Craft Note · Opening Ten words and the genre is established: lone man, elevated position, apocalyptic stakes. It's a pulp archetype — the solitary figure above the chaos, apart from the crowd, watching. The story is going to complicate this archetype rather than simply inhabit it. The second man arrives in the next sentence, and the third — Alexis — will prove to be the most interesting person on the roof. He's lost in his thoughts as he lights a cigarette and looks out towards the pale blue horizon. He inhales the smoke and savours the way it stings the back of his throat; it's been a long time. When he breathes out, it's almost like a sigh. This is apparently the last sunrise he'll ever see but he isn't scared; more annoyed at the fact that this is it. There was a lot he never got to do.

"I see you also decided to take up smoking again, Mr Grimm," says a familiar voice.

Grimm looks back and sees his old friend, Murdock, holding two tumblers of whiskey and ice, with the bottle under his arm.

"Yeah, well I figured cancer wasn't going to get me before… What's it called again?" says Grimm, "And I see you've started drinking again."

"
Name · Mythological Pandora In Greek myth, Pandora was the first woman, created by the gods as a punishment for humanity's theft of fire. She was given a jar (later mistranslated as a "box") which she was instructed never to open. She opened it. Out came every evil and misery — plague, death, sorrow — with only Hope remaining at the bottom. The story names its world-ending asteroid after her without drawing attention to the choice. An asteroid named after a woman who couldn't resist curiosity, destroying a world of "last men standing." → Pandora — Wikipedia ," answers Murdock, "And I figured we should share one last bottle, you know, for old times' sake. Can I sit down?"

"Well obviously," replies Grimm as Murdock hands him one of the glasses and puts the bottle of the floor, "You mean I'll finish the bottle while you nurse that glass for the next three hours."

"Pretty much," laughs Murdock. He pulls up one of the deck chairs that lie scattered all over the rooftop and sits down next to Grimm. "By the way, can I bum a smoke? My box got lost in the chaos downstairs."

"Some things never change," says Grimm as he tosses Murdock his box of smokes. "What's it like down there?"

Craft Note · The Title The title earns itself here — this is the third or fourth time they've been the last two conscious people at a party. It's a running joke between them, a badge of mild superiority. Worth noting that "last men standing" is also what they are literally: the party below includes women who are equally upright, but the phrase doesn't account for them. The title's blind spot is the story's blind spot, stated with cheerful self-awareness.

They both raise their glasses and nod before each taking a sip of the fiery amber liquid.

"Is this
Brand · Scotch Whisky Black & White A blended Scotch whisky produced since 1884, named for the black and white Scottish Terriers on its label. A mid-shelf bottle with a long history — not the flashiest choice, which is entirely the point. Murdock has kept this bottle for five years for an occasion worth it. The end of the world qualifies. → Black & White whisky — Wikipedia ?" asks Grimm.

"It is."
"Didn't they stop making it?"
"I've had this one in my cupboard for about five years."
"Well played."
"Thanks."

· · · · ·

"You know, I didn't expect you to be here. I would have thought you'd be with your family," remarks Murdock.

"Couldn't get a flight," says Grimm without looking away from the sky.

"Same."

"So where's this thing going to hit?"

"Somewhere in the Pacific I think. I bet you anything it'll be Hawaii. Literally on the island."

"But that's on the other side of the planet."

"Yeah, but the shockwaves and energy and stuff will pretty much wipe out everything. Unless you're one of those rich idiots in your own personal bunker."

"I don't know hey."

"It doesn't really matter though. Whatever happens, the world that we've lived in for how long won't exist this time tomorrow."

"I suppose it ended three months ago then."

"How so?"

"Come on, the minute – no, the second people heard that space shuttle, uh –"

"Titan."

"Yeah, that one. As soon as they blew themselves up instead of themselves and the rock, the world went crazy."

"Well…"

"What?"

Craft Note Murdock's best line, and the story's most credible philosophical moment. It arrives without fanfare and isn't dwelt upon — which is exactly right. The story knows when to be light and when to let something land. This is the rooftop scene earning its atmosphere: two men who have run out of pretence alongside everyone else, being honest about what was always true.

They laugh at this. The silence of the dawn doesn't sit well with it. Grimm turns to Murdock.

"So how's things with you and whatserface? How's that going?"

"Um… She, uh, ran off. Well, sort of. It was a bit of a mess actually."

Craft Note · The Code The male friendship code rendered in two neat clauses. It's economical characterisation — we learn more about how these two work from this rule than from pages of backstory. It also subtly positions the women in their lives as categories: "prospects" and "exes." The story's female characters will be sorted into these buckets before Alexis arrives and declines to fit either.

