[0015.]

Let's see how we feel, after a message from our sponsors.

Jesus effing Christ, Jimmy Kimmel—goddamn! Why are you always this fucked UP.

(Super fuckedupedly)

I'm not, I'm just feel—(belches)— like it!

—look like it, okay!

Omah Gas.

I nuh!

Uh. Pedro Pascal?

You're right again.

Yehy!

Well, almost right.

What.

That character he played on that extremely viral SNL skit—

OKAH.

Woah.

—this is the dimension where he's—

—oh my god—

Yeah.

—UHMYGAH!

Cut back to:

—look— jus— don't look at me. When you're—lookin at me, like that— okay?!

Goddamn, he is fucked up.

Yeah.

This is critical.

What did you do to Jimmy Kimmel?

Nothing! Okay! He was just— like that already— you know

—you don't know!

Honestly he's kinda always, a little…

WOOOF!

Yowza.

WOOF WOOF!

JIMMY! DO NOT LICK ME!

*panting* WOOF WOOF!

AUGHHH.

Get him out of here before he pees on the rug.

I second that.

Comeon, boy—

WOOF!

DOWN!

[he obeys intently]

Good Jimmy Kimmel. Good—

—RUFINOL.

What?

[suddenly, JIMMY KIMMEL is human again and answers intently.

Yes.

It seems the word itself has broken his extreme delirium—

—yo, okay, what is going on?!

You've got to can this thing

What.

Cancel it.

No way.

I want to go.

This thing, cannot happen, okay! It can't!

Wtf Jimmy Fallon, stop inserting yourself into everything!

—

Unless it's me.

EW.

GROSS.

Shots fired.

No, I would call that a foul ball—Get it.

No,

Cause. You know. He's a bird, kind of.

Oh. You mean, like

“Fowl ball”

Yeah! You got it!

Yeah but not without like, thinking about it—

So it doesn't work?

It didn't work.

Yo, but that part does explain why:

CUT TO:

No, you're right, I do hate Jimmy Fallon.

—a lot.

A lot.

Okay?

—but to be fair, I also hate Brad Pitt in the same way.

BRAD PITT

…You do?

Yes, Brad Pitt i do—

Very much,

Hate you.

BRAD PITT

(Tearing up emotionally)

Like, a lot?

Uhm. Like, more than a lot,

I just.

BRAD PITT is actually extremely fragile and very emotionally sensitive.

Is this a prescription for— fucking roofies?!

I— have a, a…medical condition.

That requires roofies?!

Yes actually. It's very…serious.

Shapeshifting is very serious.

What kind of medical condition requires roofie-ing yourself.

I didn't—I don't—I can't roofie myself, actually.

What!

No way…

Someone else has to administer the dose, okay?!

So wait.

Uhogh, what the fuck man. This is—

[he bites his knuckles nervously, then pats his pocket area, before realizing he is no longer wearing pants. Everyone just shrugs, but he becomes increasingly upset.]

Where is my— phone?[more shrugs and blank stares]

He quickly shuffles through the room and then the open suitcase of empty prescription bottles, spiraling into a deep void of panic and doubt— then, in an act of desperation and apparent extreme thirst, he reaches for the decorative flower vase, ejects the flowers— never mind that they are thorned roses and he appears to be bleeding without giving this a second thought, and chugs the liquid from the translucent crystal vase in a hearty and impressive glug of chugs; gesturing towards the now empty vase with the subtle remark—

[beat]

It's just vodka— I always have them do that.

He sits down on the edge of the bed and takes a sigh as this seems to have calmed him, besides the trickle of blood running down the vase, which he still grips in one hand while rubbing his forehead with the other in complete distress…

He seems to be looking out into the universe searching for an answer— seeking a solution to this unknown conundrum— and questions the cause of his demise.

A single tear forms in his eye as he calmly asks:

…does anyone know how to get ahold of Seth Rogen?

The room is a confused and sticky, silent heap of bewildered unknowns.

TITLE CARD

{Enter The Multiverse}

… was that the “message from our sponsors”?

Shh!

L E G E N D S: ICONS

don't look at me.

[The Festival Project ™]

50 CENT bursts down the door.

WHERE'S MY SHIT, JIMMY?

Fiddy. Fiddy, look, man—

Don't “FIDDY” me!

Look, I can explain.

Well, then, explain— TV man. Go on ahead.

Look. This is— this was not my fault—

Then what was it?!

This was— oh, God…

Go ahead!

It was— this was like a game.

This ain't no goddamn game, Jimmy Kimmel, I'll tell you that much right now.

Yo. But it—was— a game, though, it just— [got out of hand]

{Enter The Multiverse}

Museum in a curio cabinet;

I know, I know, I know

That's the boy,

That's the boy I saw

That's my boy, that's my boy, that's the boy I know

I know

Museum or curiosity

Too late to tell the tale I think

Just cover all with masking tape

It is a game,

To move the pieces

Leave it, let it be,

She said

Hideous and when the winter hits

And the withered women come again

Let it be sinking into the sea with the rest of the things

I don't need, i never needed

I never need it

Several synchronicities later,

Still something sees symphonies in him

Music and misers and mistereases, mistresses

Listen to tin written sentiments

And remember to forget the rest

It's been minted

Minted, minted

Don't talk

Just fucking listen

And you'll never fucking get it.

