“No. And Donkey Kong isn’t pay-per-view. It’s cartridge-based. Please keep up.”

“Mother, I’ve run the numbers. The cost-per-minute of a Tyson fight is $0.86. That’s inefficient but acceptable. The cost-per-minute of a Barbara Mandrell concert is $0.42. But the cost-per-minute of the ‘PPV event’ you and Dad watched last Saturday—the one you told me was ‘wrestling’—was $1.50. And there was no wrestling ring. Just a poorly lit bedroom set and dialogue consisting primarily of sighs.”

The Coopers’ living room, a Tuesday night in 1993. The TV is off. Sheldon is pacing.

(blushing, chopping carrots harder than necessary): “Sheldon Cooper, you were supposed to be asleep!”

“The PPV.”

(walks in, sighs—genuinely): “What’s he on about now?”

drops his beer. Mary prays for the rapture.