Act I:
The screen is black. We hear the distant, muffled sound of a teacher's voice, slowly fading into clarity with a single name: "...Ella... Ella... Eleanor!"
The image of a teenage girl's wide-eyed face snaps into focus. We are in a classroom. ELLA PETTY (15), a whirlwind of ambitious energy, has been lost in thought. She snaps to attention with a sudden "Oh, right!" and practically scampers to the front of the classroom, proceeding to launch into an enthusiastic presentation on her interpretation of the myth of Icarus. Her central thesis is a potent one: Icarus's story isn't a simple punishment for hubris. His ambition was pure, she argues; the real tragedy was a fundamental failure of his materials. Wax and feathers were never going to be enough to reach the sun.
Mid sentence, the episode then cuts to brief but telling glimpses of her siblings' school day. ROBIN (17), thoughtful and anxious, is seen meekly agreeing to take on the bulk of the work for a group project over the weekend, their paper already covered in writing while their classmates' are nearly blank. Their shoulders are already slumped with unearned responsibility. Elsewhere, MARTY (13) is holding court with a small group of friends, including his acquaintance TRISH. He is trying out a new, edgy nickname, "Blade," on account of the fact that he's so, uh, sharp, leading Trish to playfully puncture this carefully constructed persona by calling him "cheddar," catching him off guard.
After school, the three Petty siblings walk down the block, sharing their opinions on Ella's thesis; Robin is thoughtful and supportive, if somewhat unengaged, simply calling it a neat perspective, while Marty scoffs at the absurdity of having so much ambition but making such an obviously foolish choice of construction materials. They then wait at a familiar street corner. After a few minutes, PIPER (47), their mother, wheels up on her bicycle, breathless and apologetic, an insulated food delivery bag strapped to her bike. She was delayed completing a gig for a food-delivery app: a two-dollar tip for 5 tubs of artisanal miso, with her exclaiming, "And they say generosity is dead!" The scene makes their reality clear: they are a family without a car, living within walking distance of the school. Marty, eyes glued to his phone, mumbles "Yeah, whatever, artisans suck... can we go home already?" Robin hugs Piper and asks if she's eaten enough. Ella, or "El-bow" as Piper calls her, is eager to share the positive reception she believes her presentation got. On the short walk home, Piper's bright, upbeat persona shines as she engages with her quirky kids, a beacon of optimism in their precarious world.
They arrive at their cramped apartment. Inside, SAM (44) is on the floor, mid-repair on a malfunctioning kitchen appliance, a testament to her role as the family's pragmatic problem-solver. She was trying to prep dinner but was delayed by the breakdown. As she apologizes, Ella cheerfully offers to pick up the slack. Marty announces his new preferred name for the day, and the family respectfully obliges without missing a beat. Piper walks over to Sam, leans down, and gives her a quick, weary but affectionate kiss, a quiet confirmation of their partnership. The family settles into their afternoon routine, a moment of fragile, everyday normalcy.
Act II:
Later that night, the family is co-existing in their small living/dining area, eating dinner at staggered times and doing their own things. The TV is on, playing a documentary about prohibition and bootleggers. Ella's nose is in a textbook. The scene has a warm, lived-in feel. Robin has just finished fixing a software bug on the family's sluggish, ten-year-old desktop computer. Sam looks over from the couch, "About time, Robs. Your food's probably cold by now... thanks, though."
The moment Robin gets up, Marty slides into the chair. He's browsing aimlessly, attention divided between a dozen tabs, when a notification pops up on the screen: an email with the subject line, "Congratulations!". Unable to resist, Marty snoops, clicking it open. He reads for a moment, his cynical expression shifting to one of genuine confusion. He calls out, "Hey, uh, mom, did you... win something?" Piper scoffs and tells him that spam isn't real, honey, and don't snoop! She rushes over to the PC.
Piper's eyes meet the body text of the email, and she suddenly realizes the reality of the situation. Piper entered a very real sweepstakes months ago and had completely forgotten until this moment. She has, according to the email, just become the new owner of her "very own pizzeria in bustling Skyline Plaza!" The news ripples through the room. Piper's reaction is pure, explosive excitement; Ella's is the same. The rest of the family is a flurry of disbelief and cautious questions, nearly talking over each other.
Later that night, as the house settles, the reality begins to sink in. Ella is in her room, buzzing with excitement as she brags to a friend, IZZY, over video call. Piper peeks in, telling her not to stay up too late; they have to go see their new business in the morning.
In their bedroom, the mood is more subdued. Sam voices her deep-seated anxiety to Piper, acknowledging that while she believes in their family, this sounds too good to be true and they could be in way over their heads. To de-stress, she puts on a podcast about small business failures and flips open her old handheld game system. Piper pauses, lets Sam's words sink in, and her own performative optimism wavers. Acknowledging the wisdom in Sam's caution, she picks up her phone and calls CHARLIE (49), a longtime friend with restaurant experience. She tells him the news and asks if he can meet them at the pizzeria tomorrow to offer his advice and expertise, giving him the address. The lights visible through their bedroom window flick off.
Act III:
The next morning, the family walks to Skyline Plaza. The 20-minute route takes them past the kids' school, establishing the path they will soon take every day, the kids splitting off for school, the adults continuing on to work. Today is Saturday, though, and they're all on their way to see their new prize.
Their first stop is not the pizzeria, but the sterile office of Bankside FCU, located in an outparcel of the Plaza. They meet with CASEY, their designated agent, to get the keys and information. It is here that the dream is turned on its head. Casey explains, with straightforward corporate politeness, that they have "won" the obligation to assume the previous owner's LLC, which includes all assets and, crucially, all liabilities. He slides the loan document across the table. They now own, beyond the business itself, a massive, non-negotiable debt. Casey reassures them with a chillingly detached line, "Don't worry, this was all communicated when you entered the sweepstakes."
The mood plummets. Marty snorts at the dramatic irony. Robin, panicked, starts firing off a flurry of clarifying financial questions. Sam just shakes her head and repeats, "no... oh, no no no..." under her breath. Piper and Ella desperately try to keep spirits up, their optimism now a shield; Piper's is performative, Ella's is naive. "Well... we own a business now!" Piper declares, her voice a little too loud. "We'll just... run it to make the money, right? It's the weekend, we can get started right away!"
Casey nods and hands them the keys. As they walk across the parking lot, we get glimpses of a few other plaza businesses: a tattoo parlor, an arcade, a cafe... but some empty, boarded-up lots as well. They arrive at their destination. There is no sign above the entrance, only a faded, ghostly outline where the words "Plateau Pizza" used to be. Piper unlocks the door, a brave smile plastered on her face.
The family steps into a scene of dilapidated horror. They walk through the ruin in a stunned, wordless procession. Marty, a documentarian of decay, takes pictures with his phone. Robin, witnessing cobwebs and filth, instinctively pulls their hoodie strings tight. Sam stares in awe at the sheer disrepair of the kitchen hardware. Ella finds the light switch; the lights flicker violently before settling into a dull, sickly yellow glow.
The silence is absolute and heavy. Piper's smile has slowly faded into an uncharacteristically straight face.
Suddenly, the front door bursts open. It's Charlie, arriving full of energy. Spotting the family, he exclaims, "Piper! It's been a while! And kids, it's great to..." He stops short, his cheerful momentum dying as he finally takes in the state of the room. He looks around, his jaw slack. He turns back to the silent, shell-shocked family.
"... damn, guys, what a mess."
[END OF EPISODE]
