Original subtitles

Provided by explosiveskull https://twitter.com/kaboomskull

Hello?

Hello, what is this, am I blind?

There aren't any lights.

- Eric? - I'm here.

What is this, where are we?

I don't fucking know, dude.

- Sean? - Yeah?

- It smells like doo-doo. - What?

What is this?

Why... why the heck are we tied up?

I don't know, man, it's like an interrogation room.

Something you see out of a movie.

What are we, the stars of Hostel III?

- There's already a Hostel III. - What?

There's already a Hostel III.

We would be the stars of Hostel IV.

Are you serious?

Yeah, yeah, man, yeah.

Went straight to Netflix or something.

You know, I never saw it.

I miss the days of going to a video store

and getting so pumped to pick out a movie.

I mean, are you seriously freaking talking

about Hostel IV? Why are we here?

- Why does it smell like poop? - I don't know, man.

I didn't do anything. Who would do this?

Oh, shit.

- What? - Nothing, I, uh,

I'm just thinking about what I could've done

or who would've put us here...

- Just say it, Eric. - I recently caught our neighbor

getting dressed by her window and I kinda watched.

Seriously? Sinner!

I didn't do anything else, I promise.

- Sinner! - Screw you, like you're perfect.

No, I mean, listen, I download movies sometimes,

but who would lock me in some basement?

Right, of course, of course this is you.

I-I-I-I knew, I knew you would somehow screw this up.

This is totally you, you're the reason we're kidnapped.

Me? You are the rear-view window pervert.

- This is not my fault. - Oh, yeah, right,

like last time it wasn't your fault.

- Everything you touch gets... - Listen, that was different.

I'm a freaking stay-at-home dad now, who would do this to me?

Hey there, boys.

Oh, okay, you're recording.

Sure, um, uh,

Sean, do you want to answer this?

How did it happen?

That's... that's a very good question.

Where do you want to take it from?

I guess it... started with an idea.

- Before that. - A wedding?

Which I know sounds strange.

Yeah, but before all the explosions

and the torture...

Sean and I met at a wedding.

- David Jacobi. - Prick.

He's... he's a total prick.

I mean, let me explain something.

David Jacobi is the type of guy

that represented everything insecure about me.

He's successful, he's in shape...

And this is not to say we have bad lives.

- No. - We didn't, but Jacobi,

three action screenplays sold.

Three, I mean, he was... he was the crappiest writer

in our college program, and he had three scripts sold.

- I mean... - Nothing produced,

nothing produced, but still, he was an actual writer

while I dealt with bullshit clients all day.

Yeah, and I changed poopy diapers all day.

He's got this great, great, great, great, great, great,

great, great, great, great fantastic hair.

Wonderful hairline.

Thick, he's never gonna lose it.

Yeah, I know, I know, I'm going bald,

and you know what sucks, I'm gonna die looking

like a kneecap with ears.

He's got a fantastic... a fantastic,

wonderful, thick jawline, square as can be.

He's a real Dick Tracy-looking motherfucker.

I know, I got this... look at this thing.

- Look at this thing right here. - Yeah, it's like

a Robert Redford scrotum.

Yeah, before he had plastic surgery.

Yeah, Jacobi's the type of guy,

he's so smug and he's so nice, he invites you to his wedding

even if he hadn't contacted you in eight years.

Besides his monthly Gold Star newsletter.

Which I read between flirting at my weekly book club.

Or after jacking... I mean,

after masturbating in the bathroom

while my pregnant wife sleeps.

And, of course, we're so pathetic,

we actually go.

So, yeah.

That's how this whole thing started.

Eric,

I need to talk to you about something.

- I'm not interested. - I just want to talk, man.

Look, we said hi earlier, it was fine, okay?

But I'm not interested in anything else.

I don't even care about your apologies.

No, that's not what this is about.

Uh, can I have a tequila soda with two limes, please?

Do you have any more of those appetizers?

That mini quiche, that...

Oh, that bacon-wrapped thing would be fantastic.

Eric!

I'm about two beers in.

And, like, 30 cocktail weenies.

You remember five years ago after school?

We were actually making something.

Yeah, which you fucked up.

Yeah, which I F'd up, I know, but...

maybe we can try again, maybe we can be partners again,

and maybe we can write together again.

How many drinks have you had?

I'm five beers in at that point.

More like six.

Even if I forgot everything

and all the time we wasted writing together,

this still makes no sense, okay?

I live in New York, you're in Virginia.

Besides, me and Emily, we have a baby on the way.

I have two kids!

And you're home all day, you have more time.

Being a stay-at-home dad is a full-time job,

thank you very much.

Uh, excuse me, uh, yeah,

you got any more weenies?

Okay, you know what, fine, you're right.

I ruined everything, I'm an A-hole.

- Asshole. - Then just think of the money

we can make, man, I mean,

the F'ing wedding we're at, Jacobi.

- Prick. - Jacobi paid for this

ten times over with dumpy scripts.

I know for a fact we can do better.

Oh yeah, oh yeah, and with what ideas?

Are you kidding me? I got my conspiracy idea.

Oh my God, not your thesis again.

- That joke? - I got my indie drama idea.

Yeah, a gimmick to film a full-length

over some weekends with no money.

Well, at least I have ideas, Eric.

And listen, I know you have some too.

They're just buried under corporate shenanigans

and Lamaze classes, which are a waste of time, by the way,

but if you could just break through it,

then maybe we could try again, be partners again.

Listen, listen, listen, listen, listen, okay.

You remember when we first started writing,

how you would flip out over an idea?

You were a 25-year-old writer

getting kicked out of bars 'cause you'd be yelling so loud.

And listen, you remember,

you remember how we used to go to some crappy restaurant,

and to get a free meal, you would... it's gross, man...

you would throw up on command

yelling about how the food went bad.

- I never did anything like that. - Oh, yes, you did,

just spewing all over the place.

I can't throw up on command, okay?

You used to, you used to be insane when you were younger.

So what the hell is your point, Sean?

That you can write, Eric, that I can write,

and whether you want to admit it or not,

before we were married

and before all of this adult BS,

writing made us better and that's why we were friends.

I see our wives in the back of the wedding

looking like they set up a blind date or something,

hoping that this whole thing would work out,

hoping that maybe we'd be friends again.

But, I mean, like, were we even friends?

We just wrote dumb shit together all day

like we were little kids.

And what is wrong with that?

Nothing.

Nothing, nothing.

Just saying how I felt.

Fine, you're right.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry I even came over here.

Yeah, of course you're sorry.

You'll always be sorry about something.

You're a drunk.

Right, well, uh,

that was a good talk, Eric.

Maybe I'll see you again in another five years.

It was a beautiful wedding though.

Great cocktail weenies.

Fantastic, fantastic cocktail weenies.

And it's Saturday.

I have to go to the office again.

- It's a business pitch. - Hey...

and... tell them what happened at the meeting.

Dude, nothing happened.

Tell them what happened at the meeting, Eric.

Tell them!

It's about 4 p.m.

We'd been working non-stop on a new strategy

to advertise diapers across the internet.

My team are all women in their mid-20s

and a young Bradley Cooper-looking dude

who I try to relate to, but he just makes me feel old.

My team's complaining about missing out

on a Saturday day-drinking session,

and my mind drifts away.

Suddenly, I see it outside the window,

a SWAT chopper, and the weird part is,

no one else seems to notice it.

This is a big fuckin' bird getting inches from the window,

and not until the whole room starts shaking

does anyone seem to care, and by then,

we're done.

In the cockpit, there's a scrawny guy with an eyepatch,

bullet hole in his head.

