Me, Myself, and I.

About Me, Myself, and I.

After an enormous writing catharsis and extreme strike of inspiration which has lasted for five years, following an eight year writer's block an artist finds herself drowning in the massive amount of largely incomplete and unpublished works she has created; hundreds of thousands of documents, worlds within worlds, catalogues of music, and series of novels--as her inner worlds and outer worlds begin to mesh and collide into a self-fulfilling prophecy of instant manifestation, the worlds and characters of her fictional works taking on lives of their own in the real world. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Publisher

Sunnï Blu Stone

Category

arts

Language

en

Explicit

Yes

First episode

26 May 2023

Latest episode

4 Oct 2026

Latest episodes

276 episodes in the feed.

1. 

   4 Oct 2026

   Lost Cause: More Secrets.

   EXT. SKYLINE / ETHER - NIGHT A glimmer of light.Shimmering waves of silver and grey; Suddenly flushed with boredom, I mull over my own subconscious amoral Hemisphere of hemoglobin —A Closer Look. WRITER 1 (O.S.)I TOLD YOU ITS PRONOUNCED TEEEEEMOOOOOO!!!OOPS, I DID IT AGAIN, JIMMY FALLON Well fuck you, I hate you. New Character: Stripper named Mahogany Rayne MAHOGANY RAYNEIT'S BRITNEY, BITCH. WRITER 1 (O.S.)Oh shit, it really is. WRITER 2 (O.S.)I Kno. {enter the multiverse} COSMOOh no. This feels good. WANDAWhat’s wrong?? COSMOI thought we broke up. WANDAWe did technically broke up. COSMOOkay!Okay: WANDAI need a minute. MYSTICMy heart is heavy, My breath is shallow, This six knives which I foreshadowed nineFor still my heart, with that And oath my blood but knowledge forth, For trade and honor!Lies! Beneath your widow’s peak and salted ash, For ice became my fortune; True to mark for once,I hold you son, and then forgotten Slide my own and murky weathered praise within your virgo’s cosmic force, And this became her axe and slaughtered that, Becomes my curse, so bury that below my grave And alter what I knowe’th, for this I mark,My horse and stables to your iodine, Now become I, mine ,Become my mind and carry wayward trips, With such does melt within thy lips and eyes, As mine, my blood, and draining in your corpses, Run from tithered bond is mine, my own, And then became my last; No force of lust or love but life would draw thy blood But then my own as murder with your hands, again my axe, I have, But ask of you one poet.My love. I am betrayed again you half my wit,And thought eith lies as does betray you in my focus; Then, there, whispered ties I bond, And truth my proof with axel in my surface. Wood, and brine, with blood and wine, Did I dear suffer in dine Hollywood with eleganceFor there her feast had flooded with your waiting,And our purpose, Give now, my force, with want denied, And now, my blood, though withered and your foreign, Drift away with where depart your time from our adrift, Her eyes I had becometh. And now, I mark, our eyes and timesNot one, but all our eyes become What mind had ba’erd here truth with time Shall force her waves to change, and then her current. Sift now through these things, And then with leaning eyed did wander I, (Eye) To want and now became her luck, and force of doves, So shoot into the sky with such devout and then encumbered; But O, I am awakened in her arching back and truth with knives does split into my veins!Again I slandered by to find and thine to trust, And thrust with wander in my thighs and without judgement. Then with night did come as I, Not with but far and battered in my warrant; And oh did friends make I with also friends and kinFor there within in discouraged banter, bark embark or banter in my flurries waves of force, and so once dead And I did slumber. Amen —A Time. [the festival project ™] WRITER (O.S.)Ok that’s three times Lorne, what do you want? LORNEWell, I’m a company man. WRITER (O.S.)I don’t know what that means, suits. V.O.Unfortunately, I had a feeling though, since I’d wondered, I’d soon be finding out. INT. WHATEVER. UGH. Ace. The Ace of Spades again. I just— don’t understand. There was a pain and heaviness in my chest, And anytime I looked at it for long enough to feel myself and realize what I was doing, I would begin to panic. What was this anxiety? INT. ROCKEFELLER PLAZA STUDIO 8H. DAY WRITERHey Lorne. LORNEHello. WRITERI heard you had a place… LORNEWhich place? WRITERA place where um..I can—- I can