{This Is Theatre.} (Act I)

It was marky mark and Channing Tatum, but in the dream they were just my friends. They were hanging out in Vegas and I dropped by to say hi, but I had to get going. I was renting a white Beamer SUV which I thought was too nice for me. Thought about going back to say hello but had to convince my parents. Dumb. At least I figured out who those two shirtless dudes were. Oh they also had that guy from Dexter with them. That's correct. And an old dude. But what is that dudes name? Idk. Shirtless dude three. SHIRTLESS DUDE 3 You mean me. God, that Beamer was nice. It was white. It was white, but it was also a rental. I don't know if I could see myself getting a white car. It was pearlescent white though, kind of cream, but with sparkles. You're right, that's a different kind of white. Why would they let me drive this thing? I can drive, I was more surprised anyone would let me rent a car after the Enterprise fiasco. Luckily, it was under my mom's name. Well, this is fucked up. {Enter The Multiverse} My dellisions of granduer sure are fire right now Are you sure you don't know who you are Or where I'll be right there On the highway to hell Like a baseball bat out of heaven I wear my hat backwards, Cause I'm the only one To throw shade On my back end Can I just say, I really like the gangster version of deadmau5. Oh SHIT, There he go. RUN, BLAT-BLAT. (Still Canadian tho) Ah, FUCK, man. What suh tho?! I'm out of gas, eh. The car's out of gas?! Ammo, bud! Oh shit, aight. Must have been surfing in the dream, because I was eating lots of fish and cool about it. That's true! I only ever eat fish when I'm surfing. Why were we in Vegas then? No, the guys were in Vegas, I was just visiting. That doesn't seem like the place to just “visit”. Maybe it was EDC, I don't know. Then why were we eating fish!? That was in another part of the dream. Oh. So we were traveling? I guess so. That sounds rich. Stephen Colbert stands over Jimmy Kimmel with a wooden sword, hitting him repeatedly, yelling KING ME. OW. NO. KING ME. OW, WHAT THE FUCK MAN! KING ME! OWC, knock it OFF! He overpowers Colbert and takes the wooden sword. GIVE ME THAT. he thwaps him with the sword one good time. OW. EXACTLY. Fuck outta here! Why won't you king me?! What makes you think I'm in charge of Kinging?! You wrote the game! I co-wrote the game—with-very minimal effort, by the way, other people— Including my//yourself. Was I there? Gee, maybe not… Seriously, I don't know where my head is sometimes. Plastered inside of the television. Like literally?! I guess. In or on. Anyway, if you're unhappy with your lowly, monocle status, you should talk to The Creator. Who's the creator? Nobody really seems to know… Well then, how am i supposed to talk to him,? Let's find out, Wait, what. One… Jimmy Kimmel Begins to morph into a bird, feathers first and more slowly than usual. What is that? [via tootsie pops owl] Two-hoo! I feel like I've heard this before somewhere. THREE! OH MY GAAA—AAHHHHH! Suddenly, Jimmy Kimmel is transformed into a giant-esque owl. WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!! Jimmy Kimmel swoops above him, grabbing Colbert by the shoulders, as he screams inconsolably. He begins to fly out of the oversized window, then doubles back for a moment, hovering over the wooden sword. Get the sword! YOU CAN STILL TALK? GET THE SWORD. He lowers Colbert down to the sword, his talons digging deeply into his shoulders—it looks like this probably hurts a lot, he meekly but with great f air grabs the sword, and his feed dangle as the owl takes flight, bawking, Of course I can still tallk; I'm smarter than your actual human self! SO IT WAS YOU WHO ATE MY TOOTSIE POP. JIMMY KIMMEL the OWL lets out a deep and bellowing meniacal laugh as he takes flight, STEPHEN COLBERT crying in shame. NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! {Enter The Multiverse} Gotta take it real hard Hang down, head in shame Strong arm, the charms off Work hard, the thigh gap Gets a good man Get the gap tooth fixed, Maybe bleach a few shades Paula Patton, or whatever Zoe Kravitz, like My Time's up; I want to be a good mom Hey, Lorne won't like me Hey, hey, Lorne won't like me at all. What's up on the network I'm waiting on my closeup I take lessons real hard I want to be a good mom, Or if not A long gone alcoholic I mean long gone I mean long gone I mean long gone I mean woke up, blacked out Still pedaling forward on the peloton A skeleton I mean long, long gone No, Lorne don't like me at all What's in the back of the bus? A diversity hire, Fresh out of Harvard university What's on the top of the tube Well, a fresh pack of lubricated condoms, If you really want to know No raw dog What's on the top of the morning An hour on the Peloton, Another in the tub, Doc What's on your mind? Are you really on the road? (No raw dog) Woah, If you really want to know I'm in love, So you're all of them, Until I come, And then you just, Run off like a ghost I'm in the room with a body, And you're not her, I must have gone off the hard stuff (on behalf of Oliver) What if you wrote your book, Knowing who might open it? Who wrote the forward, Colbert. Tough crowd— Now I'm out of folks to come up on, After all that hard stuff Simply won't go on I want to be a good mom, But so much for that It goes well up my spine, Like an epidural, I'm all out of experience. I've got 30 minutes of torture left But I'm all out of droplets, From the hyperdermal contraption I've strapped on And the 4 kilometer run And the dance number to Beyoncé, Of course. (It was Destiny's child, But I was dancing to Beyoncè) It was Destiny's Child, But I was dancing to Beyoncé, Also. “Aw, love…” I always gawk, When couples go on as they do, Even if it occurs that, The one I love, Dawns his beloved And arm and arm My heart weighs just a ton I can't even hear the words anymore It's just