No pilot, no control.

The blades whip the window,

every asshole makes a run for it,

while I hide behind a table terrified.

And that's when it all goes in slow motion.

The sound fuzzy, past the shattering glass,

past the chopper blades slicing into the room

like a deadly windmill, I see her,

a beautiful, gorgeous woman, a knockout in a red dress.

Now the chopper's going down

and the blades are breaking up the table.

We're eye to eye, and it's like she's telling me one thing.

"Eric, save me, make love to me,

give me your solid six!"

I dive across the table,

the blade just inches from me,

the room so hot I know it's ready to blow.

I grab this beautiful woman,

pick her up, and run to the exit.

I feel the heat, the explosion's coming.

I know the flames will engulf us so I keep going,

keep this beautiful babe wrapped in my arms

until I dive out, slam the metal door behind us.

Boom!

The chopper and One-Eyed Willy burst up in flames.

Everybody is just staring at me, jaws dropped,

knowing I saved them, that I saved this woman...

...that I saved the day.

I am the motherfucking man!

And she looks up at me,

her eyes grateful, her lips pursed,

big, sexy, full, red lips.

They look like they're about to touch mine,

and I... I... I...

That's when my VP calls on me.

He wants me to whiteboard our strategy

that will increase diaper sales to the 18-to-24-year-old demo.

So I stand up, I'm about to whiteboard it...

...and I, um, I have a raging erection.

So... a boner got him to call me back.

No, no, no, not a boner, man, just that this daydreaming,

that's what used to do it for me.

- I told you. - I used to stay up all night

like it was some type of therapy,

and I'd think of the craziest ideas.

Yeah, yeah.

Then I got older.

Yeah, and I lost it, and that sucks,

'cause now I actually pay attention in meetings.

I mean...

who gives a shit about diapers?

Well, you clearly were not a father yet

'cause, you know, with girls there,

it's very important, you always go from top to bottom.

- Dude, dude. - It's very... what...

I'm try... let me just... let me tell the story!

The point is, I got you daydreaming again, we get it.

Well, yeah, all right, that's fair.

I mean, you could... you could say that.

Yeah, you could say that. Yeah, fine.

And I'm the reason he had a boner that day, so...

So I call Sean up and I say, "Hey, let's meet."

I'm still in town because of the wedding,

taking advantage of my parents babysitting for four days.

- I get dinner. - I buy drinks.

I'm in.

Action screenplay.

- Really? - Really.

Man, that is awesome!

And listen, I'm sorry again about screwing up before...

Let's move forward.

Forward moving.

But, Sean, we're just business partners, okay?

You mean you don't want to be sex partners, too, Eric?

No, Sean, this is work, okay?

We're not friends frolicking through the park.

- What? - It's business, okay?

You were right, I miss writing,

but as far as writing with you, it's only...

Okay, okay, I get it, I get it, I get it.

- And Sean... - Talk to me, Eric.

If you do anything like last time, I'm gonna...

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.

I am a stay-at-home dad now.

What the heck can I do?

Two beers, please!

I'm three drinks in at this point.

Four, four drinks in.

But we do live halfway across the country from each other.

That is a little bit of a problem.

It's fine, we'll email each other back and forth.

Emails, yes.

Pen pals.

This is perfect, man.

This is gonna be like "The Color Purple"

of writing an action movie, man, let me tell you.

Wait, did you just reference "The Color Purple"?

Uh, yeah, I just referenced "The Color Purple."

We read it this year in book club.

Man, get this.

It's this novel made up between two discriminated Black women.

They write these letters back and forth.

Yeah, yeah, Alice Walker is brilliant.

I just don't think you should compare that

to what we're doing.

It's a metaphor, Eric.

Sean, stop, okay?

I don't want you to get all philosophical, all right?

Metaphors are like third-grade English, man.

I just don't want this to get confusing, all right,

or turn into one of your conspiracies, okay?

Let's treat it simple, professional,

like a business pitch.

That right... that was a metaphor, Eric.

Actually, that was a simile, but I have a metaphor for you.

Suck my...

Okay, you know what, fine, we'll do it your way.

A business.

Good.

Uh, now we just need to carve out

a little bit of writing time.

That is easy, man, 'cause you know what I wanna do?

I'm gonna put an episode of "Dora the Explorer" on,

keep the kids busy, and you know what, man, Leah...

- Shot of tequila, por favor. - Leah, she always wants me

to get a hobby other than book club,

but, God, man, those women, they have been so good for me.

I'm gonna tell you what they've done.

One, they've gotten me more involved in the community.

Two, I feel a little strange saying this, but it's true:

Frankly, they have made me a better man.

I am more in touch with myself.

I'm more sensitive.

- I just feel like... - Let me ask you

a quick question.

How do those women in book club...

How do they really look?

Some of them, they look, uh,

pretty amazing.

Yeah, but like, uh,

do they all wear those high-waisted mom jeans

that give them serious camel toe?

You know, just up there and up there and there,

and you know, it makes their asses.

- How much have you had to drink? - What about their FUPAs?

- The FU-what? - FUPAs, you know,

you ever find yourself just jacking off to the FUPAs,

especially the ones with serious camel toe?

I don't even know what a FUPA is, man.

Seriously?

For... for real?

It's the fat, upper pussy area!

- Oh, Eric! - It's that fleshy mound

between the stomach and vag.

Keep your voice down, man.

The women in my book club

are mostly younger stay-at-home moms,

not nursing home residents with vaginal humps.

The correct term is FUPA.

"Vaginal humps" makes it sound degrading.

Oh, that makes it sound degrading.

- Yeah, yeah, yeah. - You really think of this stuff?

Yeah, Sean, I do think of this stuff.

Ever since Emily's gotten pregnant,

the weirdest shit is turning me on,

just setting my goose loose.

Okay, I mean, camel toe mostly,

but still, I mean, that... that...

that didn't happen to you when Leah was pregnant?

No! No, I am not a FUPA-loving deviant like you.

Yeah, right, okay, but after book club,

you go home and jack off to the women from it, don't you?

You just punch that clown, "Oh, I wanna go home,

I wanna take a bath, I'm gonna get in the tub,

I'm gonna fucking grab my..."

I do do that sometimes.

I do it all the time.

I do do that.

I do do that.

I'm the page master.

I'm the page masturbator.

I am, I do it every time.

Sean!

We're at a bar, man.

Sinner.

Okay, let's get back to the main topic, okay?

- Sinner. - I'm gonna take more breaks...

Sinner!

You know, uh, men can have FUPAs too.

Oh, just stop it.

Yeah, they call them MUPAs.

The first meeting was not that productive.

It had been five years, so...

This guy hadn't been laid in eight months.

Leah has a very, very stressful job.

Eight months!

Yeah, and you were so afraid of having a kid at first,

you faked orgasms before Emily finally got knocked up.

- Yeah, but that was one time. - Oh, it was one time.

- Yeah. - Yeah, well, did you fake moan,

Eric, did you?

Even when she played with your male upper pussy area?

Look, look, the truth is, we needed this.

We needed something else besides daydreaming.

- And we found it. - And we found it.

- We shook hands... - Writing partners.

We'll email each other some ideas.

It's the 21st century.

You can do anything with computers.

F'ing A, you can.

My first idea, 2 a.m.

A cop who's hard to kill

finds himself marked for death and under siege

when he's out for justice

against the crew that killed his partner.

Send. Another idea two days later.

Super cop during rush hour gets into a rumble in the Bronx,

and it's no more Mr. Nice Guy.

Send!

A demolition man goes over the top

looking for his first blood.