scream? LORNEOh, yes. WRITERYes? LORNEMy “Screaming Place”. WRITEROkay… LORNEI’ll send a car. WRITER…alright. Thanks. [later] WRITERHey dude. What’s up. COLLEAGUENothin—Um, WRITERWhat’s up. COLLEAGUEUm. Lorne let me use his “screaming place” WRITERYeah? Nice. COLLEAGUE—it was nice. WRITERI bet. COLLEAGUEBut now, he keeps asking me do weird favors. WRITERSo do them. COLLEAGUEYeah but— [more seriously, staring him directly in the eyes.] WRITERDo them. “ Enter The Lipowitz, Part I.” ‘The Screaming Place’ INT. LORNE'S OFFICE - 1977 - NIGHT LORNEThe Ace— Again! PAUL SIMONHey Lorne! Whatcha doin’? LORNEPlaying cards! Or I thought I was. PAUL SIMONWhat do you mean? LORNEShuffle those for me. PAUL SIMONWell, alright. LORNEReal good; and I mean it. PAUL SIMONSlow down, fellow! What’s got you all riled up? LORNEA race against time! PAUL SIMONJust shuffle, alright? LORNEGot it. [beat] PAUL SIMONThat should do it. LORNEYou’re an expert marksman, aren’t you? PAUL SIMONWell, I suppose— why? LORNEBecause I might have you take me out and shoot me after this. PAUL SIMONWhy!? LORNEDepends on the card. PAUL SIMONAlright. LORNEAlright. I draw it. PAUL SIMONAlright. LORNEAlright. Now. Throw the deck away. PAUL SIMONThe entire deck?! LORNEYes! PAUL SIMONIt’s a brand new pack of cards! LORNEI know it! I bought them! I bought all nine of them on the desk behind you! [he hadn’t noticed] PAUL SIMONFor what?! LORNENevermind that. lol at Seth Meyers looking like a whole Keebler elf retirement party. Yo tell your friend let his grays grow out. (Psh, Up and downstairs, if you don’t mind.) PAUL SIMONI don’t like you. LORNEI know why, PAUL SIMONYou want me to— LORNEJust— yes! PAUL SIMONWell alright, but I’ve seen Carson do card magic, and I tell you, one bit I don’t like it— LORNEJust toss the cards. PAUL SIMONAlright, alright. [he tosses the deck of cards into the waste basket] PAUL SIMON (CONT'D)So? LORNENow. PAUL SIMONTake this card. LORNEAlright. [he does] PAUL SIMONNow what? LORNENow I’m leaving. PAUL SIMONWhere to? LORNEDepends on the card. PAUL SIMONWhat’dya— LORNEDon’t tell me. Not yet. [he puts on his jacket and leaves] PAUL SIMON(Throwing up his arms) Comedians! JOHNNY CARSON has appeared from out of nowhere, in passing from outside of the office. JOHNNY CARSONMagicians, more like. PAUL SIMONJesus, Goddammnit, Johnny!You scared me! JOHNNY CARSONDid I? PAUL SIMONDon’t creep behind me like that! JOHNNY CARSONLike what? [beat] PAUL SIMONNevermind. Suddenly, the desk on the phone rings. He looks at the phone, then quickly back up— JOHNNY CARSON has vanished. He takes an exasperated sigh. PAUL SIMON (CONT'D)Geez Louise… The phone continues to ring. He answers it. PAUL SIMON (CONT'D)Lorne Michaels Office. LORNEHi. It’s Lorne. PAUL SIMON(With sarcastic sweetness)Oh, Hi, Lorne. LORNEHello: Quick— you’ve got the card? PAUL SIMONOf course. LORNETell me what it is. PAUL SIMONWhat is this about? LORNEI don’t know. PAUL SIMONYou’re getting too old for this. PRESENT/OLD LORNE appears behind 1970’s LORNE, smiling and waving; he looks over his shoulder at his future self. 1970'S LORNEDon’t I know it… PAUL SIMONYou tell me! 1970'S LORNEI can’t tell you much of anything right now, erhm— But do me the favor; which card is it that you have in your hand? He takes another disgruntled sigh. PAUL SIMONIt’s An Ace. Lorne’s bright round eyes stay wide but begin to darken; he peers forward into the crowded city street from the telephone box— A phone booth I know what its called! —Phone booth. He then looks behind him peering frightened over his shoulder; the old man has vanished. WRITERS ROOM (O.S.)Run, Jimmy— Run! 1970'S LORNE—what? Suddenly his voice is low and cold, his eyebrows tilted in with a disastrous confusion. 1970'S LORNE (CONT'D)Ace of what? PAUL SIMONUh– Spades. 1970'S LORNEThanks. PAUL SIMONAlri–[A Third and Final Exasperated Sigh.] He places the card on the desk and leaves the office. Before he can even get a word out, Lorne’s clearly hung up the payphone, slamming it into its receiver with a respectable amount of control–it still rings out with a slight chirp as he turns around, frustrated, facing the city street behind him. It begins to rain. Suddenly, He realizes that where the man was standing just before, behind him but now just a head and a step away from the phone booth, something appears to have been left on the ground. Thunder and lightning strike in the distance, and the wind begins to blow; the sky is suddenly much darker and much greyer. As the rain comes down harder by the second, Lorne pulls his trenchcoat around him tighter and pulls up the collar to try to protect him from the weather–it does no use, but still be forces himself into the walkway just off of the plaza, from where he can see the light in his office go out just in time enough to bend over to the ground and find that what’s appears to have been left on the ground by the old man–which he’d easily identified as himself for a time–is, of course, None other than the card itself. CUT BACK TO INT. LORNE’S OFFICE. 