What's with the rest of it?

Never been, never did

Lemons and purple Sundays

And when the weather hits,

You'll get the tip of it

Oh,

There it is

That thing she likes

The thing she sees

(She sees the monster)

There it is,

That thing she sees

The thing she knows

(She knows the monster)

When you walk with the cork of the wine,

And the checkboards,

The water foxes, wishing reals

And written wells,

And fears for fourths,

One wet, one rotten

The rent and the wintergreen gum

And the rest is in

Zippered cashmere

Wonder what the wish is

But there is a birthday present for never

Then there's a

Cheshire Cat

And the rest of it was washed in the misery,

Misery, never the mystery and there,

You weather the almost storm

But the storm's not coming,

There's nothing but sun left

There's nothing but sun there

Now, here's this:

You remember, dear

We resubmit

We live in a computer

We live in a comouter

He‘S green

He's new

He's wet behind the ears

He's a hot one

A hot commodity

She's weathered

She's torn

She's a sweet potato on suicide

And though at least a hundred other folks

This here is the comfort

I'm a narcissist now, but once upon a time

I just just self centered

The love still there,

But instead of the spine or the heart

It's back in the middle

Why my mother knows what she always knows

And she always knows

I don't know ‍♂️ o

Patrick! Hey Patrick!

Yes, what is it?

You fiend!

Can I have my hat back?

Does this match?

Does this make ratchet sense to you?

Turn down that racket,

Tennis racket

Tennis clubs

And gold clubs

Boxes in the attick

Skeletons in the closet

The stock market going dropped

Way down

Like the alley with Whole Foods market

I miss the rock and the plaza

The hot dog corn breads

The half wit half breeds

And good old hybrids

The hallmark cards

And who doesn't give a fuck

When the earth gives a fuck on a roll

But it's walk the dog or go home

Seriously, cuz?

Or cousin?!

You want a hog roll

Good for a hog toss

Salt washed back rubs

And then keep calling your mom

If you wanted the balls in your court

And yet no one to toss them at

And the basket's back at the matchbook factory

Mattresses man, and the lands they land at

Matches made in TV land

Are bound to have a sick and intrinsic twist

That will keep your belly rolling

And stomach flat

Jesus Christ,

What the fuck is wrong with that guy—

Or rather—

What the fuck happened last year,

Furthermore;

What in the fuck did I write about it?

Townhouse in Manhattan

Broken finger

Broken promises

Bottles of hard alcohol

And models, hot girls

And one cat with curiosity.

Check the curio cabinet

There ought to be something

Or someone in it

Maybe even

A little man in a box

With a million bucks

And a tinfoil hat,

Ten million marked dollars

And zero fucks

Whatsoever

I have a headache, a headache—

A headache

I have a heartache, a heartache, a heart—

Stop.

I put it all on a bushel of bollocks,

Bollocks— flowers

I put it on, put it on

Put it on

On, and on

And all for nothing

All for none

With the intensity of one thousand suns,

He insists it exists,

And exits strategically

With the whispers of industry secrets

And interesting sequences,

She reaches the wings from the curtains

And curtsies for courtesy

I'm curious I'm curious just how it ends

In this suicidal and envious frenzy

There's nothing left in the frostbitten five

Rolling towards bowling green

Where in every pair of loafers,

Three piece suits

And deep brown eyes,

I seen him.

In anything over 6 feet,

It was good to mean it,

And defeat is sweeter than ice cream;

But the green is sicker than sea swings

So let's rock the boat

So to speak

Or let's flood a Rock

Should we start at the bottom,

With large bursts of water, or

Turn it all into a washroom

With a thunderstorm

Oh, lightning strikes!

And John Oliver's Murdered,

Colbert's been the president for decades,

A dictator

I got a taste of the rig and the cherry tree

I got a big secret,

But bitch,

You could never keep it!

I write a jeep to the Equinox,

Charade you are

I put a notch in my belt and my bedpost,

The watch to the shop

But it's all Omega

It's all Omega

It's all ”Oh My God!”

Stop and pause for the audience

Shock and awe,

Or just sloppy nonsense

Someone rope in the Johns,

And the frog,

And the frog

As the fog rolls in

Now I'm a millionaire

How dare you

Did I scare you,

Become every hair on your head?

Imm the one you don't want

You can't want

You catch watch

You can't wait to

Gun her down

Gun to your head

And I measured it in relevance

The end is near

And that's the place my head is in

I don't need medicine

I need an erected monument in honor of

All that I wanted for the whole module

But now in New York,

I'm

The same stories over and over

So everyone knows

Aren't the ones I wrote

But I wasn't supposed to

Mouth closed

Townhouse in Manhattan

What the hell happened?

Perhaps we all died and then actually end up in heaven eventually.