He ends up meeting a commando that gets a raw deal

and is demoted to a kindergarten cop.

By the end of the movie, it turns out

they might be twins, ending in a cliffhanger...

And we clearly had nothing.

It's F'ing social media, it drains every creative outlet.

So we had one option: Bring it closer to home.

If you can't make it up, use what's real.

I call Sean up on the phone.

- Buongiorno, Eric. - Let's go to the beginning.

- I'm there, honcho. - Why are we writing again?

God, 'cause it's business, Eric, I get it.

No, no, but besides that.

Um, because we're bored, unfulfilled,

and because I gave you a boner that day.

No, we're writing again because we met up at a wedding,

which hasn't really been done.

Holy shit, I got it.

An action movie that takes place at a wedding.

- It's, it's... - Wedding, wedding.

Think, think, um...

Everyone you love in one spot,

good comic relief in the bridal party,

and plenty of unlikely heroes.

It basically writes itself.

Oh, and not to mention, hold the G.D. phone, Eric.

The biggest, hugest wedding in the country is coming up,

and who doesn't like a movie

that replicates real life, right, right?

The president's daughter is getting married in four months.

And this is gonna be a huge motherf'ing deal.

Even the VP said on his Twitter account...

"I don't care about running this country,

as long as I'm well enough to attend this wedding."

Except he's not a Jewish rabbi, Eric.

As opposed to a Catholic rabbi?

But if this wedding's gonna be epic,

there's gonna be a lot of action,

and if there's gonna be a lot of action,

then we really gotta, like, kick ass on this thing.

So if we can get this script done in the next three months,

that still gives us a month before Emily delivers.

Good timing to get a little agent buzz.

And, ladies and gentlemen...

Drum roll, give me a drum roll.

Dude, just, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

Our plot...

Terrorists try to take out the president's daughter's wedding

to kill every major player in D.C.

Yes.

Oh, maybe with Russian nationalists, boom!

That want to blow up the wedding.

That's a double boom.

They don't want the nation at peace.

They want a war!

A new Cold War.

Something colder than a cold war!

An Arctic war!

That is the best damn title I've ever heard.

O.J., soda, purple stuff...

beer!

Uh, too bad for the terrorists,

there's a bass player in the wedding band

that catches on.

- Duh. - Oh, and maybe,

maybe he's got a kid there with him,

and the kid helps him save the day at the end.

Yes, yes!

No, no!

Who's Daddy's little action hero?

Ah, who's Daddy's little action hero?

I am not writing some PG-13 bullshit

where an 11-year-old girl with daddy issues

stops the bad guys

by doing something she hinted at in the first act.

- I'm not doing it. - Okay.

Our bass player, he can be ex-Navy SEAL though, right?

Yeah, that's... that's way more realistic.

Now, some people write from the beginning and go forward.

Some people start from the end.

We begin with the main one-liner.

"Remember, Sully, when I promised to kill you last?

I lied."

Um...

"Don't disturb my friend, he's dead tired.

Let off some steam, Bennett."

Are you only quoting Commando?

"No.

Fuck you, asshole!"

Oh, oh, and what about, um,

what about, uh, "Yippee-ki-yay, MF'er"?

- And what about... - You mean "motherfucker."

Yeah, that's what I said, Eric.

No, you said "MF'er."

- No, I did not. - Yeah, you did.

And it's... it's getting kinda weird.

You keep doing that.

Well, excuse me.

I'm conscious of dirty language, Eric.

- Are you fucking kidding me? - No, I'm not F'ing kidding you.

I have two little girls.

Are they around you right now?

They might be, they're like little ninjas,

and I don't swear out of principle,

to set an example for them, okay, butt breath?

Dude, you gotta stop, okay?

At some point, we know you're gonna get angry,

you're gonna have a badass moment,

and you're gonna curse,

so just get it over with already.

- Just say "fuck." - No.

- Say "shit, fuck." - No.

Say "ass, fuck, motherfucking bitch,

cock, shit, fuck, butt, golden prostitutes fingering

Arnold Schwarzenegger's deflating bicep

as Jennifer Aniston's left nipple squirts mustard

on Brad Pitt's sagging balls."

Just say, "Motherfucker, motherfucker, what!"

Eric, no!

I'm DMX, "Ha!"

So anyways, I got a one-liner that incorporates

the characters, the settings, and it's badass.

"Till death do us part, motherfucker."

Yes!

Now we gotta do research.

But we have a pretty good template here.

I mean, the president's daughter is really getting married, so...

As far as research goes, you know,

I'm just Googling between book club and baby yoga.

Field facts are the real thing.

Huge tent, 80-by-40, send.

Guests and staff of over a thousand, send.

Guarded by all sides, aerial and below,

everywhere, send.

Which makes for an interesting situation.

How would our bad guys actually do this?

And the only real way: a chemical attack,

plus a solid conspiracy.

Shut up with the conspiracies.

You're jealous, you're still jealous.

- What? - Jealous of my thesis.

Walmarts are actually terrorist headquarters

across the nation.

That was the best thesis

to ever come out of our writing program.

Just stick with aliens and the JFK assassination.

They've been done, we need something different.

Russian nationalists with camel toe?

No, details on how the bad guys

actually launch their chemical attack.

So I look up the base for the chemical,

orthochlorobenzyldene.

I find out how long it takes to make.

I find out the best place to make it.

I even get a little method and go to Walmart

and look at all the materials.

There's a cashier I like, um,

she's got red hair and all these piercings.

She's a little bigger and she flirts with me.

It had been eight months, man.

So you are into FUPAs then, dude.

Would you stop?

Just because she's a little thicker

doesn't mean she has a FUPA.

No, no, no, that is exactly what it means.

She probably has a big ol' clit too.

Hold on...

I don't know if Emily's around.

Yeah, she probably has a big o'' female bodybuilder's clitdick.

It looks like a mini corn, and you munch on it like this.

And you know what?

That is a beautiful thing, okay?

I love women of all shapes and sizes,

big and round, tall and small, lovely and wide, okay?

I always have, I always will.

So quit derailing, son, all right?

I'm derailing?

Captain Camel Toe Clit-Richard over here.

Did you just say "Clit-Richard" because you won't say "dick"?

I keep a pure mouth.

Send, send, send!

Send!

I started taking longer lunch breaks,

I missed a few Lamaze classes,

which really are bullshit, by the way.

- Told you. - But every work meeting,

I'm daydreaming, chopper galore,

red dress, full lips.

And I'm sitting in book club not even commenting

on character themes anymore.

Just imagining these thugs breaking in

and me taking them out one by one

with old paperbacks like they're ninja stars.

And I'm going to bars

acting like a crazy person, getting kicked out.

And I don't care if I'm not getting laid anymore.

I don't care if I'm a nutjob.

'Cause it's like writing is getting me off.

It's like I have a writing wiener.

- Dude, say "writing dick." - No.

Say "writing prick, cock, wee-wee, johnson."

And yeah, I missed a baby yoga class once or twice,

but those places are creepy as heck anyway.

Guys following me around the building

like sex offenders or something.

And yeah, I missed an ultrasound.

I know, I know, I'm an asshole.

I actually noticed a few creepers too.

You know, a weirdo with a cowboy hat,

but New York's a big place.

Freaks are always lurking.

Country is going to poop, it's social media.

But for once in our damn lives,

we were doing something that mattered.

And Jacobi was gonna look like an A-hole

after we sold Arctic War.

So we just needed one more push.

Yeah, iron out some details with the script, figure out

how the bad guys actually make the chemical weapon.

I took a week off.

