14. [Coffee & Tea.]

So, you built this, huh? I certainly must have, at some point. All by yourself. I highly doubt. You just considerably know yourself well to have brought yourself here— Or not. Let's just say, I really uh— Fuck, I blacked out, Tied one on the night before. Oh, God. And the day before— Oh, well. Hello, t there. I—uh— And the night before the day before. Christ. All I'm saying is, for this audition you're going to want to keep it classy. Keep it—classy. Let the games begin! In those pants I could make you into anything In these jeans it seems there may indeed be a reason to meet me, and maybe Just maybe If we're playing the same game. You may see me, And we will play together— For eternity. What exact the fuck game are you playing with this guy? I don't remember. Drunken Posers. FUCHK. I hate this game' I love this GAME. Jett How am I supposed to find this tiny Drew Barrymore, before 6 o clock tonight You're going to have to find a way— You might try here What Or here What! How am I supposed to know which kid she is You'll remember her—she'll remember you Yeah, whatever Oh, and another thing— She'll be so cute you want to die. Oh god Hey kid. I've got some new for ya -“[a very tiny Drew Barry otte screams at the top of her lungs] Rig it in time, bro And right in timbre TIMBRE Look, this has been moved up the ladder some. Excuse me? Chain of command. Are you telling me, that I somehow outrank— This fool. This fool. Ugh. In the Illuminati? *shrugs* She outranks me. Dang, dude. What are you gonna do? Nothing, I guess. That's not an answer. SUNNI! What. WHAT HAPPENED?! I don't know. That is NOT an answer. We wear black in winter. Well, at least I got the dress code right… Welcome To New York. We wear black in winter. Walk at a fast pace into oncoming traffic. Every. Single. Thing. Is a— Speeding Silver— Bullet. (If you catch it, [you can]try to paint it gold. Toucan Sam I will tell you- I will tell you— I will tell you again. You don't exist, It's moot that I don't exist. It's that I'm extract l. L l It's that I'm extinct Okay, look; this is— not what you're used to. What am I used to? You're a Piglet. Eeyore. Where's Pooh? Probably with Tigger. Well. Well. I guess it's just—us—then. … … [beat] (A long, heavy pause for dramatic effect) F—-ck this is awkward. Producer foods: P B & J Check. And almond butter. Nice. This is horrible. But here it goes. What is. Here it goes: Noodles. Check. soy sauce? Yessir. Steak. Check. Scissors. Check. [beat] Uh. Mau5. WHAT CHICKEN. why does he have a cat named chicken! We're about to find out. What are the scissors for? Exit, exit now. Why? FUDGE. HOT FUDGE. Damn, Dillon. wtf. Flashback: (Listening to Dillon Francis on heavy rotation at acid-level synesthesia) *smacks lisp* @9@ lol okay ***smacks lips*** Does this taste sweet to you? I still see that one cereal box and get reminded of Dillon Francis a lot. Facts. Ketchup. Facts. Vanilla Soy Milk Correct. Out of all the comedians I studied, Jay Pharoah was my new favorite. Yes, my new favorite comedian. There were the old favorites— The classics, if you will. You know Bernie Mac, Kat Williams, Robin Williams— And this, by the way, is in no particular order— Eddie Murphy Cedric— (Sorry I thought you were dead, broh.) Cereal. Yup. Two kinds! Teriyaki—for the noodles? Did I not mention that with the soy sauce already? It should be maybe like included with the soy sauce. No, its seperate. Dane Cook. Really dawg, come on. Richard Pryor. Titans, broh, titans. PERCIUS Yo. NO. NOO—NO. Shut up. I gotta tell you something. *screaming girlie* NO. Shut up! I told you all along. No you didn't! She—cannot—be trusted! You encouraged it! You—don't tell me what I did— You did that! You just worry about what you did— What I did?! What you've done!! What— Oh god. Oh jeez. Oh, shit, son!! I gotta get goin. Wait, you're right: where is Liz? Good question. This is not safe. This cannot be safe. It's not safe. This is not KOSHER. What's it matter to you? It SO matters. Are you a Jew, now? It might suit me at this point. Or eventually, it may. What's that supposed to mean. Quiet, Liz. We're almost finished. Finished with what. Just one more *strap* Oh, great another— Shh. DOCTOR! DOCTOR. Nobody can hear you. Oh! But they will. They won't. And why not?! Because, you're a cartoon character; and even if you weren't. What are you talking about?! I'm Liz Lemon! Yes—that is—semi-correct. Semi correct?! It is fully correct! Elizabeth Lemon would be fully correct— by definition. What—what are you doing? Preparing for takeoff. Takeoff?! Where are you sending me. Takeoff from The Migos feels a small pull in his heart, and a ringing