—but maybe I wrote the whole show,

But not knowing it's over

I just keep rolling and rolling and rolling

And open door policy

(And that's when the pearly gates open)

It's possible you know these are all just my favorite players of anything anywhere possible

The folks wrapped in gold for the offerings

There was no love left for her but he left the door open

She runs around awkward and normal

But knows she knows nothing

He's lifting her up

But he's putting her down at the same time

And they both wear a crown,

But one draws a crowd

And the other's a nine

Out of nine

Out of nine now

It's 4 and 3 quarters

I make ten cents in a day

And he makes ten million a year

But it's not about money

In fact,

If it's not about God,

Then it's all about nothing.

Nothing at all.

Do you want to travel through my eyes

One more time

And see my life?

Did you want to do it all again

Just for a quick review,

Or not, kid?

Do you want to take my eyes

And take my heart

And pantomime

The nevermind

And never better moments

Of the last forever

I like a ride

On a nice hot walk

Or a park

In a nice hot car

But you aren't what I wanted

The doctor ordered

Hot chocolate and syrup

And nightmares are coming

But the dream had come and gone

And in the time since,

I haven't slept at all

It slipped in on Christmas and went till the miniature habits kicked back in

We went around the block a couple times

And you just kept rolling

Over

The car stopped on all fours

And Godbfalled you off of it

Cause trust,

Love,

It was horrendous to watch you blow up

Into blockbuster artform

Off of a bridge

And into superstardom

Via a billboard

Meanwhile,

Were shuffleboards

And billiards

Que the arts!

Ou,

I meant to owe you

All the lessons

In the knowledge

But the harder I want it the

Rocker on my chair polished

It grows fuller of course

Almost flat on the bottom

What you hole into for the audience

Is all inside the contracts

I put it up on the

What did you call it?

Put the coat on the chair and just kept going

Bro,

If I hold you over

Promise you'll hold the door open

He won't.

He's a show host—

A remarkable

“Don't even bother”

And I paid top dollar for these hair plugs,

You hear that?!

I heard you rabbit.

What it is about the thing that wells up in my Washington federal and tear-gassed orphans is

Lollipops and anicetepetomin

Or asperine

I'm desperate for a job

And yet,

I almost miss the person

Hiding from the shadows in the robots

In my every on thoughforms

Though I should be honored

Now I've brought back this astonishing

Remarkable curse

To not b

Have bought curtains

When I didn't want them in the first place

And I kept the window open

40,000 showed up

But I played to no one

And the blonde knows it's her birthday

So of course she's more important

But I'm no one,

And here's Fallon:

Jimmy Fallon

I'm deflated just to follow off for a nut

But I'm nothing since no one pondered

And wondered to ask a remarkable task

get the pawn shop, the butter knife

And Lorne all over pork chops on the phone

And I'm sure that's not kosher,

But sure, there's no cure for it

I'm words and I'm worse off

The suburbs, the herbs and the marshes

The books and the sineage

The plants and the corvettes

I might have been onto something once

But now I'm washed up

I might be onto something but no, no, no—

I fought it off

I might come down with a cold once a quarter century or so but just the snow alone

As cold as this whole story is,

Ripley's

Is hard warming

(Believe it or not,

We've all got thumbs up

We've all got magic wands

And wants

And whispers

And stock markets

And wishing for cashmere zippered sweaters

This year I'll be on time for once

But no one's coming

No one's coming up

The whole shows under water

And all I want to know is

How to go

To pull the gun and trigger

On my own live

Cause this whole world

Is just rotten

Bodies

Hairpins,

Hairspray

Corny!

That's grid iron,

Gridiron, ten fierce fires and one

Cold hearted beautiful liar

But which one's the finish?

Last that I check

Billie, Jimmy, and the Kidd are all

Just one body

And one mirror image

Of one another

So next time I call my mother

I ought to talk like the worst word,

Cause for sure, the oddest part of the whole show

Is that he somehow knows her.

Now come forwards

What words have left to

Burn?

What words have left to cope and honor

What form does lest I take

What here is now and crucial?

Evervescent fairy,

Ever blessing crane,

The ship that guides you yet with no light

And no sail

Has just drifted into unknown waters

Where caves dwell and therein lies the secret of our esarth, nor your earth,

But ours and again I lay,

As you sink into the see with tilting force and berring waves, the drive into the tide my ark the swan hath flown to warn her, there drifts

Into the shade again the sun my bird and wait to find my alter

My alter again and as I may,

The sink that ships and weigh, not the other,

My mind you that too is bottom

And sank is to have risen, also

Here I wonder

And never you cave, the drift of glowing green my force

And there to wait, there caverns of hers and ships that sank my tide,

Is crucial and so with forgiveness in time

With every line here I or they did write

The truth shatters as illusions, the mask has been re clamored and yet to have imagined

I find him here not but the hints

And the thing we know, buried deep in my loins and in my earth is he

The whispers what May calling and landender, mauve my tide, my ba

…wtf.

idk.

[The Festival Project™ ]

{Enter The Multiverse}

L E G E N D S:

ICONS

Tales of A Superstar DJ

The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū

Ascension

Deathwish

-Ū.