"Guess who I ran into at one of these, um, parties, I guess," says Grimm, filling up his second glass while Murdock takes a second sip. "I don't know what to call them."

"Early wakes. Who?"

"
Nickname · Catalogue Miss Wonderland A nickname, not a name. She is filed in Grimm's memory not as a person but as a character from a story — curio, spectacle, wonder. The story tells us she got "completely wasted" and "one-eye-closed-needs-subtitles-kind-of-trashed," and that "nothing" happened between them. She exists in the narrative purely as colour, a way of establishing Grimm's social world. She is named after a place you visit and leave. . Haven't spoken to her in, I don't know how long, and next thing I know I see her getting completely wasted, I mean one-eye-closed-needs-subtitles-kind-of-trashed."

"And then?"
"And then nothing."
"Is that really the end of the story?"
"Pretty much."
"Fair enough."

"Oh, but that Ashe."
"Still good?"
"Oh yes."
"Well at least you got over her."

· · · · ·

The door to the rooftop opens. Loudly. Grimm and Murdock turn to see the source of the commotion. A petite blonde woman, who was on every man's radar at the beginning of last night stumbles forth into the still morning air, mumbles a "Hello" to the two men and then promptly passes out on an upside down deck chair. Grimm and Murdock are about to get up, but then a second lady, brunette and oft-overlooked, comes out to check on her unconscious friend.
Craft Note Four words that accomplish a lot. The men are about to perform gallantry; they clock that it's unnecessary and stand down. It's a small, accurate observation about how competence reads — and a quiet foreshadowing. The brunette who nobody was watching is the one who has things handled. She will continue to be the most capable person on the roof for the rest of the story.

"Hi," she says, "Sorry."

"I take it this happens a lot," says Murdock, nodding towards the blonde.

"All the time," comes the reply, along with a smile.

"At least she's a happy drunk," says Grimm.

"Most of the time," says the brunette, "As long as you smile and nod like you agree."

She starts tapping her friend's face, softly cooing what sounds like "Wake up, bitch." Blondie responds by opening one eye and mumbling "You're so nice," before retching. Murdock chuckles to himself when he sees Grimm close his eyes and cover his ears to guard against his own gag reflex. Some things never change.

"Let's get you downstairs, okay?" says the brunette to the blonde, helping her friend to her feet and leading her to the door.

"Have a drink with us!" calls Murdock suddenly, just before the ladies disappear, "When you're done tucking her in."

For a moment it seems like he's too late, but then a voice from inside calls out "Sure, okay" from the stairwell. Murdock turns to Grimm who is still shaking off the heebie-jeebies by pouring another glass.

Slang · Rating System Jack of Clubs A rating system using playing cards — face cards being the higher end of attractiveness, suits adding a modifier. Jack of Clubs is a middling face card: handsome enough but not the top of the deck. The exchange happens while Alexis is inside taking care of her friend. She has no idea she's being appraised, catalogued, and scored before she's even been introduced. The story presents this as background texture. Readers can decide whether to let it sit there.

"Which one?"
"The one who could still walk."
"Yeah, although… Maybe ten. I'm not sure."
"And the other one?"
"Meh."

The orange light finally hits their faces, bringing silence with it. They don't speak for a long while. They don't need to.

· · · · ·

The door behind them opens.

"Pull up a chair," says Murdock, "That was quick."

"She saw some guy in the blue room that she liked and just barrelled in," says the brunette as she sits down beside Grimm, "Anyway, not my problem. How about that drink?"

Grimm fills his empty glass and hands it to her, taking a sip from the bottle.

"Thanks," she says, "Hang on, don't I know you?"

"I don't know," says Grimm, "Do you?"

"Yeah," she says, with that sudden-recognition tone in her voice, "You were in that thing with, um, gosh, what's his name? Michael something…"

"Marrionettes?" offers Murdock.

"Yes! That's the one," she says brightly, "You were the teacher guy who got killed by the prefect, I think."

Murdock bursts out laughing.

"Shut up," Grimm quips, "Yeah that was me."

"What's so funny?" the lady asks Murdock as he almost chokes on his last sip of his first glass.

"No, it's just a bit of a running joke with us," he final replies.

"I'm the guy that dies," says Grimm.

"Oh," she says, smiling, "Like uh –"

"
Actor · Running Joke Sean Bean English actor (b. 1959) so reliably killed off in film and television roles that his character deaths became a cultural meme. Notable fatalities include Boromir in The Lord of the Rings (2001), Ned Stark in Game of Thrones (2011), and many others. Alexis completes the reference before Grimm can say it — her first real move in the scene, demonstrating that she speaks the same cultural language. → Sean Bean — Wikipedia ."

