My wife and I like to watch the HGTV show called House Hunters which is a pseudo reality show that follows someone as he or she looks at three homes and ultimately buys one. It’s one of those shows you never actively sit down to watch, but rather you find yourself watching when nothing else is on.

Ding dong, dammit, DING DONG!

The formulaic House Hunters first introduces us to the people who are looking to buy a house for the usual reasons: sick of renting, have a growing family, moving to another city, clearly got some sort of inheritance and want to blow it. Then the show follows the prospetive buyer while he, she or it walks through three different homes with a real estate agent during which they all amuse themselves by making somewhat scripted comments about the home. At the end of the show the buy picks on of the three homes and we get to see the person a few months after he or she has moved in. The show is hosted by Suzanne Whang, who is supposedly a fairly talented comedian and actress, though you couldn’t tell by the crappy lines the writers force her to choke out, “Will Rod and Randy be able to find a home that meets their needs…and the needs of their dogs Trixie and Mixie?”

Ding dong, dammit, DING DONG!

House Hunters is basically a heavily edited and poorly scripted reality show with a tiny bit of voyeurism thrown in as we are shown the inside of homes we’d never normally get to see inside of. It’s paced slowly and the comments are fairly predictable, which makes it a show that simply begs the viewer to perform his or her own Mystery Science Theater 3000 all over it. Which, from what I can tell, most viewers do.

Did I mention that this is one of the more popular shows on HGTV?

If you watch this show long enough you become amazingly acute to the House Hunters formula and it begins to rot at your brain. You begin to actually say the lines before the buyers or even Suzanne Whang can spit them out. The only thing that can counter brain rot, of course, is alcohol. So here, without further ado, is the House Hunters Drinking Game:

The rules are simple. Sit down on the couch with copious amounts of your drink of choice and turn to HGTV as House Hunters begins. Drink responsibly and I’m not liable for anything There, I said it. Here’s what you do:

Take a drink whenever you hear the House Hunters doorbell. Take two drinks if it rings in a House Hunters commercial that is running during the House Hunters show.

Take a drink if Suzanne Whang is shown walking along a hedge or through a park that is clearly a thousand miles away from where the featured homes.

Take a drink if the buyers are white and have more than three kids, someone is pregnant or there are two men or two women who buying a home together without any explanation of their relationship. Take two drinks if the buyer is gay and pregnant.

Take a drink whenever someone acts as though they don’t want to buy a home because of the paint color or light fixtures currently in the home.

Take a drink whenever someone makes a comment about a closet being big enough for her clothes and then wonders aloud, “Where will you put YOUR clothes?”

Take a drink whenever someone asks about how many bathrooms are in the home and then acts shocked as though they’ve never been told anything about the house before seeing it.

Take a drink whenever the Realtor puts a positive spin on a serious home flaw like no running water. “No need to worry about plumbing repair!”

Take a drink whenever the three homes shown have a price difference of over $100,000.

Take a drink if you guess the house the person buys before the big “reveal” at the end.

Take a drink when the buyers have basically gutted the house and rebuilt it from the inside out six months after moving in.

Take a drink when the closing scene begins with a close up of someone cutting up food and then zooms out to see the happy couple in their new kitchen.

Take a drink whenever there’s a new baby in the family. Take two drinks when the couple with the new baby is gay.

By the end of the 30 minute show you should be thoroughly enjoying the house hunting process, puking your guts out, or looking for a new home yourself.

Like most television drinking game, this one has several versions. While writing this post I stumbled across another House Hunters drinking game, this one was written about a year ago by SpaceGirl. I don’t know anything about her, but she seems to have a pretty stylin blog and a lot of cool interests. I have neither. I thoroughly suggest combining the rules of both games if you want to go blind and die of liver damage within the week.

And, remember: this is just a television show. You should never, ever, under any circumstances look for or buy a home yourself while under the influence of alcohol.

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Part of the advantage to having a blog which isn’t very popular is being able to “publish” just about anything I want to without actually worrying about how it will be “received” by my readers. I don’t really have any readers, and I certainly don’t expect any other bloggers to read this.

So… here it is for the world to read. A superhero short story. I never bothered giving it a title. I think I will now…

I Never Would Have Done It…

“I never would have done it if I had I known he couldn’t fly,” said the tired young man in the skintight yellow outfit with a giant red ‘V’ splashed across his chest.