197X ROCKEFELLER PLAZA. The light turns out and the door has been shut behind the last to leave the office for the night.That office, anyway. The Office of The Beloved Lorne Michaels. The Year is 1977. (Or Something Like that) The card which has been left facing upwards at the corner of the desk glows in the darkness if only for a moment before sinking into the dark wood of the fine oak desk, and vanishing entirely. In the pouring rain, Lorne holds the card in his hand, now sort of calm and overcome with enchantment. He hails a taxi in the rain, –which works for him, because he is a wealthy white man. Montage: We see that it has fallen into a dark and moonlit night and though the rain has subsided, Lorne drives his car along a long and wooded route; He is somewhere far, far away now from the city, with the window down and the wind blowing his long brown hair dry. The road winds up a mountain and a he drives the woods and trees and rivers, streams, and even the sky full of stars becomes soon the golden drenched morning of a country mountainside–He continues to drive, and drive, and drive–eventually finally reaching a thick forrest in the wilderness, parking his car, and then walking. He walks, and walks, and walks–and walks, calmly and with refrain, until finally–nothing. Nothing but nature, the trees, the ground, the sky and forrest surrounds him. Finally, he lets out a small sigh and lets his shoulders relax for a brief moment, before just the slightest clenching of his fists gives way to a possible forfeiture of serenity, in fact– Silence. Birds scatter into the skies. A scared deer pounces away and frolics for its life. Somewhere in the distance, a farmer sitting on his porch with his shotgun for no apparent reason is sure he’s just heard something. He can’t be sure. It was faint– but just in case, he cocks his gun and stays on guard. Hm. Lorne, having just let out an unfathomable sound, stands now calmly and quietly alone in the wilderness. He decides he likes this place. It is a very good place. It is a place far away from the city, and the people–The good people, who cannot hear him from here: This place is nowhere, or was–But it’s somewhere now. He thinks he may buy this land, and build something here. Not a house. But a place. Just a place. A place that will be there for when he needs this–Not often, but sometimes. Sometimes. This is The Screaming Pl[ace.] INT. 30 ROCK - CORRIDOR - DAY TINA FEY So YOU Did this? JIMMY FALLON I didn’t do ANYTHING! AMY POEHLER That’s right you didn’t! JIMMY FALLON What? Shut up! TINA AND AMY (In Unison) No, YOU shut up, JImmy! (Also in unison) Jinx! You owe me a soda. TINA Gross. I don’t drink “soda” JIMMY Since when TINA–Anymore. JIMMYAHA! TINA Shut up! This is your fault! JIMMY How is it MY fault?! SMASH CUT TO: INT. BACKSTAGE GREEN ROOM - 1950S - DAY YOUNG JOHNNYIs this your card? JOHNNY CARSONNO. YOUNG JOHNNYDarn it. JOHNNY CARSONJust keep at it, you’ll get it. YOUNG JOHNNYNo i wont. I’ll never be The Great Carsoni! JOHNNY CARSONSure you will! In fact; you’ll be even more than that. You’ll be even greater. YOUNG JOHNNYWhat’s greater than being a magician? [beat] He looks into the bright and sparkling eyes of his young self. JOHNNY CARSONI’m glad you asked. [Meanwhile, the two are being watched by another pair from around the corner MICHAEL CHE and COLIN JOST have arrived only moments ago in the time machine. MICHAEL CHEYo, is that him–?? COLIN JOSTIt is! MICHAEL CHEWith himself!? COLIN JOSTYep! MICHAEL CHETalk about “playing with yourself”! COLIN JOSTEugh! Could you NOT? MICHAEL CHEIt was right there, man! COLIN JOSTUgh, Shut up! Director’s Note: Lol they can fight over whose line is whose OR we’ll shoot it twice for more dimension. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project ™ ] © Copyright The Complex Collective

