I was seeking a friend *** SPOILER ALERT ***
to watch Steve Carell/Adam Sandler/Fred Ward or whatever his name is descend through fire and brimstone into the bowels of hell. Unfortunately, it wasn't so, because I'm almost certain he's/they're still alive. Somewhere.
Allow me to be so bold as to paint this picture: The dumbass Steve/Adam/Fred or whatever his name is bravely faces the end of the known world by sulking and ignoring a peppy hotty in pink underwear who sleeps beside him. Instead, he presents the gift to his father, Sheen Sr., in a brave attempt at, uhh, something or other. It doesn't work.
WTF is Sheen Sr. doing in this dog? He can't afford the Playtex to keep his guts from falling out of his pants. Perhaps he thought he'd get a chance to screw the peppy the co-star.
Steve/Adam/Fred goes home to sulk and play records on the peppy hottie's record player.
The fucking end. Fucking literally and fucking figuratively.
No fucking wonder no one wants to spend money on fucking Steve/Adam/Fred's movies.
How I wish some looter had shot that sulking mutherfucker to death multiple times and burned the fucking body.