"Yes! It was a great movie though."
"Thanks," say Grimm and Murdock in unison.

"So," says Murdock, lighting a smoke and handing the pack to Grimm, "What's your name then?"

"Why not," she says when Grimm offers her a smoke, "It is the last day on Earth, after all. Um, my name's Alexis. Alexis James."

"Well, Alexis James," says Murdock, raising his glass, "Thanks for sharing a drink with us on this day of days."

Alexis inhales deeply as Grimm lights her smoke and promptly coughs her lungs out.

"Oh God," she sputters, shaking her head and blinking away tears, "I forgot about that part."

"What do you mean?"
"That first drag. It burns!" she says, mimicking the
Reference · Wizard of Oz Wicked Witch of the West Margaret Hamilton's performance in the 1939 MGM film — specifically the drawn-out scream of "I'm melting!" Alexis deploys it to describe smoke inhalation, which is a quick, specific, funny choice. It's also the second Wizard of Oz reference across these four stories, which begins to feel like a signature. Here it functions as a character-establishing beat: she is unguarded, a little theatrical, comfortable with self-deprecation. with that last bit. Grimm and Murdock chuckle. She cools down with the fire-water before trying again, this time with great success.

"You know what I won't miss," she says as she exhales, "Social networks."

What follows is the story's most collaborative scene. For the first time, all three voices braid together — Murdock, Alexis, Grimm — building a list of everything nobody will miss. It is also, structurally, the scene where Alexis becomes equal. The rooftop, which has belonged to Grimm and Murdock, becomes a shared space.

"Hear, hear." says Murdock.
"And crappy music," adds Grimm.
"Beliebers." says Alexis.
"Stupid memes."
"Internet trolls."
"Rent payments."
"Insurance."
"Twilight."
"Twilight fan fiction."
"Definitely! And politicians,"
"Politics in general."
"Well I was kind of hoping to see Arnie become President of the U.S."
"I definitely won't miss taxes," interrupts Murdock.

Craft Note · The Best Line Alexis has the funniest line in the story. "Death and taxes" is the oldest cliché for the unavoidable; she inverts it in half a second, without setup. The laughter that follows lasts five minutes and is the story's emotional peak — the moment where three strangers become, briefly, one thing. The story correctly identifies this as hers: it's "what she said" that ambushed them, and "the last time they will ever experience one of these tiny, insignificant gems of human existence."

They all fall silent. Grimm starts laughing, and then Murdock, and then Alexis. Soon they're practically doubled over with tears in their eyes. It's not because what she said was funny, but because she said it so quickly that it snuck up on them and, somehow, they all realise that this is probably the last time they will ever experience one of these tiny, insignificant gems of human existence. It takes a full five minutes before they calm down.

"I'll miss this, though," says Murdock.

Grimm looks up. The sky is as clear as it could ever be, the pale blue of the morning forcing back the darkness. The last remaining stars seem to fade out as a ball of fire and ice, that looks as large as the moon appears in the west. "There she is," he says.

None of them know why, but they all rise to their feet as they watch Pandora on her way to the still-dark side of the Earth. It's slow, almost graceful.

Alexis touches Grimm's arm and says, "I'm going inside, it was nice to meet you guys."

"You too."
"Definitely," says Murdock, "You're brilliant, Alexis James."

She waves goodbye when she reaches the door, and then she's gone.

· · · · ·

"So, Mr Grimm. What do you think?"
"I would."
"I thought so. It's a pity."
"What is?"

Craft Note · The Compliment Doesn't Need a Man Murdock's highest praise assembles four qualities: bright, confident, "awkward pretty" (a physical qualifier that softens her looks into something non-threatening), and — the capstone — "doesn't need a man." In the story's value system, female self-sufficiency is presented as an asset to a potential male partner rather than as something that exists independently. She is perfect for Grimm. The story, to its credit, has already shown us who Alexis is — the compliment is accurate but the framing is its own thing.

"I don't know."
"You never know."

Pandora nears the horizon.

"Not long now," says Murdock.
"Whiskey's done."
"Smoke?"
"Smoke."

"It's funny," says Murdock, "It took the end of the world for me to finally be a good wingman."

They light up. As they watch the Earth's death rattle draw near, each man regards the other in his turn. They don't say anything. They don't need to.

Pandora begins to fade.