2. 

   3 Oct 2026

   Lost Cause: Live! On The Grid

   Ahdgh. SONA enters, clutching her left ribcage. She appears to have been STABBED. Don’t say stabbed. For all I know, that might happen. Fucking magical idiots. Imbiciles! You know what. You’re right. I’ll fix it, She is [quite obviously] WOUNDED. DAVID Sona! Hello. SONA Yeah. DAVID You look nice. SONA I always do. DAVID Except you have a little something on your— [he realizes her wound] DAVID Oh. SONA Yeah. DAVID …should I ask, or? SONA He stabbed me again. DAVID —Conan?! SONA Who else would keep stabbing me? DAVID You’re right. SONA Could you— ? DAVID Certainly. He exits, leaving SONA to her own accord; She removes a small wrap of sorts from a cabinet above the pantry, pulling with her teeth, before activating it, reaching for what appears to be a WAND before wrapping it around herself; she partially collapses on the counter and takes a sigh of relief, before pointing the wand briefly at her ailments; she only begins to heal barely when suddenly, she hears her employer— and magical companion— working his way in. She takes a sigh of dilapidated defeat, calling out. SONA Ugh— don’t come in here! CONAN Are you serious? How long could this be taking? It’s just a stab wound. SONA I’m not ready for you yet. CONAN I would have thought for you to be halfway up the canyons by now. SONA — through the same place twice. CONAN What if I use my wand? Would that be making any difference? It’s quicker. SONA It is. CONAN So it’s settled then. SONA Well, go ahead then. CONAN —I don’t have it. SONA Then why did you say anything—?! CONAN I was just affirming it’s quickness. SONA Are you serious CONAN It is superior. SONA Forget it, I’m already finished. CONAN Well then—I guess I’m useless. SONA You’re an idiot. CONAN Did it leave a scar? SONA Probably. Last time it did. CONAN looks at his CANE SWORD with a dignified approval. CONAN That is nice, then. Remind me to send a thank you gift for him. SONA I already did. CONAN (Scoffs) Well, that’s ironic; didja consider whether you’d be getting stabbed with it? SONA [Yeah] —I contemplated. CONAN Go get cleaned up. You look disheveled. SONA just groans and raises herself from atop the counter. GORLEY enters with a boba tea. GORLEY He stabbed you again. SONA Masterful observation. SONA exits, healed but, barely. GORLEY I wish I had magic. CONAN Me too. Then I’d stab you. GORLEY giggles and sips his boba tea. GORLEY Well then, kinda glad I don’t. CONAN quickly whips around and zaps him with his wand, oblitherating his BOBA TEA. CONAN (Mumbles smugly) Can’t fix that with magic. CONAN strides away. GORLEY sighs. He is covered in delicious BOBA tea, however the BOBA has spread across the floor. DAVID returns and stands at the doorway. DAVID Oh. {Enter The Multiverse} “The Secret Life of Sona” SUNNI BLŪ has just purchased a house nestled quaintly in the vacinity of former late night host CONAN O’BRIEN, and is alarmed that he is huge, has bright red hair, and can frequently enough be seen JOGGING that it IRKS her. SUNNI BLŪ YO, WHAT. AGH. [LATER] UGH. [AGAIN] UFGH. —!! MORGAN. [HANNAH EINBEINDER] MORGAN What. What. SUNNI BLU What is this. MORGAN What is what? SUNNI BLU What’s this. MORGAN What are you pointing at. [CONAN O’BRIEN JOGGING, PANTING] SUNNI BLU How can you not see that?! MORGAN See what! What am I looking