Eric flies down, I reschedule book club,

and we lock ourselves in a hotel room for a few days.

There were two beds.

Of course there were two beds, Eric.

Yeah, but it sounds weird when you say it like that.

Oh, what, what, like we're sex partners?

Is that what you're worried about?

No, dude, I'm not worried, okay?

I am totally comfortable with my sexuality.

Oh, he's totally comfortable with his sexuality.

Yeah, I'm totally comfortable with it.

Oh, sure, okay.

Sean knows the story.

I once had a coworker at a Christmas party...

So the past few months were like emails and phone calls.

It was good to be working together, internet silence...

Let me tell you something, if Gene Hackman

called me up tonight and was like,

"Hey, Eric, I want to come over and cuddle with you,"

I would totally be the big spoon.

That is a terrible Gene Hackman.

That was a great Gene Hackman.

- No, it is not. - Yes, it is.

Why are you thinking about Gene Hackman?

Because Gene Hackman is the greatest actor of all time.

- What, how? - Geronimo, The Firm,

The Package, The Conversation, Hoosiers, Blue Chips.

Are you only naming basketball movies?

- Space Jam. - Eric, shut up.

Listen, we needed to get together

to make something to be proud of,

to make a script to be proud of,

and to make our families proud.

God, we were so dumb.

Is there anything more satisfying

than cleaning your ears after the shower?

Yeah, man, taking a shit.

In the shower?

Yeah.

Dude, I... I still can't figure out the frigging ending.

I know, I was trying to brainstorm ideas.

Well, you know what that means then.

- What? - We'll figure it out at the bar.

Vámonos.

Let's get some drinky-poos, huh?

Tequila time!

You, uh, call room service or something?

Mm-mm.

- Want me to get it? - Yeah.

I'll get it, yeah, you just sit there.

I've been comfortably relaxed for the past ten minutes

while you've been standing in the shower, cool.

Hope you clean those toenails.

Can I help you? No, no, no!

You'd think an action movie writer could defend himself.

No!

Figure a way out of a bad situation.

Save the day.

Be a hero.

Instead, I shat my pants.

- Sean? - Yeah?

It smells like doo-doo.

I recently caught our neighbor getting dressed by her window

- and I kinda watched. - Seriously? Sinner!

I didn't do anything else, I promise.

- Sinner! - Screw you, like you're perfect.

No, I mean, listen, I download movies sometimes,

but who would lock me in some basement?

Right, of course, of course this is you.

I-I-I-I knew, I knew you would somehow screw this up.

This is totally you, you're the reason we're kidnapped.

Me? You are the rear-view window pervert.

- This is not my fault. - Oh, yeah, right,

like last time it wasn't your fault.

- Everything you touch gets... - Listen, that was different.

I'm a freaking stay-at-home dad now, who would do this to me?

Hey there, boys.

It's like a cowboy.

Flannel jeans, cowboy hat, skinny as all heck.

Yeah, I can fucking see him, dude.

I'm sure you boys are wondering why you're here.

- Allow me to explain... - I'm sorry I downloaded

"Game of Thrones."

This ain't about no game.

I only watched her get dressed twice.

I swear I didn't jerk off.

- Twice, Eric, seriously? - I don't know, man.

Now I want to talk about what you boys are writing.

Oh, writing?

I do not understand.

You boys are writing a screenplay if I understand it,

and the script has got us curious.

- Who is us? - People that might be curious

with all your emails.

Huge tent, 80-by-40, send.

Guests and staff of over a thousand, send.

Guarded by all sides, aerial and below,

everywhere, send.

And with the president's daughter's wedding coming up,

we just had a few questions about what you two are sending.

Oh, no, no, no, this is just a mix-up.

We're just writing a movie, dude.

Don't call him "dude."

We're just writing a movie, sir, just a movie.

And we don't live near each other, so we email, okay?

- It's an action movie. - With an unlikely hero.

Well, we couldn't help but notice

that y'all stopped this past week.

That's 'cause we're figuring it out together,

internet silence, and...

Oh, shit.

FBI, NSA.

Who writes about this chemical crap?

Of course somebody would notice us.

"Oh, it's the 21st century,

you could do anything with computers.

We'll send some emails, have a few laughs."

It was your idea, McClane.

You're the one who wanted to do a wedding.

Sir, this is just a big misunderstanding, okay?

What you read was a movie.

Now you boys are gonna explain to us how that script ends,

for the safety of the country.

We haven't figured that out yet, that's why we met.

- Nothing illegal. - How does it end?

Uh, with the credits?

Don't shoot, okay!

Third acts are just drawn-out, over-the-top chase scenes.

And we didn't mean anything with the emails.

It was research, we're just writers.

Not even writers, I buy ads on the internet.

I change poopy diapers all day.

We have families, man.

- Don't call him "man." - We have families, sir.

Okay, we're not what you think.

Enough.

Hey, hey!

Hey, where are you going?

Where are you going?!

Don't... don't we get a phone call?

We're tied to chairs, this is clearly top-secret.

- Like Area 51? - Oh, just stop it.

Warn a guy.

Hey, you see that?

To the side.

There's, uh, some kind of glass two-way mirror thing.

It's slowly focusing.

What's behind it, dudes in lab coats or something?

I can't see yet, maybe the president

or the vice president with his shitty tweets.

"The president's daughter's wedding will be YOLO."

What does that even mean?

Jesus.

It's a room like ours, those guys are on the floor.

They're all fucked up.

Beaten, bloody, there's a bone

sticking out of one of their arms.

- What is this? - It was just a screenplay.

Oh my God, someone just went in there.

Uh, it's not the cowboy.

It's a dude dressed in black, huge muscles, 'roided out,

and holy crap, that's...

- What? - That's... on the floor.

- One of the guys. - No way.

The hair, the jaw,

the Dick Tracy-looking motherf'er.

- No way. - Jacobi.

What the heck is Jacobi and another guy doing

in the next room with a crappy?

That's the writing partner, I met him at the wedding.

Oh, maybe everyone we know is in here, our families,

everything we've been writing about.

Oh, look at that blade, he pulled out a big-ass knife.

Oh my God, he's gonna do it.

He just smiled at me.

That fucking freak just smiled at me.

He's got black eyes, man.

Black eyes, man.

Breathe, breathe.

Give me a freaking break, we called it Arctic War.

Black Eyes!

Shit.

What do I do?

Get away, come on!

Get up!

No, no!

Let go of him, you black-eyed, cock-sucking motherfucker!

How does your screenplay end?

- Where is he? - He's over a loudspeaker.

All we want to know is how it ends.

He smells like rotten gasoline and burnt pubes.

Tick-tock, tick-tock...

I don't fucking know how it ends.

...tock, tick-tock...

Um, um, um...

A kid saves the day at the end.

- What? - I'm just thinking, Eric.

My throat's about to be slit.

- Now think. - No.

The hero's kid, they're estranged...

No, we've gone over this a hundred thousand times, okay?

Kids can't stop bad guys, it's not real.

And the kid has a special skill we only hint at in act one.

But how do they blow up the tent?

We need to know for the safety of the country.

Um, yeah, yeah, the bad guys, they, uh, they get ready,

and a special skill, special skill.

Do it, Eric, do it.

And, uh, right when the bad guys are almost ready...

Special skill, special skill, do it, Eric, do it, do it!

Ooh!

Sliced down the middle,

split like a seared dick.

Oh my God.

Oh my God, I just...

Come on, cut me free, come on, we gotta go.

We gotta go, let's go, let's go, let's go.

- Oh, gross, you got puke on me. - You shat your pants.

