Don’t you hate it when you go to a cabin with some friends, no cell phones or television, just the great outdoors and awkward sexual tension, and the world goes and ends while you’re up there? You get back to the remnants of civilization and it’s all crashed airliners and abandoned sketchbooks of horror, and lions wandering the streets. You dedicate a lifetime to the great old ones and when they come to gather everyone to their thousand nippled bosom that bursts the minds of those who cannot think in seven dimensions, oh their howl from oblivion just goes to voicemail on the phone you left at home. I guess it’s just catch you later, see you in another eon for the next round of infinite suffering.
This is what you get when you put Josh in charge of the murder cabin. This is why Toby always loved Sam more. Oh, wait, wrong cabin in the woods, wrong apocalypse.
Here’s the synopsis for the Spanish armageddon film Fin, though I don’t know what aquatic steering devices have to do with it:
A group of old friends get together for a weekend in a mountain cabin. Years have gone by and yet nothing seems to have changed between them. But lurking behind the laughter and stories is a murky episode from the past that continues to haunt them. A strange, sudden incident alters their plans, leaving them stranded and with no line of communication to the outside world. On their way for help, the group starts to disintegrate, just as a new natural order is unveiled before their astonished eyes.
Murky episode? Well at least normal well-adjusted characters should be able to put that in perspective once the end of the world begins. Here’s the trailer:
As an incredibly broken person, I never quite understood why characters are so sad in stories about the apocalypse. I mean, all the people are gone and they left all their toys. There’s a lot of unexplored upside to this.