Dude.

You know how when “Night at the Museum” ended – the first time you saw it – and you were like… “Maaaaa! There is NO! WAY! I can bear the wait to find out what happens to these compelling characters!!!!”

And you were all anxious and shit. And you went back THAT NIGHT. to see “NATM” again. And you saw it three times that weekend, savoring every nuance, every gesture, every smirk.

And you drew “I [heart] [Ben Stiller's character's name]” on the sole of your sneakers.

And you had all of the “NATM” trading cards. And stickers.

And every story you told somehow, someway, worked in a crazy anecdote about “NATM”.

And you wrote short stories about what happened to the characters.

And you were the charter subscriber to Marvel Comics’ adaptation.

And you set Google alerts for the words “night” and “museum” and would pore over every link, trying to get some closure to the characters’ lives.

And you actually stood on the corner of W. 3rd and Washington, quoting “From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler” because you thought it was some kind of DaVinci Code for the “NATM” saga.

And you went out on Halloween as Owen Wilson’s character. And then you went back out that same night as Ricky Gervais’ character. Not for the candy, just for that feeling. That glorious, I-am-now-complete, this-is-not-a-choice-this-is-who-I-am feeling.

And you got high that night huffing transmission fluid and you robbed a laundromat with a bottle of ketchup and a Dymo LabelMaker. And you took your loot to the Coinstar and cashed it in for a ticket to Taipei. And you went to Snake Alley, looking for bootleg copies of a script, a treatment, a logline, ANYTHING, about “NATM 2″, because now you can’t sleep, you can’t eat, you can’t think, you can’t sit down, you can’t stand up, until you get closure on these characters.

And then it’s announced. “Night at the Museum: Whatever it is at the Smithsonian” is coming to theaters. You check into rehab. You shave. You shower. You brush your teeth. Yes, both of them.

You reaffirm your support for Obama – for only under his leadership can we achieve the rarified heights of a nation that can advance the drama, the pathos, the humanity of the characters we’ve all come to love in “NATM.”

So you put on your finest clothes and you scrounge up all of your money. Just 79 cents! But it’s a start. Perhaps that dude on the bus will give you 21 more cents? No? That’s OK.

You check every payphone in the city.

You go to the bank and beg. You get on your knees and beg. Like a dog.

You go to the tax assessor’s office and try to get an advance.

Nothing.

Then you realize.

You go to the Museum. Any museum – it doesn’t matter at this point. The Met. The Natural History. Hell, for once the Whitney might be good for something.

And you go to the Membership desk.

And you explain.

You explain how you loved these characters. How they changed your life. You show them your Ben Stiller tat.

You do your (killer) Robin Williams-as-Roosevelt impression.

And they’re sold.

They give you the extra 21 cents you need to buy a lottery ticket.

And you buy a scratcher. A glorious, how-can-this-go-wrong “Step on a Crack!” scratcher.

And you win.

Yes. You win!

You take your winnings and you go to the Port Authority. In style. On the M61.

And you get on a bus that takes you to Washington, DC. Our nation’s capital. Where the best and the brightest have congregated for centuries to help our country be the shining beacon for humanity.

And where you, Jethro Resnik, can stand in line at the Smithsonian – the actual friggin’ Smithsonian in the movie!!!!!!! – and you get to finally see “Night at the Museum 2″.

You feel a little empty, but you feel a lot fulfilled.

=====

So you know that feeling. That feeling of emptiness. Of chasing any high, any broad, anything that can make you feel as good as you did during the first “Night at the Museum”?

Well, that’s how those of us feel that are waiting for “Prose and Khans (Part 2).”

What are you waiting for, douchebag? Get writing!