A man is walking around in the Sistine Chapel. He is a cool white guy, about thirty, who wears polo shirts and has cool hair and kind of a beard. His girl is hot but a total bitch. He’s in the Sistine Chapel, looking up at the paintings and shit, and his girl is like, “Hey, look at the paintings! They’re mankind’s greatest achievements!”
And he says, “You know… you’re right!” But he’s really looking at his can of crisp Bud Light. But the girl doesn’t know that. And he keeps walking through the chapel, and she thinks she’s gotten through to him but she hasn’t at all.
This girl, she’s constantly trying to get him to enjoy something other than Bud Light. She probably makes him go to pottery classes, which will make for another hilarious Bud Light commercial where he makes a beer cozy on the pottery wheel to keep his Bud Light cool and delicious, even though she wants him to make some kind of love vase.
So, anyway, the next scene they’re at a restaurant, and she’s like, “Come on, try this European beer with me—we’re not in Italy every day!”
So our guy says, “Yeah, sure, honey,” but he calls one of his buddies, the black one, and this guy, dressed as some snooty waiter, secretly swaps the beers in the back room. So while his girl is struggling through this dark, syrupy mess and pretending to like it as some kind of “couples” thing, he’s knocking back another party-starting Bud Light, served at the peak of its freshness in a five-star Italian restaurant full of grade-A snobs.
Later they’re in their hotel room, and the girl is in the shower, but she’s taking forever. Like, ten, twenty minutes pass, and the room’s getting really steamy, even though she has the door closed, and our guy’s cool Bud Light is best drunk at the peak of freshness, not steamed because this girl is freaking out about not bringing antiperspirant along to Italy, where it gets pretty hot.
So the guy just says, “Hey, you want my beer to be warm? Well, you know, this would make it even warmer.” And he sets the hotel room on fire. But European hotels aren’t up to code like ours are, and the fire spreads from the carpet to the curtains and up the walls, traveling along the hotel’s dated wiring. And the girl can’t hear, because she just will not get out of the shower, so he runs out of the building and he’s just distraught, because she might burn alive in there, and they’ve already started saving money together and going on trips to Italy. Out on the sidewalk he finally watches her come down the back fire escape in her girly slippers, looking pissed at him, like she always has lately.
Suddenly he realizes his behavior is sociopathic, that he’s fixated on alcohol just like his father—that Bud Light is less a drink to him now than a totem. But there’s this funny Italian guy on the street, one of the ones with the dancing monkeys, who sells drinks, and he orders a Bud Light, and the feeling here should be, like, finally, there’s some drinkability in this un-refreshing world. Finally.