"
Internet Slang · C. 2010 Call Me Susan An early-2010s internet expression of mock-exasperated surprise — roughly equivalent to "well I'll be damned" or "colour me shocked." The "respect my life choices" suffix was a common self-deprecating internet tag of the era. Murdock uses it at the exact moment he realises the asteroid is leaving rather than arriving — the story's anti-climax delivered via period-specific slang. ," whispers Murdock, dropping his cigarette.

"What?"
"It's fading."
"So?"
"So, it should be going past the horizon line, to the Pacific. Fading means it's leaving the atmosphere."
"You're joking."
"No."
"Well, are you sure?"
"Can't hurt to wait and see, right."

And so they wait.

Nothing happens.

They finish their smokes.

Nothing happens.

They wait some more.

Nothing happens.

"Well that was anti-climactic," says Grimm.
"Agreed," says Murdock. "Bit of a let-down really."

"So, what now?"

"Keep on living, I guess."
"I guess."
"Well… Go on then."
"Huh?"
"Go see about that girl. 'Surprise! The world isn't ending! Let's go on a date. To celebrate. And not be celeb –"
"You're an idiot."
"I know. Just go already. I'll see you around."
"Cheers."
"Peace, love and happiness, guy. We should do this again sometime."
"Without the asteroid."
"Yeah, without the asteroid."

They shake hands and Grimm walks over to the door, practising his
Film Reference · 1955 Rebel Without a Cause Nicholas Ray's 1955 film starring James Dean — the defining image of cool, non-committal masculine swagger. Grimm is literally practising a walk to approach a woman. The reference is self-aware: he knows he's performing, and the story knows it too. The gap between the cinematic ideal and the reality (a slightly hungover man on a rooftop rehearsing his entrance) is where the story's warmth lives. → Rebel Without a Cause — Wikipedia . He's left the pack of smokes. Murdock takes out a fresh one, the last one in the pack in fact, and lights it, looking out at the unlikely dawn.

"
Latin · Horace Carpe Diem "Seize the day" — from Horace's Odes (23 BC), in full: carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero — "seize the day, trusting as little as possible in the next." The full phrase is about mortality: tomorrow is not guaranteed, so live now. Murdock delivers it in a story where the asteroid — the ultimate reminder of mortality — has just failed to arrive. The Latin is simultaneously sincere and ridiculous, which is exactly right. → Carpe diem — Wikipedia "

Challenge C022 — Requirements

Tell Me a Story About: Old friends. | Genre: Any Genre | Style: 3rd Person Narrative (Present Tense) | It Must Have: 1) Two old friends in a strange situation. 2) A girl. 3) An open ending. | Someone must say: "So what now?" | Anything Else? Don't make it a love triangle thing, 'coz that's lame.

Author's note: It's been ages since my last story because of other work (again, I know). One day these will be daily, but for now, I need a little slack here. JL.

## The World

The party below, the rooftop above, and the male friendship code that governs the space between them

The story is set in a recognisable near-future. A space shuttle called Titan was sent to intercept an asteroid; its crew chose to destroy the shuttle rather than themselves and the rock, failing the mission. The asteroid — named Pandora — has been incoming ever since. Three months have passed between the Titan incident and this rooftop. In that time, the world "went crazy" — not because it changed fundamentally, Murdock argues, but because people stopped pretending it was sane.

The story is deliberately vague about geopolitics, survival infrastructure, and who exactly is at this party. What matters is the social texture: the wealthy have bunkers; everyone else has parties. The "early wakes" — end-of-world celebrations — have been running for three months. Grimm and Murdock have been to enough of them to have given them a name.

The party below involves people who are "passed out" or "trying to bang their way into the afterlife." The rooftop is for people who prefer to watch, think, and drink slowly. Grimm and Murdock position themselves above the chaos — not moralistically, but temperamentally. They are observers by nature.

This is a familiar literary geography: the elevated position as a space for reflection, removed from the noise of ordinary human behaviour. It's also a mildly self-congratulatory geography — the men who are "last standing" above the fallen crowd. The story knows this, which is why Murdock says "once again" with a laugh rather than a sneer. The self-awareness doesn't dissolve the mild superiority, but it acknowledges it.

Grimm and Murdock operate by an understood set of rules: prospects are discussable, exes are not; a bad wingman is a character flaw worth noting; smoking and drinking are things you quit and restart, which is a way of saying life keeps making demands and sometimes you need a vice. They are fluent in each other's preferences — Grimm will drink, Murdock will nurse; Grimm rates on the ten scale, Murdock rates by playing cards.

