My wife doesn’t indulge in novels all the time, but if someone makes a recommendation and she gets lured in, I can’t wrestle the book from her hands anymore than she can the Wii remote from mine. Luckily, she’s a fast reader. I think she read the entire Twilight series in 45 minutes.
Her latest kick has been The Hunger Games. She’s already finished the series and yesterday we went to see the movie. Unless you dress in burlap sacks and live in a van, I’m sure you’ve heard of it by now. If you ARE living in a van (but have Internet access to read my blog), the premise of the movie goes like this: 24 teenagers are picked at random and placed in a controlled arena where they try to kill each other in a carnivorous blood bath until one person is left standing and is declared the victor. Nothing more relaxing than munching on some popcorn and Red Vines while watching children slaughtering children.
After the movie, my mind started working, as it usually does (which is why I get honked at sitting at green lights). I try not to share all my thoughts with my wife for fear of finding myself locked out of the house, but this idea was just too good to pass up. For the most part she is patient and tolerates me like a small child.
Me: Pretty chilling, pitting 24 youngsters against each other like that.
Wife: Yep.
Me: You know, it’s not that bad of an idea for a tv show…with some altercations to the rules, of course.
Wife: Do I really want to know where you’re going with this?
Me: Well, it’s been proven that people love to be entertained with high-level drama, especially real life stuff like this.
Wife: You thought the movie was real life?
Me: Not exactly, but with all the reality shows on these days, you never know. You just have to make it less…gruesome.
Wife: Here we go.
Me: We’ll call it The Thirsty Games.
Wife: A little obvious, don’t you think? Won’t we get sued?
Me: All right then, The Drinking Games. Here’s the premise: 12 girls and 12 boys between the ages of 21 and 101 are chosen randomly to battle it out in a drink-off to the finish.
Wife: 101? You think you’re going to find someone 101 years old to have a drink off with a 21 year old?
Me: Fine, 71.
Wife: Yes, that’s MUCH better.
Me: And if someone gets picked for The Drinking Games and they’re all freaked out because they’re a recovering alcoholic or something, someone else can volunteer to take his or her place, just like Katniss did in the movie. We’ll call them “The Wingman”.
Wife: I can’t believe I married you.
Me: I know, and it gets better. We can choose the venue we want them to compete in, like a sports stadium or a sorority or a bah mitzvah.
Wife: You’re going to crash a bah mitzvah for your deranged game? How are you going to arrange that?
Me: Because we control everything.
Wife: When did you suddenly get control of everything?
Me: I’m totally going to get the government on my side, and then you can be like one of those designers who gets The Tributes all prepped and beautiful for the competition.
Wife: I’m sure the government will be thrilled to hear how you plan to abuse their power.
Me: Ok, maybe not, but I bet Mark Burnett would, and he’s probably even MORE powerful than the government.
Wife: Uh huh.
Me: And they can choose their weapons.
Wife: You’re going to fill them with alcohol and then give them weapons?
Me: No, silly. Alcohol IS their weapon. For instance, if they’re facing off against someone who hates Jagermeister, they can choose to have them drink Jager Bombs the whole time.
Wife: What about alcohol poisoning?
Me: That’s what they invented stomach pumps for. Also, they can choose different games within the game, like quarters or three-man or spin the bottle.
Wife: Spin the bottle is a kissing game.
Me: That’s what I’m talking about, babe! Now you’re making a contribution. Drunk kissing. The crowd will love that.
Wife: Let’s fast forward to the end of this conversation. How do you declare a winner?
Me: Whoever goes the longest without passing out or puking gets a life of luxury.
Wife: I’m going to lie down now, my head hurts. Please stay away from me for awhile.
Me: Great, I’ll start calling people. Do you think your mom would want to do it?
Wife: I don’t think so, she doesn’t do bah mitzvahs.