- Let's go! - Let's go!

Where are we? How long is this hallway?

I don't know, it's dark and dank like the room.

Like some underground lair or something.

Solitary confinement at the Rock.

"Winners sleep with the prom queen."

That is a really bad Sean Connery.

Go, shit!

Just keep going.

There's doors along the hallway.

What if there's more people in there?

Oh, Jacobi, poor Jacobi.

Go or we're dead, he's probably dead.

Oh, another corner.

There's fucking cages in that room,

cages filled with at least 20 guys.

- Hostages? - Twenty nerdy-looking guys

locked up.

Go, go!

The guys are getting closer.

Black eyes, sliced lips.

What Black guys?

I didn't say "Black guys," Eric, I said "black eyes."

I'm pretty sure you said "Black guys."

No, I didn't.

Well, maybe when you're scared,

you just naturally think of Black guys.

- I'm not racist... - All I'm saying is you said...

Eric, "The Color Purple" is literally

my favorite piece of literature.

Just run, they're getting closer!

Another corner.

Oh, God.

Dead end, we are so dead.

Where's your ninja throwing books now?

I just want to go home.

Wait, look below, there's like a...

there's like a sewer cap or something, hold on.

- Now what? - What do you think?

Oh, I'm just a stay-at-home dad.

Jump!

- You all right? - Yeah.

- You? - Mm-hmm.

I, uh, I can barely see any light.

It's maybe 10, 15 feet above us.

I, uh, I think I can see one of them.

We'll make our own ending.

They put the sewer cap back on, didn't they?

Smells like vomit and doo-doo.

- What are you doing? - Hold on a second.

Hold on.

What?

Where did that come from?

My undies.

- Your undies? - Yeah.

Whenever I have weed in public, I keep it in my underwear.

- Why do you have weed? - Well, years ago,

I got stopped and frisked at a concert,

and the cop literally put his hands on my junk and I just...

Eric, I don't care about you keeping weed

up your butthole right now.

It's not in my butthole,

it's in a plastic bag by my butthole, okay?

I take the, uh, the joint, I take the lighter,

I fold it up in the plastic bag,

and I tuck it safely in between the spot

between my shaft and my balls.

- What is going on? - Sometimes the plastic bag,

it scrapes my testicles, but overall,

it's a pretty perfect hiding spot.

Ow, this fricking lighter gets hot.

Do you, uh, do you mind holding that?

It was just in your grundle.

In a plastic bag by my grundle.

Eric!

Um...

I'm just, uh...

It's okay.

Just stay with me, all right?

- God. - I'm here, I'm here.

I sliced a guy's face.

What... what was that... what was that noise?

Relax, Sean, just breathe.

Relax? We fell 15 feet into some cave,

and you just want me to relax?

Sean, it's gonna be okay, all right?

We just need to focus like you said, all right?

Now breathe, breathe, breathe...

- I'm breathing, Eric. - In, out, in, out.

- I got it. - Let it all flow through you.

Every little inch.

- Would you stop? - It's Lamaze.

Yeah, well, are we giving birth?

- It's a stressful situation. - I know it's stressful,

but breathing isn't really helping much right now.

Okay, fine, um, just shut up for a second.

Uh, let me think about this.

You shut up.

Sean, do you really want to do this right now?

- Shut up your face. - Would you stop it?

No, I don't have to stop if I don't want to stop.

- Just shut the fuck up, dude. - Oh, throw the F word in there,

- aren't you clever? - Oh, what does that mean?

Yeah, no wonder you're such a crappy writer.

Really?

Really, that's what you want to talk about right now?

When people are getting shot at?

Well, we're at the bottom of some cave.

We have all the time in the world.

Well, let's go over the facts, okay?

We sent some emails and then we got kidnapped,

and that's it, all right?

Are you hearing anything that I'm saying?

Yeah, I hear you, fuck-face.

I'm not a shitty writer.

- There you are. - Because if I was so shitty,

we wouldn't be kidnapped right now.

My idea was so good,

the government thought it was real.

Ha, there, you just admitted it.

This is your fault. I'm gonna die because of you.

I'm sorry, okay?

I don't know what's going on, I'm confused...

It's fine.

Whenever you're stressed, you screw things up.

I didn't want to bring this up,

I didn't want to have to talk about that,

but of course, you just can't keep your mouth shut.

Eric, I said... I said that I would...

No, no, whenever you're nervous...

You don't have to... don't say you're sorry to me again, okay?

Whenever you're nervous, you do this, okay?

You know, I might zone out, but you go on a downward spiral.

You did it five years ago with our writing

and you're doing it again now.

When I did, damn it, Leah and I were fighting a lot,

I didn't have a job, I didn't know what I was doing,

so you have to understand, man...

Everyone has their shit, Sean!

Everyone has their shit.

It doesn't mean you need to show up to a meeting

drunk and coked out of your mind and running your mouth.

I'm trying to explain myself, man.

We worked on that for months!

We had something special, okay?

I put my credibility on the line to get us that meeting.

I had to apologize to my boss's wife, to my boss.

I nearly lost my job, I had to kiss his ass for months, okay?

All because you got scared and stoned and stressed

and screwed it all up!

- How many times... - And you know what?

Five years later, we're even more screwed.

So let me... let me give you a word of advice.

Don't fucking say anything, okay?

Let me give you a word of advice.

Keep your mouth shut, keep your head down,

and maybe, just maybe,

maybe we'll get out of this alive.

- You shut up. - No, you shut up.

- Just shut up your face. - Look, I'm not doing this, Sean.

- I'm not listening to you. - Oh, really?

Eric's not listening?

What a surprise, everyone, Eric's not listening to me!

You know what, I am so tired of your grudges,

of me constantly having to apologize to you

like you're perfect and I'm the screw-up.

All you do is ignore me.

You know what?

You probably ignore Emily too.

The fuck did you just say?

Yeah, yeah.

Just strutting around with your fancy job

and your NYC apartment just going, going,

not paying attention to anyone that's around you.

I don't even like my job, you insecure cunt.

Of course, throw it back on me.

You know, it's not Jacobi you're jealous of,

- it's everyone. - Oh, you're really

gonna bring him up right now?

- That is a low blow, man. - Just because you left the city

'cause you couldn't get a job,

it doesn't mean you have to blame me or blame anyone.

I left the city to start a family.

And you have some motherfucking nerve

talking about me and Emily with how that's going.

- What does that mean? - You and Leah

haven't had sex in eight months, eight months!

You're more concerned about flirting

with chubby cashiers and book club moms.

And you're too bored to have sex with your own wife

'cause it means you might actually have to

- connect with her. - I'm bored?

- Yes, you're bored. - I'm bored? I'm bored?

You practically begged me at the wedding to write with you

- because you're so bored! - Oh, please!

You're the one that called me back,

"Oh, red dress, full lips."

All you do is distract yourself!

And all you do is fuck things up,

and that is gonna get us killed.

You really think we're gonna die?

I don't know, man.

- Ow! - What?

Something bit me... ow, ow, ow, ow!

What the hell's going on?

We got mother-humping rats in this mother-humping cave.

Rats, I hate rats.

- Ow, ow! - Agh!

They're biting my ankles!

- We can use them. - Use them?

They're not attacking us, they're going past us.

Over there, that's our way out!

- You're a genius. - Oh, I thought I was an idiot.

- And I hold a grudge. - Okay.

It's like a... it's like a tunnel, man.

Maybe, uh...

maybe we should wait for them to go past

and we get out of here, huh?

We can't wait, Eric.

If they're running, there's a reason they're running.

There's smoke filling the hallways.

