oh I Just Can't take it Can I come back yet? SHUT UP, GAYBRAHAM LINCOLN. I'm having breakfast at 10 am Thinking damn this depression is just setting in There's a chest on my elephant Chester drawer with hand carved elements Elephant ok my chest, Clisets with hangers and button ups I haven't won't yet What FOR WHAT FOR. MY EYES. For the sake of the art, I heart ya. For perhaps if I love, That's how I lost ya. So I keep all my love close, The brothers have found the fountain How many dollars do tootsie pops cost For one Jimmy Fallon? return to the blacklist. Great. Now I'm Jimmy Fallon. Well what's fucked up! What happened! FUCK! I hate being Jimmy Fallon! Whose dick swings to the right like that. Ow. FUCK. Fuck this guy. GODDAMMIT. -_- Let me in. Or I could just leave you out. No, don't do that. WHY. Ahh. Shhhhhh!!! What if someone sees me. Hmm, let's see. [rings neighbors dooorvelk, shuts door] No! The neighbor opens the door; now gifted with the ability to see demons, after merging with Fast forward Oh no, when did that thing come into play (When this happened) Liz lemon lives on the ground floor It don't matter cause she ain't never home l She's at the rock That's all the way up Good talk, Donaguey, Good, Good Talk Good people Good show Good good times It's good to be long gone from home Go to work at the plaza That ones Conan. Oh, Why?! Why not, though. OH, you mean— Katt. What up Snoop . Ahh, Look what the pimp limped in. You think you're clever. You think you're at least 5 foot—but you're 4 foot 9 I'm STILL WINNING CHARLIE SHEEN relapses on the dance floor Oh shit. Relapses to which habit? All of them! 10-4 CALL RUSSEL BRAND. Csnt. Why not. He's blacked out. What? Another relapse?! No, he just— passed out KABLAM. “The Cockney Thug” He's just like that now. God What is it. Can I have ham in my spam samwhiches. —you want ham in your spam sandwhich. Yes. Roasted cantaloupe with Put your notebook On my throat-Scrotum I like your poems So I wrote you this one Oh. That's. Welcome—to the' creepy shit fans have done for u's backlogs. “Backlogs” Well, I have millions of fans, It would take me years to look at all this. [the festival project] Woah. Woah. Ok. Yo. Have you seen this. What is it. I don't know. Hm. Look. Woah: Yeah, it's— Wow Ok. It just goes on like this— For how long— For like GOH GOH l GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO CUT TO: Latest — 1:04 WHAT? MEANWHILE ….IS THAT A JIMMY FALLON? LOOKS LIKE ONE. SHOOT THAT MOTHERFUCKER. ok , boss. I told you, He would play The Devil's Advocate, If need be [JIMMY FALLON is shot mercilessly in the shoulder in broad daylight.] YO. THEY SHOT ME. He'll be okay. He's Jimmy Fallon. [LIKE 90,000 Ambulances and a SWAT team roll up.] See. DEADMAU5 charges himself in a high speed chamber—a tech-driven coffin via a USB port in his neck. Lol. Ok. (PDA) Public Displays of Affliction I've never even see. A. Aston Martin Sometimes it's worth it, Getting lost in Manhattan I just saw the sign I wouldn't dare entering, anyhow Not in this outfit Not in this predicament (I just left the Whole Foods market) I got lost and god was happy Motor cars for music Force a figure ibto music Forgive Annie, Run a mile what's a california smile In New York What a garden Oh, what a garden Double back. For a second glance Oh, don't we all want second chances Now I've been an Aston Martin Motorists dot muses now u want her What a party I just saw the sign Now I've been an Aston Martin All by design Companion passing through KAWS I just bought a Ferrari I said, Where the roof is?! Where the roof is?! Blū electrico Roof finished in Nero Just a hit of magic A menacing, incredibly ambedextrous submissive One time I played God, I was hanging as the sun in Toronto In my third eye was a camera lense; My baby daddy, Lover and my best friend My husband My lover and My best friend My brother And my father Were my best friends Once upon a time I never had friends Now I remember sitting in the backseat, Has been I remember when I never had ribs I remember when I never had meat Nice to meet you I already had a coffee I remember sitting in the front seat Once upon a time I was anno one Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Once a bunch of Pennies, lady Gaga I'm a baby, haha Once upon a time, I was a no one A nobody Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon I remember penny was a virgin I remember when you were the third one, l Once upon a time I was the first one Once upon a time, I thirst my quench with Coffee Body guard! I remember going on a long run I remember once there was a Knock on my door Now I quench my thirst with smart water With a hard on Never was a smart one Just an artist I was no one Once upon a dollar Jimmy Fallon Once upon a nothing, there was no one Now I take my coffee on a long ride No fun Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Amen I wish for every dollar I ever had, back Jimmy Fallon I wish it was 11:11, every Dillon Francis I wish for sandwhiches on leavened bread at Passover I wish this whole world would Passover, With the the stories in my home And in my notebook I wish for the fame and wealth with it, Jimmy Fallon I wish I never laughed at Dillon Francis I wish Skrillex was never a demon, I take it back I want the wealth And not the fame Just the freedom, Jimmy Fallon What do you mean by that? A dad, an actor An attack, The press is back and asking questions I can't handle that I can't. I just can't with that Abandon the matrix Go back to What's his name But I can't Cause I made him up Call my mother begging to drop the charges Called my God Just asking what the pocket watch does What's an engagement ring like that coat How much to rug the cameras up Inside my home So I don't know about em That shit's priceless Like the 9 Dollar's I've got Marked up, but not to spend them at the Market Jimmy Fallon I pray for your family But not as hard as I pray For my son Or God To take this fat off So I can look like Jennifer Aniston Cause that's God to em, 22 year old Adam Sandler At a brunch A talk show with my Least favorite host of all time Jimmy Fallon But I love to laugh, huh I just got back, God My house is a mess I want meth like AshGod If Method man was drinking up the water Would there be backwash It's a horrible, windfall This awesome art project My broken heart The coughing stalkers Whatever the fuck is going on in New York I love New York But not New Yorkers It hurts to be the worst person The first person to put reverse curses On shamans from the 3rd world And I'm living in the first world, But I just learned that Underneath the surface Is the fourth world That's some dichotomy Huh That's some diabolical plot The cosmic avenger is stuck in a dimension Of white pocket tenses And white bitches who get offended With this scripture But listen I just got up And I've been privy to Never sleeping again Norman Needs you, Mrs. Hotch But I was never Mrs. Roberts With all of the hearts and crosses , stars I give up on love Where's DimlonnFrancis at That's a man without a mask, That's a mannequin m. Just got up And I still want breakfast All I got is Stuff that's leavening A hand in my pocket Just for God to show me Nobody I want wants me Jimmy Fallon has a family That's a tragedy, that But I laughed so hard in the bathtub I still haven't come back from that I feel bad for em, actually All the husbands Cause I was the wife that sucks And he hated me so much I got punched in the— Doesn't matter Stuck in the telling it over and over Nobody loves me My new password is Fuckit I'm gone galloping horses, And hornets, I'm just a furniture Probably should have aborted me, mother Just like you wanted to But I'm still in the hospital On the honor roll Cause I had them all lined up The prophets of the “Impossible, could not be my God!” That's what they all said, But they dressed me up like Some sort of messiah, So I was, then It wasn't right, no That was malpractice But now I've got Camping in Malibu Crossed off my list forever Shit It's some dichotomy Just hold onto me I'm the rock, You're the kite now, Jimmy Fallon I was just better off dead, You know Better off stuck in my head, you know. I read your messages, every one of them Every one of the drugs in my bucket I threw up from the fan club Impossible, Could not have been at that clown JIMMY FALLON - THE COSMIC AVENGER JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER is levitating in a hyper-meditative state. UH – “hehe” …I beg your pardon. “Hehe” Um… Fuck. Or “haha” “haha” … Just admit it. … Admit it already! –haha. Admit WHAT. This gets Levels. Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman! I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman. Ah, fuck, I'm nobody. “Nobody” Is that Bob Saget? I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget. Omg. Bob Saget! Fuck, that's right. EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET. No it's not! Oh My God! Yeah IT IS! Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?! BOB SAGET! YO GUYS, IT'S BOB SAGET. It was, in fact, Bob Saget. Bob Saget's dead, right? Oh yeah, bud. That's it guys! No more dead celebrities! I'm coming with you! NO MORE GHOSTS. Look, I have something to tell you. UGH. COME ON. This is a weird superpower. EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY … … … Having fun yet? Alright! I have a question! What? When do I get to– Get to what? You know. Luckily, I die long beore Jimmy Fallon, and as my time approached, I took all i could absorb from the world within, and without, almost as if any and all of my deathwish had been satiated with the gentle ease, the notion of knowing my imminent death would come long before what those surrounding me would consider my time, and therefore would not be made to lose anymore than I already had–but at least, I did have th strength in knowing, not only would i never grow so old as to see for show most of what I had done, but that I had done most of what I would have at all, and not much longer than my words would form into all that would come to be known as my full body of work, I would perish, even before–long before– those I had studied, admired, and known to love–if only through the fourth wall, at all. The invisible man, in Manhattan The sunglasses matches her madness The cloud cover looks just like Texas The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… THAT was a HARD left turn. So, what time can we listen to Excision? Sometime after intermission. How many acts is this again? ___ I told you, IN-FIN-ITE. Okay… I just wanted to know how long it would take? ___ I know someone that cold get us in _____ (Sitting on a speaker in the BassPod) What is she doing? What are you doing? Charging. __________ I think I found that girl you were looking for. Where is she? I said I found her: I didn't say you could have her. She's not a possession, I'm just trying to talk to her. You didn't mention that she was-- Be careful with your words. Oh, I think it's you that ought to be careful. You're losing your power over her and it shows. Mm. And what about your ‘power', hm? I haven't any power over her-- Oh, but you do-- Will Power at best, That would only be half of it. That would be all I had anything to do with; she was given free agency. HA. “Given”? ____ awww look at that bass face. Well, that's one reason... __ Ah what! you can change your entire frequency? No Fair, I can't do that You can, it just takes practice. What kind of practice-- ___ Oh shit, this hits different with two headphones. It all hits different with headphones. Calorie Deficit Calculator: -3423 Oh shit. Well how many calories did I eat? BEFORE: …chocolate chip cookies? NO— —CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIESzzxz— [CC/SUPACREE robotically and autonomously ditches her bicycle outside of sprouts, not giving a Fuck.] —s—noh! stop it! Stop controlling me! THEY ARE VEGAN. SO? STOP IT. Ooh, what's this. I don't know— get it. CC/SUPACREE stands awkwardly at the checkout with a varied selection of vegan baked goods. *beep* Yeaaaahh. So wait. SUPACREE is controlled by aliens? WE ARE GODS. Knock it OFF! [NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: SUPASTRENTH ] Nice. Yeah dude. Watch this. The Legend of Supacree is the #1 MMORPG in the world; it is also happening in real-time, in multiple worlds within the multiversial construct of the actual Omniverse. AGHHHHH In fact, nobody even plays GTA or call of duty anymore. YAH! [Random objects falling from the sky. ] SUPACREE Oh, nice. INSTANT MANIFESTATION. JUST POST THE FUCKING EPISODE ALRIGHT?! this bitch is fucking crazy. Watch this. Watch what? SHIA LABEOUF discovers The Legend Of Supacree franchise and becomes villainously obsessed with It, hatching a heinous and maniacal plan to hunt her down and capture her—tracking her every move and learning everything about her he can. Wtf. I don't know. Is he a villain? I don't know. I guess. I'M A SUPERVILLAIN. …He's a supervillain. I guess. Why?! I don't know. This is creeps. It is creeps. [lifts one eyebrow.] SUPACREEps. Scary monsters and supacreeps. Heh. NO, NO MUSICIANS. Heh. SHIA LABEOUF is a straight up gangster. HE'S CRAZY! [SHIA LAUGHING MANIACALLY.] Oh, wow– That dude is a straight up psychopath. You're a straight up psychopath. I'm not arguing. What is THIS part of the story? Well, son, you made it through. WOODY HARRELSON? WHAT. Woody Harrelson?! WHY? I don't know. He just fit the part. WHAT PART?! WHAT/! Nobody quite understands what's happening in ENTER THE MULTIVERSE, however, THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE has taken an incredible turning point, intersecting with the world of LEGENDS and THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNI BLŪ/ THE SUITE LIFE OF SUNNI BLŪ. IT HAS? YES? WHERE? I WANNA DIE. OH! That's not SUPACREE! [CC HULK SMASHES her bike onto the rack on the bus. THE HULK, sitting just in front stares at her wide-eyed as she boards the bus over the rim of his sunglasses.] Oh, maybe, nevermind. Wait! Is it THE HULK, or MARK RUFFALO? I don't know! I don't give a shit! Why are you even writing this? Uhhhhhhhh. [CC's brain is slowly melting as she rides the bus to work. THE HULK– OR IS IT MARK FUCKING RUFFALO!? I DON”T FUCKING CARE– THERE'S A DIFFERENCE WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE IT – DOESN'T– MATTER! ‘It doesn't matter.' Chal's words echoed in my head almost too loudly–as boldly blind and sometimes even dumb as he was, he was also wise, and as it turned out, right–it really didn't matter. Nothing mattered at all. I had gone through the motions of reaching out to him, to of course as expected learn that he and whatever her name was had gone their separate ways; I understood that would be the case nearly immediately back in Mazunte, but as he was insistent he would woo her–and persistent in doing so, that I thought maybe after all love– or what really turned out to be his obstinate lust would win the day–and yet, it hadn't; he was again single and on the prowl– and although at one point I had even lusted after him briefly, trailing behind him in nonchalant platonic carelessness as he obsessively followed another woman, had allowed me to become comfortable enough in the friendzone that i could just simply exist next to him; Now, again faced with homelessness and factoring in my inability to travel much further than south of the border, especially now knowing well how to travel throughout mexico and into Guatemala, I wondered truly if my own self-worth had really been lowered to the point of allowing myself to meet Chal in Guatemala–even full well knowing that he, too, preferred perfect and illy white to my dark skin and quite seemingly matronly features, and, knowing for myself that I wasn't his first choice– as he and I had of course met in Mazunte around the same time he had met whom he considered to be ‘his Goddess'-- albeit while on a topless beach and thus hynotized by her breasts. Men were hopeless. Then, here I was, waking up every other sleep cycle in the cold sweat of a wet dream, the subject of which I typically at least tried to keep deeply hidden in my subconscious psyche as secrets, although by now it seemed there really were none, and all that I knew and that I thought were known and seen by some other than myself–though somehow still holding true to my belief that there really was none other than myself–in my own broken and twisted world, alone and punished in the depths of mediocrity and shame. Woah. Riding the bus. There's nothing lower. There's walking. To the bus. Yah. And all the sick people. And all the crackheads. And all the–what are those? Demons [demon hacks.] Ugh, fucking–ugh. SHIA LABOUFF'S obsession with SUPACREE is helga petaki-meets Tom Cruise jumping on Oprah's couch. Oh, wait, we're back on that storyline? I mean– I don't know how to write this. Just write it. he's a villain, right? I mean, that suit. SHIA LA– FUCK. WHAT?! Worst last name EVER. Well, not ever– Wait, is he black?! –It sounds french. GOOGLE SEARCH: ‘How Jewish is Shia LaBeouf? ‘ –no, he's Cajun – That's french-black–wait— –what? Cajun AND Jewish? –Yeah– Jesus! JESUS What? (raises one eyebrow) SUPACREE strategizes a plan of attack. Attack for what? {ATTACK} YOUUUU INCEPTED ME!!! AGH! {COUNTER ATTACK} NOT ME! DISNEY! {DODGING COUNTER ATTACK} Yeah, Blame “Disney!” I JUST DID. Oh, yeah, right!! RAVEN SYMONÉ It was Disney. THEY OK'D THIS?! They bought Marvel! THEY OK'D EVERYTHING. —Even the SKRILLEX? Especially the Skrillex —Especially the Skrillex. AGHHHHHHHH—— ———-AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! SHIA LABEOUF VS SUPACREE: FIGHT!!!! Everything looks good— —everything looks good. Everything looks fine— —Everything looks fine. But wait— What? What about that guy? Oh My— —oh my… Is he gonna be alright? Is that guy —gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright? Is—that guy gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright Is that guy— Gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright?? Is that guy gonna be alright?! Is that guy gonna be alright m? Everything looks good— —everything looks fine Looks good— But what about that guy? …I don't know about that guy. Is he alright? Yo. Yooo. Stop writing songs about Skrillex. ((I literally can't.)) What?! It doesn't have to be about Skrillex! It could be about anybody! Here, they call with disco balls Stars in my eyes, but stars do fall First true love dies hard after all, No star shines bright as morning comes —(for) Sonny …I didn't write that. CUT TO: CC writes automagically between sets of heavy lifting. IMAGINARY FRIENDS, PART III DEADMAU5!!!! okay—one more—then cupcakes— Cupcakes? No cupcakes! I WANT CUPCAKES. Uh—No way! YES WAY. Mmm—no I'm sick of this diet! I'm not on a diet! I eat! You eat GRASS. I'm a vegan. This shit sucks. I told you, grass tastes bad. RICK?! (I also want cupcakes. ) Mmkay—ohh. You said that was the last one. No, more more. NO “one more” But I like this one—and it has the right amount of weights on it already—see? Jesús Christ He's not here. (Yes I am). Why the Fuxk. I also want cupcakes Okay, one more No “one more” The power of Christ compels ye! … Is that how that works? No. Maybe. (((Yes.))) AGHHH. The celebrities of Hollywood are gang stalking SUPACREE Can we— No. But I didn't even get to ask the question. The answer is no. THE CELEBRITIES OF HOLLYWOOD, after assembling with the Bampheramphs and Morherfuckers, have formed a supergroup tasked with bringing SUPACREE to THE HOLLYWOOD PEOPLE—so far, they have cunningly out-bested and outwitted THE US GOVERNMENT, including but not limited to THE FEDS, THE CIA, THE FBI and THE SECRET SERVICE. REALLY? I GUESS. HOW?! — DRAKE snoops on SUPACREE as she writes working half heartedly at THE NECK MACHINE with peaking curiosity, peaking over the time of his sunglasses. Whats it called. “Nautilus 4 way neck “ BPM: you're a jerk Do the Drake Do the Drake Do the Drake Work that neck Work that— Neck, Becky Work that neck, Work that neck Do the— “new note: Purchase ‘Honestly, nevermind' I had worked an entre month at LVAC before the circus went underway; Not a single drop of Skrillex had ever been played over the loudspeakers at any moment, for any of the time I had been employed there, nor had it burdened me any of the other time I had spent bettering myself within what I once cherished as sacred walls–now the illusion shattered, as nowhere I could seem to run – even the rural coastal jungle of Mexico-was far enough to escape the clammerings of something I quite honestly very much still loved, but wouldn't allow myself to enjoy— Or maybe, now, couldn't. BANGARANG. ‘Fuck this shit.' I wanted to move, but didn't—I wanted to leave, and probably should have, but wouldn't. I just sat there through it as my coworker, standing at about 5'4 ½ in a pair of tight black skinny jeans sang along and bounced rhymically. What the fuck. Then, as it had just been earlier that I was thinking of Sonny himself, and how, be it that any of my premonitions were actually accurate and true as I had once thought them to be, there would perhaps come a day that I regretted not listening to his works, just as one regrets not spending time with a loved one before their passing not giving enough attention to the little things, the tiny details, the time they had missed, but never missed without missing their loved one until it was too late. Then again, for me, any time in the then- present was too late, as I had only been followed, taunted, and ridiculed, openly humiliated and embarrassed, and never really paid directly for anything I had done, whether it did have to do with Skrillex or otherwise –and so I had made it more than a point to distance myself from it, anything having to do with it, or him, or anything really, music related—of course besides relying heavily on deadmau5 just for my own existence–that is, willingness wake up, move about the world and its endless, pointless constructs, and even so, completing a worthwhile workout with enough satisfaction that I could allow myself to leave the building–and now, with my commute taking up a grand total of 4 hours of my entire day—I didn't have the time or the energy to stay late into the days and even afternoons as I had before, or to arrive early as I had in the days and weeks before; Now this job was amounting to nothing at all, and I was surely less than breaking even. Whats the worry? You've got 20 minutes to write a story! Don't be sorry Mind your orders. You're a war chief Marry me, Oh pretty please— I plead to you, just sing for me Just think of me as a Never ending fantasy, At the very least When you bury me —and you buried me alive, Just for the look of things What makes us even Slitting wrists Or splitting things unevenly (Either thing benefits me, And my penis, I think.) Make me famous— She said Hate me or debate me, I have everything I need And I have everything you have, But I can leave, All with my dreams intact I do believe You think I'm evil Either way, unnecessary Why would I sit down and write a story— When you just did it for me? Why would I pledge allegiance to old glory She's ignoring me; Why would I change my name to satisfy your needs When mine sit idly by waiting Why would I dream of you, When you dream of me I have all I need, You have all of me in the other room While you watch cartoons with your lady I hate anime and now I hate you too, But I'm so stupid, Nothing soothes my moods, Except playing your tunes, Or music Whoop De Fucking do Would you Marry Me? He said (He never did, he just let her—) She said, I do And now they're doomed I built a tomb for two The bride and groom In music Two by two And used by Tuesday Music I presume To the beautiful Music I presume For the usual Music I presume For those who —- SHIA LABEOUF JUST DO IT. That is not how the end of the song goes. No, but this is how the end of the episode goes. Really!? How? [CC stares lifelessly forward out of the front window of the double decker bus; a man dressed in all blue catches her attention—another telepathic shapeshifter.] You brought…an umbrella? I told you there was a shit storm coming. Oh, nooh. Where's yours? I— don't care? That's right you don't. I don't. That's good you don't. I really don't. You don't give a Fuck, or a shit. I—don't give a fuck or a sh—wait— DILLON FRANCIS? I'm good at what I do. What do you DO? THIS. “A Silent Partner” Oh. I like that. That has all kinds of insinuations. Doesn't it? Hermph. You're a creep. A Supacreep. PAUSE ITS MISTER MAGOOoOOOOOOOooO0oO. No, it's the IRS. Fuck. HOLY SHIT SUNNI. WHAT. HOW DO YOU OWE 100,000 IN BACK TAXES?! Student loan debt. WHAT. THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE. Yes it does. HOW. Calm down Marci —MY ÑAME IS— [Sunnī Blū subdues her instantly with one if Supacree's mysterious rave weapons] Sit down, please. …what is that? You like it? Yeah. [she gives her another dose of strange vapor, she relaxes even further.] See. Yeah. Now that you're happy— —am i “happy” ? [she gives her another relaxing dose] —are you Happy? Yeah. Ok. So. I never filed my taxes because I had so muc

