The Legend Of

S Ū P ∆ Я E E.™


Dillon Francis

doesn't think he's attractive--?

Must be black magic;

He's so handsome,

Symmetrical and shit...

This is the parallel reality

Where actually….

SupaCree is a superstar rapper...

Flash back to slap-stick:

Comedy Slap-Jacks

Not apples, but stacks of

‘That's slappin',


‘Happily in eternal ever-after'

Or hasn't happened,

Or, just happened

And happening as

It's about to happen, and…

—The whole world stands under her

(And Dillon Francis )

—or Skrillex, Whatever.

Fuck it, Then.


Nope. I quit.


Back to Back,

Snapback hats,

and Immortal Masters

Half-Tragedy, Half-Comedy;

Half-The Actors in


Gave half-of it back to—-


After the battle.

What is “It”?





Then Laughed at it and

Banished him to ‘Nothing Lasts'

Banished Skrillex in ‘The Skrillex;

What the fuck is that?

First come first serve,

If you order that

You're liable to find a

Someone in your hat!

"What's a Bampheramph?"

Sounds like a brand new anthem

Kick Drum

Just sit on your subs and listen

and Bass Makes that Bitch


Everything under the Sunni Blu

Second to None

Suh Dude

Sup Getter, I'm looking at you


That's exactly what the Men in Black do

And in fact,

Better get back to that soon

Who's ‘Soon'?

What's Luna and Sola's man do?

Two dad's,

That's madness

A mom and a half,

Cause the God's a man,

He's gotta inhabit his planets

Infinity's power so damaging

All her parents together and her brothers can't manage

To stay mad, But Bun In The Oven's Just wreaking havoc

Soul so great, they had to try to split it in half,

And that's how that marks the start of the

Fist act,

But first-things-last

The front man in

From First To Last

Is Asked a task

By a man in a mysterious mask

A mystic shamanic medicine with magic

Manages to mess with his management

Snach ‘em and vanishes into the capsule

Where time-space-past-present are actually infinite

This isn't any regular science fiction if fantasy could bite it in the ass whippin it with fiction

This shit is happening in 9-Dimensional High-Visual

Comedy Central hasn't got shit on this interval

Intergalactically practically impossible,

Which isn't a possibility anything is,

and Excision's Mission is to diminish this kid's vision

of becoming a bass music hit

Superstar super-car driving superstar DJ

Headlining the festivals The Rotella made

Insomniac made me do it,

In Live Nation's name,


Aliens save Getter,

And oh shit

Winter Is Coming

It's Miserable

Cold, though the Polar Ice caps are practically invisible

She's immortal ‘until,'

But she was never invincible

Sent to the principal, just to see she was the Principal

In physical infinitely different dimensional interpretations

Interpersonally and impractically imperfectionallly perfect

Political Aspirations Hulk-Smashed

As Thor Smashed his Hammer blabberin' about how

‘Hatch' (excuse the Pronunciation) wanted to run for president ‘28

Gossipin about overhearing her conversation

Between her and a friend which she attended

The Pasquallian Annual Celebration


Who's this dancing?

Day two Preview of the Could be the first-man

Like a magnet attracted the President out of her bed

Running to catch the Inaugural Sonrise set

Suprise Motha-Mufasa,

And “that's all you get”;

Now let it sit,

Sit with it,

And sit in it

It's like the Festival Version of

‘This Is The End'

Which DJ Battle will be the End

If there is no end and it's just


An intimately interesting instant-hit

“Who is this Bitch--?!?”

No, don't call her a bitch

But everybody's a ‘nigga' nowadays,

It's lit,

Until it isn't

And gotta double dutch in some nigga shit

So get this bitch-nigga to kick the shit

And go Get Matt Mason to Dig a Ditch

Let's pusher in it, bury her alive and tell her this

“Listen Bitch Nigg*r You'll NEVER be MY President”

And that's what they said,

But that's what you get

When you live in a red-state

In some hillbilly-shit

Who hate native indegeneous because they get

Reparations since the state was established,

After they finally stopped massacring “savages”

These racists just don't get the half of it

And she's half of them,

So they hate her,

As she manages them,

And the Intelligence agency hacks her shit

To find she's actually rather intelligent

But wants do music,

Googling her favorite 10-years straight

Made way to be made fun of and run away


Made to be made fun of and thought of as nothin

No love and no attention from someone

but suddenly one night,

Somethin' one might say is a miracle

If you believe in it, or hear from the spirits

After being straight resurrected,

A man she respected,

As the past-lives of either reflected in

Both their eyes, faster than fast ever happened

A mirror and magnet

Not alike, but equally powerful

Outside, opposites

Inside the match

And that's that,

But she couldn't manage to wrap her Goddess braid-brain around

The God's honest fact:

The Gods say,

This prophet is meant for that

But she's not blonde or pretty,

So she's so sorry she's even existing

And worries, momentarily dying inside

A psychic vision instantaneously penetrating

His image intimidating, but to him it's indifferent

In certainly lives in the definite ending,

Just spent infinite eternities with alien mystics and

Deities in decision of how this division encrypted in

ritualistic mystery kept hidden for centuries

Collide in dimensions and send a signal

As humanity transitions into ascension

and reunification of an ancients

Transition to save a nation.

In Dillon Francis name,

Made famous by


What's my name again?


A hotel room in Las Vegas

DILLON FRANCIS is awkward, as he stands nervously in front of the door.

He knocks three times.

SUNNI BLU has been expecting this.

She opens the door; sees him--

Dillon Francis: Hi, I'm--

--and promptly shuts it.

Chak Chel: Ring the bell.

He does so.

A random guy opens the door. Dillon Tries to look around him, but the man matches his movement, blocking his view.

Dillon Francis: Um. Hi--I'm...looking for Sunni...

Guy: She's not here.

Dillon Francis: What do you mean she's not--it's a hotel, there's only one way out.

Guy: Well, she left.

Dilon Francis: What do you mean she--i've been standing here the whole time!

Guy: ...So?

Dillon Francis: There's one door!




Guy: Can I help you with something?

Dillon Francis: Um yeah, I'm trying to find your friend--or--my friend--whatever.

Guy: And you are... ?

Dillon Francis: I'm Dillon Francis!

Guy: (Unamused.) Oh.

Dillon Francis: “Oh.” Yeah .

[seemingly from nowhere, the man produces a picnic basket, complete with shiny bow and card;he shoves it at Dillon Francis]

Guy: Here.

Dillon Francis: Oh--! Uhh...thank you…?

Guy: Whatever.

Dillon Francis: What's--

But the man has already shut the door.

He looks over the basket, rather impressed. Chak Chel dials in.

Dillon Francis: I don't think this is going to work.

Chak Chel: Did you get the sandwich?

Dillon Francis: ...sandw--wait, what?

Chak Chel: Check the basket.

Dillon Francis: How did you-- [checks basket]

Chak Chel: Do you see the Sandwhich?

Dillon Francis: There's a lot of stuff in here…

---CUT TO:





[he finds a cleverly wrapped oblong shaped object, which might be assumed to be a sandwich]

Chak Chel: Do you see it?

Dillon Francis: [inspecting the thing] Uhhh…

Chak Chel: Dillon--did you get the sandwich?

Dillon Francis: I mean, this could be a sandwich...It's kind of heavy...and hot.

Chak Chel: Good. Bring it here.

Dillon Francis: Now? I thought I was supposed to--

Chak Chel: I'll send a portal

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