Storm’s Comin’: The Drinking Game

MPM asks for me to expand on the Storm’s Comin’ drinking game.  So here ya go:

Use Stoli if you’re me and Sapphire Blue if you’re the uncle, with plenty of beer on hand:

Before/during the storm

One shot for every goddamned “storm’s comin’!”

One shot if power outage/flooding is predicted.

Chug if racial revolution is mentioned.  My grandfather bought himself a rifle right after the DC riots when MLK was assassinated.  He built a goddamned “machine gun nest”, sandbags and all, on the roof of our outer-outer Silver Spring house where he planned to “hold off the blacks after they took the city and marched on the suburbs.”  Ah, the 1960’s.  During particularly bad storms (Hurricane Agnes comes to mind, and, most recently, Hurricane Isabel, my grandfather tended to reignite the old racism flame.)  You know…DC in turmoil, rivers flooded, blacks rising up to kill the innocent and peace-loving white man, etc.

One shot for when the storm “passes” our neighborhood.  This is defined by storm clouds seemingly coming our way, but nothing happening beyond a light rain.  Officially, it’s when the lightning count is more than five seconds away at all times.

Chug for 10 seconds if the power does actually go out.  One shot for a brown-out.

Chug if my grandfather curses the “up-county” region of Montgomery county for either (a) getting the brunt of the storm (because they have it coming), (b) being the cause of the storm (electrical high tension wire paranoia), (c) Gaithersburg high school sucks and always has.

One shot if my grandfather says my grandmother will die if the power goes out.

One shot if my grandfather muses about how the three freezers in the basement are useless during a power outage.

One shot if a possibly fictional basement flooding horror story that nobody remembers is related in detail.

Chug if my grandfather suggests we take shelter “under the old steps.”

One shot for every time my grandfather says that we’ll die if we’re touching anything metal during a lightning storm (this includes glasses, watches, etc.).

Chug when my grandfather makes a premature decision to rent a hotel in Hagerstown, MD (70 miles away) while the sky is still clear.

Chug when the basement does not flood and my grandfather gets upset that everything is okay (during torrential, sustained downpour).  Chug, again, if my grandfather expresses angry disbelief that the basement is not flooding.

One shot if (during a heavy storm) my grandfather says the poor are “huddlin’ like animals under this mess.”

Chug if my grandfather predicts DC will be swamped “once and for all” and “nobody will make it out alive.”

After the power goes out

One shot if my grandfather arms himself.

One shot if my grandfather packs up my grandmother and drives north (see the Hagerstown hotel above – this shot is only to be taken when my grandfather has not planned ahead.)

Chug if my grandfather starts to frantically call friends to see if they have power and space in their freezers.

One shot for every time my grandfather suggests we go to bed “like farmers before electricity,” but then asks for a beer.

One shot for every time my grandfather asks if the power outage is “just us” and insists that someone walk around the block to check.

Chug if my grandfather hears sirens in the distance and says, “That’ll be the niggers.”

Chug one beer every time my grandfather substitutes “spics” for “niggers.”

One shot if my grandfather suggests that nobody in West Virginia loses power ever.

In the event of flood

One shot for every time my grandfather checks on the basement (this will start before the storm, so be careful!)

Chug when my grandfather screams through the vents for someone to help.  (“I need some heeeelp down hyar!”)

One shot whenever the portable sump pump is “lost.”  (Chug if my grandfather says, ominously, “One of youse gonna hafta  go outside to git it.”)

Chug if the sump pump doesn’t work. (Chug one beer if it doesn’t work because the power’s out and it’s a plug-in model.)

One shot of Stoli for Nacho standing outside to stabilize the drainpipe and make sure the sump pump doesn’t pump all the water back into the basement.  Chug two beers if this happens during torrential rain, freak-out thunderstorm.  Chug three beers if Nacho loses control of the pipe and it starts vomiting water into the adjacent garden shed.

Replace Stoli with Sapphire if the uncle is the one stabilizing the drain.

One shot for every emergency vehicle that drives by the house.  Chug if the grandfather says they’re going to round up “the trash on Mills St.”

Chug if the grandfather starts a small electrical fire because the plug for the sump pump is under water.

Chug if you realize, before anyone else, that you’re all standing in the water that’s above the electrical socket the grandfather is about to use.  Chug one beer if the grandfather pauses, just short of the socket that’s under water, and says, “This could be dangerous – don’t ever do this.” Chug another beer when he plugs it in (assuming you survive).

Chug one beer if there’s a mouse nest inside the sump pump.

One shot for when the grandfather screams up the basement steps to the grandmother along the lines of “We’re not gonna make it!”

One shot every time my grandfather suggests that “this wouldn’t have happened if we had stayed in Parkersburg in 1965.”

Aftermath

One shot if you see a Pepco truck.  Chug if my grandfather suggests that the “niggers are runnin’ Pepco inta the ground.”

One shot for every time my grandfather says that above ground telephone/electrical wires are “older than he is” and that “a real country would have them all underground so this will never happen.”  And, you know, amen to that.  Seriously.

One shot if my grandfather blames the storm/power outage/flooding on the Republicans.  But chug if he blames it on a Democrat, which is rare and surprising.  The usual target is Kennedy (Papist Irish motherfucker!).

Chug if the power is out for more than six hours and the grandfather says, “That’s it.  Apocalypse.  Who wants the .22?”