I was sitting on the toilet, scrolling through reels, when I realized how anxious I felt. A plane crash, a cat, an entire neighborhood engulfed in flames, New York buried under wildfire smog, another cat, billionaires threatening democracy for fun, more cats. Clearly, the world must be ending, right? Or maybe it already has. Or maybe it’s been ending for years. Only now we have phones to feed us a never-ending IV drip of vertical bad news. Whatever it is, it ain’t all sunshine and fruit loops.

As I spoke with friends and family I quickly realized my unrest was not unique. That quiet question—What in the f*ck is going on?—simmers just below the surface for a lot of us. So I thought: I’ll make a movie about this feeling. And I’ll make it funny. Because it is funny. Absurd, terrifying, and deeply ironic. At the end of life, only irony will remain.

And whether it’s a sick perversion or innately human, part of me is excited by the idea. The end of the world that is. What would it look like? Would I feel free? Or terrified? I love movies that explore extreme situations through the lens of awkward and regular people. That’s Toy Gun. An exploration of the end, set during a birthday party in Brooklyn.