I must report a couple of aberrations from the Christmas Day gameplay.
All aberrations occurred during the Poor Man's HedBanz game in which my sister the ex-mayor's wife wrote out characters on 3x5 cards and taped them to our backs. I've been wary of this game ever since she foisted it upon us at one of her Christmas Eve parties, when we were supposed to guess what Christmas entity we were. I happened to be a CANDLE, and was sorely misled by my mom, who replied to my question of, "Do kids like me?" with an "Oh, yes!" There I went down Candy Cane Lane toward Santa's workshop, never to wax correct on my true identity.
It was bad enough that Sis said, after a few people finally guessed their alter egos, "I designed each character to fit the person." Huh. Just because the ex-mayor bears an uncanny resemblance to Dr. Phil, and my nephew who used to golf in high school was slated to be Tiger Woods before leaving early, doesn't mean that Farmer H is a happy clown who doles out burgers, even though Sis saw him as Ronald McDonald. I began to grow worried when I had ascertained that I was male, fictional, related to a holiday, and the holiday was Christmas. "Am I the GRINCH?" No. Of course not. I was Scrooge.
At least I caught on to how the game was played. Poor Farmer H. He could not seem to grasp that he was in commercials. Even though we answered "yes" to his question about being on TV, and told him specifically "no" that he did not have his own show, and was not in a movie. Somebody, I think the ex-mayor, out of exasperation, told Farmer H that he was in commercials. So then Farmer H began asking what he advertised. "Is it alcohol? Cars? Guns?"
To move the game along, the #1 son aka SpiderMan asked Farmer H, "What else is it that people have to have to live?" And Farmer H answered, "Oh! Toothpaste!" I don't know about that man sometimes.
My mom, ELVIS, was also a bit odd in her responses. "Am I famous? Am I alive? (Hmm...no, but some people might disagree). Did I travel across the country? Did people like me? Did I make a lot of money? Was I a good dancer? Did I give speeches? Did I work in an office?" WHAT? Seriously? Who makes a lot of money by being an office worker? I cry shenanigans. But knowing how my mom's mind kind of works, I let it slide. She guessed ELVIS within a couple more questions.
Tonight, Mom could stand the guilt no longer. "You can tell Farmer H this, because your nephew might tell him (Uh, yeah. When they next encounter each other at Easter.), but as he was leaving, he leaned down to tell me "bye", and he whispered in my ear, "You're ELVIS."
I'll be ding dang donged! I am probably the only person in the whole family who has never cheated in one of those games, yet those other losers always scream "CHEATER!" every time I win.