Detective Charles Wembley grunted at the statement as he continued to untangle the cord for the small tape recorder in his hand. He separated the mess until it was just long enough to reach the wall outlet and plugged it in. The detective held the machine up to his face and looked carefully at it through his reading glasses. “Dammit,” he muttered as he began rooting through his pockets for a blank tape. He grunted again when he found one in his trench coat that was slung over the back of his chair. The tape slid into the machine half-way and stopped. He pulled it out and put it in the other way and closed the door. Satisfied that the technical work was done for the moment, he looked up and across the table at the only other person in the small police interrogation room.

Detective Wembley saw a lot of wackos around the Christmas season like this, but he rarely saw superheroes hung over from office parties. The detective didn’t know much about this guy except that he was one of the few heroes running around that didn’t wear a mask and didn’t worry about a secret identity. He leaned over to the tape recorder, pressed a button and then sat back.

“Let’s begin with some preliminaries, shall we Mr. - uh - Mr. Vibron, is it?”

“Yes. That’s right. My name is Vibron. I’m the master of vibrations of every sort.”

“Uh-huh,” Detective Wembley nodded looking the bedraggled hero over. The detective blinked a few times. “Umm, Mr. Vibron…”

“Oh, sorry, detective. There’s nothing wrong with your eyes. I’m just vibrating again. Sorry. I guess I don’t even notice when I’m doing it. I know I tend to look a little blurry to normal people.”

Detective Wembley thought he heard a note of contempt on the word “normal.”

“Uh, yeah. Keep it to a minimum, could ya?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay then. Let me just ask you exactly what your powers are, just for the record here.”

Vibron rolled his eyes and drooped his head as he began to recite as though he was reading it off and index card, “I am Vibron, master of all vibrations. I can vibrate any part of my body at amazing speeds and produce a number of startling effects. Among these effects are throwing blasts of vibrations, knocking down walls by shaking them to pieces, flying by vibrating the air around me, and producing sonic blasts with my entire body. And because of my special abilities, I can make a mean martini.” Vibron allowed himself a small smile with the last line.

Detective Wembley just nodded, clearly only half-listening himself. “Okay, Mr. Vibron, what is your real name and how did you become a superhero?”

“I was born Mark Anthony Sherman. I got my powers in a freak accident involving an electric toothbrush, a nuclear reactor, and some damn bastard who installed a bathroom doorknob so it could be locked from the outside.”

“Now, now, Mr. Vibron. No need to get excited here.”

“Look, this is all on file at the SuperHuman Records Center. Can we just get on with this? I feel bad for the Amazing Man, but I do have a date tonight.”

“Hmm… You have quite a reputation as a lady’s man, don’t you Mr. Vibron.”

“I can vibrate any, I repeat, ANY part of my body at any speed. You’re the detective, you figure it out.”

The detective blinked at this and smiled. “Nice power you got there,” he agreed.

“You bet, Pops. I’ve been known to make women faint just by walking past them.”

“Okay, okay. That’s enough of that. While I would love to talk to you about how much of a young stud you are, I think I really want to hear about Amazing Man.”

Vibron’s shoulders slouched. “Yeah, okay. Where do I begin? It was a party, ya know? Things got out of hand. All the superheroes in the city thought it would be a good idea if we got together for a Christmas bash. We work hard, you know, and we all really thought we deserved to blow off the steam. Especially after that whole alien invasion in November.”

Wembley nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“So we organized a party in the offices of S.U.P.E.R. and decided to have it today, the last Friday before Christmas. Then we-”

“Wait,” cut in the detective. “What’s S.U.P.E.R.?”

“Oh, that. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard. We’re unionized now. S.U.P.E.R. stands for Superheroes United to Protect Employee Rights. It happened about two years ago and we admit we’re still a little unorganized. We just established the office on the top floor of the Hamilton building in August. So this was our first real organization party. I guess you were there tonight, huh?”

“Yeah, I was one of the investigating officers. Nice place you all have there. Why did you pick the top floor? I mean, 80 stories up is a little inconvenient at times, isn’t it?”

