An English cottage, on a Thursday in late November, 1621 AD.

Knock at the door. MOTHER and FATHER open it to reveal their son WILLIAM, dressed like a Pilgrim, hat buckle and all.

FATHER: William! Happy Thanksgiv—

MOTHER: Why are you dressed like that?

WILLIAM: Hi. I need my laundry done.

William hands over a pile of black Pilgrim clothes.

MOTHER: These don't smell right. Have you been experimenting with drugs?

WILLIAM: It's different on the East Coast.

MOTHER: We send our son to Massachusetts, for all that money—

WILLIAM: By the way, i need more money.

MOTHER: —so he can have opportunities we never had, and he takes up with a bunch of weed-smoking libertines!

WILLIAM: Mom, they're Virginians.

MOTHER: Exactly!

FATHER: It's good to see you after all these months, Will.

MOTHER: You never write! How are we supposed to know you're still alive?

A letter drops through the mail slot. Father opens and reads it.

FATHER: "Hello Mum and Dad. We arrived in Plymouth yesterday, and—"[checks the postmark] Oh. This is from August.

MOTHER: How long are you staying?

WILLIAM: Till Sunday. I have to go back with Miles, he's my passage.

MOTHER: Hardly a "break" at all. More like a long Sabbath. You can't stay longer?

WILLIAM: If I had my own ship…

FATHER: Too expensive. Out of the question. Come now, the food's growing cold.

They sit down to a Sunday Roast-type meal.

WILLIAM: I was hoping we'd have turkey.

MOTHER: So now you don't eat red meat?

FATHER: Will, have you decided on a major yet?

WILLIAM: Religion.

FATHER: How are you supposed to get a job with a major like that?

WILLIAM: It's what I went there for in the first place!

MOTHER: You know we'll have to spend a fortune on Book.

WILLIAM: [holds up a Bible] I can sell it back.

FATHER: What about your roommate?

WILLIAM: He's…a local.

FATHER: What's his name?

WILLIAM: Squanto.

FATHER: Alright. What's his Christian name?

William doesn't respond.

MOTHER: [horrified] He's not a Christian?

WILLIAM: The locals aren't that religious.

MOTHER: You could have just stayed home. Your friend Henry stayed home—

WILLIAM: We were friends in, like, third grade.

MOTHER: —and you know where he is now? Parliament!

WILLIAM: [rises] I'll be in my room.

FATHER: We turned your room into a debtor's prison.

WILLIAM: Then I'm going to the local pub, to see everyone from high school again.

William leaves in a huff.

MOTHER: He's not the sweet little boy we indentured.

FATHER: Don't worry, dear. He's in Colony. It's just a little rebellion.