CLOSE ON: FRODO wrapping an ARM around SAM’S SHOULDER.
FRODO (calm)
I’m glad to be with you, Samwise Gamgee, here at the end of all things.
HIGH WIDE: TWO TINY HOBBITS waiting to die amid a cataclysmic landscape … LAVA erupts around them … FIREBALLS rain down from the sky.
We SLOWLY FADE TO BLACK…
Nothing quite like a fresh Obligatory when the guys are (sadly) at their best to cure what ails ya.
Uncurl yourself from the fetal position, take your medicine, and crawl back into the saddle, because UCLA beckons, and you know you’re too dumb, addicted, and masochistic to resist Saturday’s siren song.