Vibron smiled. “Not when over half your workers can fly. Besides, what better place is there to watch over the city than one of the highest buildings around? It suits us well.”

“Except it didn’t work with Amazing Man,” added the detective.

“Look, I said it was an accident. I wouldn’t have done it if I had known…. really.”

“Just continue with your statement.”

“Okay, okay. The party began at 2 in the afternoon because some of us still had nightwatch. I wasn’t one of them, by the way, so I began drinking fast and heavy. Most of us fell into that pattern. It was one wild party real quickly.”

“How wild? What sort of things were going on?”

“Don’t worry, detective, there weren’t any drugs there. Allergy Man would have picked it up anyway. He’s allergic to all illegal substances, you know. Breaks out in hives if he gets within 50 feet of them. Much better than any drug-sniffing dog. I understand he’s going to be working for the D.E.A. from now on.”

“Anyway, there was just a lot of wild stuff going on. Phlegm Boy and Mucas Man were have a loogie contest out an open window, Invisible Guy was running around lifting up all the skirts of the superheroines, Lazer Lad was trying to light cigarettes from across the room, but he kept missing and burning tiny holes in the walls and furniture. Thunder Dude and Lightning Lady snuck off to have some intimate fun in one of the supply rooms, but everyone knew what they were doing because the entire east side of the building was caught in a nasty hurricane…on the inside. We were all relaxed and having a good time.”

“And most of you were drunk.”

“Yeah. That, too.”

“And what was Amazing Man doing?”

“He and I were sitting in the middle of it all, playing drinking games. He and I didn’t know each other very well until tonight. I never had patrol with him before, but he always seemed like a pretty cool guy. So we got to talking and one thing lead to another and we ended up playing a drinking game called ‘Physical Challenge’… But we played that we had to challenge each other’s powers.”

“How much had you each had to drink at this point?”

“Let’s see, I was flying pretty high, no pun intended, so I’m going to say that I had about 10 bottles of beer. I only drink beer because I need all the calories I can get. My vibrating body burns an average of 10,000 calories a day, you see and-”

“What about Amazing Man?”

“Umm, that’s hard to say because I think he was a little toasted when he arrived, but I know for a fact that he had a least two empty kegs beside him-”

“You’re saying he drank two entire kegs of beer?”

“Not beer, whiskey. The man loves… umm, loved… his SoCo! See, what makes Amazing Man so amazing is that his body is super dense and efficient. He’s fifty times stronger than the normal man and a hundred times as quick. Unfortunately, his metabolism also burned alcohol at an enormous rate. He needed ridiculous amounts of alcohol to get a buzz.”

Detective Wembley shook his head in amazement. “Where did he put it all? I mean, two kegs of whiskey, didn’t he have to…umm.. you know?”

“He was pissing every hour or so. He had a super bladder, so I guess he could hold it a while. A few other superheros were beginning to get angry with him towards the end because every time he went to piss he ended up blowing a hole straight through the urinal and down through several floors. I don’t envy the maintenance people after New Years. I have a feeling that alone might get us evicted.”

Wembley winced at the thought of peeing so hard it tore through several layers of ceramic and cement.

“Anyway, he was pretty tanked because a little earlier he began singing ‘Louie, Louie’ to Kenny G’s ‘Christmas in the Country’ that someone had put on. Thankfully the stereo was promptly destroyed by Witch Woman. I think she cast a spell and turned it into cottage cheese. We had to rely on the radio after that.”

“And then your drinking game began?”

“Umm, yeah. We didn’t get very far, though. He challenged me, first. He bet me I wouldn’t pick up two bottles of beer, shake them as hard as I could, and then hand them to Immersia, Queen of the Water. I had told him earlier that I had a thing for Immersia, you see. Only she doesn’t drink because she believes in some nonsense about beer being impure water.”

“Did you do it?”

“Sort of. I pulled out two beers from the cooler and began shaking them using my vibrating ability, but I just ended up shaking them incredibly fast for a few seconds before one blew up in my hand and the other flew right out of my hand and exploded on the far wall. Amazing Man was rolling on the floor laughing, so I thought I would try it again. And again. And again. I ended up going through a case of beer before Thermo finally came over and pushed me away. A couple of the bottles did crash near Immersia, though, so Amazing Man accepted it.”