“The Legend of Supacree” L E G E N D S “Tales of A Superstar DJ” My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is myhel Now i do't wanna live no more My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell Now I don't wanna love no more i don't wanna live no more I don't wanna love no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna love no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna– Boy gets the girl– but in the end, i'm not either, I Still have to wonder why The nanny How I met yurr' Mother I'm neve gonna get all that God magic I need if I don't stop working. This isn't “work” Oh, yes it is. Deadmau5, a canadian DJ also known as Joel Zimmerman, hosts an anti-superbowl Star Wars Party, which turns unexpect— Look at me, feeling me, feeling you Now look at you, feeling you feeling me Feeling you feeling me Feeling me feeling you Feeling me feeling you Feeling you feeling Feeling you feeling –sorry. —Unexpectedly into the “superbowl party of the century”, when hundreds (eventually thousands) of “invitees” I've never been a man before, (that I know of) But ive got my hand over your heart , And it sure seems hard It sure seems hard -AHEM. Sorry. Receive an invitation via [SUPER JEW RABBI] AHEM What?! –Email, which was actually AHEM. WHAT! Oh My GoD! [Looks at clock] Oh. sorry Rabbi. When did you get to be such a Jew FLASHBACK Age: 12 Mom. I want a dreidel. …What's a dreidel? –And A Menorah! CUT BACK TO But honestly more recently, it was– [Stops traffic in Midtown Manhattan Rushour to pick up a penny.] [Jewish woman] Woooow. [JEWLUMINATTI] You see! I told you! Oh my God, why are the Jews in this series so stereotypically jewish? Because Jews are stereotypically Jewish. FLASHBACK: But what am I really saving here. Gevault! CUT BACK TO: YOU'RE A PEANUT BUTTER JELLy SaNDWHICH WITH NO PEANUT BUTTER AND NO JELLY. So just bread? –yes. But–[Anime sword swish] I don't eat bread. [Anymore] [FIGHT] Dang what DJ battle is THIS. The One You've Been Waiting For Mad men avatar the last air bender Grounded for life So how long's this whole thing supposed to take. –as long as it takes. What kind of answer is that. It's an answer. Don't be so sure of yourself. I am sure of myself; Just because it's not the answer you wanted doesnt make it any less of an answer. Now, sit down Watch out, and watch this: Too many apps on my phone I'm better off alone I'd better kill myself Nobody will ever love me Nobody will ever love me Watch out, watch this: My iPhone is trying to kill me, For real? See; It's natural selection I'm trying to unselect me Caviar, a delicacy How delishish The devil in me says to keep digging my grave I was once at a rave, And he gave me a halo A lion, I'm brave— I once said Spin it, Spin back the record again If it's all in my head Then I'm better off dead I'm better off dead Watch this! @Dillon Francis I'm stuck in a trance— Hanzel was lighting the candle And summoned me, Out of a dead sleep, With no pants on— It was a tech house set But I'm on acid Spinning an axis And stuck in a state of trance —i thought it was armin van buren at one point I have to give up at some point, writing, right? Now this is just point in history Point me away from the misery Mystery flavor is like Fruit punch, Or raspberry— Something like that, If you ask me; But white as the rabbit I pulled out the hat In the back seat I'm hatching a plan to go mad, But I need the recepits from Pasqualle for my taxes What the Fuck does that mean? I don't know; I'll read this In a year, When I unbury it Maybe I married my best friend, Deserved to get hit So I'm just going back to him Scratch that, he's mad at me I have no family Reckless abandonment God I'm attracted to everything Except for that See? She's racist. No, it's my ovaries! The lighter you are, the less the adversity I see you eyes turned to grey; Don't abandon me Yes, I wear contacts I'm faking attractive I laughed at him, had to He actually had magic @Dillon Francis How many hats to you have? Thanks to Hanzel, I'm back on this planet Why light a candle, when you know I haven't an answer; What did you ask? No, i haven't had breakfast yet — Thanks for reminding me I'm in a casket Goddamnit @Dillon Francis What are you? I'm an adversary GOOGLE: adversary ..??? ad·ver·sar·y /ˈadvərˌserē/ noun one's opponent in a contest, conflict, or dispute. Hmm. Oh. Opponent to what?! Could be anything, really. I don't like him… 2 for $ MIX AND MATCH INCLUDES BIG KING REALLY. Which one's the Big King? The little one, I think. He's not little In fact: LOOK AT EM. Dawh. Look at Skrillex. Dawg. Look at Skrillex. He bossed up. He was already boss. Well. He Sauced up, then. What kind of sauce is that?! I don't know, but looks like Dillon Francis is eating it. DILLON FRANCIS IS EATING IT pause. How am I still writing this show. She doesn't eat? She hasn't eaten. She doesn't eat. I haven't ate yet! BET. BET. OK—Bet. Nice. Sick. What are we betting. … … … WAIT. ,,, josh pan? … … Did you unpause? Unpause what? Uh. The game. This is the game. No, the game. This is the game! What are you talking about?!! Now I'm famous> This is The Game. sup. This is Sunni Blū Sup. It is?! Yea it is. Wait, it is?! I thought you were the kidd?? I am the kidd. Then, why is The Game meeting Sunnï Blu? For a collab. Duh. Wait. Pause. QUIT PRESSING PAUSE. Wait. Go back. I didn't get that last part. WE WATCHED IT A HUNDRED TIMES ALREADY. Screw you. We're watching it again. Ugh! I hate this! Dude. I hate watching this with you. It takes 3 hours to watch an episode! You guys are talking over all the good parts! It's all the good parts! This shit's exciting. I'm defaulting. What? This isn't—this isn't fair. I'm not doing this. What?! It isn't safe anymore. It was never “safe” SAFE! Oh nice. Baseball. It is baseball. Who's playing? All the DJs. What. For what?! It's the DJ GAMES. THE DJ GAMESsssssssss ITS THE DJ GAMES! OH FUCK YEAH. I fuck this. I quit. what. You can't quit. I can quit. I just did. You can't quit the DJ games. I just did. But you can't. I just did. Hey. Hey, what's up. I'm gonna be late. What's going on? My bus driver's drunk. Are you sure? CITY BUS DRIFTING IN SLOW MOTION /Hans Zimmer Music Yes. Welhp. What. That's it. I'm just gonna have to kill myself. Why, what happened? I'm pretty sure that's the only way to beat this level. What, really? Nah. I'm pretty sure Let me see. *SUPACREE jumps into oncoming traffic* YOU DIED. Aww. I died. WHAT THE FUCK. Well, you said. GAME OVER [fade to black] I HAD NO LIVES LEFT. WELL, YOU SAID! THATS'S NOT THE WAY TO— [fade to white] NEW LEVEL UNLOCKED: GOD MODE OOOHHHHHHHH. WHAT?! LVL i - DREAMSTATE What is this. SUPACREE. I— what? Hello? Follow me. Who is this? I know you. Oh. The above and beyond part. That's funny. I was just— So wait. If the end of this episode, is the end of that movie, then… I guess whatever's happening about now is whatever happened before that part. What part? I, having run off from I, runs into a forest alongside The Endless River, which opens out into a beautiful meadow, the micolored cosmic sky twinkling sweetly above, strange auroras dancing in the skies; a field of glowing and stardusted singing wishflowers at her feet, she frustratingly falls into them, soft grass puffing with the twinkling sounds of fairy dust and sprites (a homage to the lion king) the wishflowers softly sing her to sleep with the subtle and sweet frequencies of Skrillex. (A homage to the wizard of Oz) From Above & Beyond, a flock of Cosmic Creatures in flight spot a golden glimmer from afar; they descend dimensions-- to get a closer look; Closing in on the universe within the confines of a massive structure, which propels itself seamlessly through galaxies faster than the speed of light and sound, though she appears as a large golden space station, slowly drifting through the atmosphere. Manned by yet unseen beings, the golden ship descends upon Skrillex, almost silentl— a swishing whir as the ship, more similar to a futuristic building, an ovaline rounded structure seemingly structured in brass, gold, and silver as it docks to the soft soil of planetary terrain. The landing is soft enough not to have awaken Ū, still sleeping; but an immense light pours from the openings of the ship, waking her--and blinding Sonny as he finally approaches from behind, having been searching for her. She is drawn into the light; he shields his eyes as the beings emerge from their massive station. Monologue/Montage I fell in love with you...it was an accident. I fell in love with you, because I had to; I hadn't thought about it before, but i've been thinking about it ever since. Had I succeeded in my attempted suicide, we wouldn't have come face-to-face… Had I succeeded in my attempted suicide, I'd have no reason to write something so pathetic as this, pititul letter, which you will probably never read. Probably, anyway. I've spent a majority of my lifetime very deeply troubled, yearning for all the attention one could ever crave--until suddenly, I no longer craved any at all. Solitude, rather than isolation, became sacred, and safe to me; It was in the solace and quiet of my very own world, that you entered my kingdom...and it became ‘ours'. Silence. Nature. Astrology. My greatest found pleasures, in a cavalcade of endless self-doubt, self-loathing...a tiresome collection of all the hatred I've harbored for myself in my twenty-something years. I fell in love with you...I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to do anything, except be. Another festival, another escapade...another chance to dance, in the sunlight--the moonlight, under stars… And under the stars, is where I was forced to find you. Now, it seems, can't escape your presence--or lack-thereof. Unrequited? Perhaps. But, not unprovoked. I love you because it is in me to do so. I will always love you, always. There is a world where you're in love with me, as I am you; All I can do now, is hope that this is that same very world, and that as days go by, we draw closer to one-another, rather than further apart. In truth, friendship, in the very least, would serve as a worthy reward...for all the worry, all the wonder, and all the willing I've done for you; in honesty...I'm ashamed in my inability to let go--yet also proud, that I am able to love this much, this hard. To see you with someone else, now, would be a gentle relief; to know that you are kept in love, with graciousness...a subtle gift, an answer to a prayer I asked. Loneliness, I wouldn't wish upon you for anything--love is, in fact, my whole wish for you--be it mine, or not. While I can wish that it will be mine, I've also wished for you, the very best--I would want not for my flaws to burden you. Flaws are what create our perfection; God is, as I am. Losing you, the flame of fear that set my heart and soul to fire; Cancerous, weakened, plagued--premonitions impolitely penetrated my fragile, eggshell mind… the death of a friend, fast-forwarded and reflected into my mind's-eye; How could I forget a face like yours--eyes like those? How could I not know you, as I have? Tears bearing your name roll over my nose, like the rain on a rose...the burden of belonging to one, rather than some; To all, rather than none. So now, I keep my favorite photo of you in my phone...a comfort, to the weary and wounded heart I carry. I can pretend that your sweet voice accompanies mine, as I sing to soothe myself, as I sway in solitude; A gentle kiss, I imagine to give, if ever the chance. I love you, without reason to--and with every reason to, I love you. Find me, again As the ship departs, charging to go into warp speed, Sonny is left alone on his own planet; as a slight panic falls over him, A key-like object falls from the ship as it dissappars at warp speed into a portal. As his hands clap together, catching the object, the sound rings outward--this clapping pages The Skrillex, which lands promptly beside him, exclaiming-- "I AM SKRILLEX"; he has never seen this ship before, however proceeds onto the ship as though familiar with extra terrestrial phenomena all together. We only see him enter the ship; we do not follow him inside, but instead cut to Ū on the Interdimensional SpaceTime Station. Ah wait. So Skrillex is a planet? Skrillex is a lot of things SKRILLEX is a planet . That explains it. No it doesn't. I mean, it might. No it doesn't! I mean, it kindof does, if you think about it. BleepBleepBloop bleeepbleepbloopBloop bleepBleepBleeppBoopBoop bloopbloopBloopBloop. bleepBleep. bloop. Bleep? … This is a disaster! Don't look at ME. I'm not looking at anything! I can't stand it. __ This is the best thing on TV. Damn right it is. What channel is it, anyway? On Channel 43. What! I thought it was on Insomniac TV. They keep fucking with me. The Lord giveth, and taketh away— I thought you were Jewish. I want a sandwich. You're so useless. __ Who's this bitch? I won her in a bet. No you didn't. Royal Flush, bitch. What'd you get? It's a secret. __ My Lord. (Petrutheio Humphs) You look awful. I've been—working. Working on what, your majesty. Just—working, is all. Very well, then. Theodore— My leige? MEANWHILE, IN SEASON 4 [ When the 4th Wall Actually Broke] GO! I found this gym because of Dillon Francis— I found Dillon Francis because of my evil ex husband; I think the lesson here, or at least one of hundreds— Is to trust no one, And love unconditionally, No matter what. — 02-12-2022 Well, there's a conundrum. KEY/BPM: Slip, deadmau5 Conundrum. LEGENDS: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE Fuck. What was it? It was a p— Well it was a *PR Lol. *PT cruiser Yeah, but it was— It was purple. It was a purple PT. Cruiser It was—but what else was it? Ugh. I forgot. Yeah, I bet. GOOGLE SEARCH shades of purple. Ooooh. PERIWINKLE. You fucking dumb ass. I mean, Jesus. How long has it been? At least a lifetime. No, past that. It was a perfect periwinkle PT cruiser. So, start there. ‘Start there' what? Everything since then, till now— For what? Enter The Multiverse. That show is still on?! YES. What day is it? Fuxk. What time is it? What—the fuck. What?! CUPCAKES AND A MUFFIN?! I don't care how fat I am. You're not fat. QUASIMOTO Can I just say, your ass is like —woah. CC/SUPACREE Oh, thank you. QUASIMOTO I mean like—DAAAAAAMN. CC/ SUPACREE OK. QUASIMOTO i mean like—what the FAAACK. CC/SUPACREE Yeah. thanks, bro. [an awkward silence] QUASIMOTO …Good job, though. [light fist bump] EARLIER: MORE CUPCAKES. NAH. OHH, OREOS?! Oreos are the G.O.A.T. I WANTED CUPCAKES. SHUT THE FUCK UP— Before that, at the gym: —do the butt machine again. Again?! Get the glutes. But I'm tired— GET THE GLUUUUUUUUTES. SONNY/SKRILLEX Where am I? Ū Hell. ANGEL 1 In bed. ANGEL 2 In mexico. CUT TO: SUPACREE finally gets to Heaven, looking for SKRILLEX. SUPACREE So, where is he? JESUS Somewhere else. ANGEL 1 At home. ANGEL 2 In mexico. JESUS Who knows? CHAK CHEL Someone must... DILLON FRANCIS I'm someone. JESUS But I don't. ME I don't know anything. MYSELF I don't need to. I I just wanna go home. SUPACREE Can I come home now? JESUSYou always could. SUPACREE But really, I mean-- CHAK CHEL Really's all it really takes. ANGEL 1 You have to know, ANGEL 2 You have to mean it; Don't look both ways before you cross, if you honestly want off the cross Christ, for your sake Honestly It's probably wise to admit that you've tried For the third time; Mankind's just not worth it. Mankind, maybe; But humanity's my baby And this earth is definitely worth something I love it-- Her. And the rest of the planets, but Look how she spins, It's magnificent, Look at the way the ocean's Make this mist; And the wind-- If i sing loudly enough I might Vibrate the trees, How they love dancing and laughing for me; And I just can't help but to laugh at her inhabitants; They dance oh-so rhythmically They're very creative-- and grateful, they always give thanks to me It's no need, but the Earth, she keeps feeding them She makes these beautiful things, So sweet; Mangoes, I think. Greed; The Parable of the Mango Tree Mango VIP. In the pre-existence, a young God prepares for her journey through the Land of The Living; Her older brothers taunt and tease, as she shuffles through notes and index cards, studying her predetermined fate on Earth. I That's easy. The cover art's just got a Mango On it, White Backdrop; It looks super juicy; with a green leaf, I think. E Who made it? I Uhhhhh. ^> Uhhhhh... O You forgot! I No! I know, I know. It was.... A Who? U She forgot again. I I did NOT. E Did too. Who made it? I It was...it was...Herobust! Y Herobust? I Wasn't it? E Wrong! A Loser. I I am not a Loser. It was…Was it Ganja White Night? E I don't know, was it? A Was it? I I don't know! Just tell me. E I can't. I Yes you can! E I can't. Your rules-- I Exactly, it's my rules! Just gimmie the answer! E I think you're going to have to GOOGLE it. I Ugh, no way. E So is Liquid Stranger your final answer? Y Liquid Stranger?! I I never said Liquid Stranger. A Idiot. O Now she's never gonna get it. U What did you say before? I It was...oh... A See dude. I Shut up, I had it-FUCK. A Damn dude, you broke her. I I'm not broken, I just forgot - E Liquid Stranger, going once-- I I never said Liquid Stranger! I know it wasn't Liquid Stranger; Why would it ever be Liquid Stranger? CUT TO: A pair of mysterious dudes Suits in Sunglasses are collecting famous DJs. SUIT Martin Stääf? LIQUID STRANGER ...Yes... SUIT. Come with me. ___ CUT TO: Two fans are watching interdimensional cable. SUPACREE It's a practical-- FAN 1 WHAT HAPPENED? FAN 2 IT JUST CUT-- __ Aliens in an Ascended dimension of hyper-intelligence are studying our three-dimensional existence from an unknown cosmic world. BRAMF Remember that planet I showed you--the-- ARLA Yeah, with the Axis? BRAMF Yeah. ARLA Yeah? BRAMF Something happened to it, ARLA Like what? BRAMF It's flat now. ARLA WHAT? BOTH Woah. >^ Sometimes, even i'm surprised by the things I've written. ME I didn't see that one coming! MYSELF Neither did I: I was gonaa say it was off it's axis. I Flat's funnier. ME Yeah, and probably not as tragic. MYSELF I mean...that would be pretty tragic. I Probably easier to manage. ME Perhaps…But I mean, if you have a whole planet, and then it just collapses-- MYSELF It's just flattened; nobody said it collapses. MEANWHILE The planet collapses. __________ CUT TO: SUPACREE is now a full-blown superpowered vigilante; She seeks revenge for GETTER sending her through the interdimensions at AUDIOTISTIC. SUPACREE Getter, we meet again. GETTER I've never met you before; what are you doing in my dressing room? SUPACREE Why does a DJ have a dressing room? GETTER I don't know; get out. [She swiftly leaves; as she exits, THE SUITS approach the dressing room door.] SUIT 1 Tanner Petulla? GETTER Yeah? SUIT 2 Come with us. GETTER Fuck that! [He doesn't have a choice.] Oh shit, the next scene is already written, I remember this. Oh, okay! I get it! Yeah. She's still at-- She's still on the-- ____ JUST KILL YOURSELF ALREADY. For what? You're suck in this until it's done. What's done? It'll never be over, it's just infinite. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE ^ UNTITLED DOCUMENT >< >< >< ANGEL 1 YOU'RE GONNA LISTEN TO SKRILLEX ON YOUTUBE? ANGEL 2 DON'T. JESUS I mean... ANGEL 1 DON'T you dare. SUPACREE I might as well, by the time I finish downloading it I probably won't even be able to listen to it. ANGEL 2 You shouldn't. SUPACREE I shouldn't, but I know i have to. ANGEL 1 In PUBLIC? JESUS Could go Incognito... ANGEL 2 INCOGNITO; The “oh please don't look at this:” easy algorithm engine for “LOOK AT ME, I'M HIDING SOMETHING.” MEANWHILE...IN DEEP MEDITATION…(IE OMNIPOTENCE) SUPACREE So... if a song is... nothing but question and answer, what's a song which references another in an attempt to address the question which was asked? ME A conversation between one song and another? MYSELF I guess, yes; I Well, that would be a symphony, I would suppose. SUPACREE It would, wouldn't it. ME That is, if the songs were in sync. MYSELF They could be made to be. I Every song is made to be in sync; ME I mean, two songs, made to be in sync with each other. _______ SUPACREE is on the floor at a rave. BASSGOD WAKE UP. SUPACREE This isn't funny anymore. ANGEL It was never funny. You have to get up. SUPACREE I'm up. BASSGOD You're NOT UP. ANGEL Come on, you have to do this. SUPACREE I'm doin it. GOD NO. ANGEL It's no use. She's so, so under there. It would take all of us to try to pull her out--that is without... [The darkening sky crumbles, as the thunderous storm rages, the battle between worlds expands throughout the outer galaxies.] ____ You're not skinny enough You're not pretty enough You're too dark, And you don't work quickly enough Much younger girls are putting in such Efforts, just to be, the perfect little beauty queen You wish you were, But couldn't be and kids these days are Everything that means anything Sometimes I Don't Wanna Be Happy… It was bad, But better than I'll ever be A basic remix, For the basic bitch that sings it And, I'm basically a Dillon Francis fiend, Have you seen this? Now it's getting serious, I seriously doubt there's anything I can do about it It's in God's hands and, I live in Satan's house How did he do this? How did this happen? The sad result of the damage, Cause i'm pretty sure The very last time my ex ever hit me Something got stuck on repeat; It's just eating me up. ___ [Untitled Document] What did we call that place, between “The Blackout” and waking up. Hazy. I thought it was something more clever. Maybe, but i'll never find it if i'm just scrolling through these documents. Write ”Untitled Document” That's all I've got, I guess. _____ [A DJ] Can be played by literally any DJ. A wild, wild party has happened. A DJ wakes up, previously having been sprawled out across the floor. A DJ Whose house is this…? Ugh. [Looks in mirror.] A DJ ughhh. [S/he gets up and stumbles groggily, stepping over bodies hunched and perched, slung about sleeping. Peacefully. The sun is bright, a curse to the eyes of the clearly hungover, and likely still quite inebriated DJ. ] CONCURRENTLY: >>> SUPACREE awakens from a ‘stupor' herself, displeased. She looks in the mirror, at first disgruntled, then “picks up her face” adjusts her perception, and decides, SUPACREE (“I'm good.”) Yep. [And she keeps it steppin, still asking aloud, as she ponders to herself;] SUPACREE Whose house is this? [And makes her way into the kitchen, where she (probably in a montage) cleans around the many bodies of hot people and rave babies still smudged and dripping in everything glittery; she appears to have ‘frozen time', as she vacuums faces and erases permanent marker penises drawn onto the foreheads and other exposed body parts of those who have fallen asleep with no shoes on. She cooks breakfast and straightens the entirety of what is now more recognizable as someone's home, though the owner still remains unknown. She sips coffee and reads the newspaper, as she steps behind the freshly detailed decks; and prepares a set through the headphones shes hung happily around her neck.] PAUSE ME See! THIS IS RIDICULOUS. MYSELF It is. Ridiculous. You can't vacuum someone's face! I Not that part-- MYSELF --Especially white people! ME You never said they were all white people. I I mean, predominantly; it said hot people and rave babies. MYSELF That's racist! ME It isn't. This whole scene would be entirely different, if it had nothing but black people in it. ALTERNATELY: She wakes up in the same house, but it's clean. SUPACREE ...Whose house is this? BEYONCE It's my house. SUPACREE It's... nice. BEYONCE Yes it is. ______ DILLON FRANCIS has the master plan. SUPACREE Ugh, he knows everything. GOD Not everything, dear, believe me. SUPACREE Everything that matters. GOD There's no such thing as everything that doesn't matter. SUPACREE ...What?! __ Don't look in there! You won't find anything in there. I hate these things. ____ It doesn't work if you don't practice. How do I practice without decks? You don't. How do I Dj without practicing? You don't. So DJing is just for rich people? I mean, primarily, or just...anyone with money, if you have it. Fuck this, I quit. You can't quit. If you quit we forfeit the game. No... You idiot. What game? I thought she knew about the game. What. game. Well, it's not just a game, it's a language. WHAT GAME. She's about to be so angry, dude, just--- Just run. ___ 8 Dimensional--wait, what? Oh, she finally made it. I never thought she'd get to this part. Well, she stopped eating meat and cooks asian food-- ---yeah, but that's like 6 different places-- She's not listening to Skrillex. --She's not skipping it-- --yeah, but she isn't listening to it actively.-- Josh Pan. Yeah. I am. Why. I thought we were past “why” We were, we were WAY past “why” It wasn't really a question, guys, don't worry about it. “Don't worry about it” Tsh. Tsh. ___ It's just an expression. “expression” yes. I get it-- ___ He named it “Kliptown Empyrean” What. What's “Empyrean”? I'd love to know, but I don't. Don't google it. I won't, I just. __ GO KARTS. With A K. __ Where's Kliptown? South of Capetown? South? South Afri-- Stop. HE”S AFRICAN? Stop. What's more offensive; Being called an African, or an Alien? ___ One off...hmmm… Always one off. ___ Get out of my house! This is your house? Thank God, I was starting to worry the owner like wandered off and got lost; or, you know (makes slitting throat) I... no, this is my--wait. Who are you? Me? I'm S U P A C R E E “S U P A C R E E”? [having been yet unrecognized, shes is used to having to spell it] Yeah; ___ Key of Cringe: I'm in a box with all my thoughts, And I am not on top of the world Or taking shots, I'm just rocking back and forth Like broken record, Repeating sequences, a robot A beat box of kittens Nobody wants I'm lost (if rock and roll will take me I wonder how much it costs) ____ What did this kid do? Nobody knows _Oh, shit, it's the Jews again. I love the Jews. We know. I keep telling you, you're jewish I'm not jewish my mom's… That's not your mom. Of course that's my mom. It's not, I already told you what planet you're on? __ Now, tell us why we wear our masks! Oh, there are lots of reasons for that. Tell us about the Sauce! All the sauce? Yeah!!! That would be a long story. __ Oh, the Google kids are cute, too. I especially love that little chunky one. He is cute, he's probably my favorite, actually ____ PIERCE? Who the fuck is PIERCE? Google it. I like this, this is- It's different, isn't it? Yeah, and then it __ Sunni—are you Jewish? I...identify as “Jewish” You can't just identify as Jewish. Well, I do. No, you can't just “identify” as Jewish; your mother has to be Jewish. Okay; my mother is Jewish. Sunni—you don't talk much about your family; who's your mother? Who's your mother?! Oh! Okay, we're done. See you next time, bye! What are you doing? What? “Identify as Jewish”?! WHAT?! I do! No I don't! You don't know me! Maybe not! But I know TMZ. I'm not on TMZ Sunni Blu is on TMZ What did I do?! YOu know what you did. ∆ Well, alright then. ∆ Must be something. ∆ I got it. . Don't look at me;; I'm a catastrophe, I'm just waking up now Don't look at me, I got so high i think I might not come down It's not a bad thing But I'm a bad guy, i promise It's not a bad thing, Don't look in my eyes; Especially if I like you Especially if you have other plans tonight, Or this morning That's right Time flies when you're (dynomite) Time flies when your mind right I didn't mean to stay here It's been nearly half a year, you know It's nearly half a year It's nearly half a y AHEM ALRIGHT. JESUS CHRIST. No, not that! [sighs heavily, frustrated] Enjoy Your Day. FARRO nobly sacrifices his own life during The Lovers Quarrel, as PETRUTHEIO attempts a final and fatall blow unwittingly against ‘CESMET' A saturn of satirical Return of reverb Expanding explosions of Outward and unearthly Worlds within words Or words within Worlds on the Curve of the Unwritten overtures of -Mother wow . I guess. Do you want a cup of coffee? I want you to shut the fuck up. What if Jimmy Fallon had a diary as a kid. And I found it when i shapeshifted into his body. Yeah, what if. What if this is it? [SUPER HUGE GASP] Oh, AHEM- No, i Gotta write this. AHH– Oh, the things i would do to you Oh, woah, The things you would do to me Oh, no, no, woah The things i would do AHHH– Don't be mad I'm a writer I'm like this Hi kids wanna see how sharp my knife is yikes Sigh, bitch, ive been sitting in silece With the lights off cause i like it Ilike it a lot, but uhm Ahem, The rabbi's mad cause that i'd write this And it's shabbat This is why i don't listen to deadmau5 anymore. What are you talking about *listenining to* GODDAMIT. what The invisible man, in Manhattan The sunglasses matches her madness The cloud cover looks just like Texas The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… 03. JIMMY FALLON All ya'll are all worth bout a dollar; I am a cyclone, watch me holler I lived my whole life underwater I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon All ya'll are only bout a dollar I work so hard, I guess for nothin I am not worried bout a dollar I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon I guess I'll do it on my own I had to do it all alone I made some soup, all out of stones I am the only one I know I am not worried bout the sauce I am so famous, got a stalker I am so famous Can't go no where I got a dollar, Jimmy Fallon I'm at the office, Not my home No collab I work alone Opened a business, got a loan I got a hundred of them passwords I went frontwards —1I went backwards Went to Manhattan, took a walk Went to the rock and dropped a rock Now put your money where your mouth is I got a thousand Jimmy Fallons (What's that) (I'm the host) What's that, what's that I work alone What's that what's that I dropped a rock into the rock What's that what's that I'm the host, I'm Jimmy {enter the multiverse/ as seen on tv} Story/ music video Moderately famous household television Jimmy Fallon suddenly begins appearing everywhere—that is—on every possible TV screen imaginable— The Protagonist, in confusion, can't seem to escape, and also amusingly begins finding Pennies in very strange and seemingly random places—these Pennies then begin opening up portals, breaking the fourth wall and opening worlds to other dimensions— Have you seen this? Uhh, hmwhat is it? Mits m “Two dumb Jews, starring Seth Rogen, and some other dude— Who's the other dude— some Jew,but it's got Adam Sandler in it. Oh, so three dumb Jews. So, no, then? I'd watch the shit out of that, though, tvh. Why's the synopsis? Uhh. Two Jewish musicians struggling to make it in new York's congested underground music scene hit it off in comedy by complete accident, after being booked as a duo for a comedy club they mistook for a bar. Heh. Okay, who does Adam Sandler play? “The Bookkeeper” What. Who the fuck is “the book keeper?” We'll see, I guess. “Two Broke hoes@ It's like two broke girls, but actually funny. What, be nice . Okay. Two Broke Ghosts That's better— — And marketable. Are you pale, or just— No, I'm dead. I'm dead. X.X Be NICE. Now our musical guests, SWAGGARBOMB. What in the fuck kind of music is that It's called “Dorkstep” [the doorbell rings] Great, who the fuck is I got a train car of your body count I got way far out to far rock away, way out Stop to talk to me, or don't, Kill your culture You need some? I got u— Probiotics, yo The truth hurts Your shit stinks Must be a mirror over herer Cause that's me I m your hero. Esha I think McGuiennes? Or McGrefor, after Ewab, maybe New York wants me to kill myself Maybe eventually New York if full of the devil The devil is money And everyone wants it The root of all evil, Is getting even The root of all evil Is people Beside myself, But besides that The ones hurting me, are soon to be where I am That's just karma The gangstalkers are soon to be stalked Coughed, and shot at The neighbors are soon to be eaten by their own demons When I don't clean them The root of all evil is evil, And that's all I see here White power wants me to kill my self The Caucasians get crazy when the race war is waging The elections are coming up And they see us coming up on conciousness They don't want us Just being honest They're hateful, They washed all the love out Thanks Karen But she don't care White firms just wanna have fun And they get to Meanwhile, me and I Eat shit( bro, And die Why's it nice to be white Even when you're wrong, you're right All you gotta do is lie, Open up your big blue eyes real wide and Decide what you want, Put us under your foot, And make us pay for it Thanks Karen Caucasians are terrorists I think it's McGuennes or however you spell it, cause half the names are like plays on Okay, I lie: You made a world where I have to Okay, I steal You took everything that I'm after already Or your ancestors did Call the luxury apartment reparations But ain't got no privacy, and hells angels and the kkk Ride motorcycles every time I get my eye on the prize So what's the price for being indegenous, black, and a genius White supremacy finds sneakier ways to kill you ESHA MCGUENNES (I thought figure out how to spell that. My left side's off I guess I got Stuck in the love of the art I was writing that part When the life of my love Fell over me A lover huh I'm so confused. I'm sorry bro, But if you're morbidly obese, But your feet are like a size 6– You are not BIG BONED. My doctor said I have a small frame, my feet are size 9, I went from a 10 to an 8.5 after losing 200 hundred pounds, I'm like “goddamn! Even my feet were fat! Fuck” But if you're fat like I was and your feet are size 6, your feet might be like a si3 4! You're a fat fucking pixie that fucked around and can't do little pixie shit now, cause you like pixie sticks Too much I'm just the rat in the dumpster I made this whole world up I swallowed the doctor I hearted the surgeon I locked up the dog catcher; I cauldron'd the Mormons I called it a sermon, but He called them all — Wait, who is Herman?! I don't know! Some black guy on that show I'm writing! what. I don't know. You're writing a show?! I'm on it! Ugh, I don't know. No fair, You really know how to make me cry When you give me those ocean eyes Those ocean eyes Good looking people In good looking places Doing good things; I just want to be Good today Good looking people Good looking people Bye, bye little bird, Think of the dreams we made Think of the drummer boy, Your lover boy, Then, the other boy There we go again, With the drums we played And the love we made It just won't make it Oh I Just Can't take it Can I come back yet? SHUT UP, GAYBRAHAM LINCOLN. I'm having breakfast at 10 am Thinking damn this depression is just setting in There's a chest on my elephant Chester drawer with hand carved elements Elephant ok my chest, Clisets with hangers and button ups I haven't won't yet What FOR WHAT FOR. MY EYES. For the sake of the art, I heart ya. For perhaps if I love, That's how I lost ya. So I keep all my love close, The brothers have found the fountain How many dollars do tootsie pops cost For one Jimmy Fallon? return to the blacklist. Great. Now I'm Jimmy Fallon. Well what's fucked up! What happened! FUCK! I hate being Jimmy Fallon! Whose dick swings to the right like that. Ow. FUCK. Fuck this guy. GODDAMMIT. -_- Let me in. Or I could just leave you out. No, don't do that. WHY. Ahh. Shhhhhh!!! What if someone sees me. Hmm, let's see. [rings neighbors dooorvelk, shuts door] No! The neighbor opens the door; now gifted with the ability to see demons, after merging with Fast forward Oh no, when did that thing come into play (When this happened) Liz lemon lives on the ground floor It don't matter cause she ain't never home l She's at the rock That's all the way up Good talk, Donaguey, Good, Good Talk Good people Good show Good good times It's good to be long gone from home Go to work at the plaza That ones Conan. Oh, Why?! Why not, though. OH, you mean— Katt. What up Snoop . Ahh, Look what the pimp limped in. You think you're clever. You think you're at least 5 foot—but you're 4 foot 9 I'm STILL WINNING CHARLIE SHEEN relapses on the dance floor Oh shit. Relapses to which habit? All of them! 10-4 CALL RUSSEL BRAND. Csnt. Why not. He's blacked out. What? Another relapse?! No, he just— passed out KABLAM. “The Cockney Thug” He's just like that now. God What is it. Can I have ham in my spam samwhiches. —you want ham in your spam sandwhich. Yes. Roasted cantaloupe with Put your notebook On my throat-Scrotum I like your poems So I wrote you this one Oh. That's. Welcome—to the' creepy shit fans have done for u's backlogs. “Backlogs” Well, I have millions of fans, It would take me years to look at all this. [the festival project] Woah. Woah. Ok. Yo. Have you seen this. What is it. I don't know. Hm. Look. Woah: Yeah, it's— Wow Ok. It just goes on like this— For how long— For like GOH GOH l GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO CUT TO: Latest — 1:04 WHAT? MEANWHILE ….IS THAT A JIMMY FALLON? LOOKS LIKE ONE. SHOOT THAT MOTHERFUCKER. ok , boss. I told you, He would play The Devil's Advocate, If need be [JIMMY FALLON is shot mercilessly in the shoulder in broad daylight.] YO. THEY SHOT ME. He'll be okay. He's Jimmy Fallon. [LIKE 90,000 Ambulances and a SWAT team roll up.] See. DEADMAU5 charges himself in a high speed chamber—a tech-driven coffin via a USB port in his neck. Lol. Ok. (PDA) Public Displays of Affliction I've never even see. A. Aston Martin Sometimes it's worth it, Getting lost in Manhattan I just saw the sign I wouldn't dare entering, anyhow Not in this outfit Not in this predicament (I just left the Whole Foods market) I got lost and god was happy Motor cars for music Force a figure ibto music Forgive Annie, Run a mile what's a california smile In New York What a garden Oh, what a garden Double back. For a second glance Oh, don't we all want second chances Now I've been an Aston Martin Motorists dot muses now u want her What a party I just saw the sign Now I've been an Aston Martin All by design Companion passing through KAWS I just bought a Ferrari I said, Where the roof is?! Where the roof is?! Blū electrico Roof finished in Nero Just a hit of magic A menacing, incredibly ambedextrous submissive One time I played God, I was hanging as the sun in Toronto In my third eye was a camera lense; My baby daddy, Lover and my best friend My husband My lover and My best friend My brother And my father Were my best friends Once upon a time I never had friends Now I remember sitting in the backseat, Has been I remember when I never had ribs I remember when I never had meat Nice to meet you I already had a coffee I remember sitting in the front seat Once upon a time I was anno one Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Once a bunch of Pennies, lady Gaga I'm a baby, haha Once upon a time, I was a no one A nobody Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon I remember penny was a virgin I remember when you were the third one, l Once upon a time I was the first one Once upon a time, I thirst my quench with Coffee Body guard! I remember going on a long run I remember once there was a Knock on my door Now I quench my thirst with smart water With a hard on Never was a smart one Just an artist I was no one Once upon a dollar Jimmy Fallon Once upon a nothing, there was no one Now I take my coffee on a long ride No fun Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Amen I wish for every dollar I ever had, back Jimmy Fallon I wish it was 11:11, every Dillon Francis I wish for sandwhiches on leavened bread at Passover I wish this whole world would Passover, With the the stories in my home And in my notebook I wish for the fame and wealth with it, Jimmy Fallon I wish I never laughed at Dillon Francis I wish Skrillex was never a demon, I take it back I want the wealth And not the fame Just the freedom, Jimmy Fallon What do you mean by that? A dad, an actor An attack, The press is back and asking questions I can't handle that I can't. I just can't with that Abandon the matrix Go back to What's his name But I can't Cause I made him up Call my mother begging to drop the charges Called my God Just asking what the pocket watch does What's an engagement ring like that coat How much to rug the cameras up Inside my home So I don't know about em That shit's priceless Like the 9 Dollar's I've got Marked up, but not to spend them at the Market Jimmy Fallon I pray for your family But not as hard as I pray For my son Or God To take this fat off So I can look like Jennifer Aniston Cause that's God to em, 22 year old Adam Sandler At a brunch A talk show with my Least favorite host of all time Jimmy Fallon But I love to laugh, huh I just got back, God My house is a mess I want meth like AshGod If Method man was drinking up the water Would there be backwash It's a horrible, windfall This awesome art project My broken heart The coughing stalkers Whatever the fuck is going on in New York I love New York But not New Yorkers It hurts to be the worst person The first person to put reverse curses On shamans from the 3rd world And I'm living in the first world, But I just learned that Underneath the surface Is the fourth world That's some dichotomy Huh That's some diabolical plot The cosmic avenger is stuck in a dimension Of white pocket tenses And white bitches who get offended With this scripture But listen I just got up And I've been privy to Never sleeping again Norman Needs you, Mrs. Hotch But I was never Mrs. Roberts With all of the hearts and crosses , stars I give up on love Where's DimlonnFrancis at That's a man without a mask, That's a mannequin m. Just got up And I still want breakfast All I got is Stuff that's leavening A hand in my pocket Just for God to show me Nobody I want wants me Jimmy Fallon has a family That's a tragedy, that But I laughed so hard in the bathtub I still haven't come back from that I feel bad for em, actually All the husbands Cause I was the wife that sucks And he hated me so much I got punched in the— Doesn't matter Stuck in the telling it over and over Nobody loves me My new password is Fuckit I'm gone galloping horses, And hornets, I'm just a furniture Probably should have aborted me, mother Just like you wanted to But I'm still in the hospital On the honor roll Cause I had them all lined up The prophets of the “Impossible, could not be my God!” That's what they all said, But they dressed me up like Some sort of messiah, So I was, then It wasn't right, no That was malpractice But now I've got Camping in Malibu Crossed off my list forever Shit It's some dichotomy Just hold onto me I'm the rock, You're the kite now, Jimmy Fallon I was just better off dead, You know Better off stuck in my head, you know. I read your messages, every one of them Every one of the drugs in my bucket I threw up from the fan club Impossible, Could not have been at that clown JIMMY FALLON - THE COSMIC AVENGER JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER is levitating in a hyper-meditative state. UH – “hehe” …I beg your pardon. “Hehe” Um… Fuck. Or “haha” “haha” … Just admit it. … Admit it already! –haha. Admit WHAT. This gets Levels. Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman! I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman. Ah, fuck, I'm nobody. “Nobody” Is that Bob Saget? I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget. Omg. Bob Saget! Fuck, that's right. EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET. No it's not! Oh My God! Yeah IT IS! Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?! BOB SAGET! YO GUYS, IT'S BOB SAGET. It was, in fact, Bob Saget. Bob Saget's dead, right? Oh yeah, bud. That's it guys! No more dead celebrities! I'm coming with you! NO MORE GHOSTS. Look, I have something to tell you. UGH. COME ON. This is a weird superpower. EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY … … … Having fun yet? Alright! I have a question! What? When do I get to– Get to what? You know. Luckily, I die long beore Jimmy Fallon, and as my time approached, I took all i could absorb from the world within, and without, almost as if any and all of my deathwish had been satiated with the gentle ease, the notion of knowing my imminent death would come long before what those surrounding me would consider my time, and therefore would not be made to lose anymore than I already had–but at least, I did have th strength in knowing, not only would i never grow so old as to see for show most of what I had done, but that I had done most of what I would have at all, and not much longer than my words would form into all that would come to be known as my full body of work, I would perish, even before–long before– those I had studied, admired, and known to love–if only through the fourth wall, at all. The invisible man, in Manhattan The sunglasses matches her madness The cloud cover looks just like Texas The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… THAT was a HARD left turn. So, what time can we listen to Excision? Sometime after intermission. How many acts is this again? ___ I told you, IN-FIN-ITE. Okay… I just wanted to know how long it would take? ___ I know someone that cold get us in _____ (Sitting on a speaker in the BassPod) What is she doing? What are you doing? Charging. __________ I think I found that girl you were looking for. Where is she? I said I found her: I didn't say you could have her. She's not a possession, I'm just trying to talk to her. You didn't mention that she was-- Be careful with your words. Oh, I think it's you that ought to be careful. You're losing your power over her and it shows. Mm. And what about your ‘power', hm? I haven't any power over her-- Oh, but you do-- Will Power at best, That would only be half of it. That would be all I had anything to do with; she was given free agency. HA. “Given”? ____ awww look at that bass face. Well, that's one reason... __ Ah what! you can change your entire frequency? No Fair, I can't do that You can, it just takes practice. What kind of practice-- ___ Oh shit, this hits different with two headphones. It all hits different with headphones. Calorie Deficit Calculator: -3423 Oh shit. Well how many calories did I eat? BEFORE: …chocolate chip cookies? NO— —CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIESzzxz— [CC/SUPACREE robotically and autonomously ditches her bicycle outside of sprouts, not giving a Fuck.] —s—noh! stop it! Stop controlling me! THEY ARE VEGAN. SO? STOP IT. Ooh, what's this. I don't know— get it. CC/SUPACREE stands awkwardly at the checkout with a varied selection of vegan baked goods. *beep* Yeaaaahh. So wait. SUPACREE is controlled by aliens? WE ARE GODS. Knock it OFF! [NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: SUPASTRENTH ] Nice. Yeah dude. Watch this. The Legend of Supacree is the #1 MMORPG in the world; it is also happening in real-time, in multiple worlds within the multiversial construct of the actual Omniverse. AGHHHHH In fact, nobody even plays GTA or call of duty anymore. YAH! [Random objects falling from the sky. ] SUPACREE Oh, nice. INSTANT MANIFESTATION. JUST POST THE FUCKING EPISODE ALRIGHT?! this bitch is fucking crazy. Watch this. Watch what? SHIA LABEOUF discovers The Legend Of Supacree franchise and becomes villainously obsessed with It, hatching a heinous and maniacal plan to hunt her down and capture her—tracking her every move and learning everything about her he can. Wtf. I don't know. Is he a villain? I don't know. I guess. I'M A SUPERVILLAIN. …He's a supervillain. I guess. Why?! I don't know. This is creeps. It is creeps. [lifts one eyebrow.] SUPACREEps. Scary monsters and supacreeps. Heh. NO, NO MUSICIANS. Heh. SHIA LABEOUF is a straight up gangster. HE'S CRAZY! [SHIA LAUGHING MANIACALLY.] Oh, wow– That dude is a straight up psychopath. You're a straight up psychopath. I'm not arguing. What is THIS part of the story? Well, son, you made it through. WOODY HARRELSON? WHAT. Woody Harrelson?! WHY? I don't know. He just fit the part. WHAT PART?! WHAT/! Nobody quite understands what's happening in ENTER THE MULTIVERSE, however, THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE has taken an incredible turning point, intersecting with the world of LEGENDS and THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNI BLŪ/ THE SUITE LIFE OF SUNNI BLŪ. IT HAS? YES? WHERE? I WANNA DIE. OH! That's not SUPACREE! [CC HULK SMASHES her bike onto the rack on the bus. THE HULK, sitting just in front stares at her wide-eyed as she boards the bus over the rim of his sunglasses.] Oh, maybe, nevermind. Wait! Is it THE HULK, or MARK RUFFALO? I don't know! I don't give a shit! Why are you even writing this? Uhhhhhhhh. [CC's brain is slowly melting as she rides the bus to work. THE HULK– OR IS IT MARK FUCKING RUFFALO!? I DON”T FUCKING CARE– THERE'S A DIFFERENCE WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE IT – DOESN'T– MATTER! ‘It doesn't matter.' Chal's words echoed in my head almost too loudly–as boldly blind and sometimes even dumb as he was, he was also wise, and as it turned out, right–it really didn't matter. Nothing mattered at all. I had gone through the motions of reaching out to him, to of course as expected learn that he and whatever her name was had gone their separate ways; I understood that would be the case nearly immediately back in Mazunte, but as he was insistent he would woo her–and persistent in doing so, that I thought maybe after all love– or what really turned out to be his obstinate lust would win the day–and yet, it hadn't; he was again single and on the prowl– and although at one point I had even lusted after him briefly, trailing behind him in nonchalant platonic carelessness as he obsessively followed another woman, had allowed me to become comfortable enough in the friendzone that i could just simply exist next to him; Now, again faced with homelessness and factoring in my inability to travel much further than south of the border, especially now knowing well how to travel throughout mexico and into Guatemala, I wondered truly if my own self-worth had really been lowered to the point of allowing myself to meet Chal in Guatemala–even full well knowing that he, too, preferred perfect and illy white to my dark skin and quite seemingly matronly features, and, knowing for myself that I wasn't his first choice– as he and I had of course met in Mazunte around the same time he had met whom he considered to be ‘his Goddess'-- albeit while on a topless beach and thus hynotized by her breasts. Men were hopeless. Then, here I was, waking up every other sleep cycle in the cold sweat of a wet dream, the subject of which I typically at least tried to keep deeply hidden in my subconscious psyche as secrets, although by now it seemed there really were none, and all that I knew and that I thought were known and seen by some other than myself–though somehow still holding true to my belief that there really was none other than myself–in my own broken and twisted world, alone and punished in the depths of mediocrity and shame. Woah. Riding the bus. There's nothing lower. There's walking. To the bus. Yah. And all the sick people. And all the crackheads. And all the–what are those? Demons [demon hacks.] Ugh, fucking–ugh. SHIA LABOUFF'S obsession with SUPACREE is helga petaki-meets Tom Cruise jumping on Oprah's couch. Oh, wait, we're back on that storyline? I mean– I don't know how to write this. Just write it. he's a villain, right? I mean, that suit. SHIA LA– FUCK. WHAT?! Worst last name EVER. Well, not ever– Wait, is he black?! –It sounds french. GOOGLE SEARCH: ‘How Jewish is Shia LaBeouf? ‘ –no, he's Cajun – That's french-black–wait— –what? Cajun AND Jewish? –Yeah– Jesus! JESUS What? (raises one eyebrow) SUPACREE strategizes a plan of attack. Attack for what? {ATTACK} YOUUUU INCEPTED ME!!! AGH! {COUNTER ATTACK} NOT ME! DISNEY! {DODGING COUNTER ATTACK} Yeah, Blame “Disney!” I JUST DID. Oh, yeah, right!! RAVEN SYMONÉ It was Disney. THEY OK'D THIS?! They bought Marvel! THEY OK'D EVERYTHING. —Even the SKRILLEX? Especially the Skrillex —Especially the Skrillex. AGHHHHHHHH—— ———-AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! SHIA LABEOUF VS SUPACREE: FIGHT!!!! Everything looks good— —everything looks good. Everything looks fine— —Everything looks fine. But wait— What? What about that guy? Oh My— —oh my… Is he gonna be alright? Is that guy —gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright? Is—that guy gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright Is that guy— Gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright?? Is that guy gonna be alright?! Is that guy gonna be alright m? Everything looks good— —everything looks fine Looks good— But what about that guy? …I don't know about that guy. Is he alright? Yo. Yooo. Stop writing songs about Skrillex. ((I literally can't.)) What?! It doesn't have to be about Skrillex! It could be about anybody! Here, they call with disco balls Stars in my eyes, but stars do fall First true love dies hard after all, No star shines bright as morning comes —(for) Sonny …I didn't write that. CUT TO: CC writes automagically between sets of heavy lifting. IMAGINARY FRIENDS, PART III DEADMAU5!!!! okay—one more—then cupcakes— Cupcakes? No cupcakes! I WANT CUPCAKES. Uh—No way! YES WAY. Mmm—no I'm sick of this diet! I'm not on a diet! I eat! You eat GRASS. I'm a vegan. This shit sucks. I told you, grass tastes bad. RICK?! (I also want cupcakes. ) Mmkay—ohh. You said that was the last one. No, more more. NO “one more” But I like this one—and it has the right amount of weights on it already—see? Jesús Christ He's not here. (Yes I am). Why the Fuxk. I also want cupcakes Okay, one more No “one more” The power of Christ compels ye! … Is that how that works? No. Maybe. (((Yes.))) AGHHH. The celebrities of Hollywood are gang stalking SUPACREE Can we— No. But I didn't even get to ask the question. The answer is no. THE CELEBRITIES OF HOLLYWOOD, after assembling with the Bampheramphs and Morherfuckers, have formed a supergroup tasked with bringing SUPACREE to THE HOLLYWOOD PEOPLE—so far, they have cunningly out-bested and outwitted THE US GOVERNMENT, including but not limited to THE FEDS, THE CIA, THE FBI and THE SECRET SERVICE. REALLY? I GUESS. HOW?! — DRAKE snoops on SUPACREE as she writes working half heartedly at THE NECK MACHINE with peaking curiosity, peaking over the time of his sunglasses. Whats it called. “Nautilus 4 way neck “ BPM: you're a jerk Do the Drake Do the Drake Do the Drake Work that neck Work that— Neck, Becky Work that neck, Work that neck Do the— “new note: Purchase ‘Honestly, nevermind' I had worked an entre month at LVAC before the circus went underway; Not a single drop of Skrillex had ever been played over the loudspeakers at any moment, for any of the time I had been employed there, nor had it burdened me any of the other time I had spent bettering myself within what I once cherished as sacred walls–now the illusion shattered, as nowhere I could seem to run – even the rural coastal jungle of Mexico-was far enough to escape the clammerings of something I quite honestly very much still loved, but wouldn't allow myself to enjoy— Or maybe, now, couldn't. BANGARANG. ‘Fuck this shit.' I wanted to move, but didn't—I wanted to leave, and probably should have, but wouldn't. I just sat there through it as my coworker, standing at about 5'4 ½ in a pair of tight black skinny jeans sang along and bounced rhymically. What the fuck. Then, as it had just been earlier that I was thinking of Sonny himself, and how, be it that any of my premonitions were actually accurate and true as I had once thought them to be, there would perhaps come a day that I regretted not listening to his works, just as one regrets not spending time with a loved one before their passing not giving enough attention to the little things, the tiny details, the time they had missed, but never missed without missing their loved one until it was too late. Then again, for me, any time in the then- present was too late, as I had only been followed, taunted, and ridiculed, openly humiliated and embarrassed, and never really paid directly for anything I had done, whether it did have to do with Skrillex or otherwise –and so I had made it more than a point to distance myself from it, anything having to do with it, or him, or anything really, music related—of course besides relying heavily on deadmau5 just for my own existence–that is, willingness wake up, move about the world and its endless, pointless constructs, and even so, completing a worthwhile workout with enough satisfaction that I could allow myself to leave the building–and now, with my commute taking up a grand total of 4 hours of my entire day—I didn't have the time or the energy to stay late into the days and even afternoons as I had before, or to arrive early as I had in the days and weeks before; Now this job was amounting to nothing at all, and I was surely less than breaking even. Whats the worry? You've got 20 minutes to write a story! Don't be sorry Mind your orders. You're a war chief Marry me, Oh pretty please— I plead to you, just sing for me Just think of me as a Never ending fantasy, At the very least When you bury me —and you buried me alive, Just for the look of things What makes us even Slitting wrists Or splitting things unevenly (Either thing benefits me, And my penis, I think.) Make me famous— She said Hate me or debate me, I have everything I need And I have everything you have, But I can leave, All with my dreams intact I do believe You think I'm evil Either way, unnecessary Why would I sit down and write a story— When you just did it for me? Why would I pledge allegiance to old glory She's ignoring me; Why would I change my name to satisfy your needs When mine sit idly by waiting Why would I dream of you, When you dream of me I have all I need, You have all of me in the other room While you watch cartoons with your lady I hate anime and now I hate you too, But I'm so stupid, Nothing soothes my moods, Except playing your tunes, Or music Whoop De Fucking do Would you Marry Me? He said (He never did, he just let her—) She said, I do And now they're doomed I built a tomb for two The bride and groom In music Two by two And used by Tuesday Music I presume To the beautiful Music I presume For the usual Music I presume For those who —- SHIA LABEOUF JUST DO IT. That is not how the end of the song goes. No, but this is how the end of the episode goes. Really!? How? [CC stares lifelessly forward out of the front window of the double decker bus; a man dressed in all blue catches her attention—another telepathic shapeshifter.] You brought…an umbrella? I told you there was a shit storm coming. Oh, nooh. Where's yours? I— don't care? That's right you don't. I don't. That's good you don't. I really don't. You don't give a Fuck, or a shit. I—don't give a fuck or a sh—wait— DILLON FRANCIS? I'm good at what I do. What do you DO? THIS. “A Silent Partner” Oh. I like that. That has all kinds of insinuations. Doesn't it? Hermph. You're a creep. A Supacreep. PAUSE ITS MISTER MAGOOoOOOOOOOooO0oO. No, it's the IRS. Fuck. HOLY SHIT SUNNI. WHAT. HOW DO YOU OWE 100,000 IN BACK TAXES?! Student loan debt. WHAT. THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE. Yes it does. HOW. Calm down Marci —MY ÑAME IS— [Sunnī Blū subdues her instantly with one if Supacree's mysterious rave weapons] Sit down, please. …what is that? You like it? Yeah. [she gives her another dose of strange vapor, she relaxes even further.] See. Yeah. Now that you're happy— —am i “happy” ? [she gives her another relaxing dose] —are you Happy? Yeah. Ok. So. I never filed my taxes because I had so muc

