Rothesay — Local man Rob Culberson’s last meagre shadow of masculinity has reportedly been stuffed inside an 8-by-10-foot closet-like room in the Rothesay home he paid off just last month.
“Yeah, I put the finishing touches on the ol’ man cave this morning,” boasted the shell of a man. “It’s got a cool light-up beer sign, a La-Z-Boy my wife said is too ugly for the living room, a dart board, a mini-fridge, and a calendar with a different chick in a bikini on a motorbike for every month of the year. It’s wicked.”
Our reporter spoke with Culberson’s wife Sheri, who said she “strongly encouraged” her husband to cram the sad remains of his manhood and individuality inside the dank wood-panelled room in their basement. The rest of the spacious 3-storey, 4-bedroom, 3-bathroom home is her domain.
“I wasn’t crazy about him calling it a ‘man cave’ since it sort of excludes me, but it seems to make him happy,” explained Sheri, who stays at home during the workdays decorating the gigantic space her husband paid for in full. “Plus, with all his beer in that little kiddie fridge, the real one is freed up for my wine. When I have the girls over, he has somewhere to hang out for a few hours while we drink and scrapbook.”
Culberson said his wife dropped him off at the mall for 2 hours last week while she was getting her hair done, and as he browsed Wicker Emporium he stumbled upon the perfect sign to adorn the entrance to his private space. “It says ‘Man Cave: Enter At Your Own Risk,'” chuckled the man whose shaky identity is largely based on the TV show King of Queens. “Ha-ha, I thought that was pretty witty and just a bit badass — kinda like me.”
The aging man and his friends formed a band back in high school; each week they play covers of John Mellencamp hits in a desperate attempt to retain their youth and relevance. Unfortunately for Culberson, the man cave is nowhere near large enough to fit the sound equipment or instruments. “I don’t think we need to practise here though,” he conceded. “We can probably book time at the rec centre or something.”
Culberson’s friend Mario Smith said that Rob invited him over tonight to have a Bud Light and “shoot the shit,” but Smith feels lame sitting there watching “the game” and acting like this is what men are supposed to do.
“I don’t even really like sports, and Bud Light? Come on,” confided Smith. “How whipped is the guy? I’ll probably go over just because I feel bad for him, but it’s going to be awkward to pretend I want to play darts in a tiny room that smells like mildew and broken dreams.”