WRONG ANSWER
Family Feud Training
Because I will never say tuna again
Recently, I went to a distant relative’s home to meet up with other distant relatives. It was wonderful because it was game night. It was Family Feud. I laughed and laughed. Everybody laughed.
However, my answer to “Name a kind of fish you fish” was not even on the board. Tuna is what I said. Trout was the winner. I left in disgrace. I got home at 11 pm and commenced to read all night about fishing because that’s what games will do to you.
As you can imagine, this spurred a desire to hone my skills. I wanted to become so good I’d never answer “tuna” to anything ever again. “Let the training begin!” is what I said.
I walked down to the road and nailed a sign to a tree.
FAMILY FEUD TRAINING. WEDNESDAY NIGHT. BRING FRIENDS.
Wednesday rolled around and I was jumping like a trout with excitement. Who would show up? I set up a table on the driveway and put out the question cards. I put out snacks and drinks, too. Let’s festive this thing up, is what I said.
Then, my first guest arrived. It was the raccoon who lives under my shed.
“I saw the sign,” she said in her gravel voice. “I’m in.”
I shrugged. She wasn’t my idea of solid game competition, but don’t be picky at the outset, is what I say. I offered her popcorn. She stuck her face in the bowl. Ew. I looked away — and there was my next guest loping up the hill. The dang deer.
Should I have specified on the sign human beings? I was gracious though.
“Thanks for coming.”
“Thanks for having me,” she said in the dearest of voices. She looked over the snacks. “Is there any salad?”
Choosey, aren’t we? Except I was nice.
“Sorry. No salad. Do you just want to finish off the rest of my potted begonias?”
“Oh!” She was elated. She sounded like I was The French Laundry. “Don’t mind if I do.” She was feigning hoity-toity. I had to look away.
As Deer daintily nibbled my begonias, my last two guests arrived. I was getting used to the type of crowd I seem to have pulled in.
“Sup,” said a squirrel with a well-groomed tail.
“Yo dawgs,” said a vulture who put his wing up for high-fives, which he got heartily from all.
“You all know each other?” I asked.
Everybody nodded heads while munching away. Whatever.
“Folks, listen up.”
I explained the rules of the game, and after the snack bowls were licked clean, our first round began.
I was Steph Harvey.
The Tree family — Vulture and Squirrel.
The Yard family — Raccoon and Deer.
First up, Squirrel.
“Okay, Squirrel,” I read from my card, “We asked one hundred beagles. Name a word that rhymes with mutts.”
“Nuts!” yelled Squirrel.
[DING!]
“Number one answer,” I said. “Do you want to play?”
Squirrel consulted with Vulture.
“We’ll play!”
“Okay,” I said, “Vulture, your turn. We asked one hundred beagles: Name a word that rhymes with mutts. Your answer is — ”
“Guts!”
“I don’t know about guts. Show me guts!” I hollered.
[BZZZT]
“No guts,” I said to Vulture.
“I can’t believe no guts.” Vulture protested.
“This means it’s your chance to steal, Yard family. Raccoon, name a word that rhymes with mutts.”
“How about donuts?”
“Do we have donuts?!” I yelled.
[DING!]
“How can they have donuts and not guts?” Vulture asked, flicking his tail feathers.
Deer and Raccoon were jumping around like ecstatic fleas.
“Deer, you can win this for your team,” I said. “Name a word that rhymes with mutts.”
“I’m going to go with my favorite. Headbutts!”
“Do we have headbutts?!” I bellowed.
[DING!]
Then hysteria ensued. Raccoon jumped on Deer’s back, and they paraded around. Vulture looked miffed. Squirrel reflexively twitched his nose. I stayed out of it. Games are games, is what I wanted to say.
“Alright, folks,” I said, holding up my hand to indicate this was a serious endeavor. “I called this Feud training so I could develop my own Feuding prowess. It’s my turn now. You ask me the questions. Who wants to go first?”
They clamored over to the table, raising paws, legs, and wings.
“Raccoon, you go first.”
Raccoon stepped up, smoothing her whiskers to the side.
“Okay, Steph.” She cleared her tiny throat and read from the card. “We asked two hundred pigs: What makes someone a bad neighbor?”
“Oh, I know! They climb into your trashcan, haul out food, then leave it all over in a big mess!”
I blurted this out like a Feuding ace.
Then there was uncharacteristic silence. The other participants surreptitiously glanced at each other. Raccoon cleared her throat carefully so I might realize my faux pas.
“Can you be more specific?” asked Raccoon.
Then I realized my faux pas.
“What I mean, specifically — ahem — is they never say hi to you.”
“Do we have ‘Never say hi to you’?!” Raccoon bellowed, pointing to the board.
[DING!]
“Number three answer. Are you going to play?” Raccoon asked.
“Yes. I told you. I’m practicing.”
“Me too. I have to ask.”
Squirrel stepped up and took out a different card, puffing out his tail.
“Okay, Steph, we asked three hundred thousand dust mites: Name a reason you’d lose your cool.”
“Lose my cool? I lose my cool when the bird feeder is rocking crazy like the Titanic because someone is swinging on it!”
Squirrel blinked at me. “I don’t think the Titanic rocked like crazy.”
“Yeah,” agreed Deer. “It listed.”
“Did you love that movie?” asked Vulture.
“Loved it,” gushed Raccoon.
“Can you narrow it down, Steph? Give me a reason you’d lose your cool,” Squirrel asked, squinting his eyes to an irritated slit.
Then I realized things weren’t going as planned.
Was I even training here?
“Fine. My answer is: when someone sneezes on you.”
“Show me ‘when someone sneezes on you’!!”
[DING!]
“Number one answer!” Everybody clapped and I felt proud. I was training after all.
“Vulture, you’re up.”
Vulture hopped over to the table, grabbed a card in his beak, and began to read. He glanced around the table and the others started to giggle under their breath.
“Alright. We asked one million house cats: What is your favorite kind of fish salad sandwich?”
“That’s a suspicious question,” I remarked. Everyone giggled louder.
“What’s your answer?”
“My answer,” I paused to think, “Is trout salad.”
“I never heard of that. Show me trout salad!!” Raven squawked.
[BZZZT]
“No trout. You get one more chance. Name a fish salad.”
“Sardine salad.”
“Ew, barf. Do we have sardine salad?!”
[BZZZT]
“Sorry,” said Vulture. “You lose. The number one answer was — TUNA salad.”
That’s when my guests all let up in a cackling hoo-ha and slowly started to leave the party together.
“Isn’t anyone going to say goodbye? Or, thanks, Steph?!”
They were laughing too loud to hear me. I swatted them off with my hand. I stomped down to the tree and ripped off the Wednesday training sign.
No more of this is what I said.
As for tuna, that is something I will never say.