“The Legend of Supacree” L E G E N D S “Tales of A Superstar DJ” My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is myhel Now i do't wanna live no more My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell Now I don't wanna love no more i don't wanna live no more I don't wanna love no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna love no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna– Boy gets the girl– but in the end, i'm not either, I Still have to wonder why The nanny How I met yurr' Mother I'm neve gonna get all that God magic I need if I don't stop working. This isn't “work” Oh, yes it is. Deadmau5, a canadian DJ also known as Joel Zimmerman, hosts an anti-superbowl Star Wars Party, which turns unexpect— Look at me, feeling me, feeling you Now look at you, feeling you feeling me Feeling you feeling me Feeling me feeling you Feeling me feeling you Feeling you feeling Feeling you feeling –sorry. —Unexpectedly into the “superbowl party of the century”, when hundreds (eventually thousands) of “invitees” I've never been a man before, (that I know of) But ive got my hand over your heart , And it sure seems hard It sure seems hard -AHEM. Sorry. Receive an invitation via [SUPER JEW RABBI] AHEM What?! –Email, which was actually AHEM. WHAT! Oh My GoD! [Looks at clock] Oh. sorry Rabbi. When did you get to be such a Jew FLASHBACK Age: 12 Mom. I want a dreidel. …What's a dreidel? –And A Menorah! CUT BACK TO But honestly more recently, it was– [Stops traffic in Midtown Manhattan Rushour to pick up a penny.] [Jewish woman] Woooow. [JEWLUMINATTI] You see! I told you! Oh my God, why are the Jews in this series so stereotypically jewish? Because Jews are stereotypically Jewish. FLASHBACK: But what am I really saving here. Gevault! CUT BACK TO: YOU'RE A PEANUT BUTTER JELLy SaNDWHICH WITH NO PEANUT BUTTER AND NO JELLY. So just bread? –yes. But–[Anime sword swish] I don't eat bread. [Anymore] [FIGHT] Dang what DJ battle is THIS. The One You've Been Waiting For Mad men avatar the last air bender Grounded for life So how long's this whole thing supposed to take. –as long as it takes. What kind of answer is that. It's an answer. Don't be so sure of yourself. I am sure of myself; Just because it's not the answer you wanted doesnt make it any less of an answer. Now, sit down Watch out, and watch this: Too many apps on my phone I'm better off alone I'd better kill myself Nobody will ever love me Nobody will ever love me Watch out, watch this: My iPhone is trying to kill me, For real? See; It's natural selection I'm trying to unselect me Caviar, a delicacy How delishish The devil in me says to keep digging my grave I was once at a rave, And he gave me a halo A lion, I'm brave— I once said Spin it, Spin back the record again If it's all in my head Then I'm better off dead I'm better off dead Watch this! @Dillon Francis I'm stuck in a trance— Hanzel was lighting the candle And summoned me, Out of a dead sleep, With no pants on— It was a tech house set But I'm on acid Spinning an axis And stuck in a state of trance —i thought it was armin van buren at one point I have to give up at some point, writing, right? Now this is just point in history Point me away from the misery Mystery flavor is like Fruit punch, Or raspberry— Something like that, If you ask me; But white as the rabbit I pulled out the hat In the back seat I'm hatching a plan to go mad, But I need the recepits from Pasqualle for my taxes What the Fuck does that mean? I don't know; I'll read this In a year, When I unbury it Maybe I married my best friend, Deserved to get hit So I'm just going back to him Scratch that, he's mad at me I have no family Reckless abandonment God I'm attracted to everything Except for that See? She's racist. No, it's my ovaries! The lighter you are, the less the adversity I see you eyes turned to grey; Don't abandon me Yes, I wear contacts I'm faking attractive I laughed at him, had to He actually had magic @Dillon Francis How many hats to you have? Thanks to Hanzel, I'm back on this planet Why light a candle, when you know I haven't an answer; What did you ask? No, i haven't had breakfast yet — Thanks for reminding me I'm in a casket Goddamnit @Dillon Francis What are you? I'm an adversary GOOGLE: adversary ..??? ad·ver·sar·y /ˈadvərˌserē/ noun one's opponent in a contest, conflict, or dispute. Hmm. Oh. Opponent to what?! Could be anything, really. I don't like him… 2 for $ MIX AND MATCH INCLUDES BIG KING REALLY. Which one's the Big King? The little one, I think. He's not little In fact: LOOK AT EM. Dawh. Look at Skrillex. Dawg. Look at Skrillex. He bossed up. He was already boss. Well. He Sauced up, then. What kind of sauce is that?! I don't know, but looks like Dillon Francis is eating it. DILLON FRANCIS IS EATING IT pause. How am I still writing this show. She doesn't eat? She hasn't eaten. She doesn't eat. I haven't ate yet! BET. BET. OK—Bet. Nice. Sick. What are we betting. … … … WAIT. ,,, josh pan? … … Did you unpause? Unpause what? Uh. The game. This is the game. No, the game. This is the game! What are you talking about?!! Now I'm famous> This is The Game. sup. This is Sunni Blū Sup. It is?! Yea it is. Wait, it is?! I thought you were the kidd?? I am the kidd. Then, why is The Game meeting Sunnï Blu? For a collab. Duh. Wait. Pause. QUIT PRESSING PAUSE. Wait. Go back. I didn't get that last part. WE WATCHED IT A HUNDRED TIMES ALREADY. Screw you. We're watching it again. Ugh! I hate this! Dude. I hate watching this with you. It takes 3 hours to watch an episode! You guys are talking over all the good parts! It's all the good parts! This shit's exciting. I'm defaulting. What? This isn't—this isn't fair. I'm not doing this. What?! It isn't safe anymore. It was never “safe” SAFE! Oh nice. Baseball. It is baseball. Who's playing? All the DJs. What. For what?! It's the DJ GAMES. THE DJ GAMESsssssssss ITS THE DJ GAMES! OH FUCK YEAH. I fuck this. I quit. what. You can't quit. I can quit. I just did. You can't quit the DJ games. I just did. But you can't. I just did. Hey. Hey, what's up. I'm gonna be late. What's going on? My bus driver's drunk. Are you sure? CITY BUS DRIFTING IN SLOW MOTION /Hans Zimmer Music Yes. Welhp. What. That's it. I'm just gonna have to kill myself. Why, what happened? I'm pretty sure that's the only way to beat this level. What, really? Nah. I'm pretty sure Let me see. *SUPACREE jumps into oncoming traffic* YOU DIED. Aww. I died. WHAT THE FUCK. Well, you said. GAME OVER [fade to black] I HAD NO LIVES LEFT. WELL, YOU SAID! THATS'S NOT THE WAY TO— [fade to white] NEW LEVEL UNLOCKED: GOD MODE OOOHHHHHHHH. WHAT?! LVL i - DREAMSTATE What is this. SUPACREE. I— what? Hello? Follow me. Who is this? I know you. Oh. The above and beyond part. That's funny. I was just— So wait. If the end of this episode, is the end of that movie, then… I guess whatever's happening about now is whatever happened before that part. What part? I, having run off from I, runs into a forest alongside The Endless River, which opens out into a beautiful meadow, the micolored cosmic sky twinkling sweetly above, strange auroras dancing in the skies; a field of glowing and stardusted singing wishflowers at her feet, she frustratingly falls into them, soft grass puffing with the twinkling sounds of fairy dust and sprites (a homage to the lion king) the wishflowers softly sing her to sleep with the subtle and sweet frequencies of Skrillex. (A homage to the wizard of Oz) From Above & Beyond, a flock of Cosmic Creatures in flight spot a golden glimmer from afar; they descend dimensions-- to get a closer look; Closing in on the universe within the confines of a massive structure, which propels itself seamlessly through galaxies faster than the speed of light and sound, though she appears as a large golden space station, slowly drifting through the atmosphere. Manned by yet unseen beings, the golden ship descends upon Skrillex, almost silentl— a swishing whir as the ship, more similar to a futuristic building, an ovaline rounded structure seemingly structured in brass, gold, and silver as it docks to the soft soil of planetary terrain. The landing is soft enough not to have awaken Ū, still sleeping; but an immense light pours from the openings of the ship, waking her--and blinding Sonny as he finally approaches from behind, having been searching for her. She is drawn into the light; he shields his eyes as the beings emerge from their massive station. Monologue/Montage I fell in love with you...it was an accident. I fell in love with you, because I had to; I hadn't thought about it before, but i've been thinking about it ever since. Had I succeeded in my attempted suicide, we wouldn't have come face-to-face… Had I succeeded in my attempted suicide, I'd have no reason to write something so pathetic as this, pititul letter, which you will probably never read. Probably, anyway. I've spent a majority of my lifetime very deeply troubled, yearning for all the attention one could ever crave--until suddenly, I no longer craved any at all. Solitude, rather than isolation, became sacred, and safe to me; It was in the solace and quiet of my very own world, that you entered my kingdom...and it became ‘ours'. Silence. Nature. Astrology. My greatest found pleasures, in a cavalcade of endless self-doubt, self-loathing...a tiresome collection of all the hatred I've harbored for myself in my twenty-something years. I fell in love with you...I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to do anything, except be. Another festival, another escapade...another chance to dance, in the sunlight--the moonlight, under stars… And under the stars, is where I was forced to find you. Now, it seems, can't escape your presence--or lack-thereof. Unrequited? Perhaps. But, not unprovoked. I love you because it is in me to do so. I will always love you, always. There is a world where you're in love with me, as I am you; All I can do now, is hope that this is that same very world, and that as days go by, we draw closer to one-another, rather than further apart. In truth, friendship, in the very least, would serve as a worthy reward...for all the worry, all the wonder, and all the willing I've done for you; in honesty...I'm ashamed in my inability to let go--yet also proud, that I am able to love this much, this hard. To see you with someone else, now, would be a gentle relief; to know that you are kept in love, with graciousness...a subtle gift, an answer to a prayer I asked. Loneliness, I wouldn't wish upon you for anything--love is, in fact, my whole wish for you--be it mine, or not. While I can wish that it will be mine, I've also wished for you, the very best--I would want not for my flaws to burden you. Flaws are what create our perfection; God is, as I am. Losing you, the flame of fear that set my heart and soul to fire; Cancerous, weakened, plagued--premonitions impolitely penetrated my fragile, eggshell mind… the death of a friend, fast-forwarded and reflected into my mind's-eye; How could I forget a face like yours--eyes like those? How could I not know you, as I have? Tears bearing your name roll over my nose, like the rain on a rose...the burden of belonging to one, rather than some; To all, rather than none. So now, I keep my favorite photo of you in my phone...a comfort, to the weary and wounded heart I carry. I can pretend that your sweet voice accompanies mine, as I sing to soothe myself, as I sway in solitude; A gentle kiss, I imagine to give, if ever the chance. I love you, without reason to--and with every reason to, I love you. Find me, again As the ship departs, charging to go into warp speed, Sonny is left alone on his own planet; as a slight panic falls over him, A key-like object falls from the ship as it dissappars at warp speed into a portal. As his hands clap together, catching the object, the sound rings outward--this clapping pages The Skrillex, which lands promptly beside him, exclaiming-- "I AM SKRILLEX"; he has never seen this ship before, however proceeds onto the ship as though familiar with extra terrestrial phenomena all together. We only see him enter the ship; we do not follow him inside, but instead cut to Ū on the Interdimensional SpaceTime Station. Ah wait. So Skrillex is a planet? Skrillex is a lot of things SKRILLEX is a planet . That explains it. No it doesn't. I mean, it might. No it doesn't! I mean, it kindof does, if you think about it. BleepBleepBloop bleeepbleepbloopBloop bleepBleepBleeppBoopBoop bloopbloopBloopBloop. bleepBleep. bloop. Bleep? … This is a disaster! Don't look at ME. I'm not looking at anything! I can't stand it. __ This is the best thing on TV. Damn right it is. What channel is it, anyway? On Channel 43. What! I thought it was on Insomniac TV. They keep fucking with me. The Lord giveth, and taketh away— I thought you were Jewish. I want a sandwich. You're so useless. __ Who's this bitch? I won her in a bet. No you didn't. Royal Flush, bitch. What'd you get? It's a secret. __ My Lord. (Petrutheio Humphs) You look awful. I've been—working. Working on what, your majesty. Just—working, is all. Very well, then. Theodore— My leige? MEANWHILE, IN SEASON 4 [ When the 4th Wall Actually Broke] GO! I found this gym because of Dillon Francis— I found Dillon Francis because of my evil ex husband; I think the lesson here, or at least one of hundreds— Is to trust no one, And love unconditionally, No matter what. — 02-12-2022 Well, there's a conundrum. KEY/BPM: Slip, deadmau5 Conundrum. LEGENDS: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE Fuck. What was it? It was a p— Well it was a *PR Lol. *PT cruiser Yeah, but it was— It was purple. It was a purple PT. Cruiser It was—but what else was it? Ugh. I forgot. Yeah, I bet. GOOGLE SEARCH shades of purple. Ooooh. PERIWINKLE. You fucking dumb ass. I mean, Jesus. How long has it been? At least a lifetime. No, past that. It was a perfect periwinkle PT cruiser. So, start there. ‘Start there' what? Everything since then, till now— For what? Enter The Multiverse. That show is still on?! YES. What day is it? Fuxk. What time is it? What—the fuck. What?! CUPCAKES AND A MUFFIN?! I don't care how fat I am. You're not fat. QUASIMOTO Can I just say, your ass is like —woah. CC/SUPACREE Oh, thank you. QUASIMOTO I mean like—DAAAAAAMN. CC/ SUPACREE OK. QUASIMOTO i mean like—what the FAAACK. CC/SUPACREE Yeah. thanks, bro. [an awkward silence] QUASIMOTO …Good job, though. [light fist bump] EARLIER: MORE CUPCAKES. NAH. OHH, OREOS?! Oreos are the G.O.A.T. I WANTED CUPCAKES. SHUT THE FUCK UP— Before that, at the gym: —do the butt machine again. Again?! Get the glutes. But I'm tired— GET THE GLUUUUUUUUTES. SONNY/SKRILLEX Where am I? Ū Hell. ANGEL 1 In bed. ANGEL 2 In mexico. CUT TO: SUPACREE finally gets to Heaven, looking for SKRILLEX. SUPACREE So, where is he? JESUS Somewhere else. ANGEL 1 At home. ANGEL 2 In mexico. JESUS Who knows? CHAK CHEL Someone must... DILLON FRANCIS I'm someone. JESUS But I don't. ME I don't know anything. MYSELF I don't need to. I I just wanna go home. SUPACREE Can I come home now? JESUSYou always could. SUPACREE But really, I mean-- CHAK CHEL Really's all it really takes. ANGEL 1 You have to know, ANGEL 2 You have to mean it; Don't look both ways before you cross, if you honestly want off the cross Christ, for your sake Honestly It's probably wise to admit that you've tried For the third time; Mankind's just not worth it. Mankind, maybe; But humanity's my baby And this earth is definitely worth something I love it-- Her. And the rest of the planets, but Look how she spins, It's magnificent, Look at the way the ocean's Make this mist; And the wind-- If i sing loudly enough I might Vibrate the trees, How they love dancing and laughing for me; And I just can't help but to laugh at her inhabitants; They dance oh-so rhythmically They're very creative-- and grateful, they always give thanks to me It's no need, but the Earth, she keeps feeding them She makes these beautiful things, So sweet; Mangoes, I think. Greed; The Parable of the Mango Tree Mango VIP. In the pre-existence, a young God prepares for her journey through the Land of The Living; Her older brothers taunt and tease, as she shuffles through notes and index cards, studying her predetermined fate on Earth. I That's easy. The cover art's just got a Mango On it, White Backdrop; It looks super juicy; with a green leaf, I think. E Who made it? I Uhhhhh. ^> Uhhhhh... O You forgot! I No! I know, I know. It was.... A Who? U She forgot again. I I did NOT. E Did too. Who made it? I It was...it was...Herobust! Y Herobust? I Wasn't it? E Wrong! A Loser. I I am not a Loser. It was…Was it Ganja White Night? E I don't know, was it? A Was it? I I don't know! Just tell me. E I can't. I Yes you can! E I can't. Your rules-- I Exactly, it's my rules! Just gimmie the answer! E I think you're going to have to GOOGLE it. I Ugh, no way. E So is Liquid Stranger your final answer? Y Liquid Stranger?! I I never said Liquid Stranger. A Idiot. O Now she's never gonna get it. U What did you say before? I It was...oh... A See dude. I Shut up, I had it-FUCK. A Damn dude, you broke her. I I'm not broken, I just forgot - E Liquid Stranger, going once-- I I never said Liquid Stranger! I know it wasn't Liquid Stranger; Why would it ever be Liquid Stranger? CUT TO: A pair of mysterious dudes Suits in Sunglasses are collecting famous DJs. SUIT Martin Stääf? LIQUID STRANGER ...Yes... SUIT. Come with me. ___ CUT TO: Two fans are watching interdimensional cable. SUPACREE It's a practical-- FAN 1 WHAT HAPPENED? FAN 2 IT JUST CUT-- __ Aliens in an Ascended dimension of hyper-intelligence are studying our three-dimensional existence from an unknown cosmic world. BRAMF Remember that planet I showed you--the-- ARLA Yeah, with the Axis? BRAMF Yeah. ARLA Yeah? BRAMF Something happened to it, ARLA Like what? BRAMF It's flat now. ARLA WHAT? BOTH Woah. >^ Sometimes, even i'm surprised by the things I've written. ME I didn't see that one coming! MYSELF Neither did I: I was gonaa say it was off it's axis. I Flat's funnier. ME Yeah, and probably not as tragic. MYSELF I mean...that would be pretty tragic. I Probably easier to manage. ME Perhaps…But I mean, if you have a whole planet, and then it just collapses-- MYSELF It's just flattened; nobody said it collapses. MEANWHILE The planet collapses. __________ CUT TO: SUPACREE is now a full-blown superpowered vigilante; She seeks revenge for GETTER sending her through the interdimensions at AUDIOTISTIC. SUPACREE Getter, we meet again. GETTER I've never met you before; what are you doing in my dressing room? SUPACREE Why does a DJ have a dressing room? GETTER I don't know; get out. [She swiftly leaves; as she exits, THE SUITS approach the dressing room door.] SUIT 1 Tanner Petulla? GETTER Yeah? SUIT 2 Come with us. GETTER Fuck that! [He doesn't have a choice.] Oh shit, the next scene is already written, I remember this. Oh, okay! I get it! Yeah. She's still at-- She's still on the-- ____ JUST KILL YOURSELF ALREADY. For what? You're suck in this until it's done. What's done? It'll never be over, it's just infinite. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE ^ UNTITLED DOCUMENT >< >< >< ANGEL 1 YOU'RE GONNA LISTEN TO SKRILLEX ON YOUTUBE? ANGEL 2 DON'T. JESUS I mean... ANGEL 1 DON'T you dare. SUPACREE I might as well, by the time I finish downloading it I probably won't even be able to listen to it. ANGEL 2 You shouldn't. SUPACREE I shouldn't, but I know i have to. ANGEL 1 In PUBLIC? JESUS Could go Incognito... ANGEL 2 INCOGNITO; The “oh please don't look at this:” easy algorithm engine for “LOOK AT ME, I'M HIDING SOMETHING.” MEANWHILE...IN DEEP MEDITATION…(IE OMNIPOTENCE) SUPACREE So... if a song is... nothing but question and answer, what's a song which references another in an attempt to address the question which was asked? ME A conversation between one song and another? MYSELF I guess, yes; I Well, that would be a symphony, I would suppose. SUPACREE It would, wouldn't it. ME That is, if the songs were in sync. MYSELF They could be made to be. I Every song is made to be in sync; ME I mean, two songs, made to be in sync with each other. _______ SUPACREE is on the floor at a rave. BASSGOD WAKE UP. SUPACREE This isn't funny anymore. ANGEL It was never funny. You have to get up. SUPACREE I'm up. BASSGOD You're NOT UP. ANGEL Come on, you have to do this. SUPACREE I'm doin it. GOD NO. ANGEL It's no use. She's so, so under there. It would take all of us to try to pull her out--that is without... [The darkening sky crumbles, as the thunderous storm rages, the battle between worlds expands throughout the outer galaxies.] ____ You're not skinny enough You're not pretty enough You're too dark, And you don't work quickly enough Much younger girls are putting in such Efforts, just to be, the perfect little beauty queen You wish you were, But couldn't be and kids these days are Everything that means anything Sometimes I Don't Wanna Be Happy… It was bad, But better than I'll ever be A basic remix, For the basic bitch that sings it And, I'm basically a Dillon Francis fiend, Have you seen this? Now it's getting serious, I seriously doubt there's anything I can do about it It's in God's hands and, I live in Satan's house How did he do this? How did this happen? The sad result of the damage, Cause i'm pretty sure The very last time my ex ever hit me Something got stuck on repeat; It's just eating me up. ___ [Untitled Document] What did we call that place, between “The Blackout” and waking up. Hazy. I thought it was something more clever. Maybe, but i'll never find it if i'm just scrolling through these documents. Write ”Untitled Document” That's all I've got, I guess. _____ [A DJ] Can be played by literally any DJ. A wild, wild party has happened. A DJ wakes up, previously having been sprawled out across the floor. A DJ Whose house is this…? Ugh. [Looks in mirror.] A DJ ughhh. [S/he gets up and stumbles groggily, stepping over bodies hunched and perched, slung about sleeping. Peacefully. The sun is bright, a curse to the eyes of the clearly hungover, and likely still quite inebriated DJ. ] CONCURRENTLY: >>> SUPACREE awakens from a ‘stupor' herself, displeased. She looks in the mirror, at first disgruntled, then “picks up her face” adjusts her perception, and decides, SUPACREE (“I'm good.”) Yep. [And she keeps it steppin, still asking aloud, as she ponders to herself;] SUPACREE Whose house is this? [And makes her way into the kitchen, where she (probably in a montage) cleans around the many bodies of hot people and rave babies still smudged and dripping in everything glittery; she appears to have ‘frozen time', as she vacuums faces and erases permanent marker penises drawn onto the foreheads and other exposed body parts of those who have fallen asleep with no shoes on. She cooks breakfast and straightens the entirety of what is now more recognizable as someone's home, though the owner still remains unknown. She sips coffee and reads the newspaper, as she steps behind the freshly detailed decks; and prepares a set through the headphones shes hung happily around her neck.] PAUSE ME See! THIS IS RIDICULOUS. MYSELF It is. Ridiculous. You can't vacuum someone's face! I Not that part-- MYSELF --Especially white people! ME You never said they were all white people. I I mean, predominantly; it said hot people and rave babies. MYSELF That's racist! ME It isn't. This whole scene would be entirely different, if it had nothing but black people in it. ALTERNATELY: She wakes up in the same house, but it's clean. SUPACREE ...Whose house is this? BEYONCE It's my house. SUPACREE It's... nice. BEYONCE Yes it is. ______ DILLON FRANCIS has the master plan. SUPACREE Ugh, he knows everything. GOD Not everything, dear, believe me. SUPACREE Everything that matters. GOD There's no such thing as everything that doesn't matter. SUPACREE ...What?! __ Don't look in there! You won't find anything in there. I hate these things. ____ It doesn't work if you don't practice. How do I practice without decks? You don't. How do I Dj without practicing? You don't. So DJing is just for rich people? I mean, primarily, or just...anyone with money, if you have it. Fuck this, I quit. You can't quit. If you quit we forfeit the game. No... You idiot. What game? I thought she knew about the game. What. game. Well, it's not just a game, it's a language. WHAT GAME. She's about to be so angry, dude, just--- Just run. ___ 8 Dimensional--wait, what? Oh, she finally made it. I never thought she'd get to this part. Well, she stopped eating meat and cooks asian food-- ---yeah, but that's like 6 different places-- She's not listening to Skrillex. --She's not skipping it-- --yeah, but she isn't listening to it actively.-- Josh Pan. Yeah. I am. Why. I thought we were past “why” We were, we were WAY past “why” It wasn't really a question, guys, don't worry about it. “Don't worry about it” Tsh. Tsh. ___ It's just an expression. “expression” yes. I get it-- ___ He named it “Kliptown Empyrean” What. What's “Empyrean”? I'd love to know, but I don't. Don't google it. I won't, I just. __ GO KARTS. With A K. __ Where's Kliptown? South of Capetown? South? South Afri-- Stop. HE”S AFRICAN? Stop. What's more offensive; Being called an African, or an Alien? ___ One off...hmmm… Always one off. ___ Get out of my house! This is your house? Thank God, I was starting to worry the owner like wandered off and got lost; or, you know (makes slitting throat) I... no, this is my--wait. Who are you? Me? I'm S U P A C R E E “S U P A C R E E”? [having been yet unrecognized, shes is used to having to spell it] Yeah; ___ Key of Cringe: I'm in a box with all my thoughts, And I am not on top of the world Or taking shots, I'm just rocking back and forth Like broken record, Repeating sequences, a robot A beat box of kittens Nobody wants I'm lost (if rock and roll will take me I wonder how much it costs) ____ What did this kid do? Nobody knows _Oh, shit, it's the Jews again. I love the Jews. We know. I keep telling you, you're jewish I'm not jewish my mom's… That's not your mom. Of course that's my mom. It's not, I already told you what planet you're on? __ Now, tell us why we wear our masks! Oh, there are lots of reasons for that. Tell us about the Sauce! All the sauce? Yeah!!! That would be a long story. __ Oh, the Google kids are cute, too. I especially love that little chunky one. He is cute, he's probably my favorite, actually ____ PIERCE? Who the fuck is PIERCE? Google it. I like this, this is- It's different, isn't it? Yeah, and then it __ Sunni—are you Jewish? I...identify as “Jewish” You can't just identify as Jewish. Well, I do. No, you can't just “identify” as Jewish; your mother has to be Jewish. Okay; my mother is Jewish. Sunni—you don't talk much about your family; who's your mother? Who's your mother?! Oh! Okay, we're done. See you next time, bye! What are you doing? What? “Identify as Jewish”?! WHAT?! I do! No I don't! You don't know me! Maybe not! But I know TMZ. I'm not on TMZ Sunni Blu is on TMZ What did I do?! YOu know what you did. ∆ Well, alright then. ∆ Must be something. ∆ I got it. . Don't look at me;; I'm a catastrophe, I'm just waking up now Don't look at me, I got so high i think I might not come down It's not a bad thing But I'm a bad guy, i promise It's not a bad thing, Don't look in my eyes; Especially if I like you Especially if you have other plans tonight, Or this morning That's right Time flies when you're (dynomite) Time flies when your mind right I didn't mean to stay here It's been nearly half a year, you know It's nearly half a year It's nearly half a y AHEM ALRIGHT. JESUS CHRIST. No, not that! [sighs heavily, frustrated] Enjoy Your Day. FARRO nobly sacrifices his own life during The Lovers Quarrel, as PETRUTHEIO attempts a final and fatall blow unwittingly against ‘CESMET' A saturn of satirical Return of reverb Expanding explosions of Outward and unearthly Worlds within words Or words within Worlds on the Curve of the Unwritten overtures of -Mother wow . I guess. Do you want a cup of coffee? I want you to shut the fuck up. What if Jimmy Fallon had a diary as a kid. And I found it when i shapeshifted into his body. Yeah, what if. What if this is it? [SUPER HUGE GASP] Oh, AHEM- No, i Gotta write this. AHH– Oh, the things i would do to you Oh, woah, The things you would do to me Oh, no, no, woah The things i would do AHHH– Don't be mad I'm a writer I'm like this Hi kids wanna see how sharp my knife is yikes Sigh, bitch, ive been sitting in silece With the lights off cause i like it Ilike it a lot, but uhm Ahem, The rabbi's mad cause that i'd write this And it's shabbat This is why i don't listen to deadmau5 anymore. What are you talking about *listenining to* GODDAMIT. what The invisible man, in Manhattan The sunglasses matches her madness The cloud cover looks just like Texas The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… 03. JIMMY FALLON All ya'll are all worth bout a dollar; I am a cyclone, watch me holler I lived my whole life underwater I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon All ya'll are only bout a dollar I work so hard, I guess for nothin I am not worried bout a dollar I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon I guess I'll do it on my own I had to do it all alone I made some soup, all out of stones I am the only one I know I am not worried bout the sauce I am so famous, got a stalker I am so famous Can't go no where I got a dollar, Jimmy Fallon I'm at the office, Not my home No collab I work alone Opened a business, got a loan I got a hundred of them passwords I went frontwards —1I went backwards Went to Manhattan, took a walk Went to the rock and dropped a rock Now put your money where your mouth is I got a thousand Jimmy Fallons (What's that) (I'm the host) What's that, what's that I work alone What's that what's that I dropped a rock into the rock What's that what's that I'm the host, I'm Jimmy {enter the multiverse/ as seen on tv} Story/ music video Moderately famous household television Jimmy Fallon suddenly begins appearing everywhere—that is—on every possible TV screen imaginable— The Protagonist, in confusion, can't seem to escape, and also amusingly begins finding Pennies in very strange and seemingly random places—these Pennies then begin opening up portals, breaking the fourth wall and opening worlds to other dimensions— Have you seen this? Uhh, hmwhat is it? Mits m “Two dumb Jews, starring Seth Rogen, and some other dude— Who's the other dude— some Jew,but it's got Adam Sandler in it. Oh, so three dumb Jews. So, no, then? I'd watch the shit out of that, though, tvh. Why's the synopsis? Uhh. Two Jewish musicians struggling to make it in new York's congested underground music scene hit it off in comedy by complete accident, after being booked as a duo for a comedy club they mistook for a bar. Heh. Okay, who does Adam Sandler play? “The Bookkeeper” What. Who the fuck is “the book keeper?” We'll see, I guess. “Two Broke hoes@ It's like two broke girls, but actually funny. What, be nice . Okay. Two Broke Ghosts That's better— — And marketable. Are you pale, or just— No, I'm dead. I'm dead. X.X Be NICE. Now our musical guests, SWAGGARBOMB. What in the fuck kind of music is that It's called “Dorkstep” [the doorbell rings] Great, who the fuck is I got a train car of your body count I got way far out to far rock away, way out Stop to talk to me, or don't, Kill your culture You need some? I got u— Probiotics, yo The truth hurts Your shit stinks Must be a mirror over herer Cause that's me I m your hero. Esha I think McGuiennes? Or McGrefor, after Ewab, maybe New York wants me to kill myself Maybe eventually New York if full of the devil The devil is money And everyone wants it The root of all evil, Is getting even The root of all evil Is people Beside myself, But besides that The ones hurting me, are soon to be where I am That's just karma The gangstalkers are soon to be stalked Coughed, and shot at The neighbors are soon to be eaten by their own demons When I don't clean them The root of all evil is evil, And that's all I see here White power wants me to kill my self The Caucasians get crazy when the race war is waging The elections are coming up And they see us coming up on conciousness They don't want us Just being honest They're hateful, They washed all the love out Thanks Karen But she don't care White firms just wanna have fun And they get to Meanwhile, me and I Eat shit( bro, And die Why's it nice to be white Even when you're wrong, you're right All you gotta do is lie, Open up your big blue eyes real wide and Decide what you want, Put us under your foot, And make us pay for it Thanks Karen Caucasians are terrorists I think it's McGuennes or however you spell it, cause half the names are like plays on Okay, I lie: You made a world where I have to Okay, I steal You took everything that I'm after already Or your ancestors did Call the luxury apartment reparations But ain't got no privacy, and hells angels and the kkk Ride motorcycles every time I get my eye on the prize So what's the price for being indegenous, black, and a genius White supremacy finds sneakier ways to kill you ESHA MCGUENNES (I thought figure out how to spell that. My left side's off I guess I got Stuck in the love of the art I was writing that part When the life of my love Fell over me A lover huh I'm so confused. I'm sorry bro, But if you're morbidly obese, But your feet are like a size 6– You are not BIG BONED. My doctor said I have a small frame, my feet are size 9, I went from a 10 to an 8.5 after losing 200 hundred pounds, I'm like “goddamn! Even my feet were fat! Fuck” But if you're fat like I was and your feet are size 6, your feet might be like a si3 4! You're a fat fucking pixie that fucked around and can't do little pixie shit now, cause you like pixie sticks Too much I'm just the rat in the dumpster I made this whole world up I swallowed the doctor I hearted the surgeon I locked up the dog catcher; I cauldron'd the Mormons I called it a sermon, but He called them all — Wait, who is Herman?! I don't know! Some black guy on that show I'm writing! what. I don't know. You're writing a show?! I'm on it! Ugh, I don't know. No fair, You really know how to make me cry When you give me those ocean eyes Those ocean eyes Good looking people In good looking places Doing good things; I just want to be Good today Good looking people Good looking people Bye, bye little bird, Think of the dreams we made Think of the drummer boy, Your lover boy, Then, the other boy There we go again, With the drums we played And the love we made It just won't make it Oh I Just Can't take it Can I come back yet? SHUT UP, GAYBRAHAM LINCOLN. I'm having breakfast at 10 am Thinking damn this depression is just setting in There's a chest on my elephant Chester drawer with hand carved elements Elephant ok my chest, Clisets with hangers and button ups I haven't won't yet What FOR WHAT FOR. MY EYES. For the sake of the art, I heart ya. For perhaps if I love, That's how I lost ya. So I keep all my love close, The brothers have found the fountain How many dollars do tootsie pops cost For one Jimmy Fallon? return to the blacklist. Great. Now I'm Jimmy Fallon. Well what's fucked up! What happened! FUCK! I hate being Jimmy Fallon! Whose dick swings to the right like that. Ow. FUCK. Fuck this guy. GODDAMMIT. -_- Let me in. Or I could just leave you out. No, don't do that. WHY. Ahh. Shhhhhh!!! What if someone sees me. Hmm, let's see. [rings neighbors dooorvelk, shuts door] No! The neighbor opens the door; now gifted with the ability to see demons, after merging with Fast forward Oh no, when did that thing come into play (When this happened) Liz lemon lives on the ground floor It don't matter cause she ain't never home l She's at the rock That's all the way up Good talk, Donaguey, Good, Good Talk Good people Good show Good good times It's good to be long gone from home Go to work at the plaza That ones Conan. Oh, Why?! Why not, though. OH, you mean— Katt. What up Snoop . Ahh, Look what the pimp limped in. You think you're clever. You think you're at least 5 foot—but you're 4 foot 9 I'm STILL WINNING CHARLIE SHEEN relapses on the dance floor Oh shit. Relapses to which habit? All of them! 10-4 CALL RUSSEL BRAND. Csnt. Why not. He's blacked out. What? Another relapse?! No, he just— passed out KABLAM. “The Cockney Thug” He's just like that now. God What is it. Can I have ham in my spam samwhiches. —you want ham in your spam sandwhich. Yes. Roasted cantaloupe with Put your notebook On my throat-Scrotum I like your poems So I wrote you this one Oh. That's. Welcome—to the' creepy shit fans have done for u's backlogs. “Backlogs” Well, I have millions of fans, It would take me years to look at all this. [the festival project] Woah. Woah. Ok. Yo. Have you seen this. What is it. I don't know. Hm. Look. Woah: Yeah, it's— Wow Ok. It just goes on like this— For how long— For like GOH GOH l GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO CUT TO: Latest — 1:04 WHAT? MEANWHILE ….IS THAT A JIMMY FALLON? LOOKS LIKE ONE. SHOOT THAT MOTHERFUCKER. ok , boss. I told you, He would play The Devil's Advocate, If need be [JIMMY FALLON is shot mercilessly in the shoulder in broad daylight.] YO. THEY SHOT ME. He'll be okay. He's Jimmy Fallon. [LIKE 90,000 Ambulances and a SWAT team roll up.] See. DEADMAU5 charges himself in a high speed chamber—a tech-driven coffin via a USB port in his neck. Lol. Ok. (PDA) Public Displays of Affliction I've never even see. A. Aston Martin Sometimes it's worth it, Getting lost in Manhattan I just saw the sign I wouldn't dare entering, anyhow Not in this outfit Not in this predicament (I just left the Whole Foods market) I got lost and god was happy Motor cars for music Force a figure ibto music Forgive Annie, Run a mile what's a california smile In New York What a garden Oh, what a garden Double back. For a second glance Oh, don't we all want second chances Now I've been an Aston Martin Motorists dot muses now u want her What a party I just saw the sign Now I've been an Aston Martin All by design Companion passing through KAWS I just bought a Ferrari I said, Where the roof is?! Where the roof is?! Blū electrico Roof finished in Nero Just a hit of magic A menacing, incredibly ambedextrous submissive One time I played God, I was hanging as the sun in Toronto In my third eye was a camera lense; My baby daddy, Lover and my best friend My husband My lover and My best friend My brother And my father Were my best friends Once upon a time I never had friends Now I remember sitting in the backseat, Has been I remember when I never had ribs I remember when I never had meat Nice to meet you I already had a coffee I remember sitting in the front seat Once upon a time I was anno one Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Once a bunch of Pennies, lady Gaga I'm a baby, haha Once upon a time, I was a no one A nobody Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon I remember penny was a virgin I remember when you were the third one, l Once upon a time I was the first one Once upon a time, I thirst my quench with Coffee Body guard! I remember going on a long run I remember once there was a Knock on my door Now I quench my thirst with smart water With a hard on Never was a smart one Just an artist I was no one Once upon a dollar Jimmy Fallon Once upon a nothing, there was no one Now I take my coffee on a long ride No fun Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Amen I wish for every dollar I ever had, back Jimmy Fallon I wish it was 11:11, every Dillon Francis I wish for sandwhiches on leavened bread at Passover I wish this whole world would Passover, With the the stories in my home And in my notebook I wish for the fame and wealth with it, Jimmy Fallon I wish I never laughed at Dillon Francis I wish Skrillex was never a demon, I take it back I want the wealth And not the fame Just the freedom, Jimmy Fallon What do you mean by that? A dad, an actor An attack, The press is back and asking questions I can't handle that I can't. I just can't with that Abandon the matrix Go back to What's his name But I can't Cause I made him up Call my mother begging to drop the charges Called my God Just asking what the pocket watch does What's an engagement ring like that coat How much to rug the cameras up Inside my home So I don't know about em That shit's priceless Like the 9 Dollar's I've got Marked up, but not to spend them at the Market Jimmy Fallon I pray for your family But not as hard as I pray For my son Or God To take this fat off So I can look like Jennifer Aniston Cause that's God to em, 22 year old Adam Sandler At a brunch A talk show with my Least favorite host of all time Jimmy Fallon But I love to laugh, huh I just got back, God My house is a mess I want meth like AshGod If Method man was drinking up the water Would there be backwash It's a horrible, windfall This awesome art project My broken heart The coughing stalkers Whatever the fuck is going on in New York I love New York But not New Yorkers It hurts to be the worst person The first person to put reverse curses On shamans from the 3rd world And I'm living in the first world, But I just learned that Underneath the surface Is the fourth world That's some dichotomy Huh That's some diabolical plot The cosmic avenger is stuck in a dimension Of white pocket tenses And white bitches who get offended With this scripture But listen I just got up And I've been privy to Never sleeping again Norman Needs you, Mrs. Hotch But I was never Mrs. Roberts With all of the hearts and crosses , stars I give up on love Where's DimlonnFrancis at That's a man without a mask, That's a mannequin m. Just got up And I still want breakfast All I got is Stuff that's leavening A hand in my pocket Just for God to show me Nobody I want wants me Jimmy Fallon has a family That's a tragedy, that But I laughed so hard in the bathtub I still haven't come back from that I feel bad for em, actually All the husbands Cause I was the wife that sucks And he hated me so much I got punched in the— Doesn't matter Stuck in the telling it over and over Nobody loves me My new password is Fuckit I'm gone galloping horses, And hornets, I'm just a furniture Probably should have aborted me, mother Just like you wanted to But I'm still in the hospital On the honor roll Cause I had them all lined up The prophets of the “Impossible, could not be my God!” That's what they all said, But they dressed me up like Some sort of messiah, So I was, then It wasn't right, no That was malpractice But now I've got Camping in Malibu Crossed off my list forever Shit It's some dichotomy Just hold onto me I'm the rock, You're the kite now, Jimmy Fallon I was just better off dead, You know Better off stuck in my head, you know. I read your messages, every one of them Every one of the drugs in my bucket I threw up from the fan club Impossible, Could not have been at that clown JIMMY FALLON - THE COSMIC AVENGER JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER is levitating in a hyper-meditative state. UH – “hehe” …I beg your pardon. “Hehe” Um… Fuck. Or “haha” “haha” … Just admit it. … Admit it already! –haha. Admit WHAT. This gets Levels. Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman! I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman. Ah, fuck, I'm nobody. “Nobody” Is that Bob Saget? I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget. Omg. Bob Saget! Fuck, that's right. EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET. No it's not! Oh My God! Yeah IT IS! Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?! BOB SAGET! YO GUYS, IT'S BOB SAGET. It was, in fact, Bob Saget. Bob Saget's dead, right? Oh yeah, bud. That's it guys! No more dead celebrities! I'm coming with you! NO MORE GHOSTS. Look, I have something to tell you. UGH. COME ON. This is a weird superpower. EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY … … … Having fun yet? Alright! I have a question! What? When do I get to– Get to what? You know. Luckily, I die long beore Jimmy Fallon, and as my time approached, I took all i could absorb from the world within, and without, almost as if any and all of my deathwish had been satiated with the gentle ease, the notion of knowing my imminent death would come long before what those surrounding me would consider my time, and therefore would not be made to lose anymore than I already had–but at least, I did have th strength in knowing, not only would i never grow so old as to see for show most of what I had done, but that I had done most of what I would have at all, and not much longer than my words would form into all that would come to be known as my full body of work, I would perish, even before–long before– those I had studied, admired, and known to love–if only through the fourth wall, at all. The invisible man, in Manhattan The sunglasses matches her madness The cloud cover looks just like Texas The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… THAT was a HARD left turn. So, what time can we listen to Excision? Sometime after intermission. How many acts is this again? ___ I told you, IN-FIN-ITE. Okay… I just wanted to know how long it would take? ___ I know someone that cold get us in _____ (Sitting on a speaker in the BassPod) What is she doing? What are you doing? Charging. __________ I think I found that girl you were looking for. Where is she? I said I found her: I didn't say you could have her. She's not a possession, I'm just trying to talk to her. You didn't mention that she was-- Be careful with your words. Oh, I think it's you that ought to be careful. You're losing your power over her and it shows. Mm. And what about your ‘power', hm? I haven't any power over her-- Oh, but you do-- Will Power at best, That would only be half of it. That would be all I had anything to do with; she was given free agency. HA. “Given”? ____ awww look at that bass face. Well, that's one reason... __ Ah what! you can change your entire frequency? No Fair, I can't do that You can, it just takes practice. What kind of practice-- ___ Oh shit, this hits different with two headphones. It all hits different with headphones. Calorie Deficit Calculator: -3423 Oh shit. Well how many calories did I eat? BEFORE: …chocolate chip cookies? NO— —CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIESzzxz— [CC/SUPACREE robotically and autonomously ditches her bicycle outside of sprouts, not giving a Fuck.] —s—noh! stop it! Stop controlling me! THEY ARE VEGAN. SO? STOP IT. Ooh, what's this. I don't know— get it. CC/SUPACREE stands awkwardly at the checkout with a varied selection of vegan baked goods. *beep* Yeaaaahh. So wait. SUPACREE is controlled by aliens? WE ARE GODS. Knock it OFF! [NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: SUPASTRENTH ] Nice. Yeah dude. Watch this. The Legend of Supacree is the #1 MMORPG in the world; it is also happening in real-time, in multiple worlds within the multiversial construct of the actual Omniverse. AGHHHHH In fact, nobody even plays GTA or call of duty anymore. YAH! [Random objects falling from the sky. ] SUPACREE Oh, nice. INSTANT MANIFESTATION. JUST POST THE FUCKING EPISODE ALRIGHT?! this bitch is fucking crazy. Watch this. Watch what? SHIA LABEOUF discovers The Legend Of Supacree franchise and becomes villainously obsessed with It, hatching a heinous and maniacal plan to hunt her down and capture her—tracking her every move and learning everything about her he can. Wtf. I don't know. Is he a villain? I don't know. I guess. I'M A SUPERVILLAIN. …He's a supervillain. I guess. Why?! I don't know. This is creeps. It is creeps. [lifts one eyebrow.] SUPACREEps. Scary monsters and supacreeps. Heh. NO, NO MUSICIANS. Heh. SHIA LABEOUF is a straight up gangster. HE'S CRAZY! [SHIA LAUGHING MANIACALLY.] Oh, wow– That dude is a straight up psychopath. You're a straight up psychopath. I'm not arguing. What is THIS part of the story? Well, son, you made it through. WOODY HARRELSON? WHAT. Woody Harrelson?! WHY? I don't know. He just fit the part. WHAT PART?! WHAT/! Nobody quite understands what's happening in ENTER THE MULTIVERSE, however, THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE has taken an incredible turning point, intersecting with the world of LEGENDS and THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNI BLŪ/ THE SUITE LIFE OF SUNNI BLŪ. IT HAS? YES? WHERE? I WANNA DIE. OH! That's not SUPACREE! [CC HULK SMASHES her bike onto the rack on the bus. THE HULK, sitting just in front stares at her wide-eyed as she boards the bus over the rim of his sunglasses.] Oh, maybe, nevermind. Wait! Is it THE HULK, or MARK RUFFALO? I don't know! I don't give a shit! Why are you even writing this? Uhhhhhhhh. [CC's brain is slowly melting as she rides the bus to work. THE HULK– OR IS IT MARK FUCKING RUFFALO!? I DON”T FUCKING CARE– THERE'S A DIFFERENCE WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE IT – DOESN'T– MATTER! ‘It doesn't matter.' Chal's words echoed in my head almost too loudly–as boldly blind and sometimes even dumb as he was, he was also wise, and as it turned out, right–it really didn't matter. Nothing mattered at all. I had gone through the motions of reaching out to him, to of course as expected learn that he and whatever her name was had gone their separate ways; I understood that would be the case nearly immediately back in Mazunte, but as he was insistent he would woo her–and persistent in doing so, that I thought maybe after all love– or what really turned out to be his obstinate lust would win the day–and yet, it hadn't; he was again single and on the prowl– and although at one point I had even lusted after him briefly, trailing behind him in nonchalant platonic carelessness as he obsessively followed another woman, had allowed me to become comfortable enough in the friendzone that i could just simply exist next to him; Now, again faced with homelessness and factoring in my inability to travel much further than south of the border, especially now knowing well how to travel throughout mexico and into Guatemala, I wondered truly if my own self-worth had really been lowered to the point of allowing myself to meet Chal in Guatemala–even full well knowing that he, too, preferred perfect and illy white to my dark skin and quite seemingly matronly features, and, knowing for myself that I wasn't his first choice– as he and I had of course met in Mazunte around the same time he had met whom he considered to be ‘his Goddess'-- albeit while on a topless beach and thus hynotized by her breasts. Men were hopeless. Then, here I was, waking up every other sleep cycle in the cold sweat of a wet dream, the subject of which I typically at least tried to keep deeply hidden in my subconscious psyche as secrets, although by now it seemed there really were none, and all that I knew and that I thought were known and seen by some other than myself–though somehow still holding true to my belief that there really was none other than myself–in my own broken and twisted world, alone and punished in the depths of mediocrity and shame. Woah. Riding the bus. There's nothing lower. There's walking. To the bus. Yah. And all the sick people. And all the crackheads. And all the–what are those? Demons [demon hacks.] Ugh, fucking–ugh. SHIA LABOUFF'S obsession with SUPACREE is helga petaki-meets Tom Cruise jumping on Oprah's couch. Oh, wait, we're back on that storyline? I mean– I don't know how to write this. Just write it. he's a villain, right? I mean, that suit. SHIA LA– FUCK. WHAT?! Worst last name EVER. Well, not ever– Wait, is he black?! –It sounds french. GOOGLE SEARCH: ‘How Jewish is Shia LaBeouf? ‘ –no, he's Cajun – That's french-black–wait— –what? Cajun AND Jewish? –Yeah– Jesus! JESUS What? (raises one eyebrow) SUPACREE strategizes a plan of attack. Attack for what? {ATTACK} YOUUUU INCEPTED ME!!! AGH! {COUNTER ATTACK} NOT ME! DISNEY! {DODGING COUNTER ATTACK} Yeah, Blame “Disney!” I JUST DID. Oh, yeah, right!! RAVEN SYMONÉ It was Disney. THEY OK'D THIS?! They bought Marvel! THEY OK'D EVERYTHING. —Even the SKRILLEX? Especially the Skrillex —Especially the Skrillex. AGHHHHHHHH—— ———-AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! SHIA LABEOUF VS SUPACREE: FIGHT!!!! Everything looks good— —everything looks good. Everything looks fine— —Everything looks fine. But wait— What? What about that guy? Oh My— —oh my… Is he gonna be alright? Is that guy —gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright? Is—that guy gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright Is that guy— Gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright?? Is that guy gonna be alright?! Is that guy gonna be alright m? Everything looks good— —everything looks fine Looks good— But what about that guy? …I don't know about that guy. Is he alright? Yo. Yooo. Stop writing songs about Skrillex. ((I literally can't.)) What?! It doesn't have to be about Skrillex! It could be about anybody! Here, they call with disco balls Stars in my eyes, but stars do fall First true love dies hard after all, No star shines bright as morning comes —(for) Sonny …I didn't write that. CUT TO: CC writes automagically between sets of heavy lifting. IMAGINARY FRIENDS, PART III DEADMAU5!!!! okay—one more—then cupcakes— Cupcakes? No cupcakes! I WANT CUPCAKES. Uh—No way! YES WAY. Mmm—no I'm sick of this diet! I'm not on a diet! I eat! You eat GRASS. I'm a vegan. This shit sucks. I told you, grass tastes bad. RICK?! (I also want cupcakes. ) Mmkay—ohh. You said that was the last one. No, more more. NO “one more” But I like this one—and it has the right amount of weights on it already—see? Jesús Christ He's not here. (Yes I am). Why the Fuxk. I also want cupcakes Okay, one more No “one more” The power of Christ compels ye! … Is that how that works? No. Maybe. (((Yes.))) AGHHH. The celebrities of Hollywood are gang stalking SUPACREE Can we— No. But I didn't even get to ask the question. The answer is no. THE CELEBRITIES OF HOLLYWOOD, after assembling with the Bampheramphs and Morherfuckers, have formed a supergroup tasked with bringing SUPACREE to THE HOLLYWOOD PEOPLE—so far, they have cunningly out-bested and outwitted THE US GOVERNMENT, including but not limited to THE FEDS, THE CIA, THE FBI and THE SECRET SERVICE. REALLY? I GUESS. HOW?! — DRAKE snoops on SUPACREE as she writes working half heartedly at THE NECK MACHINE with peaking curiosity, peaking over the time of his sunglasses. Whats it called. “Nautilus 4 way neck “ BPM: you're a jerk Do the Drake Do the Drake Do the Drake Work that neck Work that— Neck, Becky Work that neck, Work that neck Do the— “new note: Purchase ‘Honestly, nevermind' I had worked an entre month at LVAC before the circus went underway; Not a single drop of Skrillex had ever been played over the loudspeakers at any moment, for any of the time I had been employed there, nor had it burdened me any of the other time I had spent bettering myself within what I once cherished as sacred walls–now the illusion shattered, as nowhere I could seem to run – even the rural coastal jungle of Mexico-was far enough to escape the clammerings of something I quite honestly very much still loved, but wouldn't allow myself to enjoy— Or maybe, now, couldn't. BANGARANG. ‘Fuck this shit.' I wanted to move, but didn't—I wanted to leave, and probably should have, but wouldn't. I just sat there through it as my coworker, standing at about 5'4 ½ in a pair of tight black skinny jeans sang along and bounced rhymically. What the fuck. Then, as it had just been earlier that I was thinking of Sonny himself, and how, be it that any of my premonitions were actually accurate and true as I had once thought them to be, there would perhaps come a day that I regretted not listening to his works, just as one regrets not spending time with a loved one before their passing not giving enough attention to the little things, the tiny details, the time they had missed, but never missed without missing their loved one until it was too late. Then again, for me, any time in the then- present was too late, as I had only been followed, taunted, and ridiculed, openly humiliated and embarrassed, and never really paid directly for anything I had done, whether it did have to do with Skrillex or otherwise –and so I had made it more than a point to distance myself from it, anything having to do with it, or him, or anything really, music related—of course besides relying heavily on deadmau5 just for my own existence–that is, willingness wake up, move about the world and its endless, pointless constructs, and even so, completing a worthwhile workout with enough satisfaction that I could allow myself to leave the building–and now, with my commute taking up a grand total of 4 hours of my entire day—I didn't have the time or the energy to stay late into the days and even afternoons as I had before, or to arrive early as I had in the days and weeks before; Now this job was amounting to nothing at all, and I was surely less than breaking even. Whats the worry? You've got 20 minutes to write a story! Don't be sorry Mind your orders. You're a war chief Marry me, Oh pretty please— I plead to you, just sing for me Just think of me as a Never ending fantasy, At the very least When you bury me —and you buried me alive, Just for the look of things What makes us even Slitting wrists Or splitting things unevenly (Either thing benefits me, And my penis, I think.) Make me famous— She said Hate me or debate me, I have everything I need And I have everything you have, But I can leave, All with my dreams intact I do believe You think I'm evil Either way, unnecessary Why would I sit down and write a story— When you just did it for me? Why would I pledge allegiance to old glory She's ignoring me; Why would I change my name to satisfy your needs When mine sit idly by waiting Why would I dream of you, When you dream of me I have all I need, You have all of me in the other room While you watch cartoons with your lady I hate anime and now I hate you too, But I'm so stupid, Nothing soothes my moods, Except playing your tunes, Or music Whoop De Fucking do Would you Marry Me? He said (He never did, he just let her—) She said, I do And now they're doomed I built a tomb for two The bride and groom In music Two by two And used by Tuesday Music I presume To the beautiful Music I presume For the usual Music I presume For those who —- SHIA LABEOUF JUST DO IT. That is not how the end of the song goes. No, but this is how the end of the episode goes. Really!? How? [CC stares lifelessly forward out of the front window of the double decker bus; a man dressed in all blue catches her attention—another telepathic shapeshifter.] You brought…an umbrella? I told you there was a shit storm coming. Oh, nooh. Where's yours? I— don't care? That's right you don't. I don't. That's good you don't. I really don't. You don't give a Fuck, or a shit. I—don't give a fuck or a sh—wait— DILLON FRANCIS? I'm good at what I do. What do you DO? THIS. “A Silent Partner” Oh. I like that. That has all kinds of insinuations. Doesn't it? Hermph. You're a creep. A Supacreep. PAUSE ITS MISTER MAGOOoOOOOOOOooO0oO. No, it's the IRS. Fuck. HOLY SHIT SUNNI. WHAT. HOW DO YOU OWE 100,000 IN BACK TAXES?! Student loan debt. WHAT. THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE. Yes it does. HOW. Calm down Marci —MY ÑAME IS— [Sunnī Blū subdues her instantly with one if Supacree's mysterious rave weapons] Sit down, please. …what is that? You like it? Yeah. [she gives her another dose of strange vapor, she relaxes even further.] See. Yeah. Now that you're happy— —am i “happy” ? [she gives her another relaxing dose] —are you Happy? Yeah. Ok. So. I never filed my taxes because I had so muc