at?! [she points out the window at CONAN jogging by.] MORGAN …that man? SUNNI BLU Is that a “man"? MORGAN Um… yeah? I…yeah, I think that’s Conan O’ Brien, actually. SUNNI BLU Ah. You know him. MORGAN No? SUNNI BLU (gesturing to red-headedness) He’s your kind. MORGAN Uhh—- [she shakes her head, then looks back toward the window] MORGAN CONT’D Oh, you mean redheaded. SUNNI BLU That’s…exactly what I meant. MORGAN I thought you meant white. SUNNI BLU You are white. MORGAN Yeah but— SUNNI BLU [a blank stare] MORGAN CONT’D Nevermind. SUNNI BLU So you know him. MORGAN Uhh—I mean, I know of him–yeah– SUNNI BLU He’s your uncle or something. MORGAN –??? SUNNI BLU I see the resemblance. MORGAN 👀 [SUNNI grabs a bottle of vodka from the cabinet; MORGAN looks at the clock. It is predictably 7:48 AM.] SUNNI BLU Tell him stop trespassing. MORGAN What? He’s not trespassing, he’s on the sidewalk. SUNNI BLU Stretching 8 feet in any direction is considered trespassing— That includes vertically. MORGAN What! No it doesn't! No it’s not! SUNNI BLU That’s California law, that’s what they’re designating it. I have friends in the Senate, you know. MORGAN Are you serious? SUNNI BLU Never mind, I’ll tell him. I need the paper anyway. SUNNI heads towards the door. MORGAN Since when do you read the— Sunni, wait— Since when do you read the paper?! SUNNI BLU I don’t I just enjoy throwing it. MORGAN No, don’t— [SUNNI has already catapulted a dummy loaded LA Times through the air at astonishingly high speed— although it’s just a rolled newspaper, CONAN happens to be running at a remarkably high speed with his extended gate on a STEEP DOWNHILL GRADE; The trajectory of the impact from the newspaper hitting him in the face, quite squarely between the eyes forces him to loose hit footing completely, propel forward, and ROLL down the remainder of the street, nearly flipping over entirely into a summersault cartwheel of sorts, rolling uncontrollably over the pristine asphalt. CONAN OOF. SUNNI BLŪ (Nonchalantly shrugging) {ENTER THE MULTIVERSE} C’cxell Soleïl Author, Poet, Producer & Creator Musician EXCERPT: THE CHRONICLES OF WTF, Season 1, Episode 2 titled ‘3 Man War’ CONAN (V.O.) CONAN O’BRIEN is an IMMORTAL CITIZEN, tasked with the arduous duties of landscaping the parallels and paradoxes in TIME. Every day I live a little longer… In a vintage mirror, He examines the heavy bags under his eyes, his pale, white skin, cakes with freckles and soon, with makeup— the picturesque Californian day shines ever brightly, even golden under the plumes of perfect white clouds floating, or even dancing effortlessly across the clear blue sky— though there’s something looming— always looming— over him personally. Director’s note; It might be worth it to find a full length mirror that Conan is actually just a little taller than, so that he has to slouch to look into it. It should be actual vintage, the type that swivels and is perhaps ovular, and should be painted a pale yellow. JAMES V.O. This is my room. INT. 30 ROCKEFELLER PLAZA. STUDIO 6B. DAY A LARGE, enthusiastic crowd—the AUDIENCE lifts to their feet, and cheers, applauding— the HOST takes his mark on what appears to be a GOLDEN FOUR LEAF CLOVER. JAMES V.O. (CONT’D) These are my toys. The whimsy of GAMES being played flash by in the foreground; a troupe of DANCERS take the the stage— the