The code is presented with affection because the story is warm toward these men. But the code also has edges: women in the "prospects" category are appraised before they're known. The card system operates while Alexis is inside looking after her friend. The discussion of whether Grimm "could have found a good one" happens after she leaves — she never hears herself assessed and approved. The code is a closed system, and she was never a participant in it. She was a subject.

The story gives no scientific explanation for why Pandora leaves the atmosphere. It simply fades. The challenge requirement was "an open ending" — and the story takes this seriously by refusing to explain the world's survival. It just happens. The asteroid goes away. The whiskey is done.

The anti-climax is the real subject of the story's final movement: the deflation of apocalyptic posturing, the bathos of surviving something you had emotionally prepared to die in. Murdock's "bit of a let-down really" is the story's most honest laugh. The world didn't end. Now Grimm has to go knock on a door and introduce himself. Carpe diem is a much harder instruction when you're not actually dying.

## The Craft

Genre, structure, and the challenge requirements that shaped this story

The story belongs to a specific sub-genre: the end-of-world male friendship piece — two men, a bottle, and a view of the apocalypse. It shares DNA with films like The World's End (Edgar Wright, 2013) and the broader "lads face oblivion" tradition in British and American fiction, from Hemingway bar scenes to Tarantino diner monologues. The specific pleasures of the form are: naturalistic male dialogue, the revelation of character through small choices (how fast you drink, whether you nurse your glass), and the use of catastrophe as permission to be honest.

The story is also a challenge-response piece with specific requirements: old friends, a strange situation, a girl, an open ending, the line "So what now?" and the explicit instruction "Don't make it a love triangle thing, 'coz that's lame." The challenger's last requirement is itself a craft note — it tells the author what not to do, which often clarifies what to do instead.

The challenge specified present tense, and the story uses it to produce a specific effect: we do not know whether the world will end. In past tense, the narrator's survival is implicit — someone survived to tell the story. In present tense, Pandora is genuinely incoming, and the uncertainty is alive until the asteroid fades.

Present tense also keeps the dialogue immediate. The exchanges between Grimm and Murdock feel overheard rather than recounted — we are on the rooftop with them, not being told about a rooftop we missed. This is particularly important for the "nothing happens" sequence, which needs to land as anticlimax in real time rather than as a known punchline.

What Alexis does: arrives competently while managing her drunk friend; declines to let the men help (she's got this); holds her own in rapid-fire cultural reference; delivers the funniest line in the piece; leaves on her own terms without waiting to be dismissed.

What she is told she is, in Murdock's valediction: bright, confident, "awkward pretty" (a physical qualifier that frames her looks as non-threatening), and — the highest compliment available in this value system — "doesn't need a man." The gap between what Alexis demonstrates and how Murdock describes her is instructive. He is assessing her suitability as a partner for Grimm. She has been, throughout the scene, simply herself. The story is good enough to have written a character who exceeds the frame its men place around her.

The challenge required an open ending. The story honours this by closing on Murdock alone, watching an "unlikely dawn," Grimm gone through the door toward an encounter the story doesn't show us. We don't know whether Grimm finds Alexis, whether she wants to be found, or whether the world really is safe. Pandora faded — it didn't disappear. Maybe it circled back.

More importantly, the story refuses to deliver the romantic resolution its structure has been building toward. The "Jack of Clubs" rating, the approval conversation, Murdock's nudge — all of this points toward a neat rom-com ending. The story stops before delivering it. Grimm practises his James Dean walk. Murdock watches the dawn. The door stays closed to us. This is the better ending not despite the challenge requirement but because of it: the instruction "don't make it a love triangle" implicitly asked for something more honest than a tidy pairing, and the story obliges.

## Further Reading

The genre, the tradition, and the texts worth finding

### The End-of-World Male Friendship Tradition

The World's End — Edgar Wright (2013) Five men, a pub crawl, an alien invasion, and the end of the world. The most direct cinematic cousin. Seeking a Friend for the End of the World (2012) What do you do when the asteroid is actually coming? A film that takes the premise seriously. The Sun Also Rises — Ernest Hemingway (1926) The archetype: men drinking, talking around what they can't say, bonding in the margins of disaster.

### Pandora and the Myth

Pandora — Wikipedia The full myth: the first woman, the jar, every evil, and Hope remaining at the bottom. Works and Days — Hesiod (c. 700 BC) The primary source for the Pandora myth; Hesiod's account of why the world contains suffering.

### The Author's Work

Last Men Standing — original post The original publication at Renegade Storyteller. Renegade Storyteller — full archive JL's complete body of challenge-response fiction.