“The Legend of Supacree” L E G E N D S “Tales of A Superstar DJ” My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is myhel Now i do't wanna live no more My body is my hell My body is my hell My body is my hell Now I don't wanna love no more i don't wanna live no more I don't wanna love no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna love no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna live no more I don't wanna– Boy gets the girl– but in the end, i'm not either, I Still have to wonder why The nanny How I met yurr' Mother I'm neve gonna get all that God magic I need if I don't stop working. This isn't “work” Oh, yes it is. Deadmau5, a canadian DJ also known as Joel Zimmerman, hosts an anti-superbowl Star Wars Party, which turns unexpect— Look at me, feeling me, feeling you Now look at you, feeling you feeling me Feeling you feeling me Feeling me feeling you Feeling me feeling you Feeling you feeling Feeling you feeling –sorry. —Unexpectedly into the “superbowl party of the century”, when hundreds (eventually thousands) of “invitees” I've never been a man before, (that I know of) But ive got my hand over your heart , And it sure seems hard It sure seems hard -AHEM. Sorry. Receive an invitation via [SUPER JEW RABBI] AHEM What?! –Email, which was actually AHEM. WHAT! Oh My GoD! [Looks at clock] Oh. sorry Rabbi. When did you get to be such a Jew FLASHBACK Age: 12 Mom. I want a dreidel. …What's a dreidel? –And A Menorah! CUT BACK TO But honestly more recently, it was– [Stops traffic in Midtown Manhattan Rushour to pick up a penny.] [Jewish woman] Woooow. [JEWLUMINATTI] You see! I told you! Oh my God, why are the Jews in this series so stereotypically jewish? Because Jews are stereotypically Jewish. FLASHBACK: But what am I really saving here. Gevault! CUT BACK TO: YOU'RE A PEANUT BUTTER JELLy SaNDWHICH WITH NO PEANUT BUTTER AND NO JELLY. So just bread? –yes. But–[Anime sword swish] I don't eat bread. [Anymore] [FIGHT] Dang what DJ battle is THIS. The One You've Been Waiting For Mad men avatar the last air bender Grounded for life So how long's this whole thing supposed to take. –as long as it takes. What kind of answer is that. It's an answer. Don't be so sure of yourself. I am sure of myself; Just because it's not the answer you wanted doesnt make it any less of an answer. Now, sit down Watch out, and watch this: Too many apps on my phone I'm better off alone I'd better kill myself Nobody will ever love me Nobody will ever love me Watch out, watch this: My iPhone is trying to kill me, For real? See; It's natural selection I'm trying to unselect me Caviar, a delicacy How delishish The devil in me says to keep digging my grave I was once at a rave, And he gave me a halo A lion, I'm brave— I once said Spin it, Spin back the record again If it's all in my head Then I'm better off dead I'm better off dead Watch this! @Dillon Francis I'm stuck in a trance— Hanzel was lighting the candle And summoned me, Out of a dead sleep, With no pants on— It was a tech house set But I'm on acid Spinning an axis And stuck in a state of trance —i thought it was armin van buren at one point I have to give up at some point, writing, right? Now this is just point in history Point me away from the misery Mystery flavor is like Fruit punch, Or raspberry— Something like that, If you ask me; But white as the rabbit I pulled out the hat In the back seat I'm hatching a plan to go mad, But I need the recepits from Pasqualle for my taxes What the Fuck does that mean? I don't know; I'll read this In a year, When I unbury it Maybe I married my best friend, Deserved to get hit So I'm just going back to him Scratch that, he's mad at me I have no family Reckless abandonment God I'm attracted to everything Except for that See? She's racist. No, it's my ovaries! The lighter you are, the less the adversity I see you eyes turned to grey; Don't abandon me Yes, I wear contacts I'm faking attractive I laughed at him, had to He actually had magic @Dillon Francis How many hats to you have? Thanks to Hanzel, I'm back on this planet Why light a candle, when you know I haven't an answer; What did you ask? No, i haven't had breakfast yet — Thanks for reminding me I'm in a casket Goddamnit @Dillon Francis What are you? I'm an adversary GOOGLE: adversary ..??? ad·ver·sar·y /ˈadvərˌserē/ noun one's opponent in a contest, conflict, or dispute. Hmm. Oh. Opponent to what?! Could be anything, really. I don't like him… 2 for $ MIX AND MATCH INCLUDES BIG KING REALLY. Which one's the Big King? The little one, I think. He's not little In fact: LOOK AT EM. Dawh. Look at Skrillex. Dawg. Look at Skrillex. He bossed up. He was already boss. Well. He Sauced up, then. What kind of sauce is that?! I don't know, but looks like Dillon Francis is eating it. DILLON FRANCIS IS EATING IT pause. How am I still writing this show. She doesn't eat? She hasn't eaten. She doesn't eat. I haven't ate yet! BET. BET. OK—Bet. Nice. Sick. What are we betting. … … … WAIT. ,,, josh pan? … … Did you unpause? Unpause what? Uh. The game. This is the game. No, the game. This is the game! What are you talking about?!! Now I'm famous> This is The Game. sup. This is Sunni Blū Sup. It is?! Yea it is. Wait, it is?! I thought you were the kidd?? I am the kidd. Then, why is The Game meeting Sunnï Blu? For a collab. Duh. Wait. Pause. QUIT PRESSING PAUSE. Wait. Go back. I didn't get that last part. WE WATCHED IT A HUNDRED TIMES ALREADY. Screw you. We're watching it again. Ugh! I hate this! Dude. I hate watching this with you. It takes 3 hours to watch an episode! You guys are talking over all the good parts! It's all the good parts! This shit's exciting. I'm defaulting. What? This isn't—this isn't fair. I'm not doing this. What?! It isn't safe anymore. It was never “safe” SAFE! Oh nice. Baseball. It is baseball. Who's playing? All the DJs. What. For what?! It's the DJ GAMES. THE DJ GAMESsssssssss ITS THE DJ GAMES! OH FUCK YEAH. I fuck this. I quit. what. You can't quit. I can quit. I just did. You can't quit the DJ games. I just did. But you can't. I just did. Hey. Hey, what's up. I'm gonna be late. What's going on? My bus driver's drunk. Are you sure? CITY BUS DRIFTING IN SLOW MOTION /Hans Zimmer Music Yes. Welhp. What. That's it. I'm just gonna have to kill myself. Why, what happened? I'm pretty sure that's the only way to beat this level. What, really? Nah. I'm pretty sure Let me see. *SUPACREE jumps into oncoming traffic* YOU DIED. Aww. I died. WHAT THE FUCK. Well, you said. GAME OVER [fade to black] I HAD NO LIVES LEFT. WELL, YOU SAID! THATS'S NOT THE WAY TO— [fade to white] NEW LEVEL UNLOCKED: GOD MODE OOOHHHHHHHH. WHAT?! LVL i - DREAMSTATE What is this. SUPACREE. I— what? Hello? Follow me. Who is this? I know you. Oh. The above and beyond part. That's funny. I was just— So wait. If the end of this episode, is the end of that movie, then… I guess whatever's happening about now is whatever happened before that part. What part? I, having run off from I, runs into a forest alongside The Endless River, which opens out into a beautiful meadow, the micolored cosmic sky twinkling sweetly above, strange auroras dancing in the skies; a field of glowing and stardusted singing wishflowers at her feet, she frustratingly falls into them, soft grass puffing with the twinkling sounds of fairy dust and sprites (a homage to the lion king) the wishflowers softly sing her to sleep with the subtle and sweet frequencies of Skrillex. (A homage to the wizard of Oz) From Above & Beyond, a flock of Cosmic Creatures in flight spot a golden glimmer from afar; they descend dimensions-- to get a closer look; Closing in on the universe within the confines of a massive structure, which propels itself seamlessly through galaxies faster than the speed of light and sound, though she appears as a large golden space station, slowly drifting through the atmosphere. Manned by yet unseen beings, the golden ship descends upon Skrillex, almost silentl— a swishing whir as the ship, more similar to a futuristic building, an ovaline rounded structure seemingly structured in brass, gold, and silver as it docks to the soft soil of planetary terrain. The landing is soft enough not to have awaken Ū, still sleeping; but an immense light pours from the openings of the ship, waking her--and blinding Sonny as he finally approaches from behind, having been searching for her. She is drawn into the light; he shields his eyes as the beings emerge from their massive station. Monologue/Montage I fell in love with you...it was an accident. I fell in love with you, because I had to; I hadn't thought about it before, but i've been thinking about it ever since. Had I succeeded in my attempted suicide, we wouldn't have come face-to-face… Had I succeeded in my attempted suicide, I'd have no reason to write something so pathetic as this, pititul letter, which you will probably never read. Probably, anyway. I've spent a majority of my lifetime very deeply troubled, yearning for all the attention one could ever crave--until suddenly, I no longer craved any at all. Solitude, rather than isolation, became sacred, and safe to me; It was in the solace and quiet of my very own world, that you entered my kingdom...and it became ‘ours'. Silence. Nature. Astrology. My greatest found pleasures, in a cavalcade of endless self-doubt, self-loathing...a tiresome collection of all the hatred I've harbored for myself in my twenty-something years. I fell in love with you...I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to do anything, except be. Another festival, another escapade...another chance to dance, in the sunlight--the moonlight, under stars… And under the stars, is where I was forced to find you. Now, it seems, can't escape your presence--or lack-thereof. Unrequited? Perhaps. But, not unprovoked. I love you because it is in me to do so. I will always love you, always. There is a world where you're in love with me, as I am you; All I can do now, is hope that this is that same very world, and that as days go by, we draw closer to one-another, rather than further apart. In truth, friendship, in the very least, would serve as a worthy reward...for all the worry, all the wonder, and all the willing I've done for you; in honesty...I'm ashamed in my inability to let go--yet also proud, that I am able to love this much, this hard. To see you with someone else, now, would be a gentle relief; to know that you are kept in love, with graciousness...a subtle gift, an answer to a prayer I asked. Loneliness, I wouldn't wish upon you for anything--love is, in fact, my whole wish for you--be it mine, or not. While I can wish that it will be mine, I've also wished for you, the very best--I would want not for my flaws to burden you. Flaws are what create our perfection; God is, as I am. Losing you, the flame of fear that set my heart and soul to fire; Cancerous, weakened, plagued--premonitions impolitely penetrated my fragile, eggshell mind… the death of a friend, fast-forwarded and reflected into my mind's-eye; How could I forget a face like yours--eyes like those? How could I not know you, as I have? Tears bearing your name roll over my nose, like the rain on a rose...the burden of belonging to one, rather than some; To all, rather than none. So now, I keep my favorite photo of you in my phone...a comfort, to the weary and wounded heart I carry. I can pretend that your sweet voice accompanies mine, as I sing to soothe myself, as I sway in solitude; A gentle kiss, I imagine to give, if ever the chance. I love you, without reason to--and with every reason to, I love you. Find me, again As the ship departs, charging to go into warp speed, Sonny is left alone on his own planet; as a slight panic falls over him, A key-like object falls from the ship as it dissappars at warp speed into a portal. As his hands clap together, catching the object, the sound rings outward--this clapping pages The Skrillex, which lands promptly beside him, exclaiming-- "I AM SKRILLEX"; he has never seen this ship before, however proceeds onto the ship as though familiar with extra terrestrial phenomena all together. We only see him enter the ship; we do not follow him inside, but instead cut to Ū on the Interdimensional SpaceTime Station. Ah wait. So Skrillex is a planet? Skrillex is a lot of things SKRILLEX is a planet . That explains it. No it doesn't. I mean, it might. No it doesn't! I mean, it kindof does, if you think about it. BleepBleepBloop bleeepbleepbloopBloop bleepBleepBleeppBoopBoop bloopbloopBloopBloop. bleepBleep. bloop. Bleep? … This is a disaster! Don't look at ME. I'm not looking at anything! I can't stand it. __ This is the best thing on TV. Damn right it is. What channel is it, anyway? On Channel 43. What! I thought it was on Insomniac TV. They keep fucking with me. The Lord giveth, and taketh away— I thought you were Jewish. I want a sandwich. You're so useless. __ Who's this bitch? I won her in a bet. No you didn't. Royal Flush, bitch. What'd you get? It's a secret. __ My Lord. (Petrutheio Humphs) You look awful. I've been—working. Working on what, your majesty. Just—working, is all. Very well, then. Theodore— My leige? MEANWHILE, IN SEASON 4 [ When the 4th Wall Actually Broke] GO! I found this gym because of Dillon Francis— I found Dillon Francis because of my evil ex husband; I think the lesson here, or at least one of hundreds— Is to trust no one, And love unconditionally, No matter what. — 02-12-2022 Well, there's a conundrum. KEY/BPM: Slip, deadmau5 Conundrum. LEGENDS: ENTER THE MULTIVERSE Fuck. What was it? It was a p— Well it was a *PR Lol. *PT cruiser Yeah, but it was— It was purple. It was a purple PT. Cruiser It was—but what else was it? Ugh. I forgot. Yeah, I bet. GOOGLE SEARCH shades of purple. Ooooh. PERIWINKLE. You fucking dumb ass. I mean, Jesus. How long has it been? At least a lifetime. No, past that. It was a perfect periwinkle PT cruiser. So, start there. ‘Start there' what? Everything since then, till now— For what? Enter The Multiverse. That show is still on?! YES. What day is it? Fuxk. What time is it? What—the fuck. What?! CUPCAKES AND A MUFFIN?! I don't care how fat I am. You're not fat. QUASIMOTO Can I just say, your ass is like —woah. CC/SUPACREE Oh, thank you. QUASIMOTO I mean like—DAAAAAAMN. CC/ SUPACREE OK. QUASIMOTO i mean like—what the FAAACK. CC/SUPACREE Yeah. thanks, bro. [an awkward silence] QUASIMOTO …Good job, though. [light fist bump] EARLIER: MORE CUPCAKES. NAH. OHH, OREOS?! Oreos are the G.O.A.T. I WANTED CUPCAKES. SHUT THE FUCK UP— Before that, at the gym: —do the butt machine again. Again?! Get the glutes. But I'm tired— GET THE GLUUUUUUUUTES. SONNY/SKRILLEX Where am I? Ū Hell. ANGEL 1 In bed. ANGEL 2 In mexico. CUT TO: SUPACREE finally gets to Heaven, looking for SKRILLEX. SUPACREE So, where is he? JESUS Somewhere else. ANGEL 1 At home. ANGEL 2 In mexico. JESUS Who knows? CHAK CHEL Someone must... DILLON FRANCIS I'm someone. JESUS But I don't. ME I don't know anything. MYSELF I don't need to. I I just wanna go home. SUPACREE Can I come home now? JESUSYou always could. SUPACREE But really, I mean-- CHAK CHEL Really's all it really takes. ANGEL 1 You have to know, ANGEL 2 You have to mean it; Don't look both ways before you cross, if you honestly want off the cross Christ, for your sake Honestly It's probably wise to admit that you've tried For the third time; Mankind's just not worth it. Mankind, maybe; But humanity's my baby And this earth is definitely worth something I love it-- Her. And the rest of the planets, but Look how she spins, It's magnificent, Look at the way the ocean's Make this mist; And the wind-- If i sing loudly enough I might Vibrate the trees, How they love dancing and laughing for me; And I just can't help but to laugh at her inhabitants; They dance oh-so rhythmically They're very creative-- and grateful, they always give thanks to me It's no need, but the Earth, she keeps feeding them She makes these beautiful things, So sweet; Mangoes, I think. Greed; The Parable of the Mango Tree Mango VIP. In the pre-existence, a young God prepares for her journey through the Land of The Living; Her older brothers taunt and tease, as she shuffles through notes and index cards, studying her predetermined fate on Earth. I That's easy. The cover art's just got a Mango On it, White Backdrop; It looks super juicy; with a green leaf, I think. E Who made it? I Uhhhhh. ^> Uhhhhh... O You forgot! I No! I know, I know. It was.... A Who? U She forgot again. I I did NOT. E Did too. Who made it? I It was...it was...Herobust! Y Herobust? I Wasn't it? E Wrong! A Loser. I I am not a Loser. It was…Was it Ganja White Night? E I don't know, was it? A Was it? I I don't know! Just tell me. E I can't. I Yes you can! E I can't. Your rules-- I Exactly, it's my rules! Just gimmie the answer! E I think you're going to have to GOOGLE it. I Ugh, no way. E So is Liquid Stranger your final answer? Y Liquid Stranger?! I I never said Liquid Stranger. A Idiot. O Now she's never gonna get it. U What did you say before? I It was...oh... A See dude. I Shut up, I had it-FUCK. A Damn dude, you broke her. I I'm not broken, I just forgot - E Liquid Stranger, going once-- I I never said Liquid Stranger! I know it wasn't Liquid Stranger; Why would it ever be Liquid Stranger? CUT TO: A pair of mysterious dudes Suits in Sunglasses are collecting famous DJs. SUIT Martin Stääf? LIQUID STRANGER ...Yes... SUIT. Come with me. ___ CUT TO: Two fans are watching interdimensional cable. SUPACREE It's a practical-- FAN 1 WHAT HAPPENED? FAN 2 IT JUST CUT-- __ Aliens in an Ascended dimension of hyper-intelligence are studying our three-dimensional existence from an unknown cosmic world. BRAMF Remember that planet I showed you--the-- ARLA Yeah, with the Axis? BRAMF Yeah. ARLA Yeah? BRAMF Something happened to it, ARLA Like what? BRAMF It's flat now. ARLA WHAT? BOTH Woah. >^ Sometimes, even i'm surprised by the things I've written. ME I didn't see that one coming! MYSELF Neither did I: I was gonaa say it was off it's axis. I Flat's funnier. ME Yeah, and probably not as tragic. MYSELF I mean...that would be pretty tragic. I Probably easier to manage. ME Perhaps…But I mean, if you have a whole planet, and then it just collapses-- MYSELF It's just flattened; nobody said it collapses. MEANWHILE The planet collapses. __________ CUT TO: SUPACREE is now a full-blown superpowered vigilante; She seeks revenge for GETTER sending her through the interdimensions at AUDIOTISTIC. SUPACREE Getter, we meet again. GETTER I've never met you before; what are you doing in my dressing room? SUPACREE Why does a DJ have a dressing room? GETTER I don't know; get out. [She swiftly leaves; as she exits, THE SUITS approach the dressing room door.] SUIT 1 Tanner Petulla? GETTER Yeah? SUIT 2 Come with us. GETTER Fuck that! [He doesn't have a choice.] Oh shit, the next scene is already written, I remember this. Oh, okay! I get it! Yeah. She's still at-- She's still on the-- ____ JUST KILL YOURSELF ALREADY. For what? You're suck in this until it's done. What's done? It'll never be over, it's just infinite. ENTER THE MULTIVERSE ^ UNTITLED DOCUMENT >< >< >< ANGEL 1 YOU'RE GONNA LISTEN TO SKRILLEX ON YOUTUBE? ANGEL 2 DON'T. JESUS I mean... ANGEL 1 DON'T you dare. SUPACREE I might as well, by the time I finish downloading it I probably won't even be able to listen to it. ANGEL 2 You shouldn't. SUPACREE I shouldn't, but I know i have to. ANGEL 1 In PUBLIC? JESUS Could go Incognito... ANGEL 2 INCOGNITO; The “oh please don't look at this:” easy algorithm engine for “LOOK AT ME, I'M HIDING SOMETHING.” MEANWHILE...IN DEEP MEDITATION…(IE OMNIPOTENCE) SUPACREE So... if a song is... nothing but question and answer, what's a song which references another in an attempt to address the question which was asked? ME A conversation between one song and another? MYSELF I guess, yes; I Well, that would be a symphony, I would suppose. SUPACREE It would, wouldn't it. ME That is, if the songs were in sync. MYSELF They could be made to be. I Every song is made to be in sync; ME I mean, two songs, made to be in sync with each other. _______ SUPACREE is on the floor at a rave. BASSGOD WAKE UP. SUPACREE This isn't funny anymore. ANGEL It was never funny. You have to get up. SUPACREE I'm up. BASSGOD You're NOT UP. ANGEL Come on, you have to do this. SUPACREE I'm doin it. GOD NO. ANGEL It's no use. She's so, so under there. It would take all of us to try to pull her out--that is without... [The darkening sky crumbles, as the thunderous storm rages, the battle between worlds expands throughout the outer galaxies.] ____ You're not skinny enough You're not pretty enough You're too dark, And you don't work quickly enough Much younger girls are putting in such Efforts, just to be, the perfect little beauty queen You wish you were, But couldn't be and kids these days are Everything that means anything Sometimes I Don't Wanna Be Happy… It was bad, But better than I'll ever be A basic remix, For the basic bitch that sings it And, I'm basically a Dillon Francis fiend, Have you seen this? Now it's getting serious, I seriously doubt there's anything I can do about it It's in God's hands and, I live in Satan's house How did he do this? How did this happen? The sad result of the damage, Cause i'm pretty sure The very last time my ex ever hit me Something got stuck on repeat; It's just eating me up. ___ [Untitled Document] What did we call that place, between “The Blackout” and waking up. Hazy. I thought it was something more clever. Maybe, but i'll never find it if i'm just scrolling through these documents. Write ”Untitled Document” That's all I've got, I guess. _____ [A DJ] Can be played by literally any DJ. A wild, wild party has happened. A DJ wakes up, previously having been sprawled out across the floor. A DJ Whose house is this…? Ugh. [Looks in mirror.] A DJ ughhh. [S/he gets up and stumbles groggily, stepping over bodies hunched and perched, slung about sleeping. Peacefully. The sun is bright, a curse to the eyes of the clearly hungover, and likely still quite inebriated DJ. ] CONCURRENTLY: >>> SUPACREE awakens from a ‘stupor' herself, displeased. She looks in the mirror, at first disgruntled, then “picks up her face” adjusts her perception, and decides, SUPACREE (“I'm good.”) Yep. [And she keeps it steppin, still asking aloud, as she ponders to herself;] SUPACREE Whose house is this? [And makes her way into the kitchen, where she (probably in a montage) cleans around the many bodies of hot people and rave babies still smudged and dripping in everything glittery; she appears to have ‘frozen time', as she vacuums faces and erases permanent marker penises drawn onto the foreheads and other exposed body parts of those who have fallen asleep with no shoes on. She cooks breakfast and straightens the entirety of what is now more recognizable as someone's home, though the owner still remains unknown. She sips coffee and reads the newspaper, as she steps behind the freshly detailed decks; and prepares a set through the headphones shes hung happily around her neck.] PAUSE ME See! THIS IS RIDICULOUS. MYSELF It is. Ridiculous. You can't vacuum someone's face! I Not that part-- MYSELF --Especially white people! ME You never said they were all white people. I I mean, predominantly; it said hot people and rave babies. MYSELF That's racist! ME It isn't. This whole scene would be entirely different, if it had nothing but black people in it. ALTERNATELY: She wakes up in the same house, but it's clean. SUPACREE ...Whose house is this? BEYONCE It's my house. SUPACREE It's... nice. BEYONCE Yes it is. ______ DILLON FRANCIS has the master plan. SUPACREE Ugh, he knows everything. GOD Not everything, dear, believe me. SUPACREE Everything that matters. GOD There's no such thing as everything that doesn't matter. SUPACREE ...What?! __ Don't look in there! You won't find anything in there. I hate these things. ____ It doesn't work if you don't practice. How do I practice without decks? You don't. How do I Dj without practicing? You don't. So DJing is just for rich people? I mean, primarily, or just...anyone with money, if you have it. Fuck this, I quit. You can't quit. If you quit we forfeit the game. No... You idiot. What game? I thought she knew about the game. What. game. Well, it's not just a game, it's a language. WHAT GAME. She's about to be so angry, dude, just--- Just run. ___ 8 Dimensional--wait, what? Oh, she finally made it. I never thought she'd get to this part. Well, she stopped eating meat and cooks asian food-- ---yeah, but that's like 6 different places-- She's not listening to Skrillex. --She's not skipping it-- --yeah, but she isn't listening to it actively.-- Josh Pan. Yeah. I am. Why. I thought we were past “why” We were, we were WAY past “why” It wasn't really a question, guys, don't worry about it. “Don't worry about it” Tsh. Tsh. ___ It's just an expression. “expression” yes. I get it-- ___ He named it “Kliptown Empyrean” What. What's “Empyrean”? I'd love to know, but I don't. Don't google it. I won't, I just. __ GO KARTS. With A K. __ Where's Kliptown? South of Capetown? South? South Afri-- Stop. HE”S AFRICAN? Stop. What's more offensive; Being called an African, or an Alien? ___ One off...hmmm… Always one off. ___ Get out of my house! This is your house? Thank God, I was starting to worry the owner like wandered off and got lost; or, you know (makes slitting throat) I... no, this is my--wait. Who are you? Me? I'm S U P A C R E E “S U P A C R E E”? [having been yet unrecognized, shes is used to having to spell it] Yeah; ___ Key of Cringe: I'm in a box with all my thoughts, And I am not on top of the world Or taking shots, I'm just rocking back and forth Like broken record, Repeating sequences, a robot A beat box of kittens Nobody wants I'm lost (if rock and roll will take me I wonder how much it costs) ____ What did this kid do? Nobody knows _Oh, shit, it's the Jews again. I love the Jews. We know. I keep telling you, you're jewish I'm not jewish my mom's… That's not your mom. Of course that's my mom. It's not, I already told you what planet you're on? __ Now, tell us why we wear our masks! Oh, there are lots of reasons for that. Tell us about the Sauce! All the sauce? Yeah!!! That would be a long story. __ Oh, the Google kids are cute, too. I especially love that little chunky one. He is cute, he's probably my favorite, actually ____ PIERCE? Who the fuck is PIERCE? Google it. I like this, this is- It's different, isn't it? Yeah, and then it __ Sunni—are you Jewish? I...identify as “Jewish” You can't just identify as Jewish. Well, I do. No, you can't just “identify” as Jewish; your mother has to be Jewish. Okay; my mother is Jewish. Sunni—you don't talk much about your family; who's your mother? Who's your mother?! Oh! Okay, we're done. See you next time, bye! What are you doing? What? “Identify as Jewish”?! WHAT?! I do! No I don't! You don't know me! Maybe not! But I know TMZ. I'm not on TMZ Sunni Blu is on TMZ What did I do?! YOu know what you did. ∆ Well, alright then. ∆ Must be something. ∆ I got it. . Don't look at me;; I'm a catastrophe, I'm just waking up now Don't look at me, I got so high i think I might not come down It's not a bad thing But I'm a bad guy, i promise It's not a bad thing, Don't look in my eyes; Especially if I like you Especially if you have other plans tonight, Or this morning That's right Time flies when you're (dynomite) Time flies when your mind right I didn't mean to stay here It's been nearly half a year, you know It's nearly half a year It's nearly half a y AHEM ALRIGHT. JESUS CHRIST. No, not that! [sighs heavily, frustrated] Enjoy Your Day. FARRO nobly sacrifices his own life during The Lovers Quarrel, as PETRUTHEIO attempts a final and fatall blow unwittingly against ‘CESMET' A saturn of satirical Return of reverb Expanding explosions of Outward and unearthly Worlds within words Or words within Worlds on the Curve of the Unwritten overtures of -Mother wow . I guess. Do you want a cup of coffee? I want you to shut the fuck up. What if Jimmy Fallon had a diary as a kid. And I found it when i shapeshifted into his body. Yeah, what if. What if this is it? [SUPER HUGE GASP] Oh, AHEM- No, i Gotta write this. AHH– Oh, the things i would do to you Oh, woah, The things you would do to me Oh, no, no, woah The things i would do AHHH– Don't be mad I'm a writer I'm like this Hi kids wanna see how sharp my knife is yikes Sigh, bitch, ive been sitting in silece With the lights off cause i like it Ilike it a lot, but uhm Ahem, The rabbi's mad cause that i'd write this And it's shabbat This is why i don't listen to deadmau5 anymore. What are you talking about *listenining to* GODDAMIT. what The invisible man, in Manhattan The sunglasses matches her madness The cloud cover looks just like Texas The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… 03. JIMMY FALLON All ya'll are all worth bout a dollar; I am a cyclone, watch me holler I lived my whole life underwater I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon All ya'll are only bout a dollar I work so hard, I guess for nothin I am not worried bout a dollar I got a dollar; Jimmy Fallon I guess I'll do it on my own I had to do it all alone I made some soup, all out of stones I am the only one I know I am not worried bout the sauce I am so famous, got a stalker I am so famous Can't go no where I got a dollar, Jimmy Fallon I'm at the office, Not my home No collab I work alone Opened a business, got a loan I got a hundred of them passwords I went frontwards —1I went backwards Went to Manhattan, took a walk Went to the rock and dropped a rock Now put your money where your mouth is I got a thousand Jimmy Fallons (What's that) (I'm the host) What's that, what's that I work alone What's that what's that I dropped a rock into the rock What's that what's that I'm the host, I'm Jimmy {enter the multiverse/ as seen on tv} Story/ music video Moderately famous household television Jimmy Fallon suddenly begins appearing everywhere—that is—on every possible TV screen imaginable— The Protagonist, in confusion, can't seem to escape, and also amusingly begins finding Pennies in very strange and seemingly random places—these Pennies then begin opening up portals, breaking the fourth wall and opening worlds to other dimensions— Have you seen this? Uhh, hmwhat is it? Mits m “Two dumb Jews, starring Seth Rogen, and some other dude— Who's the other dude— some Jew,but it's got Adam Sandler in it. Oh, so three dumb Jews. So, no, then? I'd watch the shit out of that, though, tvh. Why's the synopsis? Uhh. Two Jewish musicians struggling to make it in new York's congested underground music scene hit it off in comedy by complete accident, after being booked as a duo for a comedy club they mistook for a bar. Heh. Okay, who does Adam Sandler play? “The Bookkeeper” What. Who the fuck is “the book keeper?” We'll see, I guess. “Two Broke hoes@ It's like two broke girls, but actually funny. What, be nice . Okay. Two Broke Ghosts That's better— — And marketable. Are you pale, or just— No, I'm dead. I'm dead. X.X Be NICE. Now our musical guests, SWAGGARBOMB. What in the fuck kind of music is that It's called “Dorkstep” [the doorbell rings] Great, who the fuck is I got a train car of your body count I got way far out to far rock away, way out Stop to talk to me, or don't, Kill your culture You need some? I got u— Probiotics, yo The truth hurts Your shit stinks Must be a mirror over herer Cause that's me I m your hero. Esha I think McGuiennes? Or McGrefor, after Ewab, maybe New York wants me to kill myself Maybe eventually New York if full of the devil The devil is money And everyone wants it The root of all evil, Is getting even The root of all evil Is people Beside myself, But besides that The ones hurting me, are soon to be where I am That's just karma The gangstalkers are soon to be stalked Coughed, and shot at The neighbors are soon to be eaten by their own demons When I don't clean them The root of all evil is evil, And that's all I see here White power wants me to kill my self The Caucasians get crazy when the race war is waging The elections are coming up And they see us coming up on conciousness They don't want us Just being honest They're hateful, They washed all the love out Thanks Karen But she don't care White firms just wanna have fun And they get to Meanwhile, me and I Eat shit( bro, And die Why's it nice to be white Even when you're wrong, you're right All you gotta do is lie, Open up your big blue eyes real wide and Decide what you want, Put us under your foot, And make us pay for it Thanks Karen Caucasians are terrorists I think it's McGuennes or however you spell it, cause half the names are like plays on Okay, I lie: You made a world where I have to Okay, I steal You took everything that I'm after already Or your ancestors did Call the luxury apartment reparations But ain't got no privacy, and hells angels and the kkk Ride motorcycles every time I get my eye on the prize So what's the price for being indegenous, black, and a genius White supremacy finds sneakier ways to kill you ESHA MCGUENNES (I thought figure out how to spell that. My left side's off I guess I got Stuck in the love of the art I was writing that part When the life of my love Fell over me A lover huh I'm so confused. I'm sorry bro, But if you're morbidly obese, But your feet are like a size 6– You are not BIG BONED. My doctor said I have a small frame, my feet are size 9, I went from a 10 to an 8.5 after losing 200 hundred pounds, I'm like “goddamn! Even my feet were fat! Fuck” But if you're fat like I was and your feet are size 6, your feet might be like a si3 4! You're a fat fucking pixie that fucked around and can't do little pixie shit now, cause you like pixie sticks Too much I'm just the rat in the dumpster I made this whole world up I swallowed the doctor I hearted the surgeon I locked up the dog catcher; I cauldron'd the Mormons I called it a sermon, but He called them all — Wait, who is Herman?! I don't know! Some black guy on that show I'm writing! what. I don't know. You're writing a show?! I'm on it! Ugh, I don't know. No fair, You really know how to make me cry When you give me those ocean eyes Those ocean eyes Good looking people In good looking places Doing good things; I just want to be Good today Good looking people Good looking people Bye, bye little bird, Think of the dreams we made Think of the drummer boy, Your lover boy, Then, the other boy There we go again, With the drums we played And the love we made It just won't make it Oh I Just Can't take it Can I come back yet? SHUT UP, GAYBRAHAM LINCOLN. I'm having breakfast at 10 am Thinking damn this depression is just setting in There's a chest on my elephant Chester drawer with hand carved elements Elephant ok my chest, Clisets with hangers and button ups I haven't won't yet What FOR WHAT FOR. MY EYES. For the sake of the art, I heart ya. For perhaps if I love, That's how I lost ya. So I keep all my love close, The brothers have found the fountain How many dollars do tootsie pops cost For one Jimmy Fallon? return to the blacklist. Great. Now I'm Jimmy Fallon. Well what's fucked up! What happened! FUCK! I hate being Jimmy Fallon! Whose dick swings to the right like that. Ow. FUCK. Fuck this guy. GODDAMMIT. -_- Let me in. Or I could just leave you out. No, don't do that. WHY. Ahh. Shhhhhh!!! What if someone sees me. Hmm, let's see. [rings neighbors dooorvelk, shuts door] No! The neighbor opens the door; now gifted with the ability to see demons, after merging with Fast forward Oh no, when did that thing come into play (When this happened) Liz lemon lives on the ground floor It don't matter cause she ain't never home l She's at the rock That's all the way up Good talk, Donaguey, Good, Good Talk Good people Good show Good good times It's good to be long gone from home Go to work at the plaza That ones Conan. Oh, Why?! Why not, though. OH, you mean— Katt. What up Snoop . Ahh, Look what the pimp limped in. You think you're clever. You think you're at least 5 foot—but you're 4 foot 9 I'm STILL WINNING CHARLIE SHEEN relapses on the dance floor Oh shit. Relapses to which habit? All of them! 10-4 CALL RUSSEL BRAND. Csnt. Why not. He's blacked out. What? Another relapse?! No, he just— passed out KABLAM. “The Cockney Thug” He's just like that now. God What is it. Can I have ham in my spam samwhiches. —you want ham in your spam sandwhich. Yes. Roasted cantaloupe with Put your notebook On my throat-Scrotum I like your poems So I wrote you this one Oh. That's. Welcome—to the' creepy shit fans have done for u's backlogs. “Backlogs” Well, I have millions of fans, It would take me years to look at all this. [the festival project] Woah. Woah. Ok. Yo. Have you seen this. What is it. I don't know. Hm. Look. Woah: Yeah, it's— Wow Ok. It just goes on like this— For how long— For like GOH GOH l GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO CUT TO: Latest — 1:04 WHAT? MEANWHILE ….IS THAT A JIMMY FALLON? LOOKS LIKE ONE. SHOOT THAT MOTHERFUCKER. ok , boss. I told you, He would play The Devil's Advocate, If need be [JIMMY FALLON is shot mercilessly in the shoulder in broad daylight.] YO. THEY SHOT ME. He'll be okay. He's Jimmy Fallon. [LIKE 90,000 Ambulances and a SWAT team roll up.] See. DEADMAU5 charges himself in a high speed chamber—a tech-driven coffin via a USB port in his neck. Lol. Ok. (PDA) Public Displays of Affliction I've never even see. A. Aston Martin Sometimes it's worth it, Getting lost in Manhattan I just saw the sign I wouldn't dare entering, anyhow Not in this outfit Not in this predicament (I just left the Whole Foods market) I got lost and god was happy Motor cars for music Force a figure ibto music Forgive Annie, Run a mile what's a california smile In New York What a garden Oh, what a garden Double back. For a second glance Oh, don't we all want second chances Now I've been an Aston Martin Motorists dot muses now u want her What a party I just saw the sign Now I've been an Aston Martin All by design Companion passing through KAWS I just bought a Ferrari I said, Where the roof is?! Where the roof is?! Blū electrico Roof finished in Nero Just a hit of magic A menacing, incredibly ambedextrous submissive One time I played God, I was hanging as the sun in Toronto In my third eye was a camera lense; My baby daddy, Lover and my best friend My husband My lover and My best friend My brother And my father Were my best friends Once upon a time I never had friends Now I remember sitting in the backseat, Has been I remember when I never had ribs I remember when I never had meat Nice to meet you I already had a coffee I remember sitting in the front seat Once upon a time I was anno one Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Once a bunch of Pennies, lady Gaga I'm a baby, haha Once upon a time, I was a no one A nobody Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon I remember penny was a virgin I remember when you were the third one, l Once upon a time I was the first one Once upon a time, I thirst my quench with Coffee Body guard! I remember going on a long run I remember once there was a Knock on my door Now I quench my thirst with smart water With a hard on Never was a smart one Just an artist I was no one Once upon a dollar Jimmy Fallon Once upon a nothing, there was no one Now I take my coffee on a long ride No fun Once upon a dollar, Jimmy Fallon Amen I wish for every dollar I ever had, back Jimmy Fallon I wish it was 11:11, every Dillon Francis I wish for sandwhiches on leavened bread at Passover I wish this whole world would Passover, With the the stories in my home And in my notebook I wish for the fame and wealth with it, Jimmy Fallon I wish I never laughed at Dillon Francis I wish Skrillex was never a demon, I take it back I want the wealth And not the fame Just the freedom, Jimmy Fallon What do you mean by that? A dad, an actor An attack, The press is back and asking questions I can't handle that I can't. I just can't with that Abandon the matrix Go back to What's his name But I can't Cause I made him up Call my mother begging to drop the charges Called my God Just asking what the pocket watch does What's an engagement ring like that coat How much to rug the cameras up Inside my home So I don't know about em That shit's priceless Like the 9 Dollar's I've got Marked up, but not to spend them at the Market Jimmy Fallon I pray for your family But not as hard as I pray For my son Or God To take this fat off So I can look like Jennifer Aniston Cause that's God to em, 22 year old Adam Sandler At a brunch A talk show with my Least favorite host of all time Jimmy Fallon But I love to laugh, huh I just got back, God My house is a mess I want meth like AshGod If Method man was drinking up the water Would there be backwash It's a horrible, windfall This awesome art project My broken heart The coughing stalkers Whatever the fuck is going on in New York I love New York But not New Yorkers It hurts to be the worst person The first person to put reverse curses On shamans from the 3rd world And I'm living in the first world, But I just learned that Underneath the surface Is the fourth world That's some dichotomy Huh That's some diabolical plot The cosmic avenger is stuck in a dimension Of white pocket tenses And white bitches who get offended With this scripture But listen I just got up And I've been privy to Never sleeping again Norman Needs you, Mrs. Hotch But I was never Mrs. Roberts With all of the hearts and crosses , stars I give up on love Where's DimlonnFrancis at That's a man without a mask, That's a mannequin m. Just got up And I still want breakfast All I got is Stuff that's leavening A hand in my pocket Just for God to show me Nobody I want wants me Jimmy Fallon has a family That's a tragedy, that But I laughed so hard in the bathtub I still haven't come back from that I feel bad for em, actually All the husbands Cause I was the wife that sucks And he hated me so much I got punched in the— Doesn't matter Stuck in the telling it over and over Nobody loves me My new password is Fuckit I'm gone galloping horses, And hornets, I'm just a furniture Probably should have aborted me, mother Just like you wanted to But I'm still in the hospital On the honor roll Cause I had them all lined up The prophets of the “Impossible, could not be my God!” That's what they all said, But they dressed me up like Some sort of messiah, So I was, then It wasn't right, no That was malpractice But now I've got Camping in Malibu Crossed off my list forever Shit It's some dichotomy Just hold onto me I'm the rock, You're the kite now, Jimmy Fallon I was just better off dead, You know Better off stuck in my head, you know. I read your messages, every one of them Every one of the drugs in my bucket I threw up from the fan club Impossible, Could not have been at that clown JIMMY FALLON - THE COSMIC AVENGER JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER is levitating in a hyper-meditative state. UH – “hehe” …I beg your pardon. “Hehe” Um… Fuck. Or “haha” “haha” … Just admit it. … Admit it already! –haha. Admit WHAT. This gets Levels. Nobody thought Patrice O Neal was a woman! I thought Patrice O Neal Was a Woman. Ah, fuck, I'm nobody. “Nobody” Is that Bob Saget? I swiped right on this dude, just cause he looked exactly like Bob Saget. Omg. Bob Saget! Fuck, that's right. EXT. THE W HOTEL, BEVERLY HILLS, DAY/ EXT . PODSHARE WESTWOOD ROOFTOP, DAY OH MY GOD, GUYS, LOOK: IT'S BOB SAGET. No it's not! Oh My God! Yeah IT IS! Fuck, really?! Bob Saget?! BOB SAGET! YO GUYS, IT'S BOB SAGET. It was, in fact, Bob Saget. Bob Saget's dead, right? Oh yeah, bud. That's it guys! No more dead celebrities! I'm coming with you! NO MORE GHOSTS. Look, I have something to tell you. UGH. COME ON. This is a weird superpower. EXT. GRAVEYARD, QUEENS, NY. DAY … … … Having fun yet? Alright! I have a question! What? When do I get to– Get to what? You know. Luckily, I die long beore Jimmy Fallon, and as my time approached, I took all i could absorb from the world within, and without, almost as if any and all of my deathwish had been satiated with the gentle ease, the notion of knowing my imminent death would come long before what those surrounding me would consider my time, and therefore would not be made to lose anymore than I already had–but at least, I did have th strength in knowing, not only would i never grow so old as to see for show most of what I had done, but that I had done most of what I would have at all, and not much longer than my words would form into all that would come to be known as my full body of work, I would perish, even before–long before– those I had studied, admired, and known to love–if only through the fourth wall, at all. The invisible man, in Manhattan The sunglasses matches her madness The cloud cover looks just like Texas The suns going down And it's getting colder As the winds blows… THAT was a HARD left turn. So, what time can we listen to Excision? Sometime after intermission. How many acts is this again? ___ I told you, IN-FIN-ITE. Okay… I just wanted to know how long it would take? ___ I know someone that cold get us in _____ (Sitting on a speaker in the BassPod) What is she doing? What are you doing? Charging. __________ I think I found that girl you were looking for. Where is she? I said I found her: I didn't say you could have her. She's not a possession, I'm just trying to talk to her. You didn't mention that she was-- Be careful with your words. Oh, I think it's you that ought to be careful. You're losing your power over her and it shows. Mm. And what about your ‘power', hm? I haven't any power over her-- Oh, but you do-- Will Power at best, That would only be half of it. That would be all I had anything to do with; she was given free agency. HA. “Given”? ____ awww look at that bass face. Well, that's one reason... __ Ah what! you can change your entire frequency? No Fair, I can't do that You can, it just takes practice. What kind of practice-- ___ Oh shit, this hits different with two headphones. It all hits different with headphones. Calorie Deficit Calculator: -3423 Oh shit. Well how many calories did I eat? BEFORE: …chocolate chip cookies? NO— —CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIESzzxz— [CC/SUPACREE robotically and autonomously ditches her bicycle outside of sprouts, not giving a Fuck.] —s—noh! stop it! Stop controlling me! THEY ARE VEGAN. SO? STOP IT. Ooh, what's this. I don't know— get it. CC/SUPACREE stands awkwardly at the checkout with a varied selection of vegan baked goods. *beep* Yeaaaahh. So wait. SUPACREE is controlled by aliens? WE ARE GODS. Knock it OFF! [NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: SUPASTRENTH ] Nice. Yeah dude. Watch this. The Legend of Supacree is the #1 MMORPG in the world; it is also happening in real-time, in multiple worlds within the multiversial construct of the actual Omniverse. AGHHHHH In fact, nobody even plays GTA or call of duty anymore. YAH! [Random objects falling from the sky. ] SUPACREE Oh, nice. INSTANT MANIFESTATION. JUST POST THE FUCKING EPISODE ALRIGHT?! this bitch is fucking crazy. Watch this. Watch what? SHIA LABEOUF discovers The Legend Of Supacree franchise and becomes villainously obsessed with It, hatching a heinous and maniacal plan to hunt her down and capture her—tracking her every move and learning everything about her he can. Wtf. I don't know. Is he a villain? I don't know. I guess. I'M A SUPERVILLAIN. …He's a supervillain. I guess. Why?! I don't know. This is creeps. It is creeps. [lifts one eyebrow.] SUPACREEps. Scary monsters and supacreeps. Heh. NO, NO MUSICIANS. Heh. SHIA LABEOUF is a straight up gangster. HE'S CRAZY! [SHIA LAUGHING MANIACALLY.] Oh, wow– That dude is a straight up psychopath. You're a straight up psychopath. I'm not arguing. What is THIS part of the story? Well, son, you made it through. WOODY HARRELSON? WHAT. Woody Harrelson?! WHY? I don't know. He just fit the part. WHAT PART?! WHAT/! Nobody quite understands what's happening in ENTER THE MULTIVERSE, however, THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE has taken an incredible turning point, intersecting with the world of LEGENDS and THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNI BLŪ/ THE SUITE LIFE OF SUNNI BLŪ. IT HAS? YES? WHERE? I WANNA DIE. OH! That's not SUPACREE! [CC HULK SMASHES her bike onto the rack on the bus. THE HULK, sitting just in front stares at her wide-eyed as she boards the bus over the rim of his sunglasses.] Oh, maybe, nevermind. Wait! Is it THE HULK, or MARK RUFFALO? I don't know! I don't give a shit! Why are you even writing this? Uhhhhhhhh. [CC's brain is slowly melting as she rides the bus to work. THE HULK– OR IS IT MARK FUCKING RUFFALO!? I DON”T FUCKING CARE– THERE'S A DIFFERENCE WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE IT – DOESN'T– MATTER! ‘It doesn't matter.' Chal's words echoed in my head almost too loudly–as boldly blind and sometimes even dumb as he was, he was also wise, and as it turned out, right–it really didn't matter. Nothing mattered at all. I had gone through the motions of reaching out to him, to of course as expected learn that he and whatever her name was had gone their separate ways; I understood that would be the case nearly immediately back in Mazunte, but as he was insistent he would woo her–and persistent in doing so, that I thought maybe after all love– or what really turned out to be his obstinate lust would win the day–and yet, it hadn't; he was again single and on the prowl– and although at one point I had even lusted after him briefly, trailing behind him in nonchalant platonic carelessness as he obsessively followed another woman, had allowed me to become comfortable enough in the friendzone that i could just simply exist next to him; Now, again faced with homelessness and factoring in my inability to travel much further than south of the border, especially now knowing well how to travel throughout mexico and into Guatemala, I wondered truly if my own self-worth had really been lowered to the point of allowing myself to meet Chal in Guatemala–even full well knowing that he, too, preferred perfect and illy white to my dark skin and quite seemingly matronly features, and, knowing for myself that I wasn't his first choice– as he and I had of course met in Mazunte around the same time he had met whom he considered to be ‘his Goddess'-- albeit while on a topless beach and thus hynotized by her breasts. Men were hopeless. Then, here I was, waking up every other sleep cycle in the cold sweat of a wet dream, the subject of which I typically at least tried to keep deeply hidden in my subconscious psyche as secrets, although by now it seemed there really were none, and all that I knew and that I thought were known and seen by some other than myself–though somehow still holding true to my belief that there really was none other than myself–in my own broken and twisted world, alone and punished in the depths of mediocrity and shame. Woah. Riding the bus. There's nothing lower. There's walking. To the bus. Yah. And all the sick people. And all the crackheads. And all the–what are those? Demons [demon hacks.] Ugh, fucking–ugh. SHIA LABOUFF'S obsession with SUPACREE is helga petaki-meets Tom Cruise jumping on Oprah's couch. Oh, wait, we're back on that storyline? I mean– I don't know how to write this. Just write it. he's a villain, right? I mean, that suit. SHIA LA– FUCK. WHAT?! Worst last name EVER. Well, not ever– Wait, is he black?! –It sounds french. GOOGLE SEARCH: ‘How Jewish is Shia LaBeouf? ‘ –no, he's Cajun – That's french-black–wait— –what? Cajun AND Jewish? –Yeah– Jesus! JESUS What? (raises one eyebrow) SUPACREE strategizes a plan of attack. Attack for what? {ATTACK} YOUUUU INCEPTED ME!!! AGH! {COUNTER ATTACK} NOT ME! DISNEY! {DODGING COUNTER ATTACK} Yeah, Blame “Disney!” I JUST DID. Oh, yeah, right!! RAVEN SYMONÉ It was Disney. THEY OK'D THIS?! They bought Marvel! THEY OK'D EVERYTHING. —Even the SKRILLEX? Especially the Skrillex —Especially the Skrillex. AGHHHHHHHH—— ———-AAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! SHIA LABEOUF VS SUPACREE: FIGHT!!!! Everything looks good— —everything looks good. Everything looks fine— —Everything looks fine. But wait— What? What about that guy? Oh My— —oh my… Is he gonna be alright? Is that guy —gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright? Is—that guy gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright Is that guy— Gonna be alright? Is that guy gonna be alright?? Is that guy gonna be alright?! Is that guy gonna be alright m? Everything looks good— —everything looks fine Looks good— But what about that guy? …I don't know about that guy. Is he alright? Yo. Yooo. Stop writing songs about Skrillex. ((I literally can't.)) What?! It doesn't have to be about Skrillex! It could be about anybody! Here, they call with disco balls Stars in my eyes, but stars do fall First true love dies hard after all, No star shines bright as morning comes —(for) Sonny …I didn't write that. CUT TO: CC writes automagically between sets of heavy lifting. IMAGINARY FRIENDS, PART III DEADMAU5!!!! okay—one more—then cupcakes— Cupcakes? No cupcakes! I WANT CUPCAKES. Uh—No way! YES WAY. Mmm—no I'm sick of this diet! I'm not on a diet! I eat! You eat GRASS. I'm a vegan. This shit sucks. I told you, grass tastes bad. RICK?! (I also want cupcakes. ) Mmkay—ohh. You said that was the last one. No, more more. NO “one more” But I like this one—and it has the right amount of weights on it already—see? Jesús Christ He's not here. (Yes I am). Why the Fuxk. I also want cupcakes Okay, one more No “one more” The power of Christ compels ye! … Is that how that works? No. Maybe. (((Yes.))) AGHHH. The celebrities of Hollywood are gang stalking SUPACREE Can we— No. But I didn't even get to ask the question. The answer is no. THE CELEBRITIES OF HOLLYWOOD, after assembling with the Bampheramphs and Morherfuckers, have formed a supergroup tasked with bringing SUPACREE to THE HOLLYWOOD PEOPLE—so far, they have cunningly out-bested and outwitted THE US GOVERNMENT, including but not limited to THE FEDS, THE CIA, THE FBI and THE SECRET SERVICE. REALLY? I GUESS. HOW?! — DRAKE snoops on SUPACREE as she writes working half heartedly at THE NECK MACHINE with peaking curiosity, peaking over the time of his sunglasses. Whats it called. “Nautilus 4 way neck “ BPM: you're a jerk Do the Drake Do the Drake Do the Drake Work that neck Work that— Neck, Becky Work that neck, Work that neck Do the— “new note: Purchase ‘Honestly, nevermind' I had worked an entre month at LVAC before the circus went underway; Not a single drop of Skrillex had ever been played over the loudspeakers at any moment, for any of the time I had been employed there, nor had it burdened me any of the other time I had spent bettering myself within what I once cherished as sacred walls–now the illusion shattered, as nowhere I could seem to run – even the rural coastal jungle of Mexico-was far enough to escape the clammerings of something I quite honestly very much still loved, but wouldn't allow myself to enjoy— Or maybe, now, couldn't. BANGARANG. ‘Fuck this shit.' I wanted to move, but didn't—I wanted to leave, and probably should have, but wouldn't. I just sat there through it as my coworker, standing at about 5'4 ½ in a pair of tight black skinny jeans sang along and bounced rhymically. What the fuck. Then, as it had just been earlier that I was thinking of Sonny himself, and how, be it that any of my premonitions were actually accurate and true as I had once thought them to be, there would perhaps come a day that I regretted not listening to his works, just as one regrets not spending time with a loved one before their passing not giving enough attention to the little things, the tiny details, the time they had missed, but never missed without missing their loved one until it was too late. Then again, for me, any time in the then- present was too late, as I had only been followed, taunted, and ridiculed, openly humiliated and embarrassed, and never really paid directly for anything I had done, whether it did have to do with Skrillex or otherwise –and so I had made it more than a point to distance myself from it, anything having to do with it, or him, or anything really, music related—of course besides relying heavily on deadmau5 just for my own existence–that is, willingness wake up, move about the world and its endless, pointless constructs, and even so, completing a worthwhile workout with enough satisfaction that I could allow myself to leave the building–and now, with my commute taking up a grand total of 4 hours of my entire day—I didn't have the time or the energy to stay late into the days and even afternoons as I had before, or to arrive early as I had in the days and weeks before; Now this job was amounting to nothing at all, and I was surely less than breaking even. Whats the worry? You've got 20 minutes to write a story! Don't be sorry Mind your orders. You're a war chief Marry me, Oh pretty please— I plead to you, just sing for me Just think of me as a Never ending fantasy, At the very least When you bury me —and you buried me alive, Just for the look of things What makes us even Slitting wrists Or splitting things unevenly (Either thing benefits me, And my penis, I think.) Make me famous— She said Hate me or debate me, I have everything I need And I have everything you have, But I can leave, All with my dreams intact I do believe You think I'm evil Either way, unnecessary Why would I sit down and write a story— When you just did it for me? Why would I pledge allegiance to old glory She's ignoring me; Why would I change my name to satisfy your needs When mine sit idly by waiting Why would I dream of you, When you dream of me I have all I need, You have all of me in the other room While you watch cartoons with your lady I hate anime and now I hate you too, But I'm so stupid, Nothing soothes my moods, Except playing your tunes, Or music Whoop De Fucking do Would you Marry Me? He said (He never did, he just let her—) She said, I do And now they're doomed I built a tomb for two The bride and groom In music Two by two And used by Tuesday Music I presume To the beautiful Music I presume For the usual Music I presume For those who —- SHIA LABEOUF JUST DO IT. That is not how the end of the song goes. No, but this is how the end of the episode goes. Really!? How? [CC stares lifelessly forward out of the front window of the double decker bus; a man dressed in all blue catches her attention—another telepathic shapeshifter.] You brought…an umbrella? I told you there was a shit storm coming. Oh, nooh. Where's yours? I— don't care? That's right you don't. I don't. That's good you don't. I really don't. You don't give a Fuck, or a shit. I—don't give a fuck or a sh—wait— DILLON FRANCIS? I'm good at what I do. What do you DO? THIS. “A Silent Partner” Oh. I like that. That has all kinds of insinuations. Doesn't it? Hermph. You're a creep. A Supacreep. PAUSE ITS MISTER MAGOOoOOOOOOOooO0oO. No, it's the IRS. Fuck. HOLY SHIT SUNNI. WHAT. HOW DO YOU OWE 100,000 IN BACK TAXES?! Student loan debt. WHAT. THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE. Yes it does. HOW. Calm down Marci —MY ÑAME IS— [Sunnī Blū subdues her instantly with one if Supacree's mysterious rave weapons] Sit down, please. …what is that? You like it? Yeah. [she gives her another dose of strange vapor, she relaxes even further.] See. Yeah. Now that you're happy— —am i “happy” ? [she gives her another relaxing dose] —are you Happy? Yeah. Ok. So. I never filed my taxes because I had so muc

Did anyone else get that ugly while envelope in the mail that made them say, "AYYO WHAT?!"

JAPAN IS STILL A LITTLE... UHHHHH... GOOD. O_O" It feels like the world is catching up to Japan in Street Fighter 6 but is that really the case? Thanks to stats released by twitter.com/CatCammy6 , we have actual data that can help us determine that. == TIME STAMPS == 0:00:00 Intro 0:01:48 CatCammy6's Character Usage 0:03:30 Japan Ranked Domination 0:06:40 Cammy And Luke Popularity 0:10:14 More CatCammy6 Statistics 0:12:16 Closing Thoughts Find the YouTube version of this episode here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=by2fsBQZ8qQ Get the audio version of this episode here: https://soundcloud.com/ultrachentv/japansf6 Soundcloud - https://soundcloud.com/ultrachentv Itunes - http://UltraChenTV.com/iTunes Spotify - https://open.spotify.com/show/4nOFXvdcuJng3Y14qK3CVF Join the UltraChen Discord! https://discord.gg/VAmkUdp Please consider supporting our Patreon! http://patreon.com/ultrachentv Twitch - http://twitch.tv/ultrachentv Twitter - http://twitter.com/ultrachentv James Chen http://twitter.com/jchensor https://www.twitch.tv/jchensor #FGC #Esports #Podcast

This is a good show - we promise! Andrew Wiebe and Matt Doyle deliver on their guarantee of a great show as they dive into everything that happened on Matchday 8: RBNY going top of the table, the latest chapter of the Cucho saga, and, of course, El Trafico controversy! 1:55 - Best things we saw on Matchday 8 (Jader Obrian celebration edition) 10:13 - Vanzeir & Amaya ball, Red Bulls go top of the table 18:16 - Cincinnati still have some issues to sort out 22:42 - Controversy in El Trafico!  35:18 - Our top 5 teams in MLS right now 43:19 - Uhhhhh, what's up with Cucho? 49:30 - Can the Crew get past Tigres in Champions Cup? 51:40 - Revs deliver in El Promiso 56:25 - How should the Sounders line up when de la Vega is back? 59:48 - Rapids match Messi's super sub performance 1:01:20 -  Messi v Monterrey Round 2: Can Miami advance?  1:05:20 - Can John Herdman keep the vibes high in Toronto after 4 straight Ls? 1:06:14 - How good are the ‘Caps? 1:08:22 - More wack: Portland's first half or SKC's second half? 1:12:13 - Things are rough in San Jose 1:15:00 - Why it's been a struggle for St. Louis so far 1:16:45 - Mailbag  

The guys talk Uber/Lyft controversy, Hawk has some John Madden/Pat Summerall audio that is hilarious, Minnesota hockey phenom Taylor Heise joins the show

Jenny talks about if somoenes a jerk on Jenny's Been on Reddit, Dave's Dirt, & More!