Oh, what is this, The Hunger Games?

Maybe, maybe it's the cowboy

or Black Eyes is trying to flush us out.

Okay, you know what, I'm gonna go first.

I'll push 'em out of the way.

And you think I'm a pussy.

I'm no pussy... oh my god, this is gross!

- This is really gross! - Go, go, go, go, go!

I'm going, I'm bushwhacking these mofos.

It's like we're tunneling through Shawshank.

Get busy living or get busy dying.

Really, Tim Robbins?

Who does a Tim Robbins impression?

Smoke is filling up, we got seconds, man.

I'm going, I'm going, I see a dim light ahead of us.

Oh, there's more rats, more rats!

Ah, something bit my finger!

There's a sewer cap ahead of us, there's a sewer cap.

I'm gonna push it open, I'm gonna push it open.

Oh, fudge.

The cowboy will be happy I found you.

She was sitting on a stool waiting for me.

Long, dark hair, tan skin, just smiling.

Other guys are in here, shot in the head.

Same thing that will happen to me probably, because...

She's on her way back, I bet.

But you know,

I deserve to have a woman kill me,

because the way I treated my family was...

Leah, my girls,

they will never even find me.

The last thing they'll remember

is that I vanished to write for a few days,

that I would rather make stuff up than...

Leah's got this soft, pale skin.

I used to tell her it was angel skin.

And now I'll never touch it again.

Because I'm done, just like Er...

He must've got caught in the tunnel

or she shot him, so...

He's gone.

I'm gone too.

Sean?

Who the hell are you talking to?

Eric?

Where are you?

In the walls.

- What? - I'm in the walls.

Someone pulled you out, I kept crawling.

I thought you were dead.

I'll get you out of here.

What can you find?

It's a cage, man.

We're going to figure this out.

Are you okay?

Don't worry about me.

Eric?

Damn rats, they, uh,

nearly took my pinky off.

Oh man, I wish we could smoke that joint right now.

Well, I still have it in my grundle, okay?

We'll save it for later.

Right.

Sean, we're going to figure this out.

Eric, if, uh,

you get out of here, will you just...

will you find my family and just, uh...

...tell them they were better than any story

I could've made up.

You can tell them yourself, okay?

- Hm. - I, uh...

I'm sorry for what I said to you before.

It... no, don't be.

I talk too much, whenever I'm scared I go on this...

No, no, I don't listen and I don't forgive anyone.

Five years ago, whatever happened between us,

I should've talked to you about it,

but instead I just...

You were more than just selling a script.

You were my friend.

You still are my friend.

I thought we were just business partners.

Listen, Sean, when I was growing up,

writing was my only escape.

It was either that, drinking, or fucking killing myself,

and I know it was the same for you,

and that's something special.

Eric, are you saying that you wanna be sex partners?

Yeah, you know it.

Someone's coming, it's her.

Struggle free.

Fight back, you have to do something.

- Just get out of here, Eric. - No!

Goodbye.

Hey there, cute sexy.

You saying your prayers in here?

What the heck do you want?

I talked to the cowboy.

Since you're alone,

you're not really important to us anymore.

So he told me to have fun.

Please don't come any closer.

You wanna know what fun is?

Fun is giving in to your urges.

What... let's just talk, all right?

You don't need to do this.

You don't know what the hell you've gotten yourself into.

You have no idea what you're a part of.

Why don't you sit down and explain it to me?

So many people are going to die.

So many more will suffer

while you write your stupid little story.

Please, why the heck are you doing this?

For the better of the country.

What the heck does kidnapping writers have to do

with the better of the country?

You'll never know, sweet dick.

I just wanna go home.

Home?

Your home is gone, sweetie pie.

Huh?

Is that rat shit?

I jumped out of that nut job, perfect landing.

- Uh, you fell on your butt. - Really, Jude?

Can I have my hero moment, please?

Fine, go, go.

Boo to the motherfucking yeah!

Bing, bang, walla, walla, bing, bang!

♪ Ah, na, na, na, na ♪

You didn't knock it down,

there was a weak spot in the ceiling.

- I saved your life! - Fine, fine, thank you.

We gotta run!

No, we gotta fight to survive.

Eric.

You got those crazy eyes.

I'm tired of being in the fucking black.

All right, let's tie her up and take their clothes.

I don't wanna wear a dead guy's clothes.

I mean, would you rather be a dead guy in underwear?

Fine.

Oh wow, this actually fits me.

Yeah, it's a pretty good fit.

What is this, what is this?

Tell us what's going on.

Oh, I thought you would've ran.

Did you want to play for a little bit more?

- Did you just flick her? - I just felt weird hitting her.

I don't know.

No, no, you were right, it's a woman, it's weird, no.

Well, she almost killed you, Sean.

Oh, mother, may I have another?

You said people were gonna die.

What the hell are you talking about?

Oh, sweetie.

You don't know the half of it.

Next time I'm gonna give you a purple nurple.

- Yeah, this is weird. - Sean, pull her hair.

- I'm not gonna pull her hair. - We need her to talk.

Pull it, pretty boy.

Give me that titty twister.

Uh, all right, this might be getting weird.

You know what, eff it, what's the story lady?

- No, no, no. - Okay, okay.

Why were people asking about our script?

How the heck do you even know about us?

Someone is always watching you in this world,

even if you think you're alone.

You're not.

GD social media.

We watched you.

We even watched your pretty wives.

Those ladies keep busy.

What do you mean you've been watching our wives?

Eric, we've seen Emily around.

Red dress, bright lipstick.

Maybe she's looking for someone that actually cares.

And Leah, she's got her own sexy book club.

- Slap her, man, slap her. - Stupid boys.

So predictable.

We started watching you and your families

the moment you wrote that script,

and I still can't believe they wanted to use your story.

- What? - You're gonna be easier

to kill than expected.

Weed fell out of my grundle.

Oh, fuck, fuck you.

What?

Ah!

Fuck.

Motherfucker.

I'm gonna make you suffer,

you stupid, shitty writer.

What did you just call me?

I'm a shitty writer?

You're a shitty writer.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Sean.

Sean, where are you?

What the eff?

I'm gonna mess you up like a little diapered baby.

you piss-balls-ass-cock

motherfucker twat bitch!

Oh man.

Black Eyes!

Set your goose lips.

Oh!

This is it.

My life flashing before my eyes.

Every little moment.

Emily, Emily.

Emily!

Long brown hair.

Soft round cheeks.

The same softness I know,

the same softness I know from her baby pictures.

The most perfect thing I've ever touched.

And then she vanished, she's just fucking gone.

The ladder's going down.

I'm going down.

And then,

I feel a cable.

Hang on, man, I'll pull you up!

Was that Black Eyes choking you?

Dude.

It was Black Eyes, there were not Black guys there.

Oh my god, it was only funny the first time.

- Hang on! - I am!

Where's Black Eyes?

He fell.

- God, you are a heavy fuck! - Oh, shut up!

Eric, did you hear me say "fuck?"

You were right, I had one of those life-changing moments

and now I swear!

That's awesome, now pull!

Did you?

Yeah.

You really killed a guy?

You?

Yeah.

How the heck did you get on that ladder?

How the hell'd you get above me with an elevator cable?

Who would think that some advertising nerd

would break through a ceiling

and then battle a ripped motherfucker

on top of a broken ladder?

Well, some stay-at-home dad

tunneled through rats,

and fought a guy in an elevator,

and then he uprooted the fucking thing.

This has been a fucked up,

fucked up, crazy day.

Do you see that poster?

Just...

Just don't worry about that.

Do you see what that is?

