A rainy afternoon. A yuppie couple sleeps peacefully in each other's arms, but it's not just any yuppie couple. It's Ally McBeal's homeless ex-boyfriend and Christina Haag, an "actress" who dated JFK Jr. while they were at Brown -- nice to see she's getting work. The yuppie guy awakens briefly (or is he still dreaming?) to see an elderly man watching them from the foot of the bed. "Dad?" Yuppie Male calls out to the vision. The elderly man disappears and a baby can be heard crying. The woman complains that it's Sunday and she fed Cameron, the baby, an hour ago. Hon? Babies cry for reasons other than hunger, and your duties as a mother don't magically disappear because it's Sunday -- unless, of course your child should die in an auto accident. Whoops, I'm giving too much away here. "I thought my dad was in the room," says Yuppie Male. "Can he feed Cameron?" counters Yuppie Female. If you fed him an hour ago, maybe he needs to have his diaper changed -- no wonder John John dumped your ass. "I'll rest when I'm dead," says Yuppie Male. "You go back to sleep." Okay, you know that this guy is either evil or about to die, because anytime a TV show portrays a man letting his wife sleep while he takes care of the baby, there's something wrong. "One-one-one-two," says Yuppie Wife. They kiss. Maybe that's her PIN number and he's going to get to "make a deposit" later for being such a good daddy. He picks up the baby from the nearby bassinet and takes him out to "see how the Bruins did last night." He picks up the paper, cursing the paper boy for leaving the paper in a puddle. He puts the paper down in their sunroom to a couple of stadium chairs that are the sort of thing yuppie sports fans collect. The left chair's number is "11." The right chair's number is "12." Also the paper, a broadsheet which we see is the Boston Herald, totally does not look like the real Boston Herald. The real Boston Herald is a Murdoch tabloid and a respectable Boston yuppie couple would subscribe to the Boston Globe. I grew up in Boston, so this annoys me. He gestures out the window toward all the NBC production assistants who are spraying water at the windows and talks to the baby about how hard it's raining. He's about to pour himself some coffee from the automatic timed coffee maker, but something is wrong with the coffee maker, I can't figure out what, so he drops the decanter in the sink and curses it. He looks menacingly out the window.
Some time has passed because now the sun is shining on the Vancouver-pretending-it's-Boston home. Yuppie Woman wakes up and sees a note by her bed from her husband. "Went for Coffee and a Paper. 7:30. 1112. Cameron and Greg." The digital clock by the bed says that it's 11:12 AM (freaky!). She calls out for her husband, whose name we now know is Greg, and picks up the phone to call him on his cell phone. The cell phone rings -- on his dresser. She freaks. A baby cries in the distance. "Greg, where are you?" she says to herself. The doorbell rings. She gets up to answer it, assuming it's her husband. It's not. It's the police. "Kathy Allen?" says one of the officers who doesn't have a trace of a Boston accent. "Are you the wife of Greg Allen?" Kathy starts screaming, "Oh my God, no!" just like the time she used the wrong fork in front of Jackie and got dumped by John John. The officers come in to give her some bad news. The camera pans ominously over the stadium chairs.