In this episode we discuss the dragonets of destiny's parents and their backstories, kinda.  Sorry about all the weird noises Raindrop makes! It's very strange. Enjoy the-meep meep! Raindrop?! Why????? Uhhhhh! Enjoy this episode! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit spiritwingspodcast.substack.com

Bob starts the show complaining that no one came to his Golden Bachelor "party" to which the crew then states that we can never tell when he's doing a bit or not...sorry Bob. Matt displays hilarious news reports of booty patrol trucks and a drunk woman skipping down some stairs. Happy hotdog Friday! The studio enjoys some provolone, mustard, and jalapeno hotdogs, courtesy of Matt, while they are joined by none other than Dr. Hotdog himself AND stand up comedian Aaron Brooks.Support the show: https://www.klbjfm.com/mattandbobfm/See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Discussing Valérie Lemercier's "freely-inspired" Celine Dion biopic — What do you do if your pop culture idol doesn't sign off on you making a biopic about them? Change their name, tweak some of the facts, and play all the roles so you can make a movie like Aline! We have A LOT of questions about the film: Aline! Summary EuroWhat AV Club: Aline! (3:53)

After the ancient alien mystic chak Chel merges with supacree, she leads her on a wild adventure though space and time as the worlds newest superhero, helping supacree to master her powers and abilities, and helping her to escape the clutches of the evil and largely unknown evils of the multiverse— Meeting worlds and Banding together witb characters from infinite multidimensional worlds and realms… THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE LEGENDS GERALD'S WORLD OWSLA CONFIDENTIAL: THE INFINITE SKRILLIFILES ENTER THE MULTIVERSE DEATHWISH ASCENSION THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNÏ BLŪ SCARY MONSTERS & SUPACREE THE INSOMNIAC &MORE FROM [The Festival Project.™] SEASON 6 ACT III Part I MONTAGE: Clique, Cruel Summer Kanye West, JAY-Z & Big Sean EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES. BROAD ASS DAYLIGHT SUPACREE has unlocked 100% Of her ABILITIES GOD MODE UNLOCKED SUPACREE EXITS EQUINOX FITNESS CLUB AT LIGHTSPEED, Hitting the pavement with swift force, splitting into three dimensional selves; SUNNI BLŪ to her left and A MYSTERIOUS, unknown ALTER EGO to her right, she shifts quickly to the beat of the music, morphing into and out of parallels of the outer world, opening and closing portals, and encapsulating anything and everything within her force field—which happens to be the whole of GREATER LOS ANGELES. Damn. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Of a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something's off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful? The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world What have we done? This is bad, brother. That's a construct. Everything's a construct! Get ahold of yourself. Get ahold of—you know what? I do know. You think you're fuckin' clever. I am clever. You're a sick man. That's my business. Yeah, well—you made it my business. I am you. What a concept. *construct. God, help you! [sideways evil smirk] Hehe. SPAM! ON TACOS! BUTTERS Oh—Jesus! WHO PUTS SPAM ON TACOS?! A smart man. C'mon, Butters. We gotta get lost in the sauce before we try this out. I'MMA TRY IT OUT. OK. GOD, OH, GOD, PLEASE— MERCIFUL GOD IN HEAVEN— (WhT.) JUST— DON'T LET IT BE SKRILL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Fuxk. What. She took the train. Which fucking train. I don't know. The train. THE A TRAIN, or the B TRAIN?! HEY. WHAT, you motherfucking idiot? I THINK I LOVE YOU. Well, stop thinking. Ok. JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER has been kidnapped— He's like 50 years old. He's been dad-napped. —by the MOB. The MOB?! He's into some dark shit. Wait, he is?! In this series. He has been tied to a chair, which sits under a single spotlight in a shabby, dark room in NEW JERSEY. Ew, New Jersey. JIMMY THE MOBSTER Hi, Jimmy— JIMMY FALLON —uh—hello. JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON Oh, that's ironic. [beat] JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm gonna kill you, Jimmy. GOD If I give you a serious role, how are you gonna handle it? JIMMY FALLON like a pro. GOD don't lie to me, Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON What?! I'm not! My body, heart, mind, and soul was being attacked— I had 15 minutes to vacate the property and couldn't even focus—I had to use the bathroom so badly it hurt my soul. I was pacing back and forth, choking back ugly tears—the rude man in the room across the way still occupying the bathroom which I needed, both to clean and relieve myself—but it had been hell, after all, and needs like these had been proven to be in short supply. Fuck. This is a gun to your head. Just do it. [he moves the pistol into her mouth] Now it's in your mouth. [she unhinges her jaw to open it wider, never breaking eye contact and relaxes; he studies his hand on the grip of the tripper, ready to lill] You'll die today. [A comfort; as she relaxes, he as well changes—this seems to take the fun of killing away from him, he exacts the gun from her mouth] CONT'D You like that? I love it— You're dead, bitch! Yes, I am! A penniless whore. Whores get paid— Then, even less— What's less than this? A dead bitch. Think again. I don't think, I just shoot; Sounds like a man. Oh, I am. Then kill me with your hands. Jesus Christ, man. He can't help. No one can help you. So just shoot. [he can't] SUNNI. )&2&;@2@2$ YOU ARE OUT OF CONTROL. SUCK MY DICK. AGHHJJJ. Well. TMZ is here. This is a disaster. NEXT, WE LEARN: THE Oh my God. WhT. This is probably the worst thing I've ever written. Not the worst. Nope: it is the worst. Maybe it's just bad on paper. It's bad no matter how you — CONTROL, JANET PRIVACY. Here. Wtf is this. LEGENDS: FAME SCHOOL Christopher Walken was one of my professors in fame school For acting? For music. For music? That doesn't make any sense. Please, don't make me explain this. A FACE BATTLE CHRISTOPHER WALKEN vs. SUPACREE -_- —__^ *_- ^__ __/ *_* >< … —-__—- Ok. Alright. Show me what you got. SUPACREE plays a beat. You know where this is going. We all know where this is going. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN that was OK. “OK”?! Yeah. *shrugs* OK. You know what— You know what it needs? …what's it need? —-more cowbell. I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. It was perfect. It was OK. You're not OK. —maybe I'm not. You're definitely not. —know what helps? Don't tell me: More fucking cowbell. Lol. ⅔ ain't bad. Wait, two out or three?! Which one didn't I— —FUCK. What, what happened? They're onto me. THE BAMPHERAMPS, MOTHERFUCKING BAMPHERAMPHS, and THE ASCENDED MASTERY has assembled in NEW YORK CITY to stage a coup. It's a coup d'état. There sure is a lot of French shit over here. Well yeah, it's Paris. Wait. What, what now? If SUPACREE is in Paris. NIGGAZ. Right—then— Who the fuck are they chasing in New York. [just waking up] Why am I in New York? WHOOPI GOLDBERG you got anyplace else to be? …no. MEANWHILE, IN ROME. Fanculo! Really, dude. Apparently. A tear in my head; A rip in my soul, And the fabric of— Coming undone at the whole; I make sense of it all at the alter, The fall; To have fought in the war, And then lost, or to suffer at all Love was lost, I was never a martyr— Blood on the cross, And the crossroads, The frost and the stardust, “There's no God” For the honorable, Stuck in New York, But defrosting my toes, At the forefront I haven't once wondered or thought Of the love that I was, Since I stopped throwing rocks at the church Or got off on the wrong stop; What a puzzle, To jump off, Or rot in the heart of The hub— World of wonders, A mother of suns, Never wanted a daughter so much Unpunishment, Loved was the Duchess; To carry a crutch or a cross— So unbothered, untouched, So heartless and dark, For the marksman—a spark Or the dog does not bark At the horses You're in the clear, hero. Heartless, she was! Now, now—settle down. This is an absolute outrage. Is it, now? I say so! Maybe you shouldn't. Faro, a word, I've got three. I'll go first. [a smug look] What's happened here? A ressurection, sir. Care to explain? I said ‘three.' Where's the King? My palms grew numb as my throbbing heartache welled up into the back of my throat and sat perched up against my growling stomach, stuffed with beans and rice, perhaps to fill the sadness or satiate my need for protein, either one. ASCENSION If you're going to vomit, step away from me. —I'm not sick. Actually, step out of my house. This is your house? —I live here. —no one lives here. What did you think it was? an elaborate cave. It is—an elaborwte cave— —excuse my ignorance. You're excused entirely. —I appreciate that. I meant, from here. You should go. Faro, wait. No more waiting; you were uninvited. Trust me—this visitation is more necessary than voluntary. That's—a lot of words. I don't speak caveman. Just—get out. Listen: No more listening— It's about C'esme't. It always is. This is important. It always is. It concerns you. It always does. —? Wait. [a heavy sigh] [a long silence] Come with me. FARO leads GÍAN towards the back of his quarters. Close the door. I— what? Nevermind. You're useless. Ehrm—excuse me. Excused, your majesty. FARO opens a SECRET PASSAGEWAY into a FUTURISTIC CORIDOR, leading GÍAN into a vast FORTRESS. balls. Uh. My stomach in knots And my life is in ruins Constellations all gone, And my heart, on the border of hurt— And mistrust So unlovable, loveless— Promises, scars and the art was devoured Ah— she was awful; Ah—she must have lost her mind God, she was homeless, And loveless, And wild eyed All that I wanted, Was to get lost in the lobby, Before the whole ball dropped —and watch the false phropet Collide wirh the comet Stop: I lost God at the crosswalk, The punishment was Homeless Now watch this: This is what I wanted: Doesn't really matter now, Does it? Oh, doesn't it. God, this is Lucifer. Son, it's an honor. No God for a mother, who walks on her own. Now it's over or under. It's over. It never got started. I locked up my heart with the piñata. How irrelevant. How awkward. How curse words turn to mantras. How I have half a heart Or, like ⅓ We're being honest, now. I thought Illuminati wanted hotties and Caucasians. Well, I guess that'll explain, Why you've been stuck inside a cage, then. NICK CAGE is an extremely skilled time traveler. Ok. WHOOPI GOLDBERG has freed herself from the cage in which SUPACREE had skillfully trapped the OWL OF THE GOLDEN EYE. WhT a prophecy. MEANWHILE, AT HOGWARTS. HOGWARTS, 2023. ANANDAR is HEADMASTER. Ah, fuck. I'm gonna puke. All I wanted was to shamelessly watch the man's balls swing like a pendulum... Well, here's this instead. Oh no, it's Skrillex. Now you have to— —now I have to watch this. Why. Cause I've already seen that. I hate you. I hate you. SOLD, to the lady in red. Damn. Slavery is cool. Yeah, I guess. FUCK. What. Idk. BITCH. GET OUT THE BASEMENT; I'm in the attick What you think this is? Lights, camera, action: Now that attractions been well established I should get back to it, I'm in the attic Lighting up matches, Fixin my holes up with patches Callin it classic Call me an asshole, I can't be mad man, I am a mad man, I bring the mask back To Handle a trash can Get out the basement. I told you he could dance. A GIANT DRAGON Oh shit, here it comes. FIRE. DILLON FRANCIS I Well. We're gonna die. DILLON FRANCIS II If she throws up, I get a pickle. DILLON FRANCIS III That's a deal. DILLON FRANCIS II And if she cries, I get a French poodle named Angelina Jolie. DILLON FRANCIS III Righteous. DILLON FRANCIS II Yur damn right. A GIANT DRAGON FLIES OVERHEAD, SWEEPING THE SKIES WITH FIRE AND LIGHTNING. DILLON FRANCIS I (CONT'D) Yeah, we're definitely fucked. Why are you dressed like Froto. FROTO (in background, dressed exactly alike) That is offensive! SHUTTHEFUCKUP. It's the end of the world! (At least as we know it) IS THAT SKRILLEX? FIRE BREATHING DRAGON. Well, it was. What the fuck HAPPENED?! Is that its final form? Yes it is. I'll give you one million dollars. That's not enough. This card is priceless. What is this. Like a Pokémon game?! This whoops Pokémon's ass. This is LEGENDS. LIL' BIIIITZ Yo! New York is CRAZY First of all, how is it all of a sudden CLEANER THAN LA?! New York's like: here —we sent all the nasty people to LA. All better. Polarity shift! LA is gross now! New York cleaned up! The trains are nice —shit— All the trash is in BAGS. I was like “Whaaaaaaat” this is nice. What the fuck. This shit different! Unh. they exported all the nasty, crazy motherfuxkers to LA. On GOD. Cause every other psychologically twisted individual I talk to in LA is like: “I'M FROM NEW YORK” *hawks loogie, spits* Uhhhhh… I was going on a little European adventure; New York's like: “You know, you never stay long…” I'm like “There's a reason for that…welp, gotta go.” The whole universe fucked around and was like— “You know what? We like you here. Stay. “ What. “STAY.” Fuck. New York is different. Won't say I love it — But goddamn, I like it! People are rude. People are rude as fuck. I'm used to LA where people are fake nice For fuckin tips and shit, you know? Everybody's trying to get famous for something, Or something. Idk. Fake as fuck. Fake nice. Fake happy. Fake titties. Fake lips. Just fucking fake. fake everything. Everything is plastic. —and it's not tied up in garbage bags, either. It's just plastic, and trash, and piss everywhere. It's so gross. You see Venice Beach on the movies: It's all clean and beautiful, and picturesque. You get there, it's like Skid Row + Skid Row Coastal. LA has millions of homeless people everywhere. In cars, in tents. Under bridges. Everywhere. And I love LA! I really do. But it's fake. Everything is fake. New York is real as fuck. Yeaaah. Almost too real. But I like it. You don't have to fuckin fake shit. People don't say “excuse me—“ No. You're never forced to say “good morning “ before you had your coffee! Yuh! New York is doing it right. People sleep on the train— But nobody lives on that motherfucker! I was in New York like a week before the shock wore off that there were not hundreds of individuals on every train wreaking of piss and smoking crack openly—YES—illicit drug use on trains in LA is extremely casual. Everything in LA is casual. People wear pajamas to work. Yeah—that. Everyone in New York looks like they're going to eat at a five-star restaurant. Like all the time. No socks-with-slides. EW. I swore to God socks with slides was a sign of the apocalypse; I get to New York, none of that—but the cringy thing in New York is Crocs With Socs. Now mmmm we're bi-coastal. Socks-with-slides; Crocs-with-socks. Knock that shit off. TACKY. other than that, though… NY is cool. It's chic. It's fun. You gotta be careful though. You gotta watch out. I thought LA drivers were crazy. New York drivers are fucking psychotic. Pedestrians don't have the right of way. At all. If you're in a crosswalk in LA even if the light is red, people will stop and let you go. In New York you better wait for the fuckin walk sign. They will kill you. It's okay. 6 millions ways to die: choose one! Just kidding. That's some west coast shit. But I did see a whole ass mural of Snoop Dogg in Brooklyn and get slightly confused— Till I realized everything on it was the color blue, and I was deadass in the middle of Brooklyn going “What? Ohhhhh! Wait! The Crips!” “Those guys are everywhere!” Lol. Its a nation wide disorganization. Lol. Whatever. I like New York. Doing my best not to love it, So the universe doesn't balance me out by showing me what to hate about it So far, so good New York drivers don't play. I never seen a school bus drift before! DAMN. Almost got hit by a short bus. Oh, the irony. I saw a dude do a whole ass wheelie on an electric scooter. Not a moped, by the way. An electric scooter. Yup. New Yoooooork. BEDFORD AVENUE, BROOKLYN, NY. THE BAMPHERAMPHS have initiated SEQUENCE C I like New York. I gotta say. It IS like LA In the way that I know I can't live in New York if I'm not just filthy fucking rich. Cause, you know—there's still homelessness; But unlike in LA, where you just wander around, smelling like piss, begging for change— You freeze to death. A quick solution! Haha! (It's not funny.) but whatever. America. I thought I was leaving; I got trapped in the matrix. I was like “Fuck this place.” They're like: “stay! We need slaves!” I'm like FUCK. So I got stuck in New York. Ugh. At least it's a “free state” I made it north, ma! Not exactly the safest place to get stuck with no money, either, is it? Really nowhere is safe with no money. I mean, I know of some places south of the border you can live, basically free and just, you know—sleep in a hammock, sing for change and shit. Roam the beach. I know people that do that— it's just- I like showers. I don't love showers. Cause then, I'm sure God would find a way to take that away, too. I don't love anything anymore. Once you love something—it either goes away, or it burns you. Or both. Can't love things. Can't love people. No more love. Just—appreciate—things. Just—like—things, you know? Don't love anything. Speaking of suicidal tendencies. Hahah. You know what else is cool about New York? The trains actually come into the station fast enough to kill you. Like—you've had enough? Okay: here it is. Just to save you a trip to the Empire State Building. This train is coming in at 304 miles an hour and is somehow gonna stop in 3 seconds. —maybe 2 seconds, if you do jump— Better think fast! They almost come too fast, for suicide. Ready, set— Dammit. Missed it again. They're so fast. The trains in LA stopped going suicide-fast like, a couple years ago—maybe, just before the pandemic—I think. They're like “You know what! This is happening too often. I am ALWAYS late to my other two jobs ‘cause someone killed themselves on my train! Fuck!” LA's like: “Well fuck this, all the slaves are killing themselves on the trains.” “Damn, that sucks” LA's like “Yeah, okay so: here's what we do; we'll put up signs for a suicide hotline at the popular jumping points” “LA's like: okay” “And—we'll tell the train operators they gotta slow down coming into the station—“ “That'll do it!” “—that way, If they still do decide to jump, they'll just get paralyzed, and contribute to the opioid crisis: more funding for big pharma!” “Yes, it's genius!” “—unless they're black, or on Medicaid, then: we'll send em home with some ibuprofen and make sure they collect disability, so that they can become addicted to crack, or something like that —you know.” “Yes. That's perfect.” Good Job LA. I get lost in New York. I'll be on New York like “YO, WHERE THE FUCK AM I AT?” “In New York” GODDAMMIT. You know what else is weird about New York? Personal space is not a thing. I mean, “space” is not a thing at all, anyway. But “Personal space”? No. People will not only sit by you; The'll siT ON you. Yo. I had just got to New York— I had all my luggage with me— And this lady gets on the train; She's got a broom. Idk what for, but okay; She gets onto the train, She looks around, and I guess she decides she wants the seat next to me. So like I said, I have all my stuff l so I'm a little spread out, but there's room— But you know what she does? She looks me straight in the eye And then just hits me with her broom. I was like —-?!? I'm thinking, “Okay is she racist or is that just a New York thing?” Like, “you can just hit people with shit!? damn!” What's funny is, I kinda respected her for that. She was old. Didn't say a word, just “bam” Like—- ‘move!' I'm like “okay!” New York is so classy. Girls wear panty hose, and stockings. I'm like “wow, that's actually nice. That's so wholesome! Tights?! Yeah!” It's so classy. I don't think girls in LA even wear regular panties. Let alone panty hose. Get it—panty—Hoes. I see correlation. You know what else is cool about New York. It's less racist. I mean- There's so much diversity, there's almost no room to be racist. It's crazy. So many people. So many colors. So much culture. So many languages! I hear languages I can't even place. I thought I was good. I'm in LA, I'm like, “Okay, that's Chinese—“ “That's Japanese” “That's Korean” “Farsi” I get to New York— I'm in the Delicstessen. Thats another thing. Nothing like a real, New York delicatessen. That's what “deli” is short for, by the way, everyone not from New York. It's “delicatessen” Lol. Anyway. I'm standing in the Deli and I hear some shit that—I'm not gonna lie— was actually quite alarming, as a native English speaker. I'm standing there, and this guy behind me literally over my shoulder says, “Blooppnsmabhoan ammaoakb amansbaiL aannaoka snkaoakmnlblblblnlnl!!!!” I'm like what the FUCK. This isn't REAL. “Blblblana. Akakma alak Akakamaamna!” I'm shoooook. What IS that!!? I like New York. The girls aren't all evil soulless heart eating demons. They're just “regular” I have to run back to LA and tell all my guy friends, they're like “Women are evil” I'm like— “Nooo, that's just out here.” Maybe. I don't know. I like New York. I bet it's wonderful when it's warm. I don't know! Maybe that's when shit hits the fan! Maybe it's like Chicago. EVERYBODY DIES IN THE SUMMER— Who said that. Chance the Rapper, I think. I don't know. LEGENDS: FAMESCHOOL This move is called: The “Slap-Dicksuck.” [carefully taking notes] “slap-dick-suck”…okay… hmm.. Now, class. [raises hand curiously] Yes? Um. SUPACREE— —PROFESSOR SUPACREE. Um. Professor SUPACREE— Yes! Why is it called the “Slap-Dicksuck” I was about to explain that. //SLAP-DICKSUCK// NEXT: we learn THE “SLAP-DICKSUCK-SLAP” Let me guess. No, no guessing. This class is gross. I like it. Yeah, you're gross. The world is gross. Get over it. GET OVER IT, DILLON FRANCIS. *sniffes* Please, stop crying. She— *sniffles* It's okay, Dillon. She took my piñata! Your piñata set your house on fire. He sets—everything on fire— Have you ever stopped to think— —no— thinking is bad. Go get dressed. No, not today. You look like a bloated chicken nugget. —I used to like chicken nuggets. hey, Tofu daddy. This is sick. This is a sick bitch we're dealing with. I'm not dealing with anything, I quit. Quit, you can't quit. I just did. DEADMAU5 Okay, no more bodies. Ū Okay. No more bodies. DEADMAU5 Really? Ū —No. DEADMAU5 Goddammit, this is not a GAME. Ū It is a game, though—and I'm a damn good marksman. DEADMAU5 Dammit, you're right. Ū I'm always right. Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? I powered on my phone to find the digital clock exactly at 1:15, which had seemed to be creeping up again as a recurring theme, along with some other unsettling figurines—if it was a race against time, I was losing—and If, perhaps, a Holy War, I must have been some sort of Holy, as it had seemed the world's good graces had turned her back on me, and that faith dwindled more quickly in the cold than any other condition. Lay your head on my shoulder, Your cheek on my cheek, Wrap your arm round my waist, You can think what I think You can skate on thin ice You can sing what I sing And when the ice breaks; You can sink when I sink Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? It had been strange waves of everything—more than I was ready for and much more than intentionally took on, all things considered. I burned my tongue on piping hot oatmeal, trying to eat rather than write, as it seemed the time had come that I could no longer skip meals and properly function. Nearing thirty like a bullet—and at least metaphorically bleeding as if I had actually been shot, my heart and soul throbbing and gushing into a paralyzing twist or fears and woes, trapped in a foreign city with almost nothing to my name, lugging around my music equipment and very few belongings, which—when put away neatly even in the smallest room— seemed like almost nothing, but was certainly too much to carry around, especially alone. And I was, so very alone. Drake Bell and the Hollywood Spell My newest and strangest muse yet had again insisted on appearing into my dream world, for the third time, anyway—which seemed a cruel and almost disturbing subconscious attempt to conjur up what might have been the entirety of my energy to complete the 6th Season of Enter The Multiverse, at this point which had even interested me, reinvigorating my senses and at least partially restoring my faith in something, even if it was just Hollywood being Hollywood. But now, even miles away from Hollywoodland, and stranded far, far away with no conceivable way to find my way back, even if I did have a home there waiting for me—and there wasn't—there didn't seem to be a home anywhere for me at all, and with my money running well towards dry I had spent most the week dry heaving into panic attacks about where I would go, or what I would do/—especially dragging around all of my luggage and equipment, and while it was true my equipment could have easily found it's way into a pawn shop, to at least offset the impending homelessness by maybe a couple days, and a couple hundred dollars—it didn't seem quite worth it to sell my dream again, especially for the miserable existence of sharing a hostel room with whoever decided to snore or cough their way into my hellish realm of corporate slavery, lovelessness, and lack of privacy. Yes, my conciousness had summoned up this man into my dreamworld now three times, and for whatever reason, if there was one — I could consider it a charm. Had I not been working at the smokeshop what now seemed like ages ago, I might have forgotten entirely that such a person had ever existed—which I had, since the experience, for the record, at least tried to—but for some reason, disasterously couldnt; it had all awakened something serious and spiritual within my outer world, piquing my ultra conscious into a rare and bewildering curiosity that had done well to slay and murder the cat in all of its nine lives, and then some. It wasn't entirely on purpose, or without guilt that my mind seemed to inquisitively structure an entire hidden world and to form a strange and illicit bond with this fragile man creature, not that my social status or overwhelmingly average, unattractive, stranded and abandoned wastebasket of a demon, or diety whatever I was in whatever kind of light, would have much at all to do but suffer the result of having missed the bar by far, stumbling into the lower realms of the world by mere circumstance, on occasion, without notice. I was certainly thinking about it too much, and hating myself for it, a certain spark or inspiration for the Timmy Turner timelines met with the sudden flash of what may have even been a lost memory of not for all this Hollywood trauma, or dogma, whichever made sense—because none of it did, at all, besides to reverse what time had done by allowing me to forget my turbulent childhood, which couldn't matter anymore in this moment as it ever had; and though I was producing a fruitful workout at Equinox, squatting deeply into the Smith Machine and breathing deeply into my lower back, where the tension from the weight of my leftover skin met the pain in the whole of my torso, an apparent rush sent a splash of slobber out of the side of my mouth, my third eye a gaping and burning hole streaking heat across the middle of my forehead—all of a sudden the high of Nitrous Oxide filled my mind, if only for a moment—flung back into a memory nearly two decades old. “That's it.” I remembered thinking. “No more of this.” I sat down the can of keyboard cleaner on the bathroom floor. I had scared myself straight, long before I even knew what I was doing—and I didn't know at all, having been nine, or maybe 10–long before I would ever *want* to get high, not understanding that or why I needed to, anyway—or that getting “high” was what I was doing at all. No, at the time, it simply ‘felt really good', until it didn't—the particular memory which struck me in the dead center of the Equinox floor—and snapping back into my body, shaking myself out of it and leaning into the bar to stretch, taking in a deep breath and choking back an ocean of tears. “Idiot.” I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever Dreams Wil Be Dreams. Since departing LA, all my dreams had been strange, and I found myself growing more distant from myself, or from anything real at all, my dreams skewing into a horrid soundscape of rampant memories and false hopes of love. Finally able to seek refuge in meditation, I had been bombarded with images of Dillon Francis balancing some pretty little white girl in his lap—and though I couldn't quite unhinge the Amethyst from my possession, I had been giving it the distance I needed for something like peace of mind, without the actual peace itself at play. There had been quite the spell to break, and though it hadn't even been moderately broken—I at least knew now what magic I was dealing with. Dillon Hart Francis was a powerful magician—perhaps too powerful, and with that I took my strides into gatekeeping at the very least, since no peace could be made. I could love with a wholesome heart, but a tarnished mind and a gated soul would simply not outlast the infinite journey. Though I had been illicitly carfeful not to look him in the eye last we did meet, there was a remarkable force in place far beyond control—or at least my control— which kept such power from being apprehended; I had done my best to let go, knowing it was indeed a spell at play, and rather than a curse no need to worry or fear it's users intentions. Magic was a give-and-take, and so much had been at this point taken from me that the bruises of jealousy for whatever it was being waved about my psyche as ‘better than' could do no more than to rip the rest of my heart from its crevice as I pondered on what I might have done right, or might have done wrong—if there were such things. ‘White girls get all the love.' It was only true in my heart and my mind, and so it must have sat in my soul a certain way. I had never intended really to fall into what I had fallen into with Dillon Francis—not that it couldn't or wouldn't be undone, eventually, as I was inraveling myself into an unremarkable, unastonishing whisp — a fracture in time to do much less than even be though of, or forgotten. I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever A piece of my rock had shattered on the floor of the shower at Equinox—the only stone I kept for myself, and often forgotten about, as I did myself, not that i mattered much. It shattered unevenly into three pieces, one of which I left in the sauna, quickly before departing—and the other which I had dropped in Times Square, begrudgingly under the LCD American flag by which I felt betrayed: How could our nation not only allow, but create homelessness as a scare tactic to keep the working poor working as slaves, to saciate the wealthy's wants and needs? “Whatever.” I'm not going to hurt you, You can't hurt me anymore than I can hurt myself. I'm glad you know that. I don't know anything. Suicide fucking sucks. I know that. It might be time for me to go But I just want to let you know I still got love for you; And there's still hope; I left the door open I gotta go, you know, It's hopeless for some At the end of my rope —and it's a long way home, But it's home at the end It's home at the end of a long, lond road I took the wrong one, But at least now I know you I'll go on It seems that I still have a soul, somewhere I walked in on thin air, And now I'm here; I don't know where I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever LEGENDS EDDIE MURPHY opens the heavy Victorian style door, after three solid knocks from under the GLOVED HAND which lifts the golden-brass door knocker. To what do I owe the pleasure? WHOOPI GOLDBERG Business, not pleasure. -_- Well, which business. All of ‘em. [She gestures to pass through the doorway.] Please, come in. Coffee, or Tea? Coffee this late? [beat] Coffee. This is serious. You look serious. I've been—confined. Drake Bell, you son of a bitch. Oh, so you do know my name. I know all your names. So it is. So I am. — How'd you get in this? I've always been in this. What is “always”? How did you get in this? I am this. What a philosophy. Call it what you want. What if I don't. Then don't. See you on the other side. Someone once told me, the grass is much greener— on the other side. —and when I paid a visit, (It's possible I missed it) Seemed different, yet exactly the same. DILLON FRANCIS I didn't want it to end this way. I didn't want it to end. Well, it did. You let it. I had to. Just let go. No, I can't. Hah! What's so funny? You're fucking impossible. Nothing is “impossible” you said that. But you “can't” Let this go? Ah-hah. No. This here will keep slowly unwinding until there's no more. —and then what? There's no more. Damn. This is foul. Hm. Take a time out, Timmy. I'm a take a t-t-taxi I pay my t-t-taxes The actor and the actress. Oh, He's Big Hollywood; Doesn't Have a Job, But the work's real good – His lines are smooth and his days are long, Gotta make it right, For a whole lot of wrongs He's Big-Big Hollywood Doesn't have a job; But the work's real good Coming in hot, Like he's fresh out the box That's a real big nugget, With a whole lot of sauce. Stop. What. What is this. It's a song. This is awful. FUCK IT. I DON'T CARE. Damn, Oreos AND Ben & Jerry's?! IT'S DAIRY-FREE. Tf kind o f Oreos is that. They're GLuten FrEe. FUCK IT. Sunni, get a hold of yourself. YOU GET A HOLD OF YOUR SELF. Stop yelling from across the room. I'LL YELL WHERE I WANT. Fuck this job. FUCK YOU MARIANNE. AGGHH. AGGHHHHHHHHH. Fuck What. What's up. I need a smoke break. I'M GONNA RIP YOUR HEART OUT. YOU DOn'T HAVE A HEART. SHUT UP, DILLON FRANCIS. GOd. WHO INVITED HIM, ANYWAY. I didn't. NOBODY INVITED HIM. The inspiration to music hit at just the right and the wrong time—I had finally found my way to the butt machine, only after visiting every other floor and guessing incorrectly—only to make it to the machine in just enough time to realize that I was for some reason exhausted—perhaps having just blown my last fuse, realizing I was literally down to my last, few pennies— and, unknowing of how to escape the hole I had dug myself into, falling into a carful and unsecured ‘lust' with New York, surely never to fall in love with another city as I had LA, learning my lessons well, and knowing all too well that nowhere and no one like me was safe from homelessness in the US—now having proven itself to be a hostile entity, in a full police state. It didn't seem to matter, though, as I had narrowly missed my escape nearly on purpose, but not— it seemed something entirely outward was keeping me at bay and in the US, not that I had wanted to leave out of fear for my life as much as I wanted adventure and exploration—but either way was going nowhere at all fast, and running out or money even faster. “Fuck, I hate my life” I had probably over caffeinated, at least half the reason I couldn't budge to top speed, even blasting bangarang into my eardrums at nearly top volume—this day, it only emotionally weakened me, having demoted myself entirely from any sort of elite status, back into the realm of obsessive fandom, and perhaps even schizophrenia, per Dane Cook's shenanigans. Yeah, I'm tired and I need to take like ten shits. Just finish then. If I leave early I have to come back early. Well, go, then. Muscle fatigue, check Dehydration, check Psyche completely shattered Check. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

After the ancient alien mystic chak Chel merges with supacree, she leads her on a wild adventure though space and time as the worlds newest superhero, helping supacree to master her powers and abilities, and helping her to escape the clutches of the evil and largely unknown evils of the multiverse— Meeting worlds and Banding together witb characters from infinite multidimensional worlds and realms… THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE LEGENDS GERALD'S WORLD OWSLA CONFIDENTIAL: THE INFINITE SKRILLIFILES ENTER THE MULTIVERSE DEATHWISH ASCENSION THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNÏ BLŪ SCARY MONSTERS & SUPACREE THE INSOMNIAC &MORE FROM [The Festival Project.™] SEASON 6 ACT III Part I MONTAGE: Clique, Cruel Summer Kanye West, JAY-Z & Big Sean EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES. BROAD ASS DAYLIGHT SUPACREE has unlocked 100% Of her ABILITIES GOD MODE UNLOCKED SUPACREE EXITS EQUINOX FITNESS CLUB AT LIGHTSPEED, Hitting the pavement with swift force, splitting into three dimensional selves; SUNNI BLŪ to her left and A MYSTERIOUS, unknown ALTER EGO to her right, she shifts quickly to the beat of the music, morphing into and out of parallels of the outer world, opening and closing portals, and encapsulating anything and everything within her force field—which happens to be the whole of GREATER LOS ANGELES. Damn. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Of a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something's off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful? The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world What have we done? This is bad, brother. That's a construct. Everything's a construct! Get ahold of yourself. Get ahold of—you know what? I do know. You think you're fuckin' clever. I am clever. You're a sick man. That's my business. Yeah, well—you made it my business. I am you. What a concept. *construct. God, help you! [sideways evil smirk] Hehe. SPAM! ON TACOS! BUTTERS Oh—Jesus! WHO PUTS SPAM ON TACOS?! A smart man. C'mon, Butters. We gotta get lost in the sauce before we try this out. I'MMA TRY IT OUT. OK. GOD, OH, GOD, PLEASE— MERCIFUL GOD IN HEAVEN— (WhT.) JUST— DON'T LET IT BE SKRILL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Fuxk. What. She took the train. Which fucking train. I don't know. The train. THE A TRAIN, or the B TRAIN?! HEY. WHAT, you motherfucking idiot? I THINK I LOVE YOU. Well, stop thinking. Ok. JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER has been kidnapped— He's like 50 years old. He's been dad-napped. —by the MOB. The MOB?! He's into some dark shit. Wait, he is?! In this series. He has been tied to a chair, which sits under a single spotlight in a shabby, dark room in NEW JERSEY. Ew, New Jersey. JIMMY THE MOBSTER Hi, Jimmy— JIMMY FALLON —uh—hello. JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON Oh, that's ironic. [beat] JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm gonna kill you, Jimmy. GOD If I give you a serious role, how are you gonna handle it? JIMMY FALLON like a pro. GOD don't lie to me, Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON What?! I'm not! My body, heart, mind, and soul was being attacked— I had 15 minutes to vacate the property and couldn't even focus—I had to use the bathroom so badly it hurt my soul. I was pacing back and forth, choking back ugly tears—the rude man in the room across the way still occupying the bathroom which I needed, both to clean and relieve myself—but it had been hell, after all, and needs like these had been proven to be in short supply. Fuck. This is a gun to your head. Just do it. [he moves the pistol into her mouth] Now it's in your mouth. [she unhinges her jaw to open it wider, never breaking eye contact and relaxes; he studies his hand on the grip of the tripper, ready to lill] You'll die today. [A comfort; as she relaxes, he as well changes—this seems to take the fun of killing away from him, he exacts the gun from her mouth] CONT'D You like that? I love it— You're dead, bitch! Yes, I am! A penniless whore. Whores get paid— Then, even less— What's less than this? A dead bitch. Think again. I don't think, I just shoot; Sounds like a man. Oh, I am. Then kill me with your hands. Jesus Christ, man. He can't help. No one can help you. So just shoot. [he can't] SUNNI. )&2&;@2@2$ YOU ARE OUT OF CONTROL. SUCK MY DICK. AGHHJJJ. Well. TMZ is here. This is a disaster. NEXT, WE LEARN: THE Oh my God. WhT. This is probably the worst thing I've ever written. Not the worst. Nope: it is the worst. Maybe it's just bad on paper. It's bad no matter how you — CONTROL, JANET PRIVACY. Here. Wtf is this. LEGENDS: FAME SCHOOL Christopher Walken was one of my professors in fame school For acting? For music. For music? That doesn't make any sense. Please, don't make me explain this. A FACE BATTLE CHRISTOPHER WALKEN vs. SUPACREE -_- —__^ *_- ^__ __/ *_* >< … —-__—- Ok. Alright. Show me what you got. SUPACREE plays a beat. You know where this is going. We all know where this is going. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN that was OK. “OK”?! Yeah. *shrugs* OK. You know what— You know what it needs? …what's it need? —-more cowbell. I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. It was perfect. It was OK. You're not OK. —maybe I'm not. You're definitely not. —know what helps? Don't tell me: More fucking cowbell. Lol. ⅔ ain't bad. Wait, two out or three?! Which one didn't I— —FUCK. What, what happened? They're onto me. THE BAMPHERAMPS, MOTHERFUCKING BAMPHERAMPHS, and THE ASCENDED MASTERY has assembled in NEW YORK CITY to stage a coup. It's a coup d'état. There sure is a lot of French shit over here. Well yeah, it's Paris. Wait. What, what now? If SUPACREE is in Paris. NIGGAZ. Right—then— Who the fuck are they chasing in New York. [just waking up] Why am I in New York? WHOOPI GOLDBERG you got anyplace else to be? …no. MEANWHILE, IN ROME. Fanculo! Really, dude. Apparently. A tear in my head; A rip in my soul, And the fabric of— Coming undone at the whole; I make sense of it all at the alter, The fall; To have fought in the war, And then lost, or to suffer at all Love was lost, I was never a martyr— Blood on the cross, And the crossroads, The frost and the stardust, “There's no God” For the honorable, Stuck in New York, But defrosting my toes, At the forefront I haven't once wondered or thought Of the love that I was, Since I stopped throwing rocks at the church Or got off on the wrong stop; What a puzzle, To jump off, Or rot in the heart of The hub— World of wonders, A mother of suns, Never wanted a daughter so much Unpunishment, Loved was the Duchess; To carry a crutch or a cross— So unbothered, untouched, So heartless and dark, For the marksman—a spark Or the dog does not bark At the horses You're in the clear, hero. Heartless, she was! Now, now—settle down. This is an absolute outrage. Is it, now? I say so! Maybe you shouldn't. Faro, a word, I've got three. I'll go first. [a smug look] What's happened here? A ressurection, sir. Care to explain? I said ‘three.' Where's the King? My palms grew numb as my throbbing heartache welled up into the back of my throat and sat perched up against my growling stomach, stuffed with beans and rice, perhaps to fill the sadness or satiate my need for protein, either one. ASCENSION If you're going to vomit, step away from me. —I'm not sick. Actually, step out of my house. This is your house? —I live here. —no one lives here. What did you think it was? an elaborate cave. It is—an elaborwte cave— —excuse my ignorance. You're excused entirely. —I appreciate that. I meant, from here. You should go. Faro, wait. No more waiting; you were uninvited. Trust me—this visitation is more necessary than voluntary. That's—a lot of words. I don't speak caveman. Just—get out. Listen: No more listening— It's about C'esme't. It always is. This is important. It always is. It concerns you. It always does. —? Wait. [a heavy sigh] [a long silence] Come with me. FARO leads GÍAN towards the back of his quarters. Close the door. I— what? Nevermind. You're useless. Ehrm—excuse me. Excused, your majesty. FARO opens a SECRET PASSAGEWAY into a FUTURISTIC CORIDOR, leading GÍAN into a vast FORTRESS. balls. Uh. My stomach in knots And my life is in ruins Constellations all gone, And my heart, on the border of hurt— And mistrust So unlovable, loveless— Promises, scars and the art was devoured Ah— she was awful; Ah—she must have lost her mind God, she was homeless, And loveless, And wild eyed All that I wanted, Was to get lost in the lobby, Before the whole ball dropped —and watch the false phropet Collide wirh the comet Stop: I lost God at the crosswalk, The punishment was Homeless Now watch this: This is what I wanted: Doesn't really matter now, Does it? Oh, doesn't it. God, this is Lucifer. Son, it's an honor. No God for a mother, who walks on her own. Now it's over or under. It's over. It never got started. I locked up my heart with the piñata. How irrelevant. How awkward. How curse words turn to mantras. How I have half a heart Or, like ⅓ We're being honest, now. I thought Illuminati wanted hotties and Caucasians. Well, I guess that'll explain, Why you've been stuck inside a cage, then. NICK CAGE is an extremely skilled time traveler. Ok. WHOOPI GOLDBERG has freed herself from the cage in which SUPACREE had skillfully trapped the OWL OF THE GOLDEN EYE. WhT a prophecy. MEANWHILE, AT HOGWARTS. HOGWARTS, 2023. ANANDAR is HEADMASTER. Ah, fuck. I'm gonna puke. All I wanted was to shamelessly watch the man's balls swing like a pendulum... Well, here's this instead. Oh no, it's Skrillex. Now you have to— —now I have to watch this. Why. Cause I've already seen that. I hate you. I hate you. SOLD, to the lady in red. Damn. Slavery is cool. Yeah, I guess. FUCK. What. Idk. BITCH. GET OUT THE BASEMENT; I'm in the attick What you think this is? Lights, camera, action: Now that attractions been well established I should get back to it, I'm in the attic Lighting up matches, Fixin my holes up with patches Callin it classic Call me an asshole, I can't be mad man, I am a mad man, I bring the mask back To Handle a trash can Get out the basement. I told you he could dance. A GIANT DRAGON Oh shit, here it comes. FIRE. DILLON FRANCIS I Well. We're gonna die. DILLON FRANCIS II If she throws up, I get a pickle. DILLON FRANCIS III That's a deal. DILLON FRANCIS II And if she cries, I get a French poodle named Angelina Jolie. DILLON FRANCIS III Righteous. DILLON FRANCIS II Yur damn right. A GIANT DRAGON FLIES OVERHEAD, SWEEPING THE SKIES WITH FIRE AND LIGHTNING. DILLON FRANCIS I (CONT'D) Yeah, we're definitely fucked. Why are you dressed like Froto. FROTO (in background, dressed exactly alike) That is offensive! SHUTTHEFUCKUP. It's the end of the world! (At least as we know it) IS THAT SKRILLEX? FIRE BREATHING DRAGON. Well, it was. What the fuck HAPPENED?! Is that its final form? Yes it is. I'll give you one million dollars. That's not enough. This card is priceless. What is this. Like a Pokémon game?! This whoops Pokémon's ass. This is LEGENDS. LIL' BIIIITZ Yo! New York is CRAZY First of all, how is it all of a sudden CLEANER THAN LA?! New York's like: here —we sent all the nasty people to LA. All better. Polarity shift! LA is gross now! New York cleaned up! The trains are nice —shit— All the trash is in BAGS. I was like “Whaaaaaaat” this is nice. What the fuck. This shit different! Unh. they exported all the nasty, crazy motherfuxkers to LA. On GOD. Cause every other psychologically twisted individual I talk to in LA is like: “I'M FROM NEW YORK” *hawks loogie, spits* Uhhhhh… I was going on a little European adventure; New York's like: “You know, you never stay long…” I'm like “There's a reason for that…welp, gotta go.” The whole universe fucked around and was like— “You know what? We like you here. Stay. “ What. “STAY.” Fuck. New York is different. Won't say I love it — But goddamn, I like it! People are rude. People are rude as fuck. I'm used to LA where people are fake nice For fuckin tips and shit, you know? Everybody's trying to get famous for something, Or something. Idk. Fake as fuck. Fake nice. Fake happy. Fake titties. Fake lips. Just fucking fake. fake everything. Everything is plastic. —and it's not tied up in garbage bags, either. It's just plastic, and trash, and piss everywhere. It's so gross. You see Venice Beach on the movies: It's all clean and beautiful, and picturesque. You get there, it's like Skid Row + Skid Row Coastal. LA has millions of homeless people everywhere. In cars, in tents. Under bridges. Everywhere. And I love LA! I really do. But it's fake. Everything is fake. New York is real as fuck. Yeaaah. Almost too real. But I like it. You don't have to fuckin fake shit. People don't say “excuse me—“ No. You're never forced to say “good morning “ before you had your coffee! Yuh! New York is doing it right. People sleep on the train— But nobody lives on that motherfucker! I was in New York like a week before the shock wore off that there were not hundreds of individuals on every train wreaking of piss and smoking crack openly—YES—illicit drug use on trains in LA is extremely casual. Everything in LA is casual. People wear pajamas to work. Yeah—that. Everyone in New York looks like they're going to eat at a five-star restaurant. Like all the time. No socks-with-slides. EW. I swore to God socks with slides was a sign of the apocalypse; I get to New York, none of that—but the cringy thing in New York is Crocs With Socs. Now mmmm we're bi-coastal. Socks-with-slides; Crocs-with-socks. Knock that shit off. TACKY. other than that, though… NY is cool. It's chic. It's fun. You gotta be careful though. You gotta watch out. I thought LA drivers were crazy. New York drivers are fucking psychotic. Pedestrians don't have the right of way. At all. If you're in a crosswalk in LA even if the light is red, people will stop and let you go. In New York you better wait for the fuckin walk sign. They will kill you. It's okay. 6 millions ways to die: choose one! Just kidding. That's some west coast shit. But I did see a whole ass mural of Snoop Dogg in Brooklyn and get slightly confused— Till I realized everything on it was the color blue, and I was deadass in the middle of Brooklyn going “What? Ohhhhh! Wait! The Crips!” “Those guys are everywhere!” Lol. Its a nation wide disorganization. Lol. Whatever. I like New York. Doing my best not to love it, So the universe doesn't balance me out by showing me what to hate about it So far, so good New York drivers don't play. I never seen a school bus drift before! DAMN. Almost got hit by a short bus. Oh, the irony. I saw a dude do a whole ass wheelie on an electric scooter. Not a moped, by the way. An electric scooter. Yup. New Yoooooork. BEDFORD AVENUE, BROOKLYN, NY. THE BAMPHERAMPHS have initiated SEQUENCE C I like New York. I gotta say. It IS like LA In the way that I know I can't live in New York if I'm not just filthy fucking rich. Cause, you know—there's still homelessness; But unlike in LA, where you just wander around, smelling like piss, begging for change— You freeze to death. A quick solution! Haha! (It's not funny.) but whatever. America. I thought I was leaving; I got trapped in the matrix. I was like “Fuck this place.” They're like: “stay! We need slaves!” I'm like FUCK. So I got stuck in New York. Ugh. At least it's a “free state” I made it north, ma! Not exactly the safest place to get stuck with no money, either, is it? Really nowhere is safe with no money. I mean, I know of some places south of the border you can live, basically free and just, you know—sleep in a hammock, sing for change and shit. Roam the beach. I know people that do that— it's just- I like showers. I don't love showers. Cause then, I'm sure God would find a way to take that away, too. I don't love anything anymore. Once you love something—it either goes away, or it burns you. Or both. Can't love things. Can't love people. No more love. Just—appreciate—things. Just—like—things, you know? Don't love anything. Speaking of suicidal tendencies. Hahah. You know what else is cool about New York? The trains actually come into the station fast enough to kill you. Like—you've had enough? Okay: here it is. Just to save you a trip to the Empire State Building. This train is coming in at 304 miles an hour and is somehow gonna stop in 3 seconds. —maybe 2 seconds, if you do jump— Better think fast! They almost come too fast, for suicide. Ready, set— Dammit. Missed it again. They're so fast. The trains in LA stopped going suicide-fast like, a couple years ago—maybe, just before the pandemic—I think. They're like “You know what! This is happening too often. I am ALWAYS late to my other two jobs ‘cause someone killed themselves on my train! Fuck!” LA's like: “Well fuck this, all the slaves are killing themselves on the trains.” “Damn, that sucks” LA's like “Yeah, okay so: here's what we do; we'll put up signs for a suicide hotline at the popular jumping points” “LA's like: okay” “And—we'll tell the train operators they gotta slow down coming into the station—“ “That'll do it!” “—that way, If they still do decide to jump, they'll just get paralyzed, and contribute to the opioid crisis: more funding for big pharma!” “Yes, it's genius!” “—unless they're black, or on Medicaid, then: we'll send em home with some ibuprofen and make sure they collect disability, so that they can become addicted to crack, or something like that —you know.” “Yes. That's perfect.” Good Job LA. I get lost in New York. I'll be on New York like “YO, WHERE THE FUCK AM I AT?” “In New York” GODDAMMIT. You know what else is weird about New York? Personal space is not a thing. I mean, “space” is not a thing at all, anyway. But “Personal space”? No. People will not only sit by you; The'll siT ON you. Yo. I had just got to New York— I had all my luggage with me— And this lady gets on the train; She's got a broom. Idk what for, but okay; She gets onto the train, She looks around, and I guess she decides she wants the seat next to me. So like I said, I have all my stuff l so I'm a little spread out, but there's room— But you know what she does? She looks me straight in the eye And then just hits me with her broom. I was like —-?!? I'm thinking, “Okay is she racist or is that just a New York thing?” Like, “you can just hit people with shit!? damn!” What's funny is, I kinda respected her for that. She was old. Didn't say a word, just “bam” Like—- ‘move!' I'm like “okay!” New York is so classy. Girls wear panty hose, and stockings. I'm like “wow, that's actually nice. That's so wholesome! Tights?! Yeah!” It's so classy. I don't think girls in LA even wear regular panties. Let alone panty hose. Get it—panty—Hoes. I see correlation. You know what else is cool about New York. It's less racist. I mean- There's so much diversity, there's almost no room to be racist. It's crazy. So many people. So many colors. So much culture. So many languages! I hear languages I can't even place. I thought I was good. I'm in LA, I'm like, “Okay, that's Chinese—“ “That's Japanese” “That's Korean” “Farsi” I get to New York— I'm in the Delicstessen. Thats another thing. Nothing like a real, New York delicatessen. That's what “deli” is short for, by the way, everyone not from New York. It's “delicatessen” Lol. Anyway. I'm standing in the Deli and I hear some shit that—I'm not gonna lie— was actually quite alarming, as a native English speaker. I'm standing there, and this guy behind me literally over my shoulder says, “Blooppnsmabhoan ammaoakb amansbaiL aannaoka snkaoakmnlblblblnlnl!!!!” I'm like what the FUCK. This isn't REAL. “Blblblana. Akakma alak Akakamaamna!” I'm shoooook. What IS that!!? I like New York. The girls aren't all evil soulless heart eating demons. They're just “regular” I have to run back to LA and tell all my guy friends, they're like “Women are evil” I'm like— “Nooo, that's just out here.” Maybe. I don't know. I like New York. I bet it's wonderful when it's warm. I don't know! Maybe that's when shit hits the fan! Maybe it's like Chicago. EVERYBODY DIES IN THE SUMMER— Who said that. Chance the Rapper, I think. I don't know. LEGENDS: FAMESCHOOL This move is called: The “Slap-Dicksuck.” [carefully taking notes] “slap-dick-suck”…okay… hmm.. Now, class. [raises hand curiously] Yes? Um. SUPACREE— —PROFESSOR SUPACREE. Um. Professor SUPACREE— Yes! Why is it called the “Slap-Dicksuck” I was about to explain that. //SLAP-DICKSUCK// NEXT: we learn THE “SLAP-DICKSUCK-SLAP” Let me guess. No, no guessing. This class is gross. I like it. Yeah, you're gross. The world is gross. Get over it. GET OVER IT, DILLON FRANCIS. *sniffes* Please, stop crying. She— *sniffles* It's okay, Dillon. She took my piñata! Your piñata set your house on fire. He sets—everything on fire— Have you ever stopped to think— —no— thinking is bad. Go get dressed. No, not today. You look like a bloated chicken nugget. —I used to like chicken nuggets. hey, Tofu daddy. This is sick. This is a sick bitch we're dealing with. I'm not dealing with anything, I quit. Quit, you can't quit. I just did. DEADMAU5 Okay, no more bodies. Ū Okay. No more bodies. DEADMAU5 Really? Ū —No. DEADMAU5 Goddammit, this is not a GAME. Ū It is a game, though—and I'm a damn good marksman. DEADMAU5 Dammit, you're right. Ū I'm always right. Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? I powered on my phone to find the digital clock exactly at 1:15, which had seemed to be creeping up again as a recurring theme, along with some other unsettling figurines—if it was a race against time, I was losing—and If, perhaps, a Holy War, I must have been some sort of Holy, as it had seemed the world's good graces had turned her back on me, and that faith dwindled more quickly in the cold than any other condition. Lay your head on my shoulder, Your cheek on my cheek, Wrap your arm round my waist, You can think what I think You can skate on thin ice You can sing what I sing And when the ice breaks; You can sink when I sink Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? It had been strange waves of everything—more than I was ready for and much more than intentionally took on, all things considered. I burned my tongue on piping hot oatmeal, trying to eat rather than write, as it seemed the time had come that I could no longer skip meals and properly function. Nearing thirty like a bullet—and at least metaphorically bleeding as if I had actually been shot, my heart and soul throbbing and gushing into a paralyzing twist or fears and woes, trapped in a foreign city with almost nothing to my name, lugging around my music equipment and very few belongings, which—when put away neatly even in the smallest room— seemed like almost nothing, but was certainly too much to carry around, especially alone. And I was, so very alone. Drake Bell and the Hollywood Spell My newest and strangest muse yet had again insisted on appearing into my dream world, for the third time, anyway—which seemed a cruel and almost disturbing subconscious attempt to conjur up what might have been the entirety of my energy to complete the 6th Season of Enter The Multiverse, at this point which had even interested me, reinvigorating my senses and at least partially restoring my faith in something, even if it was just Hollywood being Hollywood. But now, even miles away from Hollywoodland, and stranded far, far away with no conceivable way to find my way back, even if I did have a home there waiting for me—and there wasn't—there didn't seem to be a home anywhere for me at all, and with my money running well towards dry I had spent most the week dry heaving into panic attacks about where I would go, or what I would do/—especially dragging around all of my luggage and equipment, and while it was true my equipment could have easily found it's way into a pawn shop, to at least offset the impending homelessness by maybe a couple days, and a couple hundred dollars—it didn't seem quite worth it to sell my dream again, especially for the miserable existence of sharing a hostel room with whoever decided to snore or cough their way into my hellish realm of corporate slavery, lovelessness, and lack of privacy. Yes, my conciousness had summoned up this man into my dreamworld now three times, and for whatever reason, if there was one — I could consider it a charm. Had I not been working at the smokeshop what now seemed like ages ago, I might have forgotten entirely that such a person had ever existed—which I had, since the experience, for the record, at least tried to—but for some reason, disasterously couldnt; it had all awakened something serious and spiritual within my outer world, piquing my ultra conscious into a rare and bewildering curiosity that had done well to slay and murder the cat in all of its nine lives, and then some. It wasn't entirely on purpose, or without guilt that my mind seemed to inquisitively structure an entire hidden world and to form a strange and illicit bond with this fragile man creature, not that my social status or overwhelmingly average, unattractive, stranded and abandoned wastebasket of a demon, or diety whatever I was in whatever kind of light, would have much at all to do but suffer the result of having missed the bar by far, stumbling into the lower realms of the world by mere circumstance, on occasion, without notice. I was certainly thinking about it too much, and hating myself for it, a certain spark or inspiration for the Timmy Turner timelines met with the sudden flash of what may have even been a lost memory of not for all this Hollywood trauma, or dogma, whichever made sense—because none of it did, at all, besides to reverse what time had done by allowing me to forget my turbulent childhood, which couldn't matter anymore in this moment as it ever had; and though I was producing a fruitful workout at Equinox, squatting deeply into the Smith Machine and breathing deeply into my lower back, where the tension from the weight of my leftover skin met the pain in the whole of my torso, an apparent rush sent a splash of slobber out of the side of my mouth, my third eye a gaping and burning hole streaking heat across the middle of my forehead—all of a sudden the high of Nitrous Oxide filled my mind, if only for a moment—flung back into a memory nearly two decades old. “That's it.” I remembered thinking. “No more of this.” I sat down the can of keyboard cleaner on the bathroom floor. I had scared myself straight, long before I even knew what I was doing—and I didn't know at all, having been nine, or maybe 10–long before I would ever *want* to get high, not understanding that or why I needed to, anyway—or that getting “high” was what I was doing at all. No, at the time, it simply ‘felt really good', until it didn't—the particular memory which struck me in the dead center of the Equinox floor—and snapping back into my body, shaking myself out of it and leaning into the bar to stretch, taking in a deep breath and choking back an ocean of tears. “Idiot.” I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever Dreams Wil Be Dreams. Since departing LA, all my dreams had been strange, and I found myself growing more distant from myself, or from anything real at all, my dreams skewing into a horrid soundscape of rampant memories and false hopes of love. Finally able to seek refuge in meditation, I had been bombarded with images of Dillon Francis balancing some pretty little white girl in his lap—and though I couldn't quite unhinge the Amethyst from my possession, I had been giving it the distance I needed for something like peace of mind, without the actual peace itself at play. There had been quite the spell to break, and though it hadn't even been moderately broken—I at least knew now what magic I was dealing with. Dillon Hart Francis was a powerful magician—perhaps too powerful, and with that I took my strides into gatekeeping at the very least, since no peace could be made. I could love with a wholesome heart, but a tarnished mind and a gated soul would simply not outlast the infinite journey. Though I had been illicitly carfeful not to look him in the eye last we did meet, there was a remarkable force in place far beyond control—or at least my control— which kept such power from being apprehended; I had done my best to let go, knowing it was indeed a spell at play, and rather than a curse no need to worry or fear it's users intentions. Magic was a give-and-take, and so much had been at this point taken from me that the bruises of jealousy for whatever it was being waved about my psyche as ‘better than' could do no more than to rip the rest of my heart from its crevice as I pondered on what I might have done right, or might have done wrong—if there were such things. ‘White girls get all the love.' It was only true in my heart and my mind, and so it must have sat in my soul a certain way. I had never intended really to fall into what I had fallen into with Dillon Francis—not that it couldn't or wouldn't be undone, eventually, as I was inraveling myself into an unremarkable, unastonishing whisp — a fracture in time to do much less than even be though of, or forgotten. I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever A piece of my rock had shattered on the floor of the shower at Equinox—the only stone I kept for myself, and often forgotten about, as I did myself, not that i mattered much. It shattered unevenly into three pieces, one of which I left in the sauna, quickly before departing—and the other which I had dropped in Times Square, begrudgingly under the LCD American flag by which I felt betrayed: How could our nation not only allow, but create homelessness as a scare tactic to keep the working poor working as slaves, to saciate the wealthy's wants and needs? “Whatever.” I'm not going to hurt you, You can't hurt me anymore than I can hurt myself. I'm glad you know that. I don't know anything. Suicide fucking sucks. I know that. It might be time for me to go But I just want to let you know I still got love for you; And there's still hope; I left the door open I gotta go, you know, It's hopeless for some At the end of my rope —and it's a long way home, But it's home at the end It's home at the end of a long, lond road I took the wrong one, But at least now I know you I'll go on It seems that I still have a soul, somewhere I walked in on thin air, And now I'm here; I don't know where I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever LEGENDS EDDIE MURPHY opens the heavy Victorian style door, after three solid knocks from under the GLOVED HAND which lifts the golden-brass door knocker. To what do I owe the pleasure? WHOOPI GOLDBERG Business, not pleasure. -_- Well, which business. All of ‘em. [She gestures to pass through the doorway.] Please, come in. Coffee, or Tea? Coffee this late? [beat] Coffee. This is serious. You look serious. I've been—confined. Drake Bell, you son of a bitch. Oh, so you do know my name. I know all your names. So it is. So I am. — How'd you get in this? I've always been in this. What is “always”? How did you get in this? I am this. What a philosophy. Call it what you want. What if I don't. Then don't. See you on the other side. Someone once told me, the grass is much greener— on the other side. —and when I paid a visit, (It's possible I missed it) Seemed different, yet exactly the same. DILLON FRANCIS I didn't want it to end this way. I didn't want it to end. Well, it did. You let it. I had to. Just let go. No, I can't. Hah! What's so funny? You're fucking impossible. Nothing is “impossible” you said that. But you “can't” Let this go? Ah-hah. No. This here will keep slowly unwinding until there's no more. —and then what? There's no more. Damn. This is foul. Hm. Take a time out, Timmy. I'm a take a t-t-taxi I pay my t-t-taxes The actor and the actress. Oh, He's Big Hollywood; Doesn't Have a Job, But the work's real good – His lines are smooth and his days are long, Gotta make it right, For a whole lot of wrongs He's Big-Big Hollywood Doesn't have a job; But the work's real good Coming in hot, Like he's fresh out the box That's a real big nugget, With a whole lot of sauce. Stop. What. What is this. It's a song. This is awful. FUCK IT. I DON'T CARE. Damn, Oreos AND Ben & Jerry's?! IT'S DAIRY-FREE. Tf kind o f Oreos is that. They're GLuten FrEe. FUCK IT. Sunni, get a hold of yourself. YOU GET A HOLD OF YOUR SELF. Stop yelling from across the room. I'LL YELL WHERE I WANT. Fuck this job. FUCK YOU MARIANNE. AGGHH. AGGHHHHHHHHH. Fuck What. What's up. I need a smoke break. I'M GONNA RIP YOUR HEART OUT. YOU DOn'T HAVE A HEART. SHUT UP, DILLON FRANCIS. GOd. WHO INVITED HIM, ANYWAY. I didn't. NOBODY INVITED HIM. The inspiration to music hit at just the right and the wrong time—I had finally found my way to the butt machine, only after visiting every other floor and guessing incorrectly—only to make it to the machine in just enough time to realize that I was for some reason exhausted—perhaps having just blown my last fuse, realizing I was literally down to my last, few pennies— and, unknowing of how to escape the hole I had dug myself into, falling into a carful and unsecured ‘lust' with New York, surely never to fall in love with another city as I had LA, learning my lessons well, and knowing all too well that nowhere and no one like me was safe from homelessness in the US—now having proven itself to be a hostile entity, in a full police state. It didn't seem to matter, though, as I had narrowly missed my escape nearly on purpose, but not— it seemed something entirely outward was keeping me at bay and in the US, not that I had wanted to leave out of fear for my life as much as I wanted adventure and exploration—but either way was going nowhere at all fast, and running out or money even faster. “Fuck, I hate my life” I had probably over caffeinated, at least half the reason I couldn't budge to top speed, even blasting bangarang into my eardrums at nearly top volume—this day, it only emotionally weakened me, having demoted myself entirely from any sort of elite status, back into the realm of obsessive fandom, and perhaps even schizophrenia, per Dane Cook's shenanigans. Yeah, I'm tired and I need to take like ten shits. Just finish then. If I leave early I have to come back early. Well, go, then. Muscle fatigue, check Dehydration, check Psyche completely shattered Check. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

