[-The Controller.]

God Bleas Drake Bell: (It could be Heaven, or it could be Hell) Flick of the whippets: She'll kiss, and she'll tell me “Oh well,” She's a God, for the cause And her heart was the cause. TIMMY! TIMMY TURNER! OH SHIT. GET THAT N*GGA. Fuck. Do you know who that was? No. You know Drake and Josh? Yeah. That was Josh Bell. Uh— Or—the other one— —Drake somethin' Oh. Yeah, bro. Take this— Why?! Just DO IT. Ok; listen. Ugh, what, dude— —just LISTEN. Fuck this. I quit. You can't quit! I just quit. YOU CAN'T QUIT. Listen, Timmy— My name's not— I don't know what dimension you come from— THIS DIMENSION. —which dimension? I live in at least three— —you've got THREE? —at o Look. I don't like talking to famous people— —I'm not famous— —Or cartoon characters— I'm fucking real. Don't touch me, Timmy! My names not— TIMMY. TIMMY TURNER!! Oh, shit— RUN I'm not running. WHAT? I'm not running. You're a superhero! I'm not that. You're fucking SUPACREE! Definitely not that. [gunshots] Oh shit, run! SUNNÏ BLŪ deflects the oncoming bullets with her skateboard; they ricochet, wounding both assailants. YOU HAVE A BULLETPROOF SKATEBOARD?! Huh—I guess so. What the fuck. SUPACREE— That's actually mine. Oh. SUPACREE snatches the skateboard and dissappears. —HEY! The surviving wounded assailant fires one final round— DRAKE BELL is critically wounded; he falls against the wall, a gaping hole in his shoulder. Oh, SHIT, Timmy!!!! —THEY SHOT ME!! What the Fuck, bro— CALL AN AMBULAMCE! FUCK THAT SHIT. LA charges like $400 for an ambulance call… FUCKING HELP ME!!! Shh. Don't yell. —♥️♥️ HELP ME!!! HELP!! IVE BEEN SHOT!!! —SHHH, TIMMY—shut up— HEEEEEEEELLLPPP!! Here, we'll call from your phone. SUNNÏ BLŪ digs in his pockets, fishing out his phone and wallet—she dials 911 VOICEOVER: 911, PLEASE HOLD. I'm on hold. 911!? I'm Drake Bell! IVE BEEN SHOT. VOICEOVER: 911 what's your emergency? Uhh. Yeah. I need an ambulance for uh—a gunshot— [as she opens his wallet, the name DRAKE BELL vanishes; his California Driver's License now clearly reads TIMMY TURNE] UHHH… VOICEOVER: Hello? What's your emergency? …I'll call you back. [she hangs up] WHAT?! NO! DON'T HANG UP. Shut up, Timmy! HEELLLPP— [she quickly covers his mouth, looking around suspiciously as she drags him into a nearby alley, leaving a trail of blood leading from the blood spatter gunshot pattern on the wall and into the alley; he groans in agony] SHH, HUSH—! [she props him up against a wall, uncovering his mouth as she tosses away both of their phones into the nearby street; an arriving ambulance smashes both phones] AGHH. Timmy. I need you to make a wish. you ARE crazy! This is correct. But Timmy— —I told you, my name's NOT TIMMY. TIMMY. —HELP— I need you to shut up and make a wish. IVE BEEN SHOT. SHHH [the nearby paramedics begin to follow the trail of blood to the alley] —MAKE A WISH. —I'M NOT A— YOURE TIMMY TURNER [she shows him the ID] —I'm—fucking dying—I know I'm dying- —probably —MAKE A WISH— —but I'm not— PARAMEDIC I thought I heard something— [one of the paramedics produces THE SYNESTHESIA PANEL and a SOLAR GUN—we realize they are not in fact real paramedics, but appear to be members of THE OPPOSING TEAM; the sensation of imminent danger arises for the both of them as they approach the alley quickly] —SHUT UP AND MAKE A WISH!!! OK. OK, I WISH— {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2022 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.