Here is a story:
The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door…
Here is the whole story:
He looked up from the desk where he was sitting, upon which sat a book he was writing. A book no one would read. He cautiously stood up and crept towards the door. “How could this be?” he said aloud. “I’m the last man on earth.” He was no longer aware that no one was listening. He opened the door and was met with a blast of God’s icy breath upon his naked body. Yes, he was naked. He was the last man on earth.
He remembered the last person he ever saw as he gazed into the wilderness. He was the last soldier alive. He fought in the last battle of the last war. In the end, it came down to him and a soldier from the other side. They ran at each other instinctively but stopped when they realized that everyone else was dead. “Looks like the survivors envy the dead this time, mate.” He was Australian. He then put his own gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. The last man on earth then said “My god, I’m the last man on Earth.” And so it was until the knock.
He saw nothing beyond his doorstep. Not even the snowy wilderness that surrounded his room. “Hello? Is anyone out there?” He asked the icy nothingness, and the nothingness did not reply. He looked down and noticed a broken tree branch at his feet. He addressed the darkness again. “Ah! Nevermind! It appears that the wind blew this tree branch into my door multiple times, and then the branch fell over. Problem solved.” He took the branch inside with him and, quite proud of himself, placed the branch on the mantle above his fireplace. By the way, there was a fireplace in the room as well. He sat back down at his desk, and began writing again, relieved that he had solved the mystery behind the knock. He finished his book, and was not bothered again.
There. You have the whole story. Do you feel better?
Yeah, that’s what I thought.
That’s why Prometheus is a good movie, you douche.