A teenaged ROBERT SMITH is lying on his bed, hopeless.
(Walking to ROBERT SMITH’S bedroom.)
Alright, Robert. Out of bed, time to go.
(Arrives in doorway.)
Oh my G-d, Robert, are you still asleep?
No. Just rendered inert by the burden of living.
Okay, Robert. You’ll have plenty of time to be rendered inert later. Right now, though, you’re going with Mr. Friedman to get fish for Shabbos.