Springfield, Massachusetts, home to one of those teens who are so good at the 21st-century multitasking, what with the computer on, and the music on, and he's on the phone, and he's texting, and (probably) doing crystal meth. He's joshing with his friend, saying, "If she said that, she's a bigger idiot than you are. And that's impossible. I'm really good at math. It's impossible." I think this is what they call "swingin' on the flippity-flop" in today's slang.
He hangs up the phone, and then his computer makes a little beep. A popup window reads, "WHAT'S THAT NOISE?" Intrigued, he clicks the button underneath, which I can't believe any halfway computer-savvy teenager would bother doing. The computer screen starts flashing indiscernible images. They look like negatives, or X-rays, or extreme close-ups. The kid leans in, transfixed. His eyelids start to flutter.
Mom comes in, fixing her earrings, saying they'll be back around ten, and to make sure to take "Bucky" out. The kid doesn't say anything. "You hear me?" The kid doesn't say anything. "Love you," says Mom, apparently pleased, walking off, and still THE KID DOESN'T SAY ANYTHING, like I can't even imagine how my mom would have reacted to being ignored like that.
It's becoming clear, though, that the poor guy isn't able to turn away from the screen, which is still flashing a lot of images. There's a building. There's what look like trees. Hey, is this The Blair Witch Project?
And now, a tear runs down his cheek. There's a lighthouse. A window. More tears running down his face, and over his lips, onto his chin.
And then a hand slowly pushing out from the computer screen, taking the screen with it like it's a hand pushing through some sort of stretchy plastic, towards the kid's face. He doesn't move. The hand inches closer and closer -- and then opens up and grabs the kid by the head, and he starts shaking.
After the opening credits, Olivia's playing Operation and giggling like mad with her adorable niece Ella, and they're listening to that "All The Single Ladies" song that I can't believe just won't go away yet. Rachel walks in and asks Ella if, when she brushed her teeth, she also completely dried her toothbrush. And my initial reaction was that I couldn't believe Rachel makes her kid dry her toothbrush after using it, for god's sake, and then I worried that maybe I was supposed to be doing that with MY daughter, like maybe it's a new health thing, and it took me an embarrassingly long time to realize that Ella lied about brushing her teeth.