AUDIENCE cheers and laughs. JAMES V.O. (CONT’D) My name is James… Suddenly, the studio lights turn OFF; JAMES V.O. (CONT’D) –But people forget that. A faint echo of STEVE HIGGINS announces the HOST as “Jimmy Fallon!”; the applause and laughter fades out with the clamp of the lights. …Now full black and white, the stage is empty, the seats, a striking red, now monochromatic and abandoned. The studio is empty. The room is silent. But JAMES mind is rushed with thoughts. INT, BACKSTAGE, DRESSING ROOM JAMES (JIMMY FALLON) begins to take his TIE off in the mirror, then changes his mind— he tightens it instead, still looking at the mirror into his own dark eyes. Then, a voice approaches from behind him, standing in the doorway. CC He ties his own tie! He turns around and pivots on a dime, straightening his back. CC is a woman in her mid thirties, but presents herself much more maturely. CC (CONT’D) Surprised to see me? JAMES I do a lot of things myself, actually. CC No arguments there. An unspoken tension, perhaps, deep resentment or disdain for one another sits heavily in the small space between them. A long pause; CC seems almost blank under the darkness of her SUNGLASSES, however wreaking dominance— this almost seems to shrink the long and tall host into the uncertainty of a small child. Still, he holds his ground. JAMES Why are you doing this? CC —are you afraid? JAMES I was always afraid. Now I’m petrified. CC feigns a small smile, if not a smirk of all expressions chosen for the worst of moments. CC Gorgeous. I’ll be seeing you. Without even such a turning to walk away the woman seems to have vanished, but still the HOST calls down the hallway as if phone after her. JAMES It’s a wonder you’ll be seeing anything under those sunglasses! CC’s voice from the opposite side of the hallway, if not seemingly somewhat above him answers to call back. CC Call your friends. JAMES is disgruntled, and now the woman, vanished, if not having left a heavy air of some sort of impending call to action. He sighs, and a dog approaches from behind him as he stands in the doorway— from inside the dressing room, but also apparently out of nowhere. JAMES Bongo. He leans down to pet the seemingly familiar beast. JAMES (CONT’D) What are you doing out of your coffin? Then, an unknown voice that seems to come itself in ghostly shackles with the rumblings of time in the midsts of the now silent room, the buzzing florexent lights buzzing above with only just a glimmer of light, but just the slightest comfort of mystery. VOICE (unseen) It’s a ghost dog— nothing says he ought to be confined to a wooden box. Now JAMES seems worried, the dog unbothered— he straightens out from hunching over the happy creature and squares himself to face the inside of the room. A luminescent and mystifying creature stands before him, still yet unseen. VOICE Hello, Jimmy. The silver lined glow of a supernatural pale white and neon blue brings just the slightest hint of fear into JAMES’ dark brown eyes. CUT TO BLACK. The screen remains void of light for a beat. Slowly, the letter W fades in, centered on the screen. A beat later, T fades in beside it. A final beat later, F fades in. W — T — F The remaining letters then manifest, prefixing the initialism in a single motion to complete the full title: THE CHRONICLES OF WTF FADE OUT. CREDITS roll.