Sean.

You've got those crazy eyes.

Is that...

That's the...

That is the president's daughter's wedding tent.

The same wedding tent we've been researching.

And look at this.

The makeup of the chemical compound.

Fuck me.

The orthochlorobenzyldene trial.

Why do these fuckers have this?

Why do they have everything from our villain's plot

of Arctic War?

These fuckers are using our script for a real idea.

But how did they flag our emails?

- Why'd they even do it? - Well, I mean,

we did send some ridiculous stuff back and forth.

I mean, maybe they actually hacked us.

That would mean these guys are like,

connected to the government somehow.

- Rogue NSA or something. - Okay, okay, okay, okay.

And that would give them the ammo and the technology

to pull off an act of terrorism.

They just, they just needed an idea.

- Yeah, man, our idea. - Okay, okay.

But, but, but they needed to know how it ended.

- And the other guys locked up. - Jacobi.

Okay, they are just other writers

with other screenplays that they're looking at.

Oh man, they're... they're stealing writers' ideas

for terrorist plots, I mean, that's actually kind of genius.

Okay, but, but, but, but, who would do this?

Who would fund this?

Who would wanna take out the president

at his own daughter's wedding?

Right, right?

Look at this fucking room.

- Look at this fucking room. - Yeah.

- Look at this fucking room! - Yeah.

- Look at this shit! - Yeah.

Look at this motherfucking...

there are fucking bombs on the table!

Dynamite, dy-no-mite.

That is good times dy-no-mite on the motherfucking table.

- That is fucking C4! - Okay.

Did you know C4 looked like pound cake?

I didn't know that, I'm so fucking hungry now!

We've been tied up for, I don't know, how many fucking hours?

Days, weeks?

Agh, oh, I'm gonna eat a whole pound cake today!

Oh, when I take a shit, my ass is gonna explode!

What the fuck, man?

Who the fuck leaves this stuff completely out in the open,

totally unguarded when there are folks on the loose?

Anyone could find it, especially us!

Okay, yeah, but you don't question it in the movies,

so don't question it in real life.

No, Sean, I do question it in the movies, okay,

but if I'm enjoying it enough,

I'm like totally willing to look past it.

Well, then just do the same thing right now.

- Fair enough. - Okay.

Look at all these lines, I mean,

these are the tweets, these are the tweets.

"I don't care about running this country

as long as I'm healthy enough to go to this wedding."

And look at this one.

"The president's daughter's wedding will be YOLO."

I still don't know what that means, Eric.

There's like hundreds more like them.

It's like a countdown to the wedding or something.

Why do they have all of the vice president's tweets?

I don't know, to me, it looks like they're writing for him.

I mean, he's old but he's not that old.

Joe Biden can do it...

What did that villain lady say?

That this goes beyond anything that we can imagine?

The VP wants to kill the president.

He's gonna take him out at his own daughter's wedding.

- Oh, that's heavy. - Okay.

We need to get out of here, but we have to warn people.

This is serious, this is really serious.

We need to find a telephone.

Where are the telephones?

We gotta get out of here, man.

We really need to get... we need to...

- Oh. - These might help.

These fuckers wanna play action movie?

We'll be the stars.

Arctic War style.

Make sure the safety is unlocked.

Uh, do you have any idea how to use these?

- No, man, no clue. - Okay, cool, me neither.

What do you think?

There could be anything behind there.

More of these fuckers?

More fire, more rats.

Death.

Eric.

If we go through this door and get blown away,

it has been a pleasure writing with you.

Till death do us part, motherfucker.

We were below a Walmart this whole fucking time?

What did I tell you?

My thesis was right!

Get 'em!

Oh, man.

Yeah.

Um...

Those guys came out of nowhere.

And, uh, that was a lot quicker than I thought it would be.

Yeah, yeah.

Yeah.

I thought that was gonna be the big shoot-out,

crazy climax save the day kind of thing.

But, I don't know.

Yeah, I mean, honestly, that was kind of anticlimactic.

- Uh... - Yeah.

- I was... - Yeah!

- I was kind of... - Yeah!

I was kind of hoping for more of a thing.

Oh yeah, yeah, like what?

I don't know.

I kinda was thinking I could be like,

"Watch out for those falling prices."

And then I'd shoot one of those price signs

and it would land on a guy.

Yeah, but those are plastic, that wouldn't work.

I actually, I actually, I actually was thinking,

I was like after we like fuck everything up,

you know, and there's just blood everywhere

and blood all over... by the way,

I didn't know blood was this sticky, wow.

Uh, but I just thought like, you know,

somebody would come up, like an employee would be like,

"Uh, clean up on aisle three, please."

You're better than that, Eric.

That's stupid, no.

What if we rigged a shopping cart with a rocket?

From the rocket section of Walmart?

- Is that where we'd get that? - Just hold on a second.

Hey, who the hell are you people?

Sorry, lady, uh...

Red hair?

- Nose ring, is that... - That's my girl.

That's the cashier I bought chemicals from

- when we were researching. - The one with the FUPA?

Wait, are we in my... are,

are we in my home town?

Why the hell are we in my home town, Eric?

- Just relax. - These guys know everything

about us, they know where we live.

I mean, what if they're going to my family or something, man?

Let's just go to your family and we'll check on them, okay?

Wait a second, you guys caused a lot of damage in here.

- You can't just leave. - Listen, lady.

We have to check on his family, okay?

But let me ask you a quick question.

Eric, she doesn't have any fucking cocktail weenies.

Now let's go.

How long were we down there for?

I don't know, man, but it looks like the sun is rising.

Wait, why was that Walmart even open?

It's open 24/7.

The suburbs, man.

All right, let's use this car, move out of the way.

Hot wire it, dude.

I don't know how to hot wire a car.

Why would you think that?

Well, the way you just broke the window,

I figured you could.

Well, I can't, check the visor.

God, I love living in a safe neighborhood.

How far are we from your house?

Twenty minutes.

All right, we'll get there before anyone else.

What if someone's already there?

They're not, everything's gonna be fine.

Eric, what about my family?

They're surrounding us!

How many of those bad guys are there?

Really, a car chase, now we have to have a fucking car chase?

- Jesus Christ! - Lose 'em!

- We're on a highway! - Oh, this is just perfect.

- Shoot the tires out! - I'm shooting!

And you're missing, come on, Eric!

We're going 80, my head's out a window,

and I don't normally shoot fucking guns!

We should've used a Russian prince.

- What? - In Arctic War,

we should've used a Russian prince

instead of a Russian nationalist.

- That makes no sense! - Exactly.

It would've added a comedy element to the screenplay

so these guys wouldn't have taken it so seriously.

Plus, a Russian prince would've been a metaphor for...

Man, can we talk about this when I'm not sticking my head

out of a window trying to shoot the tires of a car?

- Oh, shit! - What?

- I dropped the gun. - What?

- I'm sorry! - We only have one left.

- You wanna shoot? - Dude,

the roof is so shot up, it's getting loose.

Oh, if we lose our cover we're totally fucked!

Wait, cover, what do you mean cover?

- Steer the car, steer the car. - I'm steering!

- All right, I'm trying! - Steer it, steer it, steer it!

Ooh, your butt smells like doo-doo!

That's my new cologne, Anuse.

What are you doing?

The roof's already blowing in the wind.

- I just need a few more shots. - To do what?

Let's give these assholes some real cover.

The roof's coming off.

Gonna nail them, boom!

- Woo! - Woo!

- Boo-yah! - Bull's eye, bitch.

Convertible time, motherfucker!

Yeah, let's go to my freaking house.

