Its a Schrodingers Cat ending. The fate of the world depends the random fat fingers of a fat kid in a grubby t-shirt. You are not supposed to know what happens. Anything could happen. That's the point (I always read it as an endorsement of the Comedian's philosophy, given the badge on the fat kid's sweater - the vagaries of life are funny, even in their extremes).
bsams - film adaptions of books rarely turn out well, with minor exceptions like Blade Runner (much better than the shitty book). If this is true to the book, a piece of literature with an ending grounded in probabilities, then a sequel fucks that right up.
