Here at Grim Richard Laboratories, we've been working on a Grim Richard trivia game. Our goal? To capture the essence of Grim Richard in a game. That means that our game needs to be witty, quick and a major pain in the ass.
I think we've done it.
I owe the seeds of the idea to my good friend Kevin, who I've known since I was a kid. People who went over to Kevin's house invariably discovered a plate of brownies or Rice Krispies treats that his mother had baked. Kevin would let his guests dig into the sweet treats and after a few moments passed, he'd say one thing.
"You notice I'm not eating any of those."
And then he wouldn't say anything else about the treats, nor would he answer questions about his statement. It was pure genius. We never stopped eating the treats, but it was harder to enjoy them because you were never sure what he meant when he said that.
We call our new game, Grivia - Grim Richard's Gross Trivia Game - and it's based on the same premise. Wait for the right moment and then announce something that is vague, factually true and possibly disturbing. For instance:
Three friends and I were hanging out one day when one of us farted. Farting, as many people know, is the primary bonding currency among guys and supplants football, NASCAR and scrapbooking. We naturally returned the salute in the customary way, mock indignation and an hour-long discussion about the pungency and loudness of the flatulence. I saw my chance to take it to the next level.
"Scientists have discovered that if you can smell a fart, that means that you have particles of fart in your nose."
This stopped the conversation cold. According to Grivia rules, I scored ten points for each disturbed listener for a total of 30 points. Actually, I scored 40 points because it even disgusted me a little.
Grivia is not a game for wimps. Or polite people.
You also score an additional 100 points if someone is still thinking about the statement days or years later. And I'm really good at picking up these bonus points.
The other night, I walked in the kitchen as my wife poured a tall, cold glass of milk. As she lifted it to her lips, I saw my opportunity.
"You know, technically, you're drinking cow breast milk," I said.
My wife kept drinking because she's played Grivia before. She set the glass down and turned to me. She had a milk mustache.
"You know, technically, you're an ass."
I would have been offended, but she said it with love.