Why is there a cop car on my lawn?

Someone must've called the police,

but that means they're safe.

I have a bad feeling about this.

Look, we're gonna go in there together

and it's gonna be fine.

Eric, if we go in there and...

I know, man.

Okay.

Leah, girls?

Officer, what are you doing in my house?

Officer, a few miles away from here

there is some crazy shit going on.

What are you doing in my house?

Sir, sir, you need to call someone.

Good to see you again, boys.

Bring them to me.

Where is my family?

Don't you fucking touch him.

Ah!

On your knees, boys.

I had a feeling you'd be running here.

Thought we'd meet you first.

Where's my family, you motherfucker?

Upstairs.

Both your wives are okay.

Wives?

What do you mean wives?

Your little ladies were worried about you.

They didn't get their phone calls.

- So Eric's wife came down here. - No.

- Pretty little thing. - Fuck you!

Your little ladies called the cops.

They were just so, so concerned about you boys.

But we took care of those police.

If you touched my wife, I swear to god.

You mean that mighty fine pregnant woman?

I'm gonna tear your motherfucking faces off!

So much cussing.

Eric, your wife,

she's got a dirty mouth too.

Suck my pussy.

And Sean, your daughters,

they're gonna be quite the lookers one day.

Shut up, shut up!

All you had to do was help us with the ending.

Just let our families go.

- But you wouldn't talk. - Please.

We'll give you anything that you want.

And now your movie's almost over.

And no one is left.

No little kid doing something clever.

No sidekick coming back from the dead.

Please, please.

Sorry to give you the bad news, boys.

There ain't gonna be no sequels.

So, the next part is,

um...

Yeah.

Guys crashing through the window!

They look like they're too old for this shit!

They're coming through the front door!

That guy, he just got shot, now he's all fucked up!

I mean, bullets are going everywhere!

- Sean, protect yourself! - on my couch!

The cowboy's in the corner, he's got a gun!

They just shot the shit out of the cowboy!

Oh man, they just shot his hat off!

Whoa, he looks like Hans Gruber!

Holy crap.

Where are our wives?

You both have some shit to explain.

Man, fucking Arctic War.

You know, let us try explaining this just a bit differently.

Secure the families, bring 'em downstairs.

They're okay, did you hear that?

They're okay!

Shit, it's over, this is over.

Oh thank god, thank you, god.

They're at the bottom of the stairs.

We did it, I can't believe we did it.

- No. - What?

Do you smell that?

Gasoline, burned pubes.

You're kidding me.

Black Eyes.

Scan the area, I don't see anything.

- It's just that smell. - Follow the smell.

- Follow that smell. - Breathe, breathe, breathe.

I knew that would come in handy.

Up there, he's on the roof.

His face burnt like Freddy Krueger's taint.

Stanley, they're coming to the front door.

He's standing.

Looks like he's gonna jump down, he's got a knife.

He's pointing to the bottom of the front door.

- No! - And here they come.

- Nooo! - Nooo!

You did it, you did it, man.

Freeze, creeps.

He's another bad guy, man, relax.

Don't call him "man."

Here's another bad guy, sir.

You guys are crazy.

Acting like we're the deadliest guys in the world.

We're just writers.

- Good shot, man. - Thanks.

You know, that would've been a really good time

- to say a one-liner. - Yeah, but...

Dude, look.

They're okay there.

Short blonde hair with freckles.

Long brown hair, the roundest, softest cheeks.

- My girls. - I immediately feel safe.

My knees might as well be taken out.

They walk closer,

smiling, staring,

arms wide open.

And then we get taken away.

Can you believe that?

After all of that, they wouldn't even let us hug our wives.

Fucking po po.

- It's the feds, Eric. - Fucking fed fed.

Because seriously, that would've been a really nice

- end of the movie kiss there. - Right?

But instead, they separate us and they bring us

to holding cells for questioning.

- And I got some questions too. - Big time.

Now, let's take this part slow.

We don't want any of it to sound ridiculous.

That's the last thing we want.

So, after they separate us from our wives

and we have our initial questioning, we sit down

with the president of the United States of America.

Apparently, the FBI have been tracking our emails for a while.

They were just confused with all of our research

- on chemical weapons. - But then they realized

we were writing nonsense, so they left us alone.

Yeah, but then when our wives called the cops

because they thought we were missing, you know,

that's when the feds knew something was up.

So they tracked down our wives and were guarding our my house.

And that's when the president goes...

brrr...

"I've heard it from them directly,

but where have you two been?"

Brrr.

Um, except he's not a mechanical robot, Eric.

As opposed to a human robot?

You see, we're writers

and we're working on an action screenplay.

- And then a terrorist group... - Led by your vice president.

- ...hacked our emails... - ...because what we were writing

a very detailed terrorist plot.

And then they kidnapped us because they wanted to use

the terrorist plot as their own thing.

Yeah, but, you know, instead of helping them,

what we did is, you know, we kicked some ass.

- Saved a few hostages. - And we killed the world's

deadliest people in their underground lair.

It's a really simple story, Mr. President.

- And he bought it. - Most of it.

Well, let's just say the vice president

had his Twitter account deleted

and became ill and resigned from office.

We don't actually know what happened.

- We could take a guess. - Conspiracy theorists.

Anyway, the president thanked us.

He was a really great guy.

- He was all right. - All right?

I mean, dude, after everything we did,

he could've at least invited us to the White House.

Oh god, you're such a baby.

I don't, I don't think I'm asking too much.

You want some pig weenies?

I'll make you some pig weenies, Eric.

- Shut up, Sean. - You shut up.

- No, you shut up. - You shut up.

- No, you shut up! - You shut up.

It's just never-ending with this dude.

I'm just saying the United States government

did other good things for us.

Do you have to work anymore? No.

Do I worry about daycare anymore? No.

The president has repaid us full vault.

That's true, actually, this is awesome.

Even Jacobi contacted us.

He was all, "Hey, guys, uh, maybe we can work

on a script together someday."

Then I was like, "We saved your ass, isn't that enough?

We need to work with you too?"

And I go, "Sorry, brah.

You'll hear about me in my next Gold Star newsletter."

Which Eric has a lot of lately, because...

- I had a boy! - Mazel tov.

Thanks, man, he's the cutest.

Yeah, he's got a full set of hair.

- He's got a huge baby dick. - Oh, that's...

- that's really weird. - I'm just proud.

And you should be, man.

Same for you, brother.

True.

I am having sex all the time now.

- No more book club? - Well, let's just say

I have my own little karma sutra section with the wife,

if you know what I mean.

- Yeah, Sean, I get it. - Okay, cool.

We're actually, um,

we're spending a lot of time with our family now.

Yeah, I'm taking Leah out on real dates,

- I'm sticking to soda water. - And I'm learning

what it's like to actually be there.

Not just physically, because, man,

all the shit we put them through.

- Oh god, all my talking. - And the way I never listened.

All I'm gonna say is this:

This whole group therapy thing,

this is really great, doc.

It's true, you know, I...

I was really skeptical, Frude, but I like you.

- What? - It's Freud, Eric.

Yeah, that's what I said.

I'm a-frude you're wrong, Eric.

- Sean, shut the f... - Now, what about

the president's other conditions?

I mean, you know, um...

...we're not psyched about it.

I'm definitely not psyched about it, but I get it.

Yeah, I mean, no more action scripts.

Clearly the government doesn't want us writing anymore.

But you know what, we have other things to focus on right now.

We have families, we have responsibilities,

- people to take care of. - Yup.

We're good, no more writing.

But they didn't say we couldn't make a movie.

Cut!

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