in his ears, as he becomes the first living Migo to be mentioned in the festival project. Huh. {Enter The Multiverse} First of all, his Skrillex impression l— Spot on. Because yes, As we all know— Those of us who were there to watch Skrillex Personally sign on to The Illuminati Via Justin Bieber— Nothing so quite remarkably Brought back its pungent memory— The song that in one phrase, Both started and ended it all, Than Jay Pharoh's own memorandum, A representation by impression, Of this particular sound, Known lovingly otherwise as “Skrillex” And however, was the Pause What in the fuck did I just see. Oh, that's just Skrillex . I knew it was you. Yes, yes you did… Okay— Now. Now where are you going to go? I don't know. That's not an answer. Oh god. Right. It's just a bodiless fuckin Like an orb. That's what you'd call that? I'd call it more of like A florecent, gellatenous— Presently, yes— Blob, of sorts. Oh shit. This bitch said “bomb” and Kamala in the same sentence. lol. Yikes. She finna be famous, on accident. Probably on purpose, but if it was gonna be on accident— it'd be because of that. You right. Man, I'm fuckin ba— —ked. kettle chips. I love those. How are they kettle chips if they're baked. *shrugs* I dunno. Damn. Alright. That nigga is fine as fuck. Dont we all know it. Get him the fuck out of my face. Whatchu mean?! It's eye candy. I don't eat candy! Unless it's spelled with a k and made of letters! Okay Alright —and even then and only then will I eat it if I am inexplicably drunk or in any other way otherwise intoxicated. Ok, damn. Ok Sunnï. Now, get that nugga out of my eyesight. He's not He's not technically “in your eyesight” EVEN MY PERIPHERIAL. Ok. AND NY FORESIGHT, and my HINDSIGHT OK. Ok Sunnï. AND MY FORESKIN, AND MY FOREHEAD AND NY FORESHADOWING— LOOK. JUST GET HIM OUT OF MY LIFE OUT OF LIFE the whole life OUT MY LIFE. Ok. On it. Two minutes to wrap this up Before the fast of the century Falls flat on its face Like the rice noodles I'm about to stuff your face with Pronto the moment You arrive back in your body Where am I now? At a rave. (In the bathtub) Which is—accurate? Which isn't? [A Cult Classic] Around 1:30 we rendezvous Until, that is, This posts, with the rest of them And as of then, We'll meet again, At another time (Set no reminders) Cameras flash and shines the diamond. Is that it? Yeah, I thinks so. Are you sure? I mean, produce stuff. Peppers, onions, whatever. —are you sure? Yeah, that's it. Are you serious? What? What's wrong. Where's the Jimmy Fallon's? What?! (They're gonna kill me for this) Playtoy, plaything Gets old real l quick It's love, not lust Gets home round ten Get up round 6 Makes the round. Wraps a towel around his head Writes love on her arm It's a real nice story, If you're surviving the apocalypse. Lips, lips, yeah Lipstick, lipstick Golden charriots And Blondish wigs sis Since when did you get hip Since hip replacement No birthday presents; But it's too late, isn't it? It really is, it really is It's too late, isn't it It really is, it really is —but, it's too late, isn't it. I want you to watch this. What is it. Not sure yet. Uhm, okay: See you later. What, you're not going to watch it with me? You're gonna need a professional fluffer. Call my agent and my lawyer. Aren't they the same guy? What?! NO! *shrugs* What the fuck is wrong with everybody! Sorry imm late! Hey tigger. Tigger. It is I. Where's Pooh. How should I know? We thought he was with you. Who is we —? Us, And what do I look like—his keeper? Do the Charlie Brown. What?! Do the Charlie Brown! What? Like wawahwahwa?? No! Idiot! The dance. The what. Do the dance?! I don't know what that is. What. What the fuck. I thought you was supposed to be funny. I am! I was. But you don't know how to Charlie Brown I know how to Charlie Brown! I just did the “wahwahwa” That's the teacher! Man, shut up! You—what?! There's a dance! I didn't know there's a dance! What the fuck, man. You lose, dawg. What do you want from me?! Hold on! Boss. What?! He don't know how to do the Charlie Brown. What. I said. That nigga don't know how do to the Charlie Brown?! He say he don't! Man— Man!!! I said! Shoot that nigga! Jay Pharoh, another notable SNL alumni, however From the wonder years in which I had really never watched, but only glossed under in curiosity— Just so happened to be the definitive test of my overall attraction to members of my own “race” classification— And an incredible impressionist— Maybe even the best, ever. But here, let me explain the first part. I realized that simply, watching his performance , That I was certainly not— Nor might I ever be— Attracted to black men. Yes, indeed. Jay