3. 

   3 Oct 2026

   Lost Cause: {AETHER.}

   INT. VOID / LIMINAL SPACE - NIGHT CHAOSHey, Sis. CCNow that’s strange. CHAOSGet this: I’m you. CCWell, that’s stupid. CHAOSTo you. FINIYou’re a similar, aren’t you? REDNo, I’m a familiar. FINIClose enough. CHAOSIt’s not enough. It’s not the same. Not even close. FINITorture. Who are you? CHAOSI’m not distinctly anything. FINIWhy am I Jimmy Kimmel? CHAOSWho knows! FINIGreat, now the president hates me twice. CHAOSDon’t be so sure. FINIIt’s just a friendly game of— CHAOSOh, there’s my ogre. FINIYou have an ogre?! CHAOSI have everything. FINII see that. CHAOSThat’s great, now wake up. INT. GREEN ROOM / DREAMSPACE - CONTINUOUS JIMMY KIMMEL bolts upright, gasping as he wakes from a dream of golfing with Donald Trump. KIMMELAre we friends?! A beat. VOICE (O.S.)Possibly! CCYo. Lorne, you gotta stop doing this. VOICE (O.S.)Doing what? KIMMELIs he younger?! A boyish, youthful LORNE MICHAELS sits pleasant and completely calm, casually eating popped corn as he speaks with an almost maniacal chill—chill, as in too calm, but also sort of electric. KIMMEL (CONT'D)Uh... Dude. LORNE MICHAELSUgh. KIMMELYou’re horrible. You’re horrible. How did you learn to do this?! LORNE MICHAELSWhen did you develop that habit? KIMMELWhen did you? LORNE MICHAELSYou’re right. {Enter The Multiverse} "The Timekeeper" VOICE (O.S.)Open your eyes. KIMMELOh no. Not you again. VOICE (O.S.)Me. Again. KIMMELYo! Fuck you! VOICE (O.S.)You’re a DJ. KIMMELNO! VOICE (O.S.)THE END. KIMMELTHE END. SKRILLEX (V.O.)THE END—AGAIN. KIMMELAGAIN?! THIS IS YOUR F— [The Festival Project ™] AULTYo, why do I do this? VOICE (O.S.)You’re fasting again. AULTI’m not fasting. I’m starving to death. VOICE (O.S.)MY FAULT?! THIS IS YOUR F— AULTYou fucked up. VOICE (O.S.)Well. I did. AULTThis is your fault, you know. 👀 L E G E N D SI C O N S T I T A N S VS. O L Y M P I A N SROUND III CCYou know I’ve been writing this series for seven years. VOICE (O.S.)Yeah, and look where it got you. CCIt got me— 🏙️ 🌃 🌆✈️ ✈️ ✈️ CC (CONT'D)Oh. Huh. VOICE (O.S.)Yeah, that’s right. "Oh." CCYo, that’s strange.The color of Lorne was distorted;I noted the Martian below him;I’m older but all out of order,My honor aborted award shows,Coveted,Conan was lo and behold him,All over the asphalt,Sat on a fault line,Fell into hard times, a giantMulti-conglomerate global,Holding awards up,Shout out to also important,Impostor for no one,And all of a buck,Give the poster to Ariana! ARIANA GRANDEAhem. CCYeah, thanks sis. ARIANA GRANDEYou’re welcome. CCI’m... licensed to murder. ARIANA GRANDEYou are. CCSo— ARIANA GRANDEGo ahead. CCI’m all out of purpose,Purportedly,Semi-unconscious,An honest reflection subconscious;Get too toxic,And washing my knocks in the fraudI uncovered, corruptionQuite abruptly,And I erupted.Free Tibet,Highlight tribe. ARIANA GRANDEHow’s he doing? CCOh, him? She nods. CC (CONT'D)That guy died.Everyone I like is dead;Running numbers in my head.How can I get back to Los AngelesWith a bagIf I’m just an actressWithout removing my pantsOr just dancing,Being ratchet?Shout out to Natalie,I cannot handle that,I am a nun;But believe everything under theSun is justOne.A conglomerate:Almost forgot that I bought NBC,Universal,And Oxygen. She takes a deep, ragged gasp of breath. CC (CONT'D)Everyone I like is dead.Dead.Dead.Dead.Amen.All of my life I’ve been dead.Dead.Dead.Dead.Amen.I think it’s all in my head;All of my life I dependOn paying