“And then it was your turn, right?”

“Yeah, I sat back down and we laughed some more. I had just made one heck of an ass of myself, and I wanted to do the same to him. I was looking around the room for a challenge, when I saw a pigeon land on the ledge outside. We were about 30 feet from the window and I began thinking that even though pigeons aren’t very smart, they are pretty quick.

“‘How fast do you think you are, Amazing Man?’ I asked.

“‘Damn faster than you,’ he replied.

“‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Catch that pigeon that just landed.’”

Vibron stopped for a moment and shook his head. He continued. “So Amazing Man staggered up and try to focus on the pigeon. He gave me a confident smile and a wink and then BANG! he was off like a bullet. One moment he was right in front of me, the next moment he was a blue and red streak running towards the window. The sound of breaking glass startled everyone there, even me. A moment later we heard his distant scream that faded into silence.”

Both men looked down. Vibron went on. “The entire party stopped. All we could see through the window was a purple early evening sky, some broken glass, and a lot of pigeon feathers floating around outside. I’ll admit that I didn’t know exactly what had happened. I thought the scream was just a little joke of his. Honest.”

“What happened next?”

Vibron swallowed. “After about 30 seconds of everyone staring out the window someone mumbled ‘I didn’t know Amazing Man could fly…’

“The irony, of course, is that he couldn’t.”

The superhero broke down and began crying. “I’m sorry, detective, I didn’t know. I didn’t know! He was larger than life! He could throw a baseball twenty miles! When he sneezed he upset major weather patterns! How was I to know he couldn’t fly! Hell, he even wore a red and blue suit like that hot-shot from Metropolis. I just naturally assumed they had the same abilities! I guess I was wrong…”

Detective Wembley shook his head in disgust. “Ya know, you might have put two and two together. You said he was super dense. He couldn’t come close to flying. Christ, kid, we had to use a pound and half of chalk to outline his body. His crater left a four-lane road closed during one of the busiest times of the year. He was super strong and super quick, but not really all that super tough.”

Wembley reached over and pressed a button on the tape recorder and pulled out the little tape. He stood up and walked for the door. Before he left he turned to Vibron who was still sitting and crying.

“Mr. Vibron, I don’t think I’ll be able to charge you with anything because I have a feeling you’re telling the truth. There were plenty of witnesses, and from what I understand your story pretty much matches theirs. You are free to go, Mr. Vibron, but I want you to seriously consider all your actions from this point forward. Do you understand?”

Vibron nodded as the door slammed closed. He shook his head and whispered, “If I had only known…”

Technorati Tags: superhero fiction, short story

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Go visit CavemanConclusion.com. Now.

If you’ve ever written a blog of your own, you know how it easy it is to get hooked on blogging in the same way that Cuba Gooding Jr. is hooked on choosing movies designed to destroy his career.

You might write your blog for a while and then stop when you get tired, run out of ideas, sober up, get a girlfriend or simply need to spend a little less time sitting down at the computer and a little more time playing World of Warcraft.

But like herpes, blogging is in your blood and it’s always going to be lurking there in the background, waiting to come back and make your life a living Hell all over again.

That’s exactly what happened with The Caveman of the newly opened CavemanConclusion.com. He used to write a rather snappy blog about office life and working in the corporate world and all the insanity associated with both. But then he won the lottery or mowed down all his coworkers with a nail gun or moved to Tibet and joined a monastery or something. I’m a little fuzzy on details. At any rate, he stopped writing for a while, took down his blog and simply disappeared.

Fortunately, however, he’s back and back with a vengeance! The Caveman just opened up a new blog written from a real man’s perspective and so far it’s a damn fun read filled with top-notch graphics. From beer to women to beer to politics to beer to dining out to even more beer, The Caveman tells it like it is and comes up with his own dead-on, eerily truthful Caveman Conclusions like “Tasty alcoholic beverages are not as good when sucked through underwear,” and “Shut up, hand me a beer, and get naked!”

See a theme here? I told you it was a good blog.

So go visit CavemanConclusion.com now. Tell your friends to do the same. Find some new friends and tell them to visit, too. You’ll have fun reading it, you may find yourself nodding in agreement and you may even learn something.

Don’t worry, it won’t hurt.

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