Pharoh stood as the equivalent of The girl the gay guy kisses passionately in order attempt to achieve arousal from such an act, by this, I mean: That I watched this stand up performance as a straight female, fellow performer, and sapiosexual— In knowing and understanding that, I was watching this man, as I had many others, Doing something I found incredibly attractive— Actually, almost irresistible— Performance art; Live performance art— Better yet, Stand up comedy, which I have yet to have fully broken the code—meaning that this act— An illusive mystery to me as to how exactly it is practiced; Whereas with music the viel has since been lifted— There still exists a certain type of magic in the act of performing stand up comedy, especially to large audiences. And so, in the sense that Jay Pharoh—a notable SNL alumni, an incredible performer and with the added bonus of being an extremely attractive and accomplished fellow l— There should be some kind of —you know— Erotic spark involved in watching this performance;such as the young gay man uses his willing perceivably attractive female friend as a practice test in order to better understand his own identity and circumstance, so was this Not entirely on purpose— But actually, hy complete accident, and Just as the young gay might realize upon kissing his female friend— I realized this: Jay Pharoh to me was an incredibly beautiful human being— So incredibly beautiful, in fact, that several times during his performance— I actually wanted to cry. Cry actual tears— And while I realized that this man, As beautiful as he was— Physically, and spiritually— Aesthetically, and otherwise— Hitting all the marks in all the places that he should, There was one thing that made it feel as if, In anything at all in the world, We were incompatible. Not to say that I could put myself into the category of upper echelon women to compete over such an admired person at all— But only finally realizing something important about myself, that just so happened to be as important as the formerly unsure gay's sexuality is to him; My attraction to black men did not exist. Like I said, it was bad— Or at least, it sounds bad. But now I finally get it. This man, Who had everything I could dream of and more, Who happened to be in peak shape, At the height of his career, And incredible in every single possible way— Who was, So beautiful, in fact, inside and out— That I nearly did cry— Still wasn't someone I wanted to have sex with. Case solved. Of course, this man can do much better. That's far beyond the point; And, If there is a point at all to any of this, it's that Gender, and sexuality, and attraction are still In this time Just as much of a mystery to humanity as it's ever been, and as much as it'll ever be The theory of genetic attraction so far is entirely existent only in my mind— or perhaps even, hidden somewhere deeply in secret within my genetic code, as the closer I age toward my own maternal peak, the more spacific the traits in the opposite sex which dictate what I am and am not or will or will not be attracted to sexually. Does that make me a racist any more than a homosexual's explicit desires to see a same-gendered person over the opposite makes them a mysognoist or otherwise? #karmageddon And while I've struggled in my cellibacy to adapt to a changing world, realizing that my viewpoints and beliefs, my code of ethics and even my own morals have become somewhat obsolete that, I'm forced to recon, alongside with my non-binary assignment, that the need to procreate as a female, a natural phenomenon and this desire for change within the current genetic predisposition Is something like homosexuality, in that My particular genetic code And the particular genetic code of my potential mate rests with the knowledge that my own intrinsic sexual attraction or converse aversion to one determination over another is in part due to the structure of evolution within our species with the higher purpose of creating offspring more likely to survive and succeed within the world's consistently changing climate—sociologically and otherwise. What in the fuck does this have to do with comedy?! Nothing, this is the equivalent of the recently self-realized gay man having an overaggrandized and theatrical coming-out So what are you coming out with exactly? I don't know. I just like white dudes. That's it? Yeah. . . . #floatingfastdays [The Festival Project ™] That's it?! Yeah. “I like white dudes.” Only white dudes. That's all you were trying to say? Not trying to say. I said it. Like, scientifically, and shit. Are you serious? I want one. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©