After the ancient alien mystic chak Chel merges with supacree, she leads her on a wild adventure though space and time as the worlds newest superhero, helping supacree to master her powers and abilities, and helping her to escape the clutches of the evil and largely unknown evils of the multiverse— Meeting worlds and Banding together witb characters from infinite multidimensional worlds and realms… THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE LEGENDS GERALD'S WORLD OWSLA CONFIDENTIAL: THE INFINITE SKRILLIFILES ENTER THE MULTIVERSE DEATHWISH ASCENSION THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNÏ BLŪ SCARY MONSTERS & SUPACREE THE INSOMNIAC &MORE FROM [The Festival Project.™] SEASON 6 ACT III Part I MONTAGE: Clique, Cruel Summer Kanye West, JAY-Z & Big Sean EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES. BROAD ASS DAYLIGHT SUPACREE has unlocked 100% Of her ABILITIES GOD MODE UNLOCKED SUPACREE EXITS EQUINOX FITNESS CLUB AT LIGHTSPEED, Hitting the pavement with swift force, splitting into three dimensional selves; SUNNI BLŪ to her left and A MYSTERIOUS, unknown ALTER EGO to her right, she shifts quickly to the beat of the music, morphing into and out of parallels of the outer world, opening and closing portals, and encapsulating anything and everything within her force field—which happens to be the whole of GREATER LOS ANGELES. Damn. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Of a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something's off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful? The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world What have we done? This is bad, brother. That's a construct. Everything's a construct! Get ahold of yourself. Get ahold of—you know what? I do know. You think you're fuckin' clever. I am clever. You're a sick man. That's my business. Yeah, well—you made it my business. I am you. What a concept. *construct. God, help you! [sideways evil smirk] Hehe. SPAM! ON TACOS! BUTTERS Oh—Jesus! WHO PUTS SPAM ON TACOS?! A smart man. C'mon, Butters. We gotta get lost in the sauce before we try this out. I'MMA TRY IT OUT. OK. GOD, OH, GOD, PLEASE— MERCIFUL GOD IN HEAVEN— (WhT.) JUST— DON'T LET IT BE SKRILL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Fuxk. What. She took the train. Which fucking train. I don't know. The train. THE A TRAIN, or the B TRAIN?! HEY. WHAT, you motherfucking idiot? I THINK I LOVE YOU. Well, stop thinking. Ok. JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER has been kidnapped— He's like 50 years old. He's been dad-napped. —by the MOB. The MOB?! He's into some dark shit. Wait, he is?! In this series. He has been tied to a chair, which sits under a single spotlight in a shabby, dark room in NEW JERSEY. Ew, New Jersey. JIMMY THE MOBSTER Hi, Jimmy— JIMMY FALLON —uh—hello. JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON Oh, that's ironic. [beat] JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm gonna kill you, Jimmy. GOD If I give you a serious role, how are you gonna handle it? JIMMY FALLON like a pro. GOD don't lie to me, Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON What?! I'm not! My body, heart, mind, and soul was being attacked— I had 15 minutes to vacate the property and couldn't even focus—I had to use the bathroom so badly it hurt my soul. I was pacing back and forth, choking back ugly tears—the rude man in the room across the way still occupying the bathroom which I needed, both to clean and relieve myself—but it had been hell, after all, and needs like these had been proven to be in short supply. Fuck. This is a gun to your head. Just do it. [he moves the pistol into her mouth] Now it's in your mouth. [she unhinges her jaw to open it wider, never breaking eye contact and relaxes; he studies his hand on the grip of the tripper, ready to lill] You'll die today. [A comfort; as she relaxes, he as well changes—this seems to take the fun of killing away from him, he exacts the gun from her mouth] CONT'D You like that? I love it— You're dead, bitch! Yes, I am! A penniless whore. Whores get paid— Then, even less— What's less than this? A dead bitch. Think again. I don't think, I just shoot; Sounds like a man. Oh, I am. Then kill me with your hands. Jesus Christ, man. He can't help. No one can help you. So just shoot. [he can't] SUNNI. )&2&;@2@2$ YOU ARE OUT OF CONTROL. SUCK MY DICK. AGHHJJJ. Well. TMZ is here. This is a disaster. NEXT, WE LEARN: THE Oh my God. WhT. This is probably the worst thing I've ever written. Not the worst. Nope: it is the worst. Maybe it's just bad on paper. It's bad no matter how you — CONTROL, JANET PRIVACY. Here. Wtf is this. LEGENDS: FAME SCHOOL Christopher Walken was one of my professors in fame school For acting? For music. For music? That doesn't make any sense. Please, don't make me explain this. A FACE BATTLE CHRISTOPHER WALKEN vs. SUPACREE -_- —__^ *_- ^__ __/ *_* >< … —-__—- Ok. Alright. Show me what you got. SUPACREE plays a beat. You know where this is going. We all know where this is going. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN that was OK. “OK”?! Yeah. *shrugs* OK. You know what— You know what it needs? …what's it need? —-more cowbell. I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. It was perfect. It was OK. You're not OK. —maybe I'm not. You're definitely not. —know what helps? Don't tell me: More fucking cowbell. Lol. ⅔ ain't bad. Wait, two out or three?! Which one didn't I— —FUCK. What, what happened? They're onto me. THE BAMPHERAMPS, MOTHERFUCKING BAMPHERAMPHS, and THE ASCENDED MASTERY has assembled in NEW YORK CITY to stage a coup. It's a coup d'état. There sure is a lot of French shit over here. Well yeah, it's Paris. Wait. What, what now? If SUPACREE is in Paris. NIGGAZ. Right—then— Who the fuck are they chasing in New York. [just waking up] Why am I in New York? WHOOPI GOLDBERG you got anyplace else to be? …no. MEANWHILE, IN ROME. Fanculo! Really, dude. Apparently. A tear in my head; A rip in my soul, And the fabric of— Coming undone at the whole; I make sense of it all at the alter, The fall; To have fought in the war, And then lost, or to suffer at all Love was lost, I was never a martyr— Blood on the cross, And the crossroads, The frost and the stardust, “There's no God” For the honorable, Stuck in New York, But defrosting my toes, At the forefront I haven't once wondered or thought Of the love that I was, Since I stopped throwing rocks at the church Or got off on the wrong stop; What a puzzle, To jump off, Or rot in the heart of The hub— World of wonders, A mother of suns, Never wanted a daughter so much Unpunishment, Loved was the Duchess; To carry a crutch or a cross— So unbothered, untouched, So heartless and dark, For the marksman—a spark Or the dog does not bark At the horses You're in the clear, hero. Heartless, she was! Now, now—settle down. This is an absolute outrage. Is it, now? I say so! Maybe you shouldn't. Faro, a word, I've got three. I'll go first. [a smug look] What's happened here? A ressurection, sir. Care to explain? I said ‘three.' Where's the King? My palms grew numb as my throbbing heartache welled up into the back of my throat and sat perched up against my growling stomach, stuffed with beans and rice, perhaps to fill the sadness or satiate my need for protein, either one. ASCENSION If you're going to vomit, step away from me. —I'm not sick. Actually, step out of my house. This is your house? —I live here. —no one lives here. What did you think it was? an elaborate cave. It is—an elaborwte cave— —excuse my ignorance. You're excused entirely. —I appreciate that. I meant, from here. You should go. Faro, wait. No more waiting; you were uninvited. Trust me—this visitation is more necessary than voluntary. That's—a lot of words. I don't speak caveman. Just—get out. Listen: No more listening— It's about C'esme't. It always is. This is important. It always is. It concerns you. It always does. —? Wait. [a heavy sigh] [a long silence] Come with me. FARO leads GÍAN towards the back of his quarters. Close the door. I— what? Nevermind. You're useless. Ehrm—excuse me. Excused, your majesty. FARO opens a SECRET PASSAGEWAY into a FUTURISTIC CORIDOR, leading GÍAN into a vast FORTRESS. balls. Uh. My stomach in knots And my life is in ruins Constellations all gone, And my heart, on the border of hurt— And mistrust So unlovable, loveless— Promises, scars and the art was devoured Ah— she was awful; Ah—she must have lost her mind God, she was homeless, And loveless, And wild eyed All that I wanted, Was to get lost in the lobby, Before the whole ball dropped —and watch the false phropet Collide wirh the comet Stop: I lost God at the crosswalk, The punishment was Homeless Now watch this: This is what I wanted: Doesn't really matter now, Does it? Oh, doesn't it. God, this is Lucifer. Son, it's an honor. No God for a mother, who walks on her own. Now it's over or under. It's over. It never got started. I locked up my heart with the piñata. How irrelevant. How awkward. How curse words turn to mantras. How I have half a heart Or, like ⅓ We're being honest, now. I thought Illuminati wanted hotties and Caucasians. Well, I guess that'll explain, Why you've been stuck inside a cage, then. NICK CAGE is an extremely skilled time traveler. Ok. WHOOPI GOLDBERG has freed herself from the cage in which SUPACREE had skillfully trapped the OWL OF THE GOLDEN EYE. WhT a prophecy. MEANWHILE, AT HOGWARTS. HOGWARTS, 2023. ANANDAR is HEADMASTER. Ah, fuck. I'm gonna puke. All I wanted was to shamelessly watch the man's balls swing like a pendulum... Well, here's this instead. Oh no, it's Skrillex. Now you have to— —now I have to watch this. Why. Cause I've already seen that. I hate you. I hate you. SOLD, to the lady in red. Damn. Slavery is cool. Yeah, I guess. FUCK. What. Idk. BITCH. GET OUT THE BASEMENT; I'm in the attick What you think this is? Lights, camera, action: Now that attractions been well established I should get back to it, I'm in the attic Lighting up matches, Fixin my holes up with patches Callin it classic Call me an asshole, I can't be mad man, I am a mad man, I bring the mask back To Handle a trash can Get out the basement. I told you he could dance. A GIANT DRAGON Oh shit, here it comes. FIRE. DILLON FRANCIS I Well. We're gonna die. DILLON FRANCIS II If she throws up, I get a pickle. DILLON FRANCIS III That's a deal. DILLON FRANCIS II And if she cries, I get a French poodle named Angelina Jolie. DILLON FRANCIS III Righteous. DILLON FRANCIS II Yur damn right. A GIANT DRAGON FLIES OVERHEAD, SWEEPING THE SKIES WITH FIRE AND LIGHTNING. DILLON FRANCIS I (CONT'D) Yeah, we're definitely fucked. Why are you dressed like Froto. FROTO (in background, dressed exactly alike) That is offensive! SHUTTHEFUCKUP. It's the end of the world! (At least as we know it) IS THAT SKRILLEX? FIRE BREATHING DRAGON. Well, it was. What the fuck HAPPENED?! Is that its final form? Yes it is. I'll give you one million dollars. That's not enough. This card is priceless. What is this. Like a Pokémon game?! This whoops Pokémon's ass. This is LEGENDS. LIL' BIIIITZ Yo! New York is CRAZY First of all, how is it all of a sudden CLEANER THAN LA?! New York's like: here —we sent all the nasty people to LA. All better. Polarity shift! LA is gross now! New York cleaned up! The trains are nice —shit— All the trash is in BAGS. I was like “Whaaaaaaat” this is nice. What the fuck. This shit different! Unh. they exported all the nasty, crazy motherfuxkers to LA. On GOD. Cause every other psychologically twisted individual I talk to in LA is like: “I'M FROM NEW YORK” *hawks loogie, spits* Uhhhhh… I was going on a little European adventure; New York's like: “You know, you never stay long…” I'm like “There's a reason for that…welp, gotta go.” The whole universe fucked around and was like— “You know what? We like you here. Stay. “ What. “STAY.” Fuck. New York is different. Won't say I love it — But goddamn, I like it! People are rude. People are rude as fuck. I'm used to LA where people are fake nice For fuckin tips and shit, you know? Everybody's trying to get famous for something, Or something. Idk. Fake as fuck. Fake nice. Fake happy. Fake titties. Fake lips. Just fucking fake. fake everything. Everything is plastic. —and it's not tied up in garbage bags, either. It's just plastic, and trash, and piss everywhere. It's so gross. You see Venice Beach on the movies: It's all clean and beautiful, and picturesque. You get there, it's like Skid Row + Skid Row Coastal. LA has millions of homeless people everywhere. In cars, in tents. Under bridges. Everywhere. And I love LA! I really do. But it's fake. Everything is fake. New York is real as fuck. Yeaaah. Almost too real. But I like it. You don't have to fuckin fake shit. People don't say “excuse me—“ No. You're never forced to say “good morning “ before you had your coffee! Yuh! New York is doing it right. People sleep on the train— But nobody lives on that motherfucker! I was in New York like a week before the shock wore off that there were not hundreds of individuals on every train wreaking of piss and smoking crack openly—YES—illicit drug use on trains in LA is extremely casual. Everything in LA is casual. People wear pajamas to work. Yeah—that. Everyone in New York looks like they're going to eat at a five-star restaurant. Like all the time. No socks-with-slides. EW. I swore to God socks with slides was a sign of the apocalypse; I get to New York, none of that—but the cringy thing in New York is Crocs With Socs. Now mmmm we're bi-coastal. Socks-with-slides; Crocs-with-socks. Knock that shit off. TACKY. other than that, though… NY is cool. It's chic. It's fun. You gotta be careful though. You gotta watch out. I thought LA drivers were crazy. New York drivers are fucking psychotic. Pedestrians don't have the right of way. At all. If you're in a crosswalk in LA even if the light is red, people will stop and let you go. In New York you better wait for the fuckin walk sign. They will kill you. It's okay. 6 millions ways to die: choose one! Just kidding. That's some west coast shit. But I did see a whole ass mural of Snoop Dogg in Brooklyn and get slightly confused— Till I realized everything on it was the color blue, and I was deadass in the middle of Brooklyn going “What? Ohhhhh! Wait! The Crips!” “Those guys are everywhere!” Lol. Its a nation wide disorganization. Lol. Whatever. I like New York. Doing my best not to love it, So the universe doesn't balance me out by showing me what to hate about it So far, so good New York drivers don't play. I never seen a school bus drift before! DAMN. Almost got hit by a short bus. Oh, the irony. I saw a dude do a whole ass wheelie on an electric scooter. Not a moped, by the way. An electric scooter. Yup. New Yoooooork. BEDFORD AVENUE, BROOKLYN, NY. THE BAMPHERAMPHS have initiated SEQUENCE C I like New York. I gotta say. It IS like LA In the way that I know I can't live in New York if I'm not just filthy fucking rich. Cause, you know—there's still homelessness; But unlike in LA, where you just wander around, smelling like piss, begging for change— You freeze to death. A quick solution! Haha! (It's not funny.) but whatever. America. I thought I was leaving; I got trapped in the matrix. I was like “Fuck this place.” They're like: “stay! We need slaves!” I'm like FUCK. So I got stuck in New York. Ugh. At least it's a “free state” I made it north, ma! Not exactly the safest place to get stuck with no money, either, is it? Really nowhere is safe with no money. I mean, I know of some places south of the border you can live, basically free and just, you know—sleep in a hammock, sing for change and shit. Roam the beach. I know people that do that— it's just- I like showers. I don't love showers. Cause then, I'm sure God would find a way to take that away, too. I don't love anything anymore. Once you love something—it either goes away, or it burns you. Or both. Can't love things. Can't love people. No more love. Just—appreciate—things. Just—like—things, you know? Don't love anything. Speaking of suicidal tendencies. Hahah. You know what else is cool about New York? The trains actually come into the station fast enough to kill you. Like—you've had enough? Okay: here it is. Just to save you a trip to the Empire State Building. This train is coming in at 304 miles an hour and is somehow gonna stop in 3 seconds. —maybe 2 seconds, if you do jump— Better think fast! They almost come too fast, for suicide. Ready, set— Dammit. Missed it again. They're so fast. The trains in LA stopped going suicide-fast like, a couple years ago—maybe, just before the pandemic—I think. They're like “You know what! This is happening too often. I am ALWAYS late to my other two jobs ‘cause someone killed themselves on my train! Fuck!” LA's like: “Well fuck this, all the slaves are killing themselves on the trains.” “Damn, that sucks” LA's like “Yeah, okay so: here's what we do; we'll put up signs for a suicide hotline at the popular jumping points” “LA's like: okay” “And—we'll tell the train operators they gotta slow down coming into the station—“ “That'll do it!” “—that way, If they still do decide to jump, they'll just get paralyzed, and contribute to the opioid crisis: more funding for big pharma!” “Yes, it's genius!” “—unless they're black, or on Medicaid, then: we'll send em home with some ibuprofen and make sure they collect disability, so that they can become addicted to crack, or something like that —you know.” “Yes. That's perfect.” Good Job LA. I get lost in New York. I'll be on New York like “YO, WHERE THE FUCK AM I AT?” “In New York” GODDAMMIT. You know what else is weird about New York? Personal space is not a thing. I mean, “space” is not a thing at all, anyway. But “Personal space”? No. People will not only sit by you; The'll siT ON you. Yo. I had just got to New York— I had all my luggage with me— And this lady gets on the train; She's got a broom. Idk what for, but okay; She gets onto the train, She looks around, and I guess she decides she wants the seat next to me. So like I said, I have all my stuff l so I'm a little spread out, but there's room— But you know what she does? She looks me straight in the eye And then just hits me with her broom. I was like —-?!? I'm thinking, “Okay is she racist or is that just a New York thing?” Like, “you can just hit people with shit!? damn!” What's funny is, I kinda respected her for that. She was old. Didn't say a word, just “bam” Like—- ‘move!' I'm like “okay!” New York is so classy. Girls wear panty hose, and stockings. I'm like “wow, that's actually nice. That's so wholesome! Tights?! Yeah!” It's so classy. I don't think girls in LA even wear regular panties. Let alone panty hose. Get it—panty—Hoes. I see correlation. You know what else is cool about New York. It's less racist. I mean- There's so much diversity, there's almost no room to be racist. It's crazy. So many people. So many colors. So much culture. So many languages! I hear languages I can't even place. I thought I was good. I'm in LA, I'm like, “Okay, that's Chinese—“ “That's Japanese” “That's Korean” “Farsi” I get to New York— I'm in the Delicstessen. Thats another thing. Nothing like a real, New York delicatessen. That's what “deli” is short for, by the way, everyone not from New York. It's “delicatessen” Lol. Anyway. I'm standing in the Deli and I hear some shit that—I'm not gonna lie— was actually quite alarming, as a native English speaker. I'm standing there, and this guy behind me literally over my shoulder says, “Blooppnsmabhoan ammaoakb amansbaiL aannaoka snkaoakmnlblblblnlnl!!!!” I'm like what the FUCK. This isn't REAL. “Blblblana. Akakma alak Akakamaamna!” I'm shoooook. What IS that!!? I like New York. The girls aren't all evil soulless heart eating demons. They're just “regular” I have to run back to LA and tell all my guy friends, they're like “Women are evil” I'm like— “Nooo, that's just out here.” Maybe. I don't know. I like New York. I bet it's wonderful when it's warm. I don't know! Maybe that's when shit hits the fan! Maybe it's like Chicago. EVERYBODY DIES IN THE SUMMER— Who said that. Chance the Rapper, I think. I don't know. LEGENDS: FAMESCHOOL This move is called: The “Slap-Dicksuck.” [carefully taking notes] “slap-dick-suck”…okay… hmm.. Now, class. [raises hand curiously] Yes? Um. SUPACREE— —PROFESSOR SUPACREE. Um. Professor SUPACREE— Yes! Why is it called the “Slap-Dicksuck” I was about to explain that. //SLAP-DICKSUCK// NEXT: we learn THE “SLAP-DICKSUCK-SLAP” Let me guess. No, no guessing. This class is gross. I like it. Yeah, you're gross. The world is gross. Get over it. GET OVER IT, DILLON FRANCIS. *sniffes* Please, stop crying. She— *sniffles* It's okay, Dillon. She took my piñata! Your piñata set your house on fire. He sets—everything on fire— Have you ever stopped to think— —no— thinking is bad. Go get dressed. No, not today. You look like a bloated chicken nugget. —I used to like chicken nuggets. hey, Tofu daddy. This is sick. This is a sick bitch we're dealing with. I'm not dealing with anything, I quit. Quit, you can't quit. I just did. DEADMAU5 Okay, no more bodies. Ū Okay. No more bodies. DEADMAU5 Really? Ū —No. DEADMAU5 Goddammit, this is not a GAME. Ū It is a game, though—and I'm a damn good marksman. DEADMAU5 Dammit, you're right. Ū I'm always right. Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? I powered on my phone to find the digital clock exactly at 1:15, which had seemed to be creeping up again as a recurring theme, along with some other unsettling figurines—if it was a race against time, I was losing—and If, perhaps, a Holy War, I must have been some sort of Holy, as it had seemed the world's good graces had turned her back on me, and that faith dwindled more quickly in the cold than any other condition. Lay your head on my shoulder, Your cheek on my cheek, Wrap your arm round my waist, You can think what I think You can skate on thin ice You can sing what I sing And when the ice breaks; You can sink when I sink Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? It had been strange waves of everything—more than I was ready for and much more than intentionally took on, all things considered. I burned my tongue on piping hot oatmeal, trying to eat rather than write, as it seemed the time had come that I could no longer skip meals and properly function. Nearing thirty like a bullet—and at least metaphorically bleeding as if I had actually been shot, my heart and soul throbbing and gushing into a paralyzing twist or fears and woes, trapped in a foreign city with almost nothing to my name, lugging around my music equipment and very few belongings, which—when put away neatly even in the smallest room— seemed like almost nothing, but was certainly too much to carry around, especially alone. And I was, so very alone. Drake Bell and the Hollywood Spell My newest and strangest muse yet had again insisted on appearing into my dream world, for the third time, anyway—which seemed a cruel and almost disturbing subconscious attempt to conjur up what might have been the entirety of my energy to complete the 6th Season of Enter The Multiverse, at this point which had even interested me, reinvigorating my senses and at least partially restoring my faith in something, even if it was just Hollywood being Hollywood. But now, even miles away from Hollywoodland, and stranded far, far away with no conceivable way to find my way back, even if I did have a home there waiting for me—and there wasn't—there didn't seem to be a home anywhere for me at all, and with my money running well towards dry I had spent most the week dry heaving into panic attacks about where I would go, or what I would do/—especially dragging around all of my luggage and equipment, and while it was true my equipment could have easily found it's way into a pawn shop, to at least offset the impending homelessness by maybe a couple days, and a couple hundred dollars—it didn't seem quite worth it to sell my dream again, especially for the miserable existence of sharing a hostel room with whoever decided to snore or cough their way into my hellish realm of corporate slavery, lovelessness, and lack of privacy. Yes, my conciousness had summoned up this man into my dreamworld now three times, and for whatever reason, if there was one — I could consider it a charm. Had I not been working at the smokeshop what now seemed like ages ago, I might have forgotten entirely that such a person had ever existed—which I had, since the experience, for the record, at least tried to—but for some reason, disasterously couldnt; it had all awakened something serious and spiritual within my outer world, piquing my ultra conscious into a rare and bewildering curiosity that had done well to slay and murder the cat in all of its nine lives, and then some. It wasn't entirely on purpose, or without guilt that my mind seemed to inquisitively structure an entire hidden world and to form a strange and illicit bond with this fragile man creature, not that my social status or overwhelmingly average, unattractive, stranded and abandoned wastebasket of a demon, or diety whatever I was in whatever kind of light, would have much at all to do but suffer the result of having missed the bar by far, stumbling into the lower realms of the world by mere circumstance, on occasion, without notice. I was certainly thinking about it too much, and hating myself for it, a certain spark or inspiration for the Timmy Turner timelines met with the sudden flash of what may have even been a lost memory of not for all this Hollywood trauma, or dogma, whichever made sense—because none of it did, at all, besides to reverse what time had done by allowing me to forget my turbulent childhood, which couldn't matter anymore in this moment as it ever had; and though I was producing a fruitful workout at Equinox, squatting deeply into the Smith Machine and breathing deeply into my lower back, where the tension from the weight of my leftover skin met the pain in the whole of my torso, an apparent rush sent a splash of slobber out of the side of my mouth, my third eye a gaping and burning hole streaking heat across the middle of my forehead—all of a sudden the high of Nitrous Oxide filled my mind, if only for a moment—flung back into a memory nearly two decades old. “That's it.” I remembered thinking. “No more of this.” I sat down the can of keyboard cleaner on the bathroom floor. I had scared myself straight, long before I even knew what I was doing—and I didn't know at all, having been nine, or maybe 10–long before I would ever *want* to get high, not understanding that or why I needed to, anyway—or that getting “high” was what I was doing at all. No, at the time, it simply ‘felt really good', until it didn't—the particular memory which struck me in the dead center of the Equinox floor—and snapping back into my body, shaking myself out of it and leaning into the bar to stretch, taking in a deep breath and choking back an ocean of tears. “Idiot.” I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever Dreams Wil Be Dreams. Since departing LA, all my dreams had been strange, and I found myself growing more distant from myself, or from anything real at all, my dreams skewing into a horrid soundscape of rampant memories and false hopes of love. Finally able to seek refuge in meditation, I had been bombarded with images of Dillon Francis balancing some pretty little white girl in his lap—and though I couldn't quite unhinge the Amethyst from my possession, I had been giving it the distance I needed for something like peace of mind, without the actual peace itself at play. There had been quite the spell to break, and though it hadn't even been moderately broken—I at least knew now what magic I was dealing with. Dillon Hart Francis was a powerful magician—perhaps too powerful, and with that I took my strides into gatekeeping at the very least, since no peace could be made. I could love with a wholesome heart, but a tarnished mind and a gated soul would simply not outlast the infinite journey. Though I had been illicitly carfeful not to look him in the eye last we did meet, there was a remarkable force in place far beyond control—or at least my control— which kept such power from being apprehended; I had done my best to let go, knowing it was indeed a spell at play, and rather than a curse no need to worry or fear it's users intentions. Magic was a give-and-take, and so much had been at this point taken from me that the bruises of jealousy for whatever it was being waved about my psyche as ‘better than' could do no more than to rip the rest of my heart from its crevice as I pondered on what I might have done right, or might have done wrong—if there were such things. ‘White girls get all the love.' It was only true in my heart and my mind, and so it must have sat in my soul a certain way. I had never intended really to fall into what I had fallen into with Dillon Francis—not that it couldn't or wouldn't be undone, eventually, as I was inraveling myself into an unremarkable, unastonishing whisp — a fracture in time to do much less than even be though of, or forgotten. I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever A piece of my rock had shattered on the floor of the shower at Equinox—the only stone I kept for myself, and often forgotten about, as I did myself, not that i mattered much. It shattered unevenly into three pieces, one of which I left in the sauna, quickly before departing—and the other which I had dropped in Times Square, begrudgingly under the LCD American flag by which I felt betrayed: How could our nation not only allow, but create homelessness as a scare tactic to keep the working poor working as slaves, to saciate the wealthy's wants and needs? “Whatever.” I'm not going to hurt you, You can't hurt me anymore than I can hurt myself. I'm glad you know that. I don't know anything. Suicide fucking sucks. I know that. It might be time for me to go But I just want to let you know I still got love for you; And there's still hope; I left the door open I gotta go, you know, It's hopeless for some At the end of my rope —and it's a long way home, But it's home at the end It's home at the end of a long, lond road I took the wrong one, But at least now I know you I'll go on It seems that I still have a soul, somewhere I walked in on thin air, And now I'm here; I don't know where I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever LEGENDS EDDIE MURPHY opens the heavy Victorian style door, after three solid knocks from under the GLOVED HAND which lifts the golden-brass door knocker. To what do I owe the pleasure? WHOOPI GOLDBERG Business, not pleasure. -_- Well, which business. All of ‘em. [She gestures to pass through the doorway.] Please, come in. Coffee, or Tea? Coffee this late? [beat] Coffee. This is serious. You look serious. I've been—confined. Drake Bell, you son of a bitch. Oh, so you do know my name. I know all your names. So it is. So I am. — How'd you get in this? I've always been in this. What is “always”? How did you get in this? I am this. What a philosophy. Call it what you want. What if I don't. Then don't. See you on the other side. Someone once told me, the grass is much greener— on the other side. —and when I paid a visit, (It's possible I missed it) Seemed different, yet exactly the same. DILLON FRANCIS I didn't want it to end this way. I didn't want it to end. Well, it did. You let it. I had to. Just let go. No, I can't. Hah! What's so funny? You're fucking impossible. Nothing is “impossible” you said that. But you “can't” Let this go? Ah-hah. No. This here will keep slowly unwinding until there's no more. —and then what? There's no more. Damn. This is foul. Hm. Take a time out, Timmy. I'm a take a t-t-taxi I pay my t-t-taxes The actor and the actress. Oh, He's Big Hollywood; Doesn't Have a Job, But the work's real good – His lines are smooth and his days are long, Gotta make it right, For a whole lot of wrongs He's Big-Big Hollywood Doesn't have a job; But the work's real good Coming in hot, Like he's fresh out the box That's a real big nugget, With a whole lot of sauce. Stop. What. What is this. It's a song. This is awful. FUCK IT. I DON'T CARE. Damn, Oreos AND Ben & Jerry's?! IT'S DAIRY-FREE. Tf kind o f Oreos is that. They're GLuten FrEe. FUCK IT. Sunni, get a hold of yourself. YOU GET A HOLD OF YOUR SELF. Stop yelling from across the room. I'LL YELL WHERE I WANT. Fuck this job. FUCK YOU MARIANNE. AGGHH. AGGHHHHHHHHH. Fuck What. What's up. I need a smoke break. I'M GONNA RIP YOUR HEART OUT. YOU DOn'T HAVE A HEART. SHUT UP, DILLON FRANCIS. GOd. WHO INVITED HIM, ANYWAY. I didn't. NOBODY INVITED HIM. The inspiration to music hit at just the right and the wrong time—I had finally found my way to the butt machine, only after visiting every other floor and guessing incorrectly—only to make it to the machine in just enough time to realize that I was for some reason exhausted—perhaps having just blown my last fuse, realizing I was literally down to my last, few pennies— and, unknowing of how to escape the hole I had dug myself into, falling into a carful and unsecured ‘lust' with New York, surely never to fall in love with another city as I had LA, learning my lessons well, and knowing all too well that nowhere and no one like me was safe from homelessness in the US—now having proven itself to be a hostile entity, in a full police state. It didn't seem to matter, though, as I had narrowly missed my escape nearly on purpose, but not— it seemed something entirely outward was keeping me at bay and in the US, not that I had wanted to leave out of fear for my life as much as I wanted adventure and exploration—but either way was going nowhere at all fast, and running out or money even faster. “Fuck, I hate my life” I had probably over caffeinated, at least half the reason I couldn't budge to top speed, even blasting bangarang into my eardrums at nearly top volume—this day, it only emotionally weakened me, having demoted myself entirely from any sort of elite status, back into the realm of obsessive fandom, and perhaps even schizophrenia, per Dane Cook's shenanigans. Yeah, I'm tired and I need to take like ten shits. Just finish then. If I leave early I have to come back early. Well, go, then. Muscle fatigue, check Dehydration, check Psyche completely shattered Check. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

