27. You Get What You Pay For.

JIMMY FALLON begins twisting his fingers subtly as he points with his right hand towards the door, hardly moving at all besides his hand; the other JIMMY FALLONs stand quietly in slight confusion, until suddenly, as he turns his hand into a twisting motion, the doorknob begins to slowly open; they look on in awe and bewilderment as an office clerk slowly enters the room as the door springs open, she walks slowly to the center of the room; startled, some of them begin to frantically stir as if they've been caught (there are, after all, about 20 of them), but, realizing the woman seems to be in a strange daze or trance of some sort, they look on in amazement, as she stands at the center of the office, just staring forward. Nice of you to join us. It is, nice, isn't it? Nice weather we're having? Very; in fact, I didn't even need to bring along my sweater. I see. That is a very nice blouse you're wearing. Why, thank you! It was a Christmas present. I don't get it. Where's the dummy? You are the dummy, idiot. Don't be mean. That is such a nice gift; you look very nice. Why thank you, Jimmy! Why don't you pull up a chair and let's talk for awhile. Well, alright. [she moves over towards the table and slides a chair back into the center of the room; meanwhile, JIMMY FALLON has done less at all than to wiggle his fingers a bit towards the woman, not moving the rest of his body at all.] *gasps* (Whispering under his breath) “Spirit fingers” Shh, be quiet. Please, sit. If you insist! [with the flick of a finger, the woman flops into the seat.] What the— shhh Now, tell me your name again. Margret. That's a nice name; Margret. How long have you been working here Margret? Oh, only 6 weeks—but I sure do like it. I'm glad you like it here, Margret. Do you plan on stay with us long? Oh, no—not long— Oh, really? No. Not at all. How much longer? Got to go! [she darts up and leaves the office, still dazed and robotically walking, though hurriedly.] Bye now! [she shuts the door behind her—JIMMY FALLON shakes out his hand and stretches his neck and fingers, sighing a sigh of relief.] Ahem. [the other JIMMY FALLON's stand in amazement and awe in total silence, staring with wide eyes (and hash judgements) …ta-dah… Ahem. [more silence for a beat, before one particular Jimmy loses his mind with excitement DUDE THAT WAS AWESOME— —thank you. HOW DID YOU— —HOW DID YOU DO THAT? …you know how. I don't get it— I didn't even see any strings, or any. The strings are in your mind. I don't—get it. It just takes practice. …what kind of “practice” is that, anyway? Now that we have singularity, we have to figure out where the portal opens in each respective dimension —before the wormhole— —before the wormhole. Fine, whatever. You called it. Jimmy Fallon is a God. What: for what. I don't know. Okay, you earned it. What? Earned what? It's just your luck kid—you're a star. What is that supposed to mean? “What is that supposed to mean?” Are you copying me? “Are you copying me?” Why are you copying me? “Why are you copying me?” *dissappears* Hey, what the— Now you copy me. Copy what?! Disappear?! *nothing* Hello? *still nothing* Am I supposed to disappear?! *nothing* HELLO?! Young Jimmy Fallon returns to his playmates. THERE HE IS! WHERE DID YOU GO? What do you mean?! I was just— Where have you been this whole time?! That took forever What do you mean. You just dissappeared. Eventually— Eventually maybe someone else will want to fill in some blanks. Dang. Out. Like a light. Yep. It's been hours. Where did you find him. He was— Ugh— ugh. Under a table. What?! Are you kidding? What table? Craft services. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©