Previous Episode: [-critical: a mixtape.]
Next Episode: AspergerS.

Hey.



–Hey..



You want out of the box?



Uh–wait–really?



Yes–fucking, really.



–Are you serious?



Yes, I'm serious!



Okay–?!



This is what you gotta do:



____



Everybody is drunk beyond repair.



Everyone?



Everyone.



Even S Ū P ∆ C R E E?



…Especially S Ū P ∆ C R E E.



OH HOLY SHIT.



FUCK- FUCK- FUCK–



FAHHKK.



RAAAAAAHHHH



RAWWARRRAAAAAAAAAARRRRR



NAGHNGHNGNG.



…wait, what?



Oh-oh–here she comes.



S Ū P ∆ C R E E enters, in a clearly drunken stupor.



Maneater- Song by Daryl Hall, John Oates, and Sara Allen



Fuck!



Fuck dude…



Don't let her see me.



She immediately turns her sights on the two DJs sitting in the corner



Ohhh.



Fuck.






_____



DJ “Suck My Terry Flappy Folds >< Lift Yourself, Kanye



__



WHAT the FUCK



So it is real.



I thought I made that up.



I thought I lost my mind.



Oh you definitely lost your mind.



What else are you gonna do when you see that?



FLASHBACK:



EXT. WESTWOOD. NIGHT



ALI


See. I told you.



The Ghost of Aliocha



FUCK.



Well, there's obviously something here.



Obviously.



Explore it.



MELBA


Come to me.



Fuck, what kind of tree is she



Ali knew what kind of tree it was.



Yeah, well, Ali knew a little too much of everything.



Fuck.



Fuck, man–where are you at?



This is bad.



__



I don't need this.



Yeah, no one does.



Jesus Christ, Cree.



Who is that?



Oh, that's right.



Yeah, that's right.



Feels good, huh?



Better than ever.



__



Just do it.





___



I might explode.



Noo, don't explode…



Lets start there.



Pause.





So THAT'S what happened?



That's what happened.



Gross!



…that's what happened.



Gross. You guys are gross.



I feel gross.



Well, you should.



Look, just–help me fix it.



Fix it yourself.



I tried that.



Did you try?



Yes.



Gross.



I did try!



__



Are you okay?



NO! I'M NOT OKAY–what the fuck!



Another airport. Why are we always at the airport?



Stop asking questions.



Stop chasing dreams.



STOP CHASING VODKA WITH MONSTER AND REDBULL



IT'S CALLED A MONSTER BOMB.



YOU'RE GONNA DIE.



NOT FROM THIS.



–?!



Wait, so you know how you're gonna die?



How did you die?



Here kid, have a cigar.



I don't smoke.



You're about to.



OH MY GOD.



Just keep watching.



TURN IT OFF.



It's not over.



OHMYGAHD.



WHAT.



There, it's done.



Uh.



Now. Sit down.



I am sitting…



Sit like this.



Like wh–



*Removes chair forcefully*



Like that.



__



What the fuck.



I was sure I had unsubscribed from these emails.



What is this.



Just open it.



I'm gonna die like this, aren't I?



We're all gonna die.



That's fine, i'm bored.



YES.



What, God. What is it?



S/HE said, “s/he's “bored”



Ahhh, here it goes.



DAVID.



Hmm.



Sound The Trumpets.



For what, Mah?



JUST DO IT.



ALRIGHT.



Heaven's A Riot.



FUCK.



__



Then, my mind goes to a dark place,


My eyes fade to grey


‘why won't this go away'


Ahoy, matey's and


rockabye babies and





I just want me,


And all my friends


To rest in peace;


Believe me



I just–


RIP ALI