A boy's bedroom, with all the usual props: sports posters, stereo, TV, a basketball on the floor. REID is lying on the bed, fingering the remote control, when MRS. R walks in.
MRS. R. Dinnertime, son. I made your favorite-- [REID sits up eagerly.] Well, no, not quite your favorite -- they were out of TV dinners last time I was at the supermarket. But you like meatloaf too, don't you? [REID slumps back down.] Please, honey, turn off the TV. It's six o'clock; your show must have just finished.
REID. But Mom -- it's never finished.
MRS. R. [nervously] What do you mean?
REID There's never a point where you're done watching. There's always something else on; the story just continues into other stories.
MRS. R That is ridiculous. When a show's over, it's over!