Sadie's Last Days on Earth

1

- So if he likes

your pic, he likes you?

- Not necessarily, but

it's definitely a click

in the right direction.

- I would just say something.

- Wait.

Like, if you were me,

or you for me?

- Umm.

Both, I guess?

- Okay, no pressure,

but what would you say?

- I... well...

Dear...

Brennan...

Earthquake!

- They're supposed to stay

inside, we can't go in there!

- The only safe place!

- Sadie!

Sadie!

It's your turn to present.

- And so, with science and

multiple religions agreeing,

I think it's safe to say

the apocalypse prophecies

should be taken seriously.

- Sadie, once again, you've

misunderstood the assignment.

It's supposed to be a study

on the effects of religious

government on economy and

society.

- Can there be any bigger

effect than the complete

demolition of both?

I started doing my research

and discovered what many other

people already know.

How can I not do my

part and educate others?

I have produced some

literature to help you

ready yourselves.

If we prepare, we can make it!

In 30 days, the world is

going to end as we know it!

My name is Sadie Mitchell.

I'm keeping this log

so if I don't make it,

whomever inhabits this world

in the future will have a sense

of who we were and learn

from our unpreparedness.

Human beings are

creatures of great denial.

But we also have a vast sense of

fear.

The powers that be know this,

so they pepper our brain

waves with war-this and

economy-that.

And a big thank you to main

street media for providing us

teenagers with a perpetual

sense of inadequacy.

I'm the first to say that

all that fear-mongering

is just to keep our senses

engaged.

But this predates media.

It's millennia old.

31 more days, disaster

will strike the world over

and prom queen or geek,

everyone's f***ed.

But I'm going to survive.

I know this because what

started as a school assignment

has become a minor distraction.

Someday maybe they'll

change you, change you

but don't let, don't let 'em

lead you, lead you astray

- Afternoon, Sadie.

Only one more month

till doomsday.

- And seven hours, 42 minutes,

and 16 seconds.

- Yeah, but like you've

already bought everything

in the store, so if anybody's

gonna survive, it's you.

I mean, other than me.

Wait, have you thought of

something else?

- Early Christmas presents,

since there won't be one.

- You're caring.

Sadie, I have a question

for you.

If the Mayan calendar is right...

- and the Egyptians,

the I ching dynasty...

- Yeah, to name a few,

but whose side are you on?

- I think if I had to pick

an MVP, I'd go with science.

It's winter solstice and the

earth will fall in direct

alignment with the sun

and the milky way galaxy.

The sun will lash out

huge solar flares,

which will destroy our

protective magnetosphere

that will trigger geomagnetic

storms that agitate

the earth's core, followed by

the obvious.

- Super volcanoes

and earthquakes!

- And subsequent tsunamis.

- I'm still on the fence

about the entire earth's crust

shifting around the core,

seems a bit far-fetched to me.

- Yeah, but either way, the

whole thing goes "kablow".

- Not us, though.

We'll see each other

when the dust settles.

- You know it.

- Do you think if everyone

was this prepared,

they could survive it too?

- Yeah, more could than will,

though.

Ten bucks.

- Ring me up.

I've decided before there's

nothing and no one left,

I need to make a list of a few

things I should accomplish.

I have all my supplies,

I need to learn to knit,

how to cook, you know, practical

stuff for when it's just me

and the obliterated countryside.

There's some personal stuff,

now please don't discredit me

as a hormonal adolescent, but

there'll be no room for being

a teenager in

post-apocalyptic suburbia.

I should probably go

to a high school party.

And I'm barfing too.

I wanna kiss a boy.

But most importantly,

I need my comrade in arms.

I don't wanna be

the sole survivor.

I want my best friend back.

And by my side.

November 26th, today I begin

to prepare for the end.

- Morning, sweetie, ready

for another big week?

- One of the last!

- I should never have let

you convert your bedroom

into an impenetrable bunker.

Your mother...

- what about me?

- Nothing, honey, just

commenting on your beauty.

- Now, I don't hate my parents

like every other 16-year-old

girl, I just don't respect them.

Mom! Can you please make sure

dad keeps his survival kit

in the car at all times?

- He's so big and strong!

- Oh, if Vera was in

pictionary, they'd draw me.

- He's such a sucker

for the marketing of youth,

but is borderline a pensioner.

I should call him gramps.

I mean, he acts like one,

gives me what I want before I

can ask, takes zero

responsibility, and offers the

occasional uninvited piece of

Sage advice.

- Honey, when I was a kid,

we didn't have anxiety.

You know?

So if you put a little

less emphasis on Facebook

and craigslist. Com-ing,

you'd actually breathe

in some fresh air.

- Craigslist-ing?

- Yeah, it exists!

- And my mom.

Her Australian accent is

about as flaky as she is.

She's never been overly

maternal, a failed search

for a surrogate led to a

very successful c-section.

Exhibit:
Me.

- Honey, I'm so proud of

you for trying that diet

I told you about!

- Mom, I'm on a rationing

dry run.

- Well, you could market that.

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