After the ancient alien mystic chak Chel merges with supacree, she leads her on a wild adventure though space and time as the worlds newest superhero, helping supacree to master her powers and abilities, and helping her to escape the clutches of the evil and largely unknown evils of the multiverse— Meeting worlds and Banding together witb characters from infinite multidimensional worlds and realms… THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE LEGENDS GERALD'S WORLD OWSLA CONFIDENTIAL: THE INFINITE SKRILLIFILES ENTER THE MULTIVERSE DEATHWISH ASCENSION THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNÏ BLŪ SCARY MONSTERS & SUPACREE THE INSOMNIAC &MORE FROM [The Festival Project.™] SEASON 6 ACT III Part I MONTAGE: Clique, Cruel Summer Kanye West, JAY-Z & Big Sean EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES. BROAD ASS DAYLIGHT SUPACREE has unlocked 100% Of her ABILITIES GOD MODE UNLOCKED SUPACREE EXITS EQUINOX FITNESS CLUB AT LIGHTSPEED, Hitting the pavement with swift force, splitting into three dimensional selves; SUNNI BLŪ to her left and A MYSTERIOUS, unknown ALTER EGO to her right, she shifts quickly to the beat of the music, morphing into and out of parallels of the outer world, opening and closing portals, and encapsulating anything and everything within her force field—which happens to be the whole of GREATER LOS ANGELES. Damn. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Of a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something's off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful? The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world What have we done? This is bad, brother. That's a construct. Everything's a construct! Get ahold of yourself. Get ahold of—you know what? I do know. You think you're fuckin' clever. I am clever. You're a sick man. That's my business. Yeah, well—you made it my business. I am you. What a concept. *construct. God, help you! [sideways evil smirk] Hehe. SPAM! ON TACOS! BUTTERS Oh—Jesus! WHO PUTS SPAM ON TACOS?! A smart man. C'mon, Butters. We gotta get lost in the sauce before we try this out. I'MMA TRY IT OUT. OK. GOD, OH, GOD, PLEASE— MERCIFUL GOD IN HEAVEN— (WhT.) JUST— DON'T LET IT BE SKRILL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Fuxk. What. She took the train. Which fucking train. I don't know. The train. THE A TRAIN, or the B TRAIN?! HEY. WHAT, you motherfucking idiot? I THINK I LOVE YOU. Well, stop thinking. Ok. JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER has been kidnapped— He's like 50 years old. He's been dad-napped. —by the MOB. The MOB?! He's into some dark shit. Wait, he is?! In this series. He has been tied to a chair, which sits under a single spotlight in a shabby, dark room in NEW JERSEY. Ew, New Jersey. JIMMY THE MOBSTER Hi, Jimmy— JIMMY FALLON —uh—hello. JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON Oh, that's ironic. [beat] JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm gonna kill you, Jimmy. GOD If I give you a serious role, how are you gonna handle it? JIMMY FALLON like a pro. GOD don't lie to me, Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON What?! I'm not! My body, heart, mind, and soul was being attacked— I had 15 minutes to vacate the property and couldn't even focus—I had to use the bathroom so badly it hurt my soul. I was pacing back and forth, choking back ugly tears—the rude man in the room across the way still occupying the bathroom which I needed, both to clean and relieve myself—but it had been hell, after all, and needs like these had been proven to be in short supply. Fuck. This is a gun to your head. Just do it. [he moves the pistol into her mouth] Now it's in your mouth. [she unhinges her jaw to open it wider, never breaking eye contact and relaxes; he studies his hand on the grip of the tripper, ready to lill] You'll die today. [A comfort; as she relaxes, he as well changes—this seems to take the fun of killing away from him, he exacts the gun from her mouth] CONT'D You like that? I love it— You're dead, bitch! Yes, I am! A penniless whore. Whores get paid— Then, even less— What's less than this? A dead bitch. Think again. I don't think, I just shoot; Sounds like a man. Oh, I am. Then kill me with your hands. Jesus Christ, man. He can't help. No one can help you. So just shoot. [he can't] SUNNI. )&2&;@2@2$ YOU ARE OUT OF CONTROL. SUCK MY DICK. AGHHJJJ. Well. TMZ is here. This is a disaster. NEXT, WE LEARN: THE Oh my God. WhT. This is probably the worst thing I've ever written. Not the worst. Nope: it is the worst. Maybe it's just bad on paper. It's bad no matter how you — CONTROL, JANET PRIVACY. Here. Wtf is this. LEGENDS: FAME SCHOOL Christopher Walken was one of my professors in fame school For acting? For music. For music? That doesn't make any sense. Please, don't make me explain this. A FACE BATTLE CHRISTOPHER WALKEN vs. SUPACREE -_- —__^ *_- ^__ __/ *_* >< … —-__—- Ok. Alright. Show me what you got. SUPACREE plays a beat. You know where this is going. We all know where this is going. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN that was OK. “OK”?! Yeah. *shrugs* OK. You know what— You know what it needs? …what's it need? —-more cowbell. I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. It was perfect. It was OK. You're not OK. —maybe I'm not. You're definitely not. —know what helps? Don't tell me: More fucking cowbell. Lol. ⅔ ain't bad. Wait, two out or three?! Which one didn't I— —FUCK. What, what happened? They're onto me. THE BAMPHERAMPS, MOTHERFUCKING BAMPHERAMPHS, and THE ASCENDED MASTERY has assembled in NEW YORK CITY to stage a coup. It's a coup d'état. There sure is a lot of French shit over here. Well yeah, it's Paris. Wait. What, what now? If SUPACREE is in Paris. NIGGAZ. Right—then— Who the fuck are they chasing in New York. [just waking up] Why am I in New York? WHOOPI GOLDBERG you got anyplace else to be? …no. MEANWHILE, IN ROME. Fanculo! Really, dude. Apparently. A tear in my head; A rip in my soul, And the fabric of— Coming undone at the whole; I make sense of it all at the alter, The fall; To have fought in the war, And then lost, or to suffer at all Love was lost, I was never a martyr— Blood on the cross, And the crossroads, The frost and the stardust, “There's no God” For the honorable, Stuck in New York, But defrosting my toes, At the forefront I haven't once wondered or thought Of the love that I was, Since I stopped throwing rocks at the church Or got off on the wrong stop; What a puzzle, To jump off, Or rot in the heart of The hub— World of wonders, A mother of suns, Never wanted a daughter so much Unpunishment, Loved was the Duchess; To carry a crutch or a cross— So unbothered, untouched, So heartless and dark, For the marksman—a spark Or the dog does not bark At the horses You're in the clear, hero. Heartless, she was! Now, now—settle down. This is an absolute outrage. Is it, now? I say so! Maybe you shouldn't. Faro, a word, I've got three. I'll go first. [a smug look] What's happened here? A ressurection, sir. Care to explain? I said ‘three.' Where's the King? My palms grew numb as my throbbing heartache welled up into the back of my throat and sat perched up against my growling stomach, stuffed with beans and rice, perhaps to fill the sadness or satiate my need for protein, either one. ASCENSION If you're going to vomit, step away from me. —I'm not sick. Actually, step out of my house. This is your house? —I live here. —no one lives here. What did you think it was? an elaborate cave. It is—an elaborwte cave— —excuse my ignorance. You're excused entirely. —I appreciate that. I meant, from here. You should go. Faro, wait. No more waiting; you were uninvited. Trust me—this visitation is more necessary than voluntary. That's—a lot of words. I don't speak caveman. Just—get out. Listen: No more listening— It's about C'esme't. It always is. This is important. It always is. It concerns you. It always does. —? Wait. [a heavy sigh] [a long silence] Come with me. FARO leads GÍAN towards the back of his quarters. Close the door. I— what? Nevermind. You're useless. Ehrm—excuse me. Excused, your majesty. FARO opens a SECRET PASSAGEWAY into a FUTURISTIC CORIDOR, leading GÍAN into a vast FORTRESS. balls. Uh. My stomach in knots And my life is in ruins Constellations all gone, And my heart, on the border of hurt— And mistrust So unlovable, loveless— Promises, scars and the art was devoured Ah— she was awful; Ah—she must have lost her mind God, she was homeless, And loveless, And wild eyed All that I wanted, Was to get lost in the lobby, Before the whole ball dropped —and watch the false phropet Collide wirh the comet Stop: I lost God at the crosswalk, The punishment was Homeless Now watch this: This is what I wanted: Doesn't really matter now, Does it? Oh, doesn't it. God, this is Lucifer. Son, it's an honor. No God for a mother, who walks on her own. Now it's over or under. It's over. It never got started. I locked up my heart with the piñata. How irrelevant. How awkward. How curse words turn to mantras. How I have half a heart Or, like ⅓ We're being honest, now. I thought Illuminati wanted hotties and Caucasians. Well, I guess that'll explain, Why you've been stuck inside a cage, then. NICK CAGE is an extremely skilled time traveler. Ok. WHOOPI GOLDBERG has freed herself from the cage in which SUPACREE had skillfully trapped the OWL OF THE GOLDEN EYE. WhT a prophecy. MEANWHILE, AT HOGWARTS. HOGWARTS, 2023. ANANDAR is HEADMASTER. Ah, fuck. I'm gonna puke. All I wanted was to shamelessly watch the man's balls swing like a pendulum... Well, here's this instead. Oh no, it's Skrillex. Now you have to— —now I have to watch this. Why. Cause I've already seen that. I hate you. I hate you. SOLD, to the lady in red. Damn. Slavery is cool. Yeah, I guess. FUCK. What. Idk. BITCH. GET OUT THE BASEMENT; I'm in the attick What you think this is? Lights, camera, action: Now that attractions been well established I should get back to it, I'm in the attic Lighting up matches, Fixin my holes up with patches Callin it classic Call me an asshole, I can't be mad man, I am a mad man, I bring the mask back To Handle a trash can Get out the basement. I told you he could dance. A GIANT DRAGON Oh shit, here it comes. FIRE. DILLON FRANCIS I Well. We're gonna die. DILLON FRANCIS II If she throws up, I get a pickle. DILLON FRANCIS III That's a deal. DILLON FRANCIS II And if she cries, I get a French poodle named Angelina Jolie. DILLON FRANCIS III Righteous. DILLON FRANCIS II Yur damn right. A GIANT DRAGON FLIES OVERHEAD, SWEEPING THE SKIES WITH FIRE AND LIGHTNING. DILLON FRANCIS I (CONT'D) Yeah, we're definitely fucked. Why are you dressed like Froto. FROTO (in background, dressed exactly alike) That is offensive! SHUTTHEFUCKUP. It's the end of the world! (At least as we know it) IS THAT SKRILLEX? FIRE BREATHING DRAGON. Well, it was. What the fuck HAPPENED?! Is that its final form? Yes it is. I'll give you one million dollars. That's not enough. This card is priceless. What is this. Like a Pokémon game?! This whoops Pokémon's ass. This is LEGENDS. LIL' BIIIITZ Yo! New York is CRAZY First of all, how is it all of a sudden CLEANER THAN LA?! New York's like: here —we sent all the nasty people to LA. All better. Polarity shift! LA is gross now! New York cleaned up! The trains are nice —shit— All the trash is in BAGS. I was like “Whaaaaaaat” this is nice. What the fuck. This shit different! Unh. they exported all the nasty, crazy motherfuxkers to LA. On GOD. Cause every other psychologically twisted individual I talk to in LA is like: “I'M FROM NEW YORK” *hawks loogie, spits* Uhhhhh… I was going on a little European adventure; New York's like: “You know, you never stay long…” I'm like “There's a reason for that…welp, gotta go.” The whole universe fucked around and was like— “You know what? We like you here. Stay. “ What. “STAY.” Fuck. New York is different. Won't say I love it — But goddamn, I like it! People are rude. People are rude as fuck. I'm used to LA where people are fake nice For fuckin tips and shit, you know? Everybody's trying to get famous for something, Or something. Idk. Fake as fuck. Fake nice. Fake happy. Fake titties. Fake lips. Just fucking fake. fake everything. Everything is plastic. —and it's not tied up in garbage bags, either. It's just plastic, and trash, and piss everywhere. It's so gross. You see Venice Beach on the movies: It's all clean and beautiful, and picturesque. You get there, it's like Skid Row + Skid Row Coastal. LA has millions of homeless people everywhere. In cars, in tents. Under bridges. Everywhere. And I love LA! I really do. But it's fake. Everything is fake. New York is real as fuck. Yeaaah. Almost too real. But I like it. You don't have to fuckin fake shit. People don't say “excuse me—“ No. You're never forced to say “good morning “ before you had your coffee! Yuh! New York is doing it right. People sleep on the train— But nobody lives on that motherfucker! I was in New York like a week before the shock wore off that there were not hundreds of individuals on every train wreaking of piss and smoking crack openly—YES—illicit drug use on trains in LA is extremely casual. Everything in LA is casual. People wear pajamas to work. Yeah—that. Everyone in New York looks like they're going to eat at a five-star restaurant. Like all the time. No socks-with-slides. EW. I swore to God socks with slides was a sign of the apocalypse; I get to New York, none of that—but the cringy thing in New York is Crocs With Socs. Now mmmm we're bi-coastal. Socks-with-slides; Crocs-with-socks. Knock that shit off. TACKY. other than that, though… NY is cool. It's chic. It's fun. You gotta be careful though. You gotta watch out. I thought LA drivers were crazy. New York drivers are fucking psychotic. Pedestrians don't have the right of way. At all. If you're in a crosswalk in LA even if the light is red, people will stop and let you go. In New York you better wait for the fuckin walk sign. They will kill you. It's okay. 6 millions ways to die: choose one! Just kidding. That's some west coast shit. But I did see a whole ass mural of Snoop Dogg in Brooklyn and get slightly confused— Till I realized everything on it was the color blue, and I was deadass in the middle of Brooklyn going “What? Ohhhhh! Wait! The Crips!” “Those guys are everywhere!” Lol. Its a nation wide disorganization. Lol. Whatever. I like New York. Doing my best not to love it, So the universe doesn't balance me out by showing me what to hate about it So far, so good New York drivers don't play. I never seen a school bus drift before! DAMN. Almost got hit by a short bus. Oh, the irony. I saw a dude do a whole ass wheelie on an electric scooter. Not a moped, by the way. An electric scooter. Yup. New Yoooooork. BEDFORD AVENUE, BROOKLYN, NY. THE BAMPHERAMPHS have initiated SEQUENCE C I like New York. I gotta say. It IS like LA In the way that I know I can't live in New York if I'm not just filthy fucking rich. Cause, you know—there's still homelessness; But unlike in LA, where you just wander around, smelling like piss, begging for change— You freeze to death. A quick solution! Haha! (It's not funny.) but whatever. America. I thought I was leaving; I got trapped in the matrix. I was like “Fuck this place.” They're like: “stay! We need slaves!” I'm like FUCK. So I got stuck in New York. Ugh. At least it's a “free state” I made it north, ma! Not exactly the safest place to get stuck with no money, either, is it? Really nowhere is safe with no money. I mean, I know of some places south of the border you can live, basically free and just, you know—sleep in a hammock, sing for change and shit. Roam the beach. I know people that do that— it's just- I like showers. I don't love showers. Cause then, I'm sure God would find a way to take that away, too. I don't love anything anymore. Once you love something—it either goes away, or it burns you. Or both. Can't love things. Can't love people. No more love. Just—appreciate—things. Just—like—things, you know? Don't love anything. Speaking of suicidal tendencies. Hahah. You know what else is cool about New York? The trains actually come into the station fast enough to kill you. Like—you've had enough? Okay: here it is. Just to save you a trip to the Empire State Building. This train is coming in at 304 miles an hour and is somehow gonna stop in 3 seconds. —maybe 2 seconds, if you do jump— Better think fast! They almost come too fast, for suicide. Ready, set— Dammit. Missed it again. They're so fast. The trains in LA stopped going suicide-fast like, a couple years ago—maybe, just before the pandemic—I think. They're like “You know what! This is happening too often. I am ALWAYS late to my other two jobs ‘cause someone killed themselves on my train! Fuck!” LA's like: “Well fuck this, all the slaves are killing themselves on the trains.” “Damn, that sucks” LA's like “Yeah, okay so: here's what we do; we'll put up signs for a suicide hotline at the popular jumping points” “LA's like: okay” “And—we'll tell the train operators they gotta slow down coming into the station—“ “That'll do it!” “—that way, If they still do decide to jump, they'll just get paralyzed, and contribute to the opioid crisis: more funding for big pharma!” “Yes, it's genius!” “—unless they're black, or on Medicaid, then: we'll send em home with some ibuprofen and make sure they collect disability, so that they can become addicted to crack, or something like that —you know.” “Yes. That's perfect.” Good Job LA. I get lost in New York. I'll be on New York like “YO, WHERE THE FUCK AM I AT?” “In New York” GODDAMMIT. You know what else is weird about New York? Personal space is not a thing. I mean, “space” is not a thing at all, anyway. But “Personal space”? No. People will not only sit by you; The'll siT ON you. Yo. I had just got to New York— I had all my luggage with me— And this lady gets on the train; She's got a broom. Idk what for, but okay; She gets onto the train, She looks around, and I guess she decides she wants the seat next to me. So like I said, I have all my stuff l so I'm a little spread out, but there's room— But you know what she does? She looks me straight in the eye And then just hits me with her broom. I was like —-?!? I'm thinking, “Okay is she racist or is that just a New York thing?” Like, “you can just hit people with shit!? damn!” What's funny is, I kinda respected her for that. She was old. Didn't say a word, just “bam” Like—- ‘move!' I'm like “okay!” New York is so classy. Girls wear panty hose, and stockings. I'm like “wow, that's actually nice. That's so wholesome! Tights?! Yeah!” It's so classy. I don't think girls in LA even wear regular panties. Let alone panty hose. Get it—panty—Hoes. I see correlation. You know what else is cool about New York. It's less racist. I mean- There's so much diversity, there's almost no room to be racist. It's crazy. So many people. So many colors. So much culture. So many languages! I hear languages I can't even place. I thought I was good. I'm in LA, I'm like, “Okay, that's Chinese—“ “That's Japanese” “That's Korean” “Farsi” I get to New York— I'm in the Delicstessen. Thats another thing. Nothing like a real, New York delicatessen. That's what “deli” is short for, by the way, everyone not from New York. It's “delicatessen” Lol. Anyway. I'm standing in the Deli and I hear some shit that—I'm not gonna lie— was actually quite alarming, as a native English speaker. I'm standing there, and this guy behind me literally over my shoulder says, “Blooppnsmabhoan ammaoakb amansbaiL aannaoka snkaoakmnlblblblnlnl!!!!” I'm like what the FUCK. This isn't REAL. “Blblblana. Akakma alak Akakamaamna!” I'm shoooook. What IS that!!? I like New York. The girls aren't all evil soulless heart eating demons. They're just “regular” I have to run back to LA and tell all my guy friends, they're like “Women are evil” I'm like— “Nooo, that's just out here.” Maybe. I don't know. I like New York. I bet it's wonderful when it's warm. I don't know! Maybe that's when shit hits the fan! Maybe it's like Chicago. EVERYBODY DIES IN THE SUMMER— Who said that. Chance the Rapper, I think. I don't know. LEGENDS: FAMESCHOOL This move is called: The “Slap-Dicksuck.” [carefully taking notes] “slap-dick-suck”…okay… hmm.. Now, class. [raises hand curiously] Yes? Um. SUPACREE— —PROFESSOR SUPACREE. Um. Professor SUPACREE— Yes! Why is it called the “Slap-Dicksuck” I was about to explain that. //SLAP-DICKSUCK// NEXT: we learn THE “SLAP-DICKSUCK-SLAP” Let me guess. No, no guessing. This class is gross. I like it. Yeah, you're gross. The world is gross. Get over it. GET OVER IT, DILLON FRANCIS. *sniffes* Please, stop crying. She— *sniffles* It's okay, Dillon. She took my piñata! Your piñata set your house on fire. He sets—everything on fire— Have you ever stopped to think— —no— thinking is bad. Go get dressed. No, not today. You look like a bloated chicken nugget. —I used to like chicken nuggets. hey, Tofu daddy. This is sick. This is a sick bitch we're dealing with. I'm not dealing with anything, I quit. Quit, you can't quit. I just did. DEADMAU5 Okay, no more bodies. Ū Okay. No more bodies. DEADMAU5 Really? Ū —No. DEADMAU5 Goddammit, this is not a GAME. Ū It is a game, though—and I'm a damn good marksman. DEADMAU5 Dammit, you're right. Ū I'm always right. Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? I powered on my phone to find the digital clock exactly at 1:15, which had seemed to be creeping up again as a recurring theme, along with some other unsettling figurines—if it was a race against time, I was losing—and If, perhaps, a Holy War, I must have been some sort of Holy, as it had seemed the world's good graces had turned her back on me, and that faith dwindled more quickly in the cold than any other condition. Lay your head on my shoulder, Your cheek on my cheek, Wrap your arm round my waist, You can think what I think You can skate on thin ice You can sing what I sing And when the ice breaks; You can sink when I sink Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? It had been strange waves of everything—more than I was ready for and much more than intentionally took on, all things considered. I burned my tongue on piping hot oatmeal, trying to eat rather than write, as it seemed the time had come that I could no longer skip meals and properly function. Nearing thirty like a bullet—and at least metaphorically bleeding as if I had actually been shot, my heart and soul throbbing and gushing into a paralyzing twist or fears and woes, trapped in a foreign city with almost nothing to my name, lugging around my music equipment and very few belongings, which—when put away neatly even in the smallest room— seemed like almost nothing, but was certainly too much to carry around, especially alone. And I was, so very alone. Drake Bell and the Hollywood Spell My newest and strangest muse yet had again insisted on appearing into my dream world, for the third time, anyway—which seemed a cruel and almost disturbing subconscious attempt to conjur up what might have been the entirety of my energy to complete the 6th Season of Enter The Multiverse, at this point which had even interested me, reinvigorating my senses and at least partially restoring my faith in something, even if it was just Hollywood being Hollywood. But now, even miles away from Hollywoodland, and stranded far, far away with no conceivable way to find my way back, even if I did have a home there waiting for me—and there wasn't—there didn't seem to be a home anywhere for me at all, and with my money running well towards dry I had spent most the week dry heaving into panic attacks about where I would go, or what I would do/—especially dragging around all of my luggage and equipment, and while it was true my equipment could have easily found it's way into a pawn shop, to at least offset the impending homelessness by maybe a couple days, and a couple hundred dollars—it didn't seem quite worth it to sell my dream again, especially for the miserable existence of sharing a hostel room with whoever decided to snore or cough their way into my hellish realm of corporate slavery, lovelessness, and lack of privacy. Yes, my conciousness had summoned up this man into my dreamworld now three times, and for whatever reason, if there was one — I could consider it a charm. Had I not been working at the smokeshop what now seemed like ages ago, I might have forgotten entirely that such a person had ever existed—which I had, since the experience, for the record, at least tried to—but for some reason, disasterously couldnt; it had all awakened something serious and spiritual within my outer world, piquing my ultra conscious into a rare and bewildering curiosity that had done well to slay and murder the cat in all of its nine lives, and then some. It wasn't entirely on purpose, or without guilt that my mind seemed to inquisitively structure an entire hidden world and to form a strange and illicit bond with this fragile man creature, not that my social status or overwhelmingly average, unattractive, stranded and abandoned wastebasket of a demon, or diety whatever I was in whatever kind of light, would have much at all to do but suffer the result of having missed the bar by far, stumbling into the lower realms of the world by mere circumstance, on occasion, without notice. I was certainly thinking about it too much, and hating myself for it, a certain spark or inspiration for the Timmy Turner timelines met with the sudden flash of what may have even been a lost memory of not for all this Hollywood trauma, or dogma, whichever made sense—because none of it did, at all, besides to reverse what time had done by allowing me to forget my turbulent childhood, which couldn't matter anymore in this moment as it ever had; and though I was producing a fruitful workout at Equinox, squatting deeply into the Smith Machine and breathing deeply into my lower back, where the tension from the weight of my leftover skin met the pain in the whole of my torso, an apparent rush sent a splash of slobber out of the side of my mouth, my third eye a gaping and burning hole streaking heat across the middle of my forehead—all of a sudden the high of Nitrous Oxide filled my mind, if only for a moment—flung back into a memory nearly two decades old. “That's it.” I remembered thinking. “No more of this.” I sat down the can of keyboard cleaner on the bathroom floor. I had scared myself straight, long before I even knew what I was doing—and I didn't know at all, having been nine, or maybe 10–long before I would ever *want* to get high, not understanding that or why I needed to, anyway—or that getting “high” was what I was doing at all. No, at the time, it simply ‘felt really good', until it didn't—the particular memory which struck me in the dead center of the Equinox floor—and snapping back into my body, shaking myself out of it and leaning into the bar to stretch, taking in a deep breath and choking back an ocean of tears. “Idiot.” I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever Dreams Wil Be Dreams. Since departing LA, all my dreams had been strange, and I found myself growing more distant from myself, or from anything real at all, my dreams skewing into a horrid soundscape of rampant memories and false hopes of love. Finally able to seek refuge in meditation, I had been bombarded with images of Dillon Francis balancing some pretty little white girl in his lap—and though I couldn't quite unhinge the Amethyst from my possession, I had been giving it the distance I needed for something like peace of mind, without the actual peace itself at play. There had been quite the spell to break, and though it hadn't even been moderately broken—I at least knew now what magic I was dealing with. Dillon Hart Francis was a powerful magician—perhaps too powerful, and with that I took my strides into gatekeeping at the very least, since no peace could be made. I could love with a wholesome heart, but a tarnished mind and a gated soul would simply not outlast the infinite journey. Though I had been illicitly carfeful not to look him in the eye last we did meet, there was a remarkable force in place far beyond control—or at least my control— which kept such power from being apprehended; I had done my best to let go, knowing it was indeed a spell at play, and rather than a curse no need to worry or fear it's users intentions. Magic was a give-and-take, and so much had been at this point taken from me that the bruises of jealousy for whatever it was being waved about my psyche as ‘better than' could do no more than to rip the rest of my heart from its crevice as I pondered on what I might have done right, or might have done wrong—if there were such things. ‘White girls get all the love.' It was only true in my heart and my mind, and so it must have sat in my soul a certain way. I had never intended really to fall into what I had fallen into with Dillon Francis—not that it couldn't or wouldn't be undone, eventually, as I was inraveling myself into an unremarkable, unastonishing whisp — a fracture in time to do much less than even be though of, or forgotten. I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever A piece of my rock had shattered on the floor of the shower at Equinox—the only stone I kept for myself, and often forgotten about, as I did myself, not that i mattered much. It shattered unevenly into three pieces, one of which I left in the sauna, quickly before departing—and the other which I had dropped in Times Square, begrudgingly under the LCD American flag by which I felt betrayed: How could our nation not only allow, but create homelessness as a scare tactic to keep the working poor working as slaves, to saciate the wealthy's wants and needs? “Whatever.” I'm not going to hurt you, You can't hurt me anymore than I can hurt myself. I'm glad you know that. I don't know anything. Suicide fucking sucks. I know that. It might be time for me to go But I just want to let you know I still got love for you; And there's still hope; I left the door open I gotta go, you know, It's hopeless for some At the end of my rope —and it's a long way home, But it's home at the end It's home at the end of a long, lond road I took the wrong one, But at least now I know you I'll go on It seems that I still have a soul, somewhere I walked in on thin air, And now I'm here; I don't know where I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever LEGENDS EDDIE MURPHY opens the heavy Victorian style door, after three solid knocks from under the GLOVED HAND which lifts the golden-brass door knocker. To what do I owe the pleasure? WHOOPI GOLDBERG Business, not pleasure. -_- Well, which business. All of ‘em. [She gestures to pass through the doorway.] Please, come in. Coffee, or Tea? Coffee this late? [beat] Coffee. This is serious. You look serious. I've been—confined. Drake Bell, you son of a bitch. Oh, so you do know my name. I know all your names. So it is. So I am. — How'd you get in this? I've always been in this. What is “always”? How did you get in this? I am this. What a philosophy. Call it what you want. What if I don't. Then don't. See you on the other side. Someone once told me, the grass is much greener— on the other side. —and when I paid a visit, (It's possible I missed it) Seemed different, yet exactly the same. DILLON FRANCIS I didn't want it to end this way. I didn't want it to end. Well, it did. You let it. I had to. Just let go. No, I can't. Hah! What's so funny? You're fucking impossible. Nothing is “impossible” you said that. But you “can't” Let this go? Ah-hah. No. This here will keep slowly unwinding until there's no more. —and then what? There's no more. Damn. This is foul. Hm. Take a time out, Timmy. I'm a take a t-t-taxi I pay my t-t-taxes The actor and the actress. Oh, He's Big Hollywood; Doesn't Have a Job, But the work's real good – His lines are smooth and his days are long, Gotta make it right, For a whole lot of wrongs He's Big-Big Hollywood Doesn't have a job; But the work's real good Coming in hot, Like he's fresh out the box That's a real big nugget, With a whole lot of sauce. Stop. What. What is this. It's a song. This is awful. FUCK IT. I DON'T CARE. Damn, Oreos AND Ben & Jerry's?! IT'S DAIRY-FREE. Tf kind o f Oreos is that. They're GLuten FrEe. FUCK IT. Sunni, get a hold of yourself. YOU GET A HOLD OF YOUR SELF. Stop yelling from across the room. I'LL YELL WHERE I WANT. Fuck this job. FUCK YOU MARIANNE. AGGHH. AGGHHHHHHHHH. Fuck What. What's up. I need a smoke break. I'M GONNA RIP YOUR HEART OUT. YOU DOn'T HAVE A HEART. SHUT UP, DILLON FRANCIS. GOd. WHO INVITED HIM, ANYWAY. I didn't. NOBODY INVITED HIM. The inspiration to music hit at just the right and the wrong time—I had finally found my way to the butt machine, only after visiting every other floor and guessing incorrectly—only to make it to the machine in just enough time to realize that I was for some reason exhausted—perhaps having just blown my last fuse, realizing I was literally down to my last, few pennies— and, unknowing of how to escape the hole I had dug myself into, falling into a carful and unsecured ‘lust' with New York, surely never to fall in love with another city as I had LA, learning my lessons well, and knowing all too well that nowhere and no one like me was safe from homelessness in the US—now having proven itself to be a hostile entity, in a full police state. It didn't seem to matter, though, as I had narrowly missed my escape nearly on purpose, but not— it seemed something entirely outward was keeping me at bay and in the US, not that I had wanted to leave out of fear for my life as much as I wanted adventure and exploration—but either way was going nowhere at all fast, and running out or money even faster. “Fuck, I hate my life” I had probably over caffeinated, at least half the reason I couldn't budge to top speed, even blasting bangarang into my eardrums at nearly top volume—this day, it only emotionally weakened me, having demoted myself entirely from any sort of elite status, back into the realm of obsessive fandom, and perhaps even schizophrenia, per Dane Cook's shenanigans. Yeah, I'm tired and I need to take like ten shits. Just finish then. If I leave early I have to come back early. Well, go, then. Muscle fatigue, check Dehydration, check Psyche completely shattered Check. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.

Galoob and Tommy hop back behind the mics after a 3 week lay off. Vacations, backyard barbecues, NFL, MLB, NBA and much more in the way of shenanigans and Tom foolery. Uhhhhh, volume up, LFG.

Brenden discusses the gut-punch of a Cardinals loss from Tuesday on YouTube Live. The Cardinals overcame some of the most ugly defensive play we've seen all year from this team in order to battle back and take a late lead. But then Edman booted another grounder. And Helsley hung a slider. OUCH. Where do the Cardinals go from here? --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/bschaeffer12/message

Vecchie videocassette, musicassette con l'etichetta scritta a mano ritrovate nel fondo di un armadio, telefisioni dalle dimensioni mostruose che trasmettono l'effetto neve, spezzoni di cose viste decenni fa che continuano a popolare i nostri sogni. Tutto questo è 'folclore digitale'. Buon divertimento.TRASCRIZIONE [ENG translation below]Uhhhhh! Paura, eh? Oggi parlo di fantasmi, anzi di un tipo particolare di fantasmi, quelli che popolano il genere conosciuto come folclore digitale, il digital folklor, che ha questa caratteristica particolare, che nel nome ha la parola digitale, però è ambientato in luoghi che digitali non lo sono affatto, infatti il folclore digitale è caratterizzato da oggetti come vecchie videocassette ritrovate in soffitta, musicassette, grandi apparecchi televisivi dove non ci sono trasmissioni ma le televisioni sono accese e c'è quello che si chiama effetto neve, sapete, quando non si vede niente fa ccchhhhh, che mi chiedo se questo sia possibile con le nuove televisioni, non l'ho mai visto.Comunque, ho trovato un'interessante riflessione sul perché il folclore digitale sia basato su questi vecchi strumenti e non su strumenti più moderni.Quando io ero bambina, se mi capitava di vedere una cosa inquietante alla televisione, e vi assicuro che alla tv dei ragazzi cose inquietanti se ne vedevano tantissime, anche perché negli anni '70 si era in piena sperimentazione artistica, quindi c'erano persone, artisti importanti che facevano i programmi per i bambini e questi programmi però si potevano vedere solo alla televisione.E quando si vedeva qualcosa di strano, di inquietante, qualcosa che accendeva la nostra fantasia, non si poteva correre su YouTube a riguardarlo, esaminarlo o a elaborarlo. E non si poteva neanche correre su Wikipedia o su altri siti su internet perché qualcuno spiegasse cosa c'era dietro quelle invenzioni artistiche.Quindi si vedevano cose inquietanti alla televisione che poi rimanevano dentro di noi, e tutti gli spazi, le lacune di cose che da bambini, da ragazzi ma anche da adulti, non si riusciva a spiegare, venivano riempite con le nostre fantasie, le nostre paure più recondite e quindi diventavano il nostro incubo ideale diciamo cucito su misura.E il folclore digitale riprende proprio questo tipo di atteggiamento, questo tipo di inquietudine, e fa vedere cose che ci sono e non ci sono, si capiscono e non si capiscono, cose anche un po' difficili da spiegare concettualmente.È una cosa affascinante questa nuova interpretazione del folclore digitale che ho avuto modo di leggere e di ascoltare nel fine settimana, mi ha incuriosito.Voglio scavare a fondo e mi sono tornati in mente anche alcuni programmi di quando ero bambina che erano abbastanza terrificanti.TRANSLATIONUhhhh! Afraid, eh? Today I am talking about ghosts, or rather a particular kind of ghosts, those that populate the genre known as folclore digitale, digital folklor, which has this particular characteristic, that is, it has the word digital in its name, however it is set in places that are not digital at all, in fact digital folklore is characterized by objects like old videotapes found in the attic, cassette tapes, large television sets where there are no broadcasts but the televisions are on and there is what is called the snow effect, you know, when you can't see anything it goes sshhhh, which I wonder if this is even possible with the new televisions, I've never seen it.Anyway, I found an interesting reflection on why digital folklore is based on these old tools and not on more modern tools.When I was a child, if I happened to see a disturbing thing on television, and I can assure you that on children's TV, disturbing things were seen a lot, also because in the 1970s we were in the midst of artistic experimentation, so there were people, important artists who were making programs for children, and these programs, however, could only be seen on TV.And when you saw something strange, something disturbing, something that ignited your imagination, you couldn't run to YouTube and watch it again, examine it or process it. Nor could you run to Wikipedia or other sites on the Internet for someone to explain what was behind those artistic inventions.So we used to see disturbing things on television that then stayed within us, and all the spaces, the gaps of things that as children, as teenagers but also as adults, we could not explain, were filled with our fantasies, our innermost fears and thus became our ideal nightmare, let's say tailor-made.And digital folklore picks up just this kind of attitude, this kind of restlessness, and it shows things that are there and are not there, you understand and you don't understand, things that are also a little bit difficult to explain conceptually.It's a fascinating thing, this new interpretation of digital folklore that I read and listened to over the weekend, it intrigued me.I want to dig deep, and I was also reminded of some programs from when I was a child that were quite terrifying.

Para recibir ideas y recursos chulos cada semana apúntate a https://borjaprofe.com/palabras/ En el episodio de hoy hablo de la palabra CONTAR con Borja Abad, actor de voz y locutor. La verdad es que tenía muchas ganas de compartir este episodio. No por la palabra, que también. Tampoco es porque incluya varios consejos brutales que sirven tanto para estudiantes como para profes. Quiero que lo escuches porque aunque probablemente no conoces al invitado de hoy, si vives en España lo has escuchado cientos de veces. No exagero. Lo has oído en la tele, la radio, en tu viajes, en el museo... Hasta en el baño de tu casa. Y si no te acuerdas de él, es normal. De hecho, significa que ha hecho bien su trabajo. Uhhhhh ohhhhh qué místico todo.  Tranqui, lo entenderás en cuanto empieces a escucharlo. A Borja lo puedes encontrar en https://esavoz.com/. Todas las semanas envía consejos sobre cómo hablar, comunicación, llamar la atención y otros temas chulos.

A bit late, but we finally bring the thunder down and examine Billy Batson/Captain Marvel/Shazam! And for some reason, Matchbox 20 factors in. It makes sense in context, trust us… Intro Apologies for delay on episode Belated 5th anniversary celebration! Background (2:20) Shazam/Captain Marvel, Billy Batson, created by Bill Parker and CC Beck in Whiz Comics #2 (Feb. 1940) Originally designed as six superheroes, each with the power of a mythical figure, they were combined into one hero as Captain Marvel Billy Batson is a 12 year old orphan who can transform into a superhero called Captain Marvel by speaking the word SHAZAM, an acronym of the six immortal elders/gods who gave him his power: Solomon (wisdom), Hercules (strength), Atlas (stamina), Zeus (power), Achilles (courage), and Mercury (speed) Later issues introduced members of the extended Marvel family, who shared Billy's powers - Captain Marvel Jr. (Freddy Freeman), Mary Marvel (Billy's twin sister Mary), and others, as well as his nemeses Black Adam, Doctor Sivana, Mister Mind, and more In the 1940s, Captain Marvel was more popular than Superman, and at one point was selling over a million copies per issue In 1941, the precursor to DC Comics (National Comics) sued Fawcett Comics for copyright infringement, claiming Captain Marvel was too similar to Superman - although losing the initial claim, DC won an appeal, and in 1953 Fawcett settled monetarily with DC, because by this point the Captain Marvel books weren't selling nearly as well, agreeing to cease publication In 1967 Marvel Comics created their own character named Captain Marvel (Mar-Vell), and secured the trademark In 1972, DC Comics licensed the characters from Fawcett, but was unable to name the book Captain Marvel due to Marvel's trademark - the characters could retain their names, however, so the new book was called Shazam! The 1970s saw the Marvel family established on Earth-S in the DC multiverse, with occasional crossovers, until Crisis, where they were fully integrated into the streamlined DC New Earth 1994 - The Power of Shazam! retconned his backstory - his parents were archaeologists killed by their associate Theo Adam, who steals a magic scarab - Theo becomes Black Adam, who realizes who Billy is after determining he looks just like his father Played a critical role in Kingdom Come, where he famously squares off against Superman Joined the JSA in the early 2000s to keep Black Adam in check In the New 52, he was officially renamed Shazam, since the book couldn't be called Captain Marvel anyway, and the Marvel family was renamed the Shazam family - all the children were other foster kids alongside Billy, who retained his youthful nature but was more cynical than previously written New series coming in June written by Mark Waid Issues - more than you think you are (13:02) Shazam picks a child to be the world's greatest hero - heavy burden on such young shoulders No parents to help him with this burden - so he created his own found family Serves as functional avatar of six gods across various pantheons (23:15) Break (28:44) Plugs for Hops Geek, Frigay the 13th, and Phillip Kennedy Johnson Treatment (30:55) In-universe - sessions with Billy & Shazam, and then compare notes Out of universe - foster kid (36:38) Skit (44:18) DOC: Hello Shazam, I'm Dr. Issues. BILLY: Oh please, just call me Billy. DOC: Hi, Billy! Wassup. Hi five!  BILLY: Ok, you're trying too hard. DOC: What?  BILLY: I can tell you think I'm cool, but Just call me Billy…and you can put your hand down. DOC: Crash and burn. *muttering* Nice one, doc. *normal voice* So Billy, what can I do for you?  BILLY: Are you the one that writes prescriptions and stuff? I don't really need that. DOC: Yes…but I don't tend to write many for kids unless it's absolutely necessary. Are you having trouble with school?  BILLY: No. DOC: At home?  BILLY: Nope. DOC: With friends?  BILLY: It's complicated.  DOC: Aha! Now we're getting somewhere. So what's going on with your friends?  BILLY: Not much. DOC:*pause* Sooooo…it's not a problem, really?  BILLY: Not anything you can do about it. DOC:Try me.  BILLY: Can you make them younger? DOC:No.  BILLY: Can you make them understand me? DOC:Ummm…not directly  BILLY: See? Waste of time. DOC:Hold it! I'm not giving up yet.  BILLY: Cool. DOC:*pause, desperate* Uhhhhh…what games do you like?  BILLY: Not any you'd care about. DOC:Whoa dude. I'm used to being shut out but you're a ninja at cutting people off.  BILLY: It's a gift, I guess. DOC:Really? What other gifts you got? I don't get to hang around aliens or gods or any of that stuff, so I know I'm *clearly sarcastic* OUT OF MY LEAGUE HAHAHA BILLY: *pause* What is wrong with you? DOC:*run-on* An intense level of sarcasm that acts as a veneer to cover plenty of deep caring for the world at large even when I want to be left alone. And you?  BILLY: Same. whoa…WHOA…nobody says that. No DOCTOR says that. DOC:No doctor admits it, you mean. I'm probably not supposed to say it like that. But honesty in myself helps me sleep at night even when nothing else goes my way. I try to match the room. If I can't ,I just shut down.  BILLY: TMI my man. DOC:Is it? I'm filling time. Usually I'll stay silent for a whole session, but that's no fun. I'm trying something different. There must be something about you. I don't open up to just anyone, so you must have some sort of connection even if you don't admit it. But then again, there's this theory that  BILLY: *interrupting* Do you ever shut up? DOC:Always. BILLY: *awkward silence* What, you want me to talk now? DOC:You don't have to.  BILLY: *more awkward silence* So we're really going to sit here forever until I say something? DOC:No, just until the end of the session….or you do the thing.  BILLY: What thing? DOC:You know the thing.  BILLY: No DOC:Come on, do the thing! Say it! Please?  BILLY: Are you just a fanboy? DOC:Not really. I just wonder if you're different when you say it. I bet you are  BILLY: No. DOC:I'll make the session free  BILLY: No DOC:I'll make the next session free  BILLY: I don't want another session DOC:I'll cancel the next session  BILLY: Fine. SHA-wait, I could just no-show the next session DOC:I have a cancellation fee  BILLY: I don't care! You're just trying to use me like everyone else. DOC:*hurt* Ouch. Look. I'm bad at jokes like this, and it's obvious I'm throwing a lot of stuff at the wall to see what sticks. First I tried to treat you like a typical patient, but that was selling you short. Then I tried to relate to you with something that you admit hit you personally, and you didn't go for it. Then I tried flattery, and you felt insulted. I don't know what works for you, but this ain't it. If you want somebody else to see you, fine. But I'm not giving up. Somebody can help if you have things to talk through.  BILLY: Why would you talk to someone that doesn't want to talk to you? DOC:Have you ever had to deal with somebody that didn't want to deal with you?  BILLY: Yeah. DOC:And you did it anyway?  BILLY: Yeah. DOC:Why?  BILLY: That's different. I'm trying to save people. DOC:So am I, in a much different way. I can't do it the way you do. But I don't give up on lost causes.  BILLY: You sound like some people I know. DOC:Is that a good thing?  BILLY: Knowing them, yeah. But they keep getting in more and more trouble, and they keep fighting, and then they talk about it all the time. What if I don't want to do that? What If I want to have fun? Or quit? Or hang out? I want to do what I want. They want me to be like Superman or Batman  DOC:Then find a way to do it with your own style. Who cares if it's not just like them? Don't be a copy.  BILLY: Nobody told me that before.  DOC:*sarcastic clapping* Hooray, I did something. Yaaaay. Is there anything else?  BILLY: You're still strange, you know that?  DOC:Not for copyright purposes  BILLY: What? DOC:Nothing. Now, for giving you one talking point  BILLY: *interrupting* fine SHAZAM! *sound effects* See? No big deal, I'm still Billy.  DOC:*sobbing*  BILLY: Are you crying? DOC:THAT WAS THE GREATEST THING EVER THANK YOU SO MUCH I AM MAKING YOU A FREE PATIENT FOR LIFE OH MY GOD OH MY GOD  BILLY: Most people just ask for an autograph. Ending (50:43) Recommended reading: The Power of Shazam! Next episodes: The Penguin, Arcade, Jonah Hex Plugs for social & GonnaGeek Network Apple Podcasts: here Google Play: here Stitcher: here TuneIn: here iHeartRadio: here Twitter Facebook TikTok  Patreon TeePublic Discord

THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE LEGENDS GERALD'S WORLD OWSLA CONFIDENTIAL: THE INFINITE SKRILLIFILES ENTER THE MULTIVERSE DEATHWISH ASCENSION THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNÏ BLŪ SCARY MONSTERS & SUPACREE THE INSOMNIAC &MORE FROM [The Festival Project.™] SEASON 6 ACT III Part I MONTAGE: Clique, Cruel Summer Kanye West, JAY-Z & Big Sean EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES. BROAD ASS DAYLIGHT SUPACREE has unlocked 100% Of her ABILITIES GOD MODE UNLOCKED SUPACREE EXITS EQUINOX FITNESS CLUB AT LIGHTSPEED, Hitting the pavement with swift force, splitting into three dimensional selves; SUNNI BLŪ to her left and A MYSTERIOUS, unknown ALTER EGO to her right, she shifts quickly to the beat of the music, morphing into and out of parallels of the outer world, opening and closing portals, and encapsulating anything and everything within her force field—which happens to be the whole of GREATER LOS ANGELES. Damn. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Of a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something's off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful? The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world What have we done? This is bad, brother. That's a construct. Everything's a construct! Get ahold of yourself. Get ahold of—you know what? I do know. You think you're fuckin' clever. I am clever. You're a sick man. That's my business. Yeah, well—you made it my business. I am you. What a concept. *construct. God, help you! [sideways evil smirk] Hehe. SPAM! ON TACOS! BUTTERS Oh—Jesus! WHO PUTS SPAM ON TACOS?! A smart man. C'mon, Butters. We gotta get lost in the sauce before we try this out. I'MMA TRY IT OUT. OK. GOD, OH, GOD, PLEASE— MERCIFUL GOD IN HEAVEN— (WhT.) JUST— DON'T LET IT BE SKRILL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Fuxk. What. She took the train. Which fucking train. I don't know. The train. THE A TRAIN, or the B TRAIN?! HEY. WHAT, you motherfucking idiot? I THINK I LOVE YOU. Well, stop thinking. Ok. JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER has been kidnapped— He's like 50 years old. He's been dad-napped. —by the MOB. The MOB?! He's into some dark shit. Wait, he is?! In this series. He has been tied to a chair, which sits under a single spotlight in a shabby, dark room in NEW JERSEY. Ew, New Jersey. JIMMY THE MOBSTER Hi, Jimmy— JIMMY FALLON —uh—hello. JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON Oh, that's ironic. [beat] JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm gonna kill you, Jimmy. GOD If I give you a serious role, how are you gonna handle it? JIMMY FALLON like a pro. GOD don't lie to me, Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON What?! I'm not! My body, heart, mind, and soul was being attacked— I had 15 minutes to vacate the property and couldn't even focus—I had to use the bathroom so badly it hurt my soul. I was pacing back and forth, choking back ugly tears—the rude man in the room across the way still occupying the bathroom which I needed, both to clean and relieve myself—but it had been hell, after all, and needs like these had been proven to be in short supply. Fuck. This is a gun to your head. Just do it. [he moves the pistol into her mouth] Now it's in your mouth. [she unhinges her jaw to open it wider, never breaking eye contact and relaxes; he studies his hand on the grip of the tripper, ready to lill] You'll die today. [A comfort; as she relaxes, he as well changes—this seems to take the fun of killing away from him, he exacts the gun from her mouth] CONT'D You like that? I love it— You're dead, bitch! Yes, I am! A penniless whore. Whores get paid— Then, even less— What's less than this? A dead bitch. Think again. I don't think, I just shoot; Sounds like a man. Oh, I am. Then kill me with your hands. Jesus Christ, man. He can't help. No one can help you. So just shoot. [he can't] SUNNI. )&2&;@2@2$ YOU ARE OUT OF CONTROL. SUCK MY DICK. AGHHJJJ. Well. TMZ is here. This is a disaster. NEXT, WE LEARN: THE Oh my God. WhT. This is probably the worst thing I've ever written. Not the worst. Nope: it is the worst. Maybe it's just bad on paper. It's bad no matter how you — CONTROL, JANET PRIVACY. Here. Wtf is this. LEGENDS: FAME SCHOOL Christopher Walken was one of my professors in fame school For acting? For music. For music? That doesn't make any sense. Please, don't make me explain this. A FACE BATTLE CHRISTOPHER WALKEN vs. SUPACREE -_- —__^ *_- ^__ __/ *_* >< … —-__—- Ok. Alright. Show me what you got. SUPACREE plays a beat. You know where this is going. We all know where this is going. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN that was OK. “OK”?! Yeah. *shrugs* OK. You know what— You know what it needs? …what's it need? —-more cowbell. I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. It was perfect. It was OK. You're not OK. —maybe I'm not. You're definitely not. —know what helps? Don't tell me: More fucking cowbell. Lol. ⅔ ain't bad. Wait, two out or three?! Which one didn't I— —FUCK. What, what happened? They're onto me. THE BAMPHERAMPS, MOTHERFUCKING BAMPHERAMPHS, and THE ASCENDED MASTERY has assembled in NEW YORK CITY to stage a coup. It's a coup d'état. There sure is a lot of French shit over here. Well yeah, it's Paris. Wait. What, what now? If SUPACREE is in Paris. NIGGAZ. Right—then— Who the fuck are they chasing in New York. [just waking up] Why am I in New York? WHOOPI GOLDBERG you got anyplace else to be? …no. MEANWHILE, IN ROME. Fanculo! Really, dude. Apparently. A tear in my head; A rip in my soul, And the fabric of— Coming undone at the whole; I make sense of it all at the alter, The fall; To have fought in the war, And then lost, or to suffer at all Love was lost, I was never a martyr— Blood on the cross, And the crossroads, The frost and the stardust, “There's no God” For the honorable, Stuck in New York, But defrosting my toes, At the forefront I haven't once wondered or thought Of the love that I was, Since I stopped throwing rocks at the church Or got off on the wrong stop; What a puzzle, To jump off, Or rot in the heart of The hub— World of wonders, A mother of suns, Never wanted a daughter so much Unpunishment, Loved was the Duchess; To carry a crutch or a cross— So unbothered, untouched, So heartless and dark, For the marksman—a spark Or the dog does not bark At the horses You're in the clear, hero. Heartless, she was! Now, now—settle down. This is an absolute outrage. Is it, now? I say so! Maybe you shouldn't. Faro, a word, I've got three. I'll go first. [a smug look] What's happened here? A ressurection, sir. Care to explain? I said ‘three.' Where's the King? My palms grew numb as my throbbing heartache welled up into the back of my throat and sat perched up against my growling stomach, stuffed with beans and rice, perhaps to fill the sadness or satiate my need for protein, either one. ASCENSION If you're going to vomit, step away from me. —I'm not sick. Actually, step out of my house. This is your house? —I live here. —no one lives here. What did you think it was? an elaborate cave. It is—an elaborwte cave— —excuse my ignorance. You're excused entirely. —I appreciate that. I meant, from here. You should go. Faro, wait. No more waiting; you were uninvited. Trust me—this visitation is more necessary than voluntary. That's—a lot of words. I don't speak caveman. Just—get out. Listen: No more listening— It's about C'esme't. It always is. This is important. It always is. It concerns you. It always does. —? Wait. [a heavy sigh] [a long silence] Come with me. FARO leads GÍAN towards the back of his quarters. Close the door. I— what? Nevermind. You're useless. Ehrm—excuse me. Excused, your majesty. FARO opens a SECRET PASSAGEWAY into a FUTURISTIC CORIDOR, leading GÍAN into a vast FORTRESS. balls. Uh. My stomach in knots And my life is in ruins Constellations all gone, And my heart, on the border of hurt— And mistrust So unlovable, loveless— Promises, scars and the art was devoured Ah— she was awful; Ah—she must have lost her mind God, she was homeless, And loveless, And wild eyed All that I wanted, Was to get lost in the lobby, Before the whole ball dropped —and watch the false phropet Collide wirh the comet Stop: I lost God at the crosswalk, The punishment was Homeless Now watch this: This is what I wanted: Doesn't really matter now, Does it? Oh, doesn't it. God, this is Lucifer. Son, it's an honor. No God for a mother, who walks on her own. Now it's over or under. It's over. It never got started. I locked up my heart with the piñata. How irrelevant. How awkward. How curse words turn to mantras. How I have half a heart Or, like ⅓ We're being honest, now. I thought Illuminati wanted hotties and Caucasians. Well, I guess that'll explain, Why you've been stuck inside a cage, then. NICK CAGE is an extremely skilled time traveler. Ok. WHOOPI GOLDBERG has freed herself from the cage in which SUPACREE had skillfully trapped the OWL OF THE GOLDEN EYE. WhT a prophecy. MEANWHILE, AT HOGWARTS. HOGWARTS, 2023. ANANDAR is HEADMASTER. Ah, fuck. I'm gonna puke. All I wanted was to shamelessly watch the man's balls swing like a pendulum... Well, here's this instead. Oh no, it's Skrillex. Now you have to— —now I have to watch this. Why. Cause I've already seen that. I hate you. I hate you. SOLD, to the lady in red. Damn. Slavery is cool. Yeah, I guess. FUCK. What. Idk. BITCH. GET OUT THE BASEMENT; I'm in the attick What you think this is? Lights, camera, action: Now that attractions been well established I should get back to it, I'm in the attic Lighting up matches, Fixin my holes up with patches Callin it classic Call me an asshole, I can't be mad man, I am a mad man, I bring the mask back To Handle a trash can Get out the basement. I told you he could dance. A GIANT DRAGON Oh shit, here it comes. FIRE. DILLON FRANCIS I Well. We're gonna die. DILLON FRANCIS II If she throws up, I get a pickle. DILLON FRANCIS III That's a deal. DILLON FRANCIS II And if she cries, I get a French poodle named Angelina Jolie. DILLON FRANCIS III Righteous. DILLON FRANCIS II Yur damn right. A GIANT DRAGON FLIES OVERHEAD, SWEEPING THE SKIES WITH FIRE AND LIGHTNING. DILLON FRANCIS I (CONT'D) Yeah, we're definitely fucked. Why are you dressed like Froto. FROTO (in background, dressed exactly alike) That is offensive! SHUTTHEFUCKUP. It's the end of the world! (At least as we know it) IS THAT SKRILLEX? FIRE BREATHING DRAGON. Well, it was. What the fuck HAPPENED?! Is that its final form? Yes it is. I'll give you one million dollars. That's not enough. This card is priceless. What is this. Like a Pokémon game?! This whoops Pokémon's ass. This is LEGENDS. LIL' BIIIITZ Yo! New York is CRAZY First of all, how is it all of a sudden CLEANER THAN LA?! New York's like: here —we sent all the nasty people to LA. All better. Polarity shift! LA is gross now! New York cleaned up! The trains are nice —shit— All the trash is in BAGS. I was like “Whaaaaaaat” this is nice. What the fuck. This shit different! Unh. they exported all the nasty, crazy motherfuxkers to LA. On GOD. Cause every other psychologically twisted individual I talk to in LA is like: “I'M FROM NEW YORK” *hawks loogie, spits* Uhhhhh… I was going on a little European adventure; New York's like: “You know, you never stay long…” I'm like “There's a reason for that…welp, gotta go.” The whole universe fucked around and was like— “You know what? We like you here. Stay. “ What. “STAY.” Fuck. New York is different. Won't say I love it — But goddamn, I like it! People are rude. People are rude as fuck. I'm used to LA where people are fake nice For fuckin tips and shit, you know? Everybody's trying to get famous for something, Or something. Idk. Fake as fuck. Fake nice. Fake happy. Fake titties. Fake lips. Just fucking fake. fake everything. Everything is plastic. —and it's not tied up in garbage bags, either. It's just plastic, and trash, and piss everywhere. It's so gross. You see Venice Beach on the movies: It's all clean and beautiful, and picturesque. You get there, it's like Skid Row + Skid Row Coastal. LA has millions of homeless people everywhere. In cars, in tents. Under bridges. Everywhere. And I love LA! I really do. But it's fake. Everything is fake. New York is real as fuck. Yeaaah. Almost too real. But I like it. You don't have to fuckin fake shit. People don't say “excuse me—“ No. You're never forced to say “good morning “ before you had your coffee! Yuh! New York is doing it right. People sleep on the train— But nobody lives on that motherfucker! I was in New York like a week before the shock wore off that there were not hundreds of individuals on every train wreaking of piss and smoking crack openly—YES—illicit drug use on trains in LA is extremely casual. Everything in LA is casual. People wear pajamas to work. Yeah—that. Everyone in New York looks like they're going to eat at a five-star restaurant. Like all the time. No socks-with-slides. EW. I swore to God socks with slides was a sign of the apocalypse; I get to New York, none of that—but the cringy thing in New York is Crocs With Socs. Now mmmm we're bi-coastal. Socks-with-slides; Crocs-with-socks. Knock that shit off. TACKY. other than that, though… NY is cool. It's chic. It's fun. You gotta be careful though. You gotta watch out. I thought LA drivers were crazy. New York drivers are fucking psychotic. Pedestrians don't have the right of way. At all. If you're in a crosswalk in LA even if the light is red, people will stop and let you go. In New York you better wait for the fuckin walk sign. They will kill you. It's okay. 6 millions ways to die: choose one! Just kidding. That's some west coast shit. But I did see a whole ass mural of Snoop Dogg in Brooklyn and get slightly confused— Till I realized everything on it was the color blue, and I was deadass in the middle of Brooklyn going “What? Ohhhhh! Wait! The Crips!” “Those guys are everywhere!” Lol. Its a nation wide disorganization. Lol. Whatever. I like New York. Doing my best not to love it, So the universe doesn't balance me out by showing me what to hate about it So far, so good New York drivers don't play. I never seen a school bus drift before! DAMN. Almost got hit by a short bus. Oh, the irony. I saw a dude do a whole ass wheelie on an electric scooter. Not a moped, by the way. An electric scooter. Yup. New Yoooooork. BEDFORD AVENUE, BROOKLYN, NY. THE BAMPHERAMPHS have initiated SEQUENCE C I like New York. I gotta say. It IS like LA In the way that I know I can't live in New York if I'm not just filthy fucking rich. Cause, you know—there's still homelessness; But unlike in LA, where you just wander around, smelling like piss, begging for change— You freeze to death. A quick solution! Haha! (It's not funny.) but whatever. America. I thought I was leaving; I got trapped in the matrix. I was like “Fuck this place.” They're like: “stay! We need slaves!” I'm like FUCK. So I got stuck in New York. Ugh. At least it's a “free state” I made it north, ma! Not exactly the safest place to get stuck with no money, either, is it? Really nowhere is safe with no money. I mean, I know of some places south of the border you can live, basically free and just, you know—sleep in a hammock, sing for change and shit. Roam the beach. I know people that do that— it's just- I like showers. I don't love showers. Cause then, I'm sure God would find a way to take that away, too. I don't love anything anymore. Once you love something—it either goes away, or it burns you. Or both. Can't love things. Can't love people. No more love. Just—appreciate—things. Just—like—things, you know? Don't love anything. Speaking of suicidal tendencies. Hahah. You know what else is cool about New York? The trains actually come into the station fast enough to kill you. Like—you've had enough? Okay: here it is. Just to save you a trip to the Empire State Building. This train is coming in at 304 miles an hour and is somehow gonna stop in 3 seconds. —maybe 2 seconds, if you do jump— Better think fast! They almost come too fast, for suicide. Ready, set— Dammit. Missed it again. They're so fast. The trains in LA stopped going suicide-fast like, a couple years ago—maybe, just before the pandemic—I think. They're like “You know what! This is happening too often. I am ALWAYS late to my other two jobs ‘cause someone killed themselves on my train! Fuck!” LA's like: “Well fuck this, all the slaves are killing themselves on the trains.” “Damn, that sucks” LA's like “Yeah, okay so: here's what we do; we'll put up signs for a suicide hotline at the popular jumping points” “LA's like: okay” “And—we'll tell the train operators they gotta slow down coming into the station—“ “That'll do it!” “—that way, If they still do decide to jump, they'll just get paralyzed, and contribute to the opioid crisis: more funding for big pharma!” “Yes, it's genius!” “—unless they're black, or on Medicaid, then: we'll send em home with some ibuprofen and make sure they collect disability, so that they can become addicted to crack, or something like that —you know.” “Yes. That's perfect.” Good Job LA. I get lost in New York. I'll be on New York like “YO, WHERE THE FUCK AM I AT?” “In New York” GODDAMMIT. You know what else is weird about New York? Personal space is not a thing. I mean, “space” is not a thing at all, anyway. But “Personal space”? No. People will not only sit by you; The'll siT ON you. Yo. I had just got to New York— I had all my luggage with me— And this lady gets on the train; She's got a broom. Idk what for, but okay; She gets onto the train, She looks around, and I guess she decides she wants the seat next to me. So like I said, I have all my stuff l so I'm a little spread out, but there's room— But you know what she does? She looks me straight in the eye And then just hits me with her broom. I was like —-?!? I'm thinking, “Okay is she racist or is that just a New York thing?” Like, “you can just hit people with shit!? damn!” What's funny is, I kinda respected her for that. She was old. Didn't say a word, just “bam” Like—- ‘move!' I'm like “okay!” New York is so classy. Girls wear panty hose, and stockings. I'm like “wow, that's actually nice. That's so wholesome! Tights?! Yeah!” It's so classy. I don't think girls in LA even wear regular panties. Let alone panty hose. Get it—panty—Hoes. I see correlation. You know what else is cool about New York. It's less racist. I mean- There's so much diversity, there's almost no room to be racist. It's crazy. So many people. So many colors. So much culture. So many languages! I hear languages I can't even place. I thought I was good. I'm in LA, I'm like, “Okay, that's Chinese—“ “That's Japanese” “That's Korean” “Farsi” I get to New York— I'm in the Delicstessen. Thats another thing. Nothing like a real, New York delicatessen. That's what “deli” is short for, by the way, everyone not from New York. It's “delicatessen” Lol. Anyway. I'm standing in the Deli and I hear some shit that—I'm not gonna lie— was actually quite alarming, as a native English speaker. I'm standing there, and this guy behind me literally over my shoulder says, “Blooppnsmabhoan ammaoakb amansbaiL aannaoka snkaoakmnlblblblnlnl!!!!” I'm like what the FUCK. This isn't REAL. “Blblblana. Akakma alak Akakamaamna!” I'm shoooook. What IS that!!? I like New York. The girls aren't all evil soulless heart eating demons. They're just “regular” I have to run back to LA and tell all my guy friends, they're like “Women are evil” I'm like— “Nooo, that's just out here.” Maybe. I don't know. I like New York. I bet it's wonderful when it's warm. I don't know! Maybe that's when shit hits the fan! Maybe it's like Chicago. EVERYBODY DIES IN THE SUMMER— Who said that. Chance the Rapper, I think. I don't know. LEGENDS: FAMESCHOOL This move is called: The “Slap-Dicksuck.” [carefully taking notes] “slap-dick-suck”…okay… hmm.. Now, class. [raises hand curiously] Yes? Um. SUPACREE— —PROFESSOR SUPACREE. Um. Professor SUPACREE— Yes! Why is it called the “Slap-Dicksuck” I was about to explain that. //SLAP-DICKSUCK// NEXT: we learn THE “SLAP-DICKSUCK-SLAP” Let me guess. No, no guessing. This class is gross. I like it. Yeah, you're gross. The world is gross. Get over it. GET OVER IT, DILLON FRANCIS. *sniffes* Please, stop crying. She— *sniffles* It's okay, Dillon. She took my piñata! Your piñata set your house on fire. He sets—everything on fire— Have you ever stopped to think— —no— thinking is bad. Go get dressed. No, not today. You look like a bloated chicken nugget. —I used to like chicken nuggets. hey, Tofu daddy. This is sick. This is a sick bitch we're dealing with. I'm not dealing with anything, I quit. Quit, you can't quit. I just did. DEADMAU5 Okay, no more bodies. Ū Okay. No more bodies. DEADMAU5 Really? Ū —No. DEADMAU5 Goddammit, this is not a GAME. Ū It is a game, though—and I'm a damn good marksman. DEADMAU5 Dammit, you're right. Ū I'm always right. Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? I powered on my phone to find the digital clock exactly at 1:15, which had seemed to be creeping up again as a recurring theme, along with some other unsettling figurines—if it was a race against time, I was losing—and If, perhaps, a Holy War, I must have been some sort of Holy, as it had seemed the world's good graces had turned her back on me, and that faith dwindled more quickly in the cold than any other condition. Lay your head on my shoulder, Your cheek on my cheek, Wrap your arm round my waist, You can think what I think You can skate on thin ice You can sing what I sing And when the ice breaks; You can sink when I sink Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? It had been strange waves of everything—more than I was ready for and much more than intentionally took on, all things considered. I burned my tongue on piping hot oatmeal, trying to eat rather than write, as it seemed the time had come that I could no longer skip meals and properly function. Nearing thirty like a bullet—and at least metaphorically bleeding as if I had actually been shot, my heart and soul throbbing and gushing into a paralyzing twist or fears and woes, trapped in a foreign city with almost nothing to my name, lugging around my music equipment and very few belongings, which—when put away neatly even in the smallest room— seemed like almost nothing, but was certainly too much to carry around, especially alone. And I was, so very alone. Drake Bell and the Hollywood Spell My newest and strangest muse yet had again insisted on appearing into my dream world, for the third time, anyway—which seemed a cruel and almost disturbing subconscious attempt to conjur up what might have been the entirety of my energy to complete the 6th Season of Enter The Multiverse, at this point which had even interested me, reinvigorating my senses and at least partially restoring my faith in something, even if it was just Hollywood being Hollywood. But now, even miles away from Hollywoodland, and stranded far, far away with no conceivable way to find my way back, even if I did have a home there waiting for me—and there wasn't—there didn't seem to be a home anywhere for me at all, and with my money running well towards dry I had spent most the week dry heaving into panic attacks about where I would go, or what I would do/—especially dragging around all of my luggage and equipment, and while it was true my equipment could have easily found it's way into a pawn shop, to at least offset the impending homelessness by maybe a couple days, and a couple hundred dollars—it didn't seem quite worth it to sell my dream again, especially for the miserable existence of sharing a hostel room with whoever decided to snore or cough their way into my hellish realm of corporate slavery, lovelessness, and lack of privacy. Yes, my conciousness had summoned up this man into my dreamworld now three times, and for whatever reason, if there was one — I could consider it a charm. Had I not been working at the smokeshop what now seemed like ages ago, I might have forgotten entirely that such a person had ever existed—which I had, since the experience, for the record, at least tried to—but for some reason, disasterously couldnt; it had all awakened something serious and spiritual within my outer world, piquing my ultra conscious into a rare and bewildering curiosity that had done well to slay and murder the cat in all of its nine lives, and then some. It wasn't entirely on purpose, or without guilt that my mind seemed to inquisitively structure an entire hidden world and to form a strange and illicit bond with this fragile man creature, not that my social status or overwhelmingly average, unattractive, stranded and abandoned wastebasket of a demon, or diety whatever I was in whatever kind of light, would have much at all to do but suffer the result of having missed the bar by far, stumbling into the lower realms of the world by mere circumstance, on occasion, without notice. I was certainly thinking about it too much, and hating myself for it, a certain spark or inspiration for the Timmy Turner timelines met with the sudden flash of what may have even been a lost memory of not for all this Hollywood trauma, or dogma, whichever made sense—because none of it did, at all, besides to reverse what time had done by allowing me to forget my turbulent childhood, which couldn't matter anymore in this moment as it ever had; and though I was producing a fruitful workout at Equinox, squatting deeply into the Smith Machine and breathing deeply into my lower back, where the tension from the weight of my leftover skin met the pain in the whole of my torso, an apparent rush sent a splash of slobber out of the side of my mouth, my third eye a gaping and burning hole streaking heat across the middle of my forehead—all of a sudden the high of Nitrous Oxide filled my mind, if only for a moment—flung back into a memory nearly two decades old. “That's it.” I remembered thinking. “No more of this.” I sat down the can of keyboard cleaner on the bathroom floor. I had scared myself straight, long before I even knew what I was doing—and I didn't know at all, having been nine, or maybe 10–long before I would ever *want* to get high, not understanding that or why I needed to, anyway—or that getting “high” was what I was doing at all. No, at the time, it simply ‘felt really good', until it didn't—the particular memory which struck me in the dead center of the Equinox floor—and snapping back into my body, shaking myself out of it and leaning into the bar to stretch, taking in a deep breath and choking back an ocean of tears. “Idiot.” I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever Dreams Wil Be Dreams. Since departing LA, all my dreams had been strange, and I found myself growing more distant from myself, or from anything real at all, my dreams skewing into a horrid soundscape of rampant memories and false hopes of love. Finally able to seek refuge in meditation, I had been bombarded with images of Dillon Francis balancing some pretty little white girl in his lap—and though I couldn't quite unhinge the Amethyst from my possession, I had been giving it the distance I needed for something like peace of mind, without the actual peace itself at play. There had been quite the spell to break, and though it hadn't even been moderately broken—I at least knew now what magic I was dealing with. Dillon Hart Francis was a powerful magician—perhaps too powerful, and with that I took my strides into gatekeeping at the very least, since no peace could be made. I could love with a wholesome heart, but a tarnished mind and a gated soul would simply not outlast the infinite journey. Though I had been illicitly carfeful not to look him in the eye last we did meet, there was a remarkable force in place far beyond control—or at least my control— which kept such power from being apprehended; I had done my best to let go, knowing it was indeed a spell at play, and rather than a curse no need to worry or fear it's users intentions. Magic was a give-and-take, and so much had been at this point taken from me that the bruises of jealousy for whatever it was being waved about my psyche as ‘better than' could do no more than to rip the rest of my heart from its crevice as I pondered on what I might have done right, or might have done wrong—if there were such things. ‘White girls get all the love.' It was only true in my heart and my mind, and so it must have sat in my soul a certain way. I had never intended really to fall into what I had fallen into with Dillon Francis—not that it couldn't or wouldn't be undone, eventually, as I was inraveling myself into an unremarkable, unastonishing whisp — a fracture in time to do much less than even be though of, or forgotten. I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever A piece of my rock had shattered on the floor of the shower at Equinox—the only stone I kept for myself, and often forgotten about, as I did myself, not that i mattered much. It shattered unevenly into three pieces, one of which I left in the sauna, quickly before departing—and the other which I had dropped in Times Square, begrudgingly under the LCD American flag by which I felt betrayed: How could our nation not only allow, but create homelessness as a scare tactic to keep the working poor working as slaves, to saciate the wealthy's wants and needs? “Whatever.” I'm not going to hurt you, You can't hurt me anymore than I can hurt myself. I'm glad you know that. I don't know anything. Suicide fucking sucks. I know that. It might be time for me to go But I just want to let you know I still got love for you; And there's still hope; I left the door open I gotta go, you know, It's hopeless for some At the end of my rope —and it's a long way home, But it's home at the end It's home at the end of a long, lond road I took the wrong one, But at least now I know you I'll go on It seems that I still have a soul, somewhere I walked in on thin air, And now I'm here; I don't know where I'm still lost in your eyes I'll be in love with you forever LEGENDS EDDIE MURPHY opens the heavy Victorian style door, after three solid knocks from under the GLOVED HAND which lifts the golden-brass door knocker. To what do I owe the pleasure? WHOOPI GOLDBERG Business, not pleasure. -_- Well, which business. All of ‘em. [She gestures to pass through the doorway.] Please, come in. Coffee, or Tea? Coffee this late? [beat] Coffee. This is serious. You look serious. I've been—confined. Drake Bell, you son of a bitch. Oh, so you do know my name. I know all your names. So it is. So I am. — How'd you get in this? I've always been in this. What is “always”? How did you get in this? I am this. What a philosophy. Call it what you want. What if I don't. Then don't. See you on the other side. Someone once told me, the grass is much greener— on the other side. —and when I paid a visit, (It's possible I missed it) Seemed different, yet exactly the same. DILLON FRANCIS I didn't want it to end this way. I didn't want it to end. Well, it did. You let it. I had to. Just let go. No, I can't. Hah! What's so funny? You're fucking impossible. Nothing is “impossible” you said that. But you “can't” Let this go? Ah-hah. No. This here will keep slowly unwinding until there's no more. —and then what? There's no more. Damn. This is foul. Hm. Take a time out, Timmy. I'm a take a t-t-taxi I pay my t-t-taxes The actor and the actress. Oh, He's Big Hollywood; Doesn't Have a Job, But the work's real good – His lines are smooth and his days are long, Gotta make it right, For a whole lot of wrongs He's Big-Big Hollywood Doesn't have a job; But the work's real good Coming in hot, Like he's fresh out the box That's a real big nugget, With a whole lot of sauce. Stop. What. What is this. It's a song. This is awful. FUCK IT. I DON'T CARE. Damn, Oreos AND Ben & Jerry's?! IT'S DAIRY-FREE. Tf kind o f Oreos is that. They're GLuten FrEe. FUCK IT. Sunni, get a hold of yourself. YOU GET A HOLD OF YOUR SELF. Stop yelling from across the room. I'LL YELL WHERE I WANT. Fuck this job. FUCK YOU MARIANNE. AGGHH. AGGHHHHHHHHH. Fuck What. What's up. I need a smoke break. I'M GONNA RIP YOUR HEART OUT. YOU DOn'T HAVE A HEART. SHUT UP, DILLON FRANCIS. GOd. WHO INVITED HIM, ANYWAY. I didn't. NOBODY INVITED HIM. The inspiration to music hit at just the right and the wrong time—I had finally found my way to the butt machine, only after visiting every other floor and guessing incorrectly—only to make it to the machine in just enough time to realize that I was for some reason exhausted—perhaps having just blown my last fuse, realizing I was literally down to my last, few pennies— and, unknowing of how to escape the hole I had dug myself into, falling into a carful and unsecured ‘lust' with New York, surely never to fall in love with another city as I had LA, learning my lessons well, and knowing all too well that nowhere and no one like me was safe from homelessness in the US—now having proven itself to be a hostile entity, in a full police state. It didn't seem to matter, though, as I had narrowly missed my escape nearly on purpose, but not— it seemed something entirely outward was keeping me at bay and in the US, not that I had wanted to leave out of fear for my life as much as I wanted adventure and exploration—but either way was going nowhere at all fast, and running out or money even faster. “Fuck, I hate my life” I had probably over caffeinated, at least half the reason I couldn't budge to top speed, even blasting bangarang into my eardrums at nearly top volume—this day, it only emotionally weakened me, having demoted myself entirely from any sort of elite status, back into the realm of obsessive fandom, and perhaps even schizophrenia, per Dane Cook's shenanigans. Yeah, I'm tired and I need to take like ten shits. Just finish then. If I leave early I have to come back early. Well, go, then. Muscle fatigue, check Dehydration, check Psyche completely shattered Check. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -THE LEGEND OF SUPACREE LEGENDS GERALD'S WORLD OWSLA CONFIDENTIAL: THE INFINITE SKRILLIFILES ENTER THE MULTIVERSE DEATHWISH ASCENSION THE SECRET LIFE OF SUNNÏ BLŪ SCARY MONSTERS & SUPACREE THE INSOMNIAC &MORE FROM [The Festival Project.™] SEASON 6 ACT III Part I MONTAGE: Clique, Cruel Summer Kanye West, JAY-Z & Big Sean EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES. BROAD ASS DAYLIGHT SUPACREE has unlocked 100% Of her ABILITIES GOD MODE UNLOCKED SUPACREE EXITS EQUINOX FITNESS CLUB AT LIGHTSPEED, Hitting the pavement with swift force, splitting into three dimensional selves; SUNNI BLŪ to her left and A MYSTERIOUS, unknown ALTER EGO to her right, she shifts quickly to the beat of the music, morphing into and out of parallels of the outer world, opening and closing portals, and encapsulating anything and everything within her force field—which happens to be the whole of GREATER LOS ANGELES. Damn. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Of a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something's off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful? The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world What have we done? This is bad, brother. That's a construct. Everything's a construct! Get ahold of yourself. Get ahold of—you know what? I do know. You think you're fuckin' clever. I am clever. You're a sick man. That's my business. Yeah, well—you made it my business. I am you. What a concept. *construct. God, help you! [sideways evil smirk] Hehe. SPAM! ON TACOS! BUTTERS Oh—Jesus! WHO PUTS SPAM ON TACOS?! A smart man. C'mon, Butters. We gotta get lost in the sauce before we try this out. I'MMA TRY IT OUT. OK. GOD, OH, GOD, PLEASE— MERCIFUL GOD IN HEAVEN— (WhT.) JUST— DON'T LET IT BE SKRILL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Fuxk. What. She took the train. Which fucking train. I don't know. The train. THE A TRAIN, or the B TRAIN?! HEY. WHAT, you motherfucking idiot? I THINK I LOVE YOU. Well, stop thinking. Ok. JIMMY FALLON THE COSMIC AVENGER has been kidnapped— He's like 50 years old. He's been dad-napped. —by the MOB. The MOB?! He's into some dark shit. Wait, he is?! In this series. He has been tied to a chair, which sits under a single spotlight in a shabby, dark room in NEW JERSEY. Ew, New Jersey. JIMMY THE MOBSTER Hi, Jimmy— JIMMY FALLON —uh—hello. JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON Oh, that's ironic. [beat] JIMMY THE MOBSTER I'm gonna kill you, Jimmy. GOD If I give you a serious role, how are you gonna handle it? JIMMY FALLON like a pro. GOD don't lie to me, Jimmy. JIMMY FALLON What?! I'm not! My body, heart, mind, and soul was being attacked— I had 15 minutes to vacate the property and couldn't even focus—I had to use the bathroom so badly it hurt my soul. I was pacing back and forth, choking back ugly tears—the rude man in the room across the way still occupying the bathroom which I needed, both to clean and relieve myself—but it had been hell, after all, and needs like these had been proven to be in short supply. Fuck. This is a gun to your head. Just do it. [he moves the pistol into her mouth] Now it's in your mouth. [she unhinges her jaw to open it wider, never breaking eye contact and relaxes; he studies his hand on the grip of the tripper, ready to lill] You'll die today. [A comfort; as she relaxes, he as well changes—this seems to take the fun of killing away from him, he exacts the gun from her mouth] CONT'D You like that? I love it— You're dead, bitch! Yes, I am! A penniless whore. Whores get paid— Then, even less— What's less than this? A dead bitch. Think again. I don't think, I just shoot; Sounds like a man. Oh, I am. Then kill me with your hands. Jesus Christ, man. He can't help. No one can help you. So just shoot. [he can't] SUNNI. )&2&;@2@2$ YOU ARE OUT OF CONTROL. SUCK MY DICK. AGHHJJJ. Well. TMZ is here. This is a disaster. NEXT, WE LEARN: THE Oh my God. WhT. This is probably the worst thing I've ever written. Not the worst. Nope: it is the worst. Maybe it's just bad on paper. It's bad no matter how you — CONTROL, JANET PRIVACY. Here. Wtf is this. LEGENDS: FAME SCHOOL Christopher Walken was one of my professors in fame school For acting? For music. For music? That doesn't make any sense. Please, don't make me explain this. A FACE BATTLE CHRISTOPHER WALKEN vs. SUPACREE -_- —__^ *_- ^__ __/ *_* >< … —-__—- Ok. Alright. Show me what you got. SUPACREE plays a beat. You know where this is going. We all know where this is going. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN that was OK. “OK”?! Yeah. *shrugs* OK. You know what— You know what it needs? …what's it need? —-more cowbell. I beg your pardon. Please, don't beg. It was perfect. It was OK. You're not OK. —maybe I'm not. You're definitely not. —know what helps? Don't tell me: More fucking cowbell. Lol. ⅔ ain't bad. Wait, two out or three?! Which one didn't I— —FUCK. What, what happened? They're onto me. THE BAMPHERAMPS, MOTHERFUCKING BAMPHERAMPHS, and THE ASCENDED MASTERY has assembled in NEW YORK CITY to stage a coup. It's a coup d'état. There sure is a lot of French shit over here. Well yeah, it's Paris. Wait. What, what now? If SUPACREE is in Paris. NIGGAZ. Right—then— Who the fuck are they chasing in New York. [just waking up] Why am I in New York? WHOOPI GOLDBERG you got anyplace else to be? …no. MEANWHILE, IN ROME. Fanculo! Really, dude. Apparently. A tear in my head; A rip in my soul, And the fabric of— Coming undone at the whole; I make sense of it all at the alter, The fall; To have fought in the war, And then lost, or to suffer at all Love was lost, I was never a martyr— Blood on the cross, And the crossroads, The frost and the stardust, “There's no God” For the honorable, Stuck in New York, But defrosting my toes, At the forefront I haven't once wondered or thought Of the love that I was, Since I stopped throwing rocks at the church Or got off on the wrong stop; What a puzzle, To jump off, Or rot in the heart of The hub— World of wonders, A mother of suns, Never wanted a daughter so much Unpunishment, Loved was the Duchess; To carry a crutch or a cross— So unbothered, untouched, So heartless and dark, For the marksman—a spark Or the dog does not bark At the horses You're in the clear, hero. Heartless, she was! Now, now—settle down. This is an absolute outrage. Is it, now? I say so! Maybe you shouldn't. Faro, a word, I've got three. I'll go first. [a smug look] What's happened here? A ressurection, sir. Care to explain? I said ‘three.' Where's the King? My palms grew numb as my throbbing heartache welled up into the back of my throat and sat perched up against my growling stomach, stuffed with beans and rice, perhaps to fill the sadness or satiate my need for protein, either one. ASCENSION If you're going to vomit, step away from me. —I'm not sick. Actually, step out of my house. This is your house? —I live here. —no one lives here. What did you think it was? an elaborate cave. It is—an elaborwte cave— —excuse my ignorance. You're excused entirely. —I appreciate that. I meant, from here. You should go. Faro, wait. No more waiting; you were uninvited. Trust me—this visitation is more necessary than voluntary. That's—a lot of words. I don't speak caveman. Just—get out. Listen: No more listening— It's about C'esme't. It always is. This is important. It always is. It concerns you. It always does. —? Wait. [a heavy sigh] [a long silence] Come with me. FARO leads GÍAN towards the back of his quarters. Close the door. I— what? Nevermind. You're useless. Ehrm—excuse me. Excused, your majesty. FARO opens a SECRET PASSAGEWAY into a FUTURISTIC CORIDOR, leading GÍAN into a vast FORTRESS. balls. Uh. My stomach in knots And my life is in ruins Constellations all gone, And my heart, on the border of hurt— And mistrust So unlovable, loveless— Promises, scars and the art was devoured Ah— she was awful; Ah—she must have lost her mind God, she was homeless, And loveless, And wild eyed All that I wanted, Was to get lost in the lobby, Before the whole ball dropped —and watch the false phropet Collide wirh the comet Stop: I lost God at the crosswalk, The punishment was Homeless Now watch this: This is what I wanted: Doesn't really matter now, Does it? Oh, doesn't it. God, this is Lucifer. Son, it's an honor. No God for a mother, who walks on her own. Now it's over or under. It's over. It never got started. I locked up my heart with the piñata. How irrelevant. How awkward. How curse words turn to mantras. How I have half a heart Or, like ⅓ We're being honest, now. I thought Illuminati wanted hotties and Caucasians. Well, I guess that'll explain, Why you've been stuck inside a cage, then. NICK CAGE is an extremely skilled time traveler. Ok. WHOOPI GOLDBERG has freed herself from the cage in which SUPACREE had skillfully trapped the OWL OF THE GOLDEN EYE. WhT a prophecy. MEANWHILE, AT HOGWARTS. HOGWARTS, 2023. ANANDAR is HEADMASTER. Ah, fuck. I'm gonna puke. All I wanted was to shamelessly watch the man's balls swing like a pendulum... Well, here's this instead. Oh no, it's Skrillex. Now you have to— —now I have to watch this. Why. Cause I've already seen that. I hate you. I hate you. SOLD, to the lady in red. Damn. Slavery is cool. Yeah, I guess. FUCK. What. Idk. BITCH. GET OUT THE BASEMENT; I'm in the attick What you think this is? Lights, camera, action: Now that attractions been well established I should get back to it, I'm in the attic Lighting up matches, Fixin my holes up with patches Callin it classic Call me an asshole, I can't be mad man, I am a mad man, I bring the mask back To Handle a trash can Get out the basement. I told you he could dance. A GIANT DRAGON Oh shit, here it comes. FIRE. DILLON FRANCIS I Well. We're gonna die. DILLON FRANCIS II If she throws up, I get a pickle. DILLON FRANCIS III That's a deal. DILLON FRANCIS II And if she cries, I get a French poodle named Angelina Jolie. DILLON FRANCIS III Righteous. DILLON FRANCIS II Yur damn right. A GIANT DRAGON FLIES OVERHEAD, SWEEPING THE SKIES WITH FIRE AND LIGHTNING. DILLON FRANCIS I (CONT'D) Yeah, we're definitely fucked. Why are you dressed like Froto. FROTO (in background, dressed exactly alike) That is offensive! SHUTTHEFUCKUP. It's the end of the world! (At least as we know it) IS THAT SKRILLEX? FIRE BREATHING DRAGON. Well, it was. What the fuck HAPPENED?! Is that its final form? Yes it is. I'll give you one million dollars. That's not enough. This card is priceless. What is this. Like a Pokémon game?! This whoops Pokémon's ass. This is LEGENDS. LIL' BIIIITZ Yo! New York is CRAZY First of all, how is it all of a sudden CLEANER THAN LA?! New York's like: here —we sent all the nasty people to LA. All better. Polarity shift! LA is gross now! New York cleaned up! The trains are nice —shit— All the trash is in BAGS. I was like “Whaaaaaaat” this is nice. What the fuck. This shit different! Unh. they exported all the nasty, crazy motherfuxkers to LA. On GOD. Cause every other psychologically twisted individual I talk to in LA is like: “I'M FROM NEW YORK” *hawks loogie, spits* Uhhhhh… I was going on a little European adventure; New York's like: “You know, you never stay long…” I'm like “There's a reason for that…welp, gotta go.” The whole universe fucked around and was like— “You know what? We like you here. Stay. “ What. “STAY.” Fuck. New York is different. Won't say I love it — But goddamn, I like it! People are rude. People are rude as fuck. I'm used to LA where people are fake nice For fuckin tips and shit, you know? Everybody's trying to get famous for something, Or something. Idk. Fake as fuck. Fake nice. Fake happy. Fake titties. Fake lips. Just fucking fake. fake everything. Everything is plastic. —and it's not tied up in garbage bags, either. It's just plastic, and trash, and piss everywhere. It's so gross. You see Venice Beach on the movies: It's all clean and beautiful, and picturesque. You get there, it's like Skid Row + Skid Row Coastal. LA has millions of homeless people everywhere. In cars, in tents. Under bridges. Everywhere. And I love LA! I really do. But it's fake. Everything is fake. New York is real as fuck. Yeaaah. Almost too real. But I like it. You don't have to fuckin fake shit. People don't say “excuse me—“ No. You're never forced to say “good morning “ before you had your coffee! Yuh! New York is doing it right. People sleep on the train— But nobody lives on that motherfucker! I was in New York like a week before the shock wore off that there were not hundreds of individuals on every train wreaking of piss and smoking crack openly—YES—illicit drug use on trains in LA is extremely casual. Everything in LA is casual. People wear pajamas to work. Yeah—that. Everyone in New York looks like they're going to eat at a five-star restaurant. Like all the time. No socks-with-slides. EW. I swore to God socks with slides was a sign of the apocalypse; I get to New York, none of that—but the cringy thing in New York is Crocs With Socs. Now mmmm we're bi-coastal. Socks-with-slides; Crocs-with-socks. Knock that shit off. TACKY. other than that, though… NY is cool. It's chic. It's fun. You gotta be careful though. You gotta watch out. I thought LA drivers were crazy. New York drivers are fucking psychotic. Pedestrians don't have the right of way. At all. If you're in a crosswalk in LA even if the light is red, people will stop and let you go. In New York you better wait for the fuckin walk sign. They will kill you. It's okay. 6 millions ways to die: choose one! Just kidding. That's some west coast shit. But I did see a whole ass mural of Snoop Dogg in Brooklyn and get slightly confused— Till I realized everything on it was the color blue, and I was deadass in the middle of Brooklyn going “What? Ohhhhh! Wait! The Crips!” “Those guys are everywhere!” Lol. Its a nation wide disorganization. Lol. Whatever. I like New York. Doing my best not to love it, So the universe doesn't balance me out by showing me what to hate about it So far, so good New York drivers don't play. I never seen a school bus drift before! DAMN. Almost got hit by a short bus. Oh, the irony. I saw a dude do a whole ass wheelie on an electric scooter. Not a moped, by the way. An electric scooter. Yup. New Yoooooork. BEDFORD AVENUE, BROOKLYN, NY. THE BAMPHERAMPHS have initiated SEQUENCE C I like New York. I gotta say. It IS like LA In the way that I know I can't live in New York if I'm not just filthy fucking rich. Cause, you know—there's still homelessness; But unlike in LA, where you just wander around, smelling like piss, begging for change— You freeze to death. A quick solution! Haha! (It's not funny.) but whatever. America. I thought I was leaving; I got trapped in the matrix. I was like “Fuck this place.” They're like: “stay! We need slaves!” I'm like FUCK. So I got stuck in New York. Ugh. At least it's a “free state” I made it north, ma! Not exactly the safest place to get stuck with no money, either, is it? Really nowhere is safe with no money. I mean, I know of some places south of the border you can live, basically free and just, you know—sleep in a hammock, sing for change and shit. Roam the beach. I know people that do that— it's just- I like showers. I don't love showers. Cause then, I'm sure God would find a way to take that away, too. I don't love anything anymore. Once you love something—it either goes away, or it burns you. Or both. Can't love things. Can't love people. No more love. Just—appreciate—things. Just—like—things, you know? Don't love anything. Speaking of suicidal tendencies. Hahah. You know what else is cool about New York? The trains actually come into the station fast enough to kill you. Like—you've had enough? Okay: here it is. Just to save you a trip to the Empire State Building. This train is coming in at 304 miles an hour and is somehow gonna stop in 3 seconds. —maybe 2 seconds, if you do jump— Better think fast! They almost come too fast, for suicide. Ready, set— Dammit. Missed it again. They're so fast. The trains in LA stopped going suicide-fast like, a couple years ago—maybe, just before the pandemic—I think. They're like “You know what! This is happening too often. I am ALWAYS late to my other two jobs ‘cause someone killed themselves on my train! Fuck!” LA's like: “Well fuck this, all the slaves are killing themselves on the trains.” “Damn, that sucks” LA's like “Yeah, okay so: here's what we do; we'll put up signs for a suicide hotline at the popular jumping points” “LA's like: okay” “And—we'll tell the train operators they gotta slow down coming into the station—“ “That'll do it!” “—that way, If they still do decide to jump, they'll just get paralyzed, and contribute to the opioid crisis: more funding for big pharma!” “Yes, it's genius!” “—unless they're black, or on Medicaid, then: we'll send em home with some ibuprofen and make sure they collect disability, so that they can become addicted to crack, or something like that —you know.” “Yes. That's perfect.” Good Job LA. I get lost in New York. I'll be on New York like “YO, WHERE THE FUCK AM I AT?” “In New York” GODDAMMIT. You know what else is weird about New York? Personal space is not a thing. I mean, “space” is not a thing at all, anyway. But “Personal space”? No. People will not only sit by you; The'll siT ON you. Yo. I had just got to New York— I had all my luggage with me— And this lady gets on the train; She's got a broom. Idk what for, but okay; She gets onto the train, She looks around, and I guess she decides she wants the seat next to me. So like I said, I have all my stuff l so I'm a little spread out, but there's room— But you know what she does? She looks me straight in the eye And then just hits me with her broom. I was like —-?!? I'm thinking, “Okay is she racist or is that just a New York thing?” Like, “you can just hit people with shit!? damn!” What's funny is, I kinda respected her for that. She was old. Didn't say a word, just “bam” Like—- ‘move!' I'm like “okay!” New York is so classy. Girls wear panty hose, and stockings. I'm like “wow, that's actually nice. That's so wholesome! Tights?! Yeah!” It's so classy. I don't think girls in LA even wear regular panties. Let alone panty hose. Get it—panty—Hoes. I see correlation. You know what else is cool about New York. It's less racist. I mean- There's so much diversity, there's almost no room to be racist. It's crazy. So many people. So many colors. So much culture. So many languages! I hear languages I can't even place. I thought I was good. I'm in LA, I'm like, “Okay, that's Chinese—“ “That's Japanese” “That's Korean” “Farsi” I get to New York— I'm in the Delicstessen. Thats another thing. Nothing like a real, New York delicatessen. That's what “deli” is short for, by the way, everyone not from New York. It's “delicatessen” Lol. Anyway. I'm standing in the Deli and I hear some shit that—I'm not gonna lie— was actually quite alarming, as a native English speaker. I'm standing there, and this guy behind me literally over my shoulder says, “Blooppnsmabhoan ammaoakb amansbaiL aannaoka snkaoakmnlblblblnlnl!!!!” I'm like what the FUCK. This isn't REAL. “Blblblana. Akakma alak Akakamaamna!” I'm shoooook. What IS that!!? I like New York. The girls aren't all evil soulless heart eating demons. They're just “regular” I have to run back to LA and tell all my guy friends, they're like “Women are evil” I'm like— “Nooo, that's just out here.” Maybe. I don't know. I like New York. I bet it's wonderful when it's warm. I don't know! Maybe that's when shit hits the fan! Maybe it's like Chicago. EVERYBODY DIES IN THE SUMMER— Who said that. Chance the Rapper, I think. I don't know. LEGENDS: FAMESCHOOL This move is called: The “Slap-Dicksuck.” [carefully taking notes] “slap-dick-suck”…okay… hmm.. Now, class. [raises hand curiously] Yes? Um. SUPACREE— —PROFESSOR SUPACREE. Um. Professor SUPACREE— Yes! Why is it called the “Slap-Dicksuck” I was about to explain that. //SLAP-DICKSUCK// NEXT: we learn THE “SLAP-DICKSUCK-SLAP” Let me guess. No, no guessing. This class is gross. I like it. Yeah, you're gross. The world is gross. Get over it. GET OVER IT, DILLON FRANCIS. *sniffes* Please, stop crying. She— *sniffles* It's okay, Dillon. She took my piñata! Your piñata set your house on fire. He sets—everything on fire— Have you ever stopped to think— —no— thinking is bad. Go get dressed. No, not today. You look like a bloated chicken nugget. —I used to like chicken nuggets. hey, Tofu daddy. This is sick. This is a sick bitch we're dealing with. I'm not dealing with anything, I quit. Quit, you can't quit. I just did. DEADMAU5 Okay, no more bodies. Ū Okay. No more bodies. DEADMAU5 Really? Ū —No. DEADMAU5 Goddammit, this is not a GAME. Ū It is a game, though—and I'm a damn good marksman. DEADMAU5 Dammit, you're right. Ū I'm always right. Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? I powered on my phone to find the digital clock exactly at 1:15, which had seemed to be creeping up again as a recurring theme, along with some other unsettling figurines—if it was a race against time, I was losing—and If, perhaps, a Holy War, I must have been some sort of Holy, as it had seemed the world's good graces had turned her back on me, and that faith dwindled more quickly in the cold than any other condition. Lay your head on my shoulder, Your cheek on my cheek, Wrap your arm round my waist, You can think what I think You can skate on thin ice You can sing what I sing And when the ice breaks; You can sink when I sink Come, take my hand— (I took off my ring) Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing Come, take my hand Let's sit on this swing Do you want to do a half, or a whole thing? It had been strange waves of everything—more than I was ready for and much more than intentionally took on, all things considered. I burned my tongue on piping hot oatmeal, trying to eat rather than write, as it seemed the time had come that I could no longer skip meals and properly function. Nearing thirty like a bullet—and at least metaphorically bleeding as if I had actually been shot, my heart and soul throbbing and gushing into a paralyzing twist or fears and woes, trapped in a foreign city with almost nothing to my name, lugging around my music equipment and very few belongings, which—when put away neatly even in the smallest room— seemed like almost nothing, but was certainly too much to carry around, especially alone. And I was, so very alone. Drake Bell and the Hollywood Spell My newest and strangest muse yet had again insisted on appearing into my dream world, for the third time, anyway—which seemed a cruel and almost disturbing subconscious attempt to conjur up what might have been the entirety of my energy to complete the 6th Season of Enter The Multiverse, at this point which had even interested m