Originally Posted by 2HousePlague

The camera continues to pull back, passing over your own hand on the remote control (still pointed at the TV), the dog-eared paper back open on your lap and the top of your balding head.

It goes out the window flies over the street, down, and positions itself behind the left shoulder of a little black kid with a basketball under his arm who shouts:

"Hey, mister... you a'ight?"