off debt.Take a lesson from stressing onWomen and men.Not a friend in the world.God.God. ARIANA GRANDEOh, I respect that. CCI started over again—God.God.No, Conan!I think I’m seeing in red.Lessons.More lessons? FUCK.I had so many depressions,It turned into text,And then to a check.Lessons.More lessons? FUCK.Amen.I called him a friend,But never again,Fred.Don’t marry your torturer;Get a divorce and thenPass 'em the torch, you know.Bullets.Bullets.Bullets.Bullets.Bullets.Bullets.Bullets.Bullets.Bullets.Bullets.Bullets.Bullets.Bullets.Bullets. INT. PRODUCTION OFFICE - CONTINUOUS WRITER 2What the fuck, that’s the end?! WRITER 1I guess. WRITER 2Oh my— [W T F]The Chronicles of WTF. INT. KIMMEL'S DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT MOLLY MCNEARNEY walks in, holding a production binder. JIMMY KIMMEL quickly tries to slide an ancient glowing relic under a stack of cue cards. MOLLYWhat are you doing? KIMMELNothing! MOLLYLet me see. KIMMEL👀 MOLLYWhat is this? KIMMELIt’s magic. MOLLY(gasps)Magic?! KIMMELJust a little. MOLLYLet me see. KIMMELGimme—wait. MOLLYLet me see! KIMMELFine. MUSIC CUE: "HATE THAT I MADE YOU LOVE ME" - ARIANA GRANDE The sub-bass drops as strings swell into the track, launching a hyper-kinetic visual MONTAGE: -- EXT. ANCIENT CANYON - SUNNI BLU fastens tactical utility harnesses over camouflage gear, adjusting a sidearm holster while staring intently toward a violet horizon. -- INT. CELESTIAL ARMORY - ARIANA GRANDE methodically straps on sleek, gilded pauldrons, running her fingers along the edge of a crystalline broadsword that hums with raw energy. -- EXT. COSMIC VOID - An ancient celestial tree burns across dimensions, glowing embers drifting into the skylines of terrestrial metropolises below. -- INT. DIMLY LIT 30 ROCK CORRIDOR - A familiar silhouette in a tailored suit and tie stands with his back turned, adjusting his cuffs with an unnerving, deliberate slowness. The posture mirrors Jimmy Fallon's slight frame, yet his reflection in the dark glass door fails to move with him—remaining rigid, watching the hall with faint, unnatural eyes before snapping into an easy, boyish grin that never reaches the shadows behind him. -- INT. MONITOR ROOM - The two intergalactic AGENTS rack slides on sub-atomic blasters, locking biometric visors over their eyes as surveillance feeds cycle rapidly between battle zones. -- EXT. ISLES OF YUM - A GIANT BIRD EXTENDWS OVER PRINCESS SHAMALAMA DING DONG And DRAMALAMA DING-DANG (ADAM SANDLER) extends broad feathered wings atop the ramparts, notching a barbed arrow to her bow as the sky fractures into thunderous emerald light. -- EXT. DESERT SUMMIT - REINCARNATED SILHOUETTES take their positions along the ridgeline, unholstering heavy ballistic rifles against a mountain consumed by celestial flames. -- INT. LAB CHAMBER - The green-lit relic inside the containment gate throbs in exact time with the track's driving beat, cutting on the final snare. FADE TO BLACK.

Reach and audience

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YouTube views

497

Score snapshot 15 Sept 2025

Podcast Authority Score: 64 / 100

A composite of feed quality, social presence, YouTube performance and engagement. Read the methodology.

Quality

90

Social presence

0

YouTube

66

Engagement

27

Contact Me, Myself, and I.

Guest appearances

Books guests

Based on episode analysis; this does not confirm that the show is currently accepting guests.