Cordayl travels through a thick jungle, moving past wildlife and vegetation that looks new and exotic. None of this scenery is familiar to him, but he can only keep moving.
The jungle continues to get thicker and thicker, causing Cordayl to strain more the further he pushes through, frustrating him.
Suddenly, he starts to hear music playing from somewhere and unknowingly finds himself drawn toward the sound and trying to locate its source.
Pushing through the jungle curtains, Cordayl stops when he comes upon a field of jungle cats that are all vibing to the tunes.
The cats all start to growl when they notice him, but one stare from the agitated Cordayl quiets them, and they decide to ignore him and continue vibing to the music.
Cordayl walks through the crowd of cats and continues pushing through curtains of leaves, finding it harder and harder to do so. Feeling like all the frond is trying to swallow him, Cordayl pushes through with all his might and bursts into a random room, wholly removed from the jungle.
Catching his breath, Cordayl is shocked to see himself standing in a room enclosed within the thick jungle vegetation.
He scans the room trying to figure out where he is, and that's when he finds the source of the music.
Cordayl approaches the man and startles him. "Sorry, I don't mean to intrude. I just have no clue where I'm at right now," Cordayl explains.
The man with the guitar removes his headphones. "How did you end up in here? There is only one door, " he asks.
"I guess I came in through the back," Cordayl responds, pointing to the grassy, green wall.
"Past all of the big jungle cats out there?" The man asks, surprised.
"Right past them," Cordayl answers.
The guitarist stares at Cordayl for a minute and then resumes strumming his guitar. "Interesting. Very interesting."
"So, where am I exactly?" Cordayl ask.
"In my dressing room," the man remarks, still strumming his strings
"Foreal?" Cordayl asks again, taking a second look around the room. "How did I end up here?" He asks.
"Would you believe me if I said it was fate?" The man asks.
"Why would I believe that?" Cordayl responds.
"No reason. You are Melatonin, right?" The guitarist asks.
"I am."
The guitarist smiles as he stands and walks over the door. Opening it, you see that it leads to nothing but a cliff. "Well since you were able to follow in my steps, I trust you, so feel free to kick it here. I'll be back in a bit."
"I didn't mean to intrude. I was just passing by, honestly. I'll follow you out." Getting to the door, Cordayl stops and looks down, "Why does the only door here lead straight to a cliff?"
"So that fans can't sneak and come bother me while I am preparing," The guitarist answers.
"Right, right," Cordayl pretends to understand. As he looks over the edge, he can hear a loud chant coming down from below. "I'm sorry, I never introduced myself. I'm Cordayl," he sticks out his hand.
"And I am known as King, as you can hear. Between me and you, I'm not actually the King. Call me Prince," Prince shakes his hands. Smiling, he lets go of the handshake and falls backward.
"What the-" Cordayl says as he jumps over to save Prince.
Prince can feel himself descending fast, but when something grabs him, he opens his eyes to see a confused Cordayl.
"Yo, what is wrong with you?" Cordayl asks him.
Prince smiles. "I had a feeling you would catch me," he shrugs.
Cordayl's face goes blank as he relaxes his grip and lets Prince fall.
Prince comes floating beside him moments later, laughing. "I also had a feeling not to take your kindness for a weakness."
"Well, since you can walk where only my feet can go, how about I show you what only my eyes have seen?" Prince asks.
Cordayl shrugs, and Prince grabs him and sets him on his guitar.
Breaking through the clouds, Cordayl sees an ocean of people who cheer upon Prince's arrival. Prince soars above them as he strums the guitar with his feet, making colorful musical notes rain over the multitude of fans.
Arriving at the stage, Prince and Cordayl hop off. Cordayl is amazed at the gigantic crowd that is present and screaming just for Prince.
"You mind standing to the side? I don't want them to think you're my very first guest performer," Prince tells Cordayl.
Cordayl steps aside calmly, and Prince closes his eyes. They scream even louder as they see his guitar magically fly into his hands.
Prince starts playing a song with his eyes closed, and the crowd falls silent, trying to hear every note. Then he cranks it up a few notches, and the crowd starts going nuts.
They all begin to freak out from their seats as Prince plays so nicely that the air starts to change colors with his melody. Prince finishes the song, and at the end of his solo, the crowd goes insane and begs for another song to be played.
Prince nods to Cordayl to come out on the stage. Finally, on stage, Cordayl looks out on the millions of people attending the concert, amazed at the ocean of people in attendance for one man.
"Last song," he tells Cordayl.
Closing his eyes again, Prince strikes a chord, causing the stage to rise and expose the dozens of speakers hidden underneath. Focused, he starts to play the song.
The song starts off soft and melodic but quickly turns up, and Prince starts rocking out as the stage ascends higher and higher.
Eyes shut, Prince continues to play harder and harder, streams of music blasting out of every pore on his guitar, color upon color, sounds turned angelic. Prince plays the song with all his emotions.
The millions in view watch and cheer as the music and lights blare through the clouds and King's stage slowly rises out of view.
Cordayl watches as Prince finishes his solo, then falls flat on his back, tired from exhaustion. His guitar flies around to catch him before he hits the ground.
A look of pain crosses Prince's face, and he rolls off of his guitar and starts to violently throw up music notes.
Cordayl watches in stunned silence as he is amazed that Prince survived that monstrous vomit attack. Cordayl takes a few steps to help him up.