all for numbers One for Oliver I can't even hear the words anymore It's just for numbers Almost a Californian As long as I just keep going And don't eat Before sweating it all off in the tub Now the scar on the inside of my lip lights up And raises Just at the sound of []; Had better not touch that one, Put the sides to the side And mark the folder Do not touch Move off of it And wonder what the fuck That number was all for All four I could fly a kite Out of that thing on your back— Impresario If that be the case, Than that makes them the rock, Then what of the kite, And the wind And the string So I wanna kill you. Impresario I'll be Lennon And you be the other. I've got my Yoko out on tour Impresario I work hard for a broke heart Just for songs Impresario Get the monster out Put it all on him Like a kite in the wind Put it all on him Ad hominum/ homonym ATTN: Jimmy Fallon. JIMMY FALLON receives a large shipment of grade A douches, with one simple sticky note which reads an anonymous message in neat cursive. ‘Likeness is what your attract.' Why do I have some of your memories? Before: Hmmm… Where can I offload these? I need more storage. L E G E N D S Bpm: animal rights I'm a slave —for your love I'm a slave —for your love I'm a slave —for your love I'm a slave for your love. As I'm taking my time considering whether or not to buy pure, 100% Organic a grade maple syrup, letting out a heavy sigh at the brave of green coated indidivuals who just so happened to not really need anything in the aisle, but just walk by, also just so happened this last man, who appeared to resemble none other than— CUT TO: Seth Meyers. We meet again. We've never met. Oh, you don't remember? I don't remember things that never happened. Oh, really. Really. Well. I beg to differ. Don't beg. It's an expression. For the first time throughout the series run—we stand corrected—however, and possibly just rather, because this is the movie— And not the series at all. *gasp* Now… what the fuck did I come in here to actually write? —I don't remember. True facts. But— More importantly— why did I toggle on the internet? FUCK. Why, what happened? I just remembered I was online and listening to deadmau5. Ah, shit. Is that such a bad thing? It's like…it's like a guilty pleasure— Seriously? Like Drake, now, except I almost wish I hadn't gone about putting them in that scene together. Why. Cause they're Canadian? No! I mean yes— Must—more—Peloton—get— WAISTED. Fuck. I don't know how much I weigh. So how do you know you're not already 120 lbs . Well, let's see here. 110… What the fuck is a silent basketball?!! Still don't know. {Enter the multiverse} Are you sponsored by Bud Wiser? [why] Just answer the question: Are you sponsored by Budweiser? No. (?) Cause you look like a Clydesdale. Your answer should have been. “Nay”. You and me weren't meant to be friends We're not meeting in real life Or, we already did, but hey We'll never meet again. Just another magic trick Just another magic trick It's like hanging at a rave on a Saturday late night. Or early am Or more Spending the night With an old friend, Then waking up to realize when you finally lift yourself up from the couch, You've been all alone The whole time The magic is gone, And you're still feeling under, disturbed —and jealous of her, of course. Knock it off, go for a long soak And remember the Oath you once took Just for fun and only out of A hint of desperation, Unable to escape from him But remember to remember what his name is At some point B A R T H O There it is again The evil and crawling thing in the distance That says I belong to him L E M Perhaps once, But you'd might as well run along And into a different body, Disguised as something I could never even notice To even get close to me Ū I'd bet my last dollar you couldn't do that I'd go all in at the end of that long poker table The tournament, still rolling on And I've not made lunch yet It was a long party, A long supper An even longer dessert And the forever order For ever after What a laugh There's too many of us Stranded out here, I'll never get over — if you needed closer, I've written it on a cardboard box, With a penny for your thoughts, 3-1 and still keeping it simple; I kept my intentions just as hidden in the numbers As the apples in the barrel, unbranded After all, I am famished, And not quite yet has it been 24 hours. I like all your music. Like a shotgun to the face I want to end it. I'm still floating out in space, I guess Recommended Reassigned and Disestablished— Resigned but terrified of it Fried tofu on the orifice Your or her face With a red dress From just behind, Indecision, regrets, And then, of course I wake up. So duotone, your honor. Fuck magnets, I want to go digging up colors I love corpses. Sara Black is so white I could see right through her. I tripped and fell in your eyes for a multi second. If I creep up expressing my love, he'll send them faster The devil: direct to you— More beautiful women There's less of me today. It didn't seem to take long to notice at all, running the soap over my body as it lathered, that there was overall just less to do, and less at all indeed. It had been three days since the arrival of my Peleton, and that combined with the treadmill had been preoccupying all if not most of my time, often the first thing besides making coffee— a brisk mile-or-so walk as it brewed or, clipping in to the Bike in the middle of the night, as if the thing itself had awakened me with a whispering beckon. Then, I knew that my time was running short— my body wanted pregnancy, and my mind wanted a man who would be easily forgiven for his natural instinct to adulterize and fraternize as he pleased by his wit, charm, intelligence, good looks and wealth, of course—but with a man like that comes certain stipulations—I'd have to be a trophy. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©