Prince holds his hand up to still Cordayl, then wipes his mouth as the guitar helps him stand up straight.
Pulling out a flask, Prince takes a swig, then uses the rest of the liquid to wash his hand off. "Are you hungry?" Prince ask.
"I could eat," Cordayl replies.
Holding out the same hand he used to wipe throw up off his mouth to Cordayl, Prince offers to pull him up on the guitar.
Cordayl hesitates, but eventually grabs Prince's hand, hopping on board his guitar. Then they fly away from the scene and back to the dressing room.
Arriving to the room, Cordayl confirms, "So you're a rockstar?"
"Yeah, but I'm on the brink of retirement," Prince informs him, putting a few items into his guitar.
"What? Why? That was the greatest concert I've ever seen," Cordayl comments.
"Thank you," Prince says, "Honestly, every concert is like that. They'll sit there for weeks, months even, until I come back to play another song. It's sad for all of us because the only way I know how to thank them is to keep playing," Prince tells him as he finishes packing.
Walking to the door, the two fly down and pass through the crowd again before taking off, with millions of fans still chanting.
Flying on the guitar, the two young men just cruise, enjoying some music, when Cordayl asks, "So how is the King of rock and roll really the Prince?"
Prince smiles at the question, "My father is the original King of Rock and Roll and the King of Rolling Stones. But apparently during an ultrasound they saw me strumming my umbilical cord, so I was undeniably his.
"Not many of this new generation remember him. After years of numerous best albums, the name fell to me. But the title is rightfully his. The first time I heard him play was when I was a baby… I cried like a man," Prince tells Cordayl.
They laugh at the story, but Cordayl whips his head around when he hears an awkward, high-pitched screech behind them.
Cordayl can make out a gang of vulture-like beings flapping their wings to the fullest, trying to catch up to them, and they are quickly closing the gap.
"You owe someone money?" Cordayl ask
"They don't want money. They want me," Prince replies, undisturbed by the news.
"For what?" Cordayl continues.
"My musical talent. Fucking vultures," Prince shakes his head.
"Have they ever caught you before?" Cordayl wonders.
"A few times," Prince admits, "And every time, the world was blessed with a great song not played by me. That's why I play in the mountains. Too cold for them."
"Well, I understand the demand for a guy of your caliber. But do you think you can speed up?" Cordayl asks, Noticing the birds getting closer and closer.
"We've been at full speed for a few minutes now," Prince tells him.
"Well, go up. The cold atmosphere will keep them away, right?" Cordayl responds.
With the vulture men now within clear sight, Prince casually replies, "Nah, they're already pretty close. Can you fight?"
"I can!" The voice answers.
"I prefer not to," Cordayl replies, unprepared for combat.
"Some decisions get made for you, my friend, but they're pretty weak. Just don't let them bite you. Hurts like hell," Prince says, slowing down the guitar so they can hop off.
The two square up as the vultures catch up and circle them.
"They should only go for me. Their eyes only see originality, and I'm the only me on this planet. So watch my back, okay Cordayl? Cordayl?"
Prince turns around to see Cordayl with a vulture's beak in his hand, one in a headlock, and another being held down with his foot. "So why are they attacking me?"
Prince's eyes get big, but then he smiles. "I knew it was fate we met. Now hold them still." The vultures look up to see a devilish look on Prince's face as he holds his guitar high in the air.
A couple of minutes later, all the vultures are on the ground, knocked out with knots on their heads. Cordayl walks over to Prince, who is staring at his guitar.
"What's wrong?" Cordayl asks him.
"My guitar. Fucking vultures managed to cut a few strings." He sadly states, strumming the guitar, which lets out some sad notes. "This was one of my favorite guitars," Prince sniffles.
Cordayl doesn't fully understand but puts a hand on Prince's shoulder. "I guess that means we're walking now." Cordayl comments.
"Nonsense. I always keep a spare one,". Prince says, opening the guitar and pulling out a brand new one. "You mind holding this for me. I have to bury her," Prince sadly walks away.
Prince holds his dying guitar while walking towards a cliff with a nice view. Suddenly, he shouts in pain.
Turning around, he sees one of the vultures has bitten his calf. Cursing, Prince bashes the vulture on the head several times, killing it.
Taking a deep breath, Prince takes a handkerchief and wipes the guitar down.
Limping to the cliff, Prince quietly says. "Earth, accept my guitar, and I'll play a song for you."
The ground by the cliff's edge splits open upon request. Prince sighs and then plays a nice farewell solo with the strings still attached.
Finishing the tune, the cloudy forecast is departing, letting the beautiful sunset show.
Finishing, Prince kisses the guitar and lays it down in the dirt that happily accepts it.
Cordayl is standing a few feet behind him, enjoying nature's beauty.
"Guitar, please," Prince asks, to which Cordayl gives him. Prince tunes it and strums a quick solo. Smiling, he looks at the guitar. "Spunky little fellow, aren't you?" Prince ask, as the guitar seems to glow in his hands.
"My friend, I am starving." Prince says. The two take off, flying off to get some food.
As they fly off, they journey past several new and exotic landscapes as their destination eventually comes into view.
A man who's face is yet to be seen sits on his porch watching the two fly through the sky towards his home. Walking back into the house, he leaves the front door open so they won't have to knock.
As the episode concludes, the vultures fly away, carrying their beaten comrade and the guitar Prince just buried.