Extreme Home Makeover

Charlie Wheaton was eight when his family was chosen to feature on TLC’s “Extreme Home Makeover.”

That summer had been a difficult one for the Wheatons. Along with hundreds of other men and women, Charlie’s father lost his job when a local manufacturing plant shuttered its operations. Benson Riley Co. was a major producer of American-made backyard grills since the early 1900s, employing more than half of the residents of the Wheaton’s small town at one point in time. Their giant smokestacks ran day and night for over one hundred years, pumping out millions of grills for distribution across the United States. Charlie’s father had worked as a floor manager, overseeing dozens of workers as they assembled pieces of the grills by hand. Slowly but surely, the owner’s of Benson Riley Co. realized it was cheaper to certain import grill parts from China. Eventually they decided it was more profitable to simply manufacture and assemble the entire grill overseas. They announced their decision to close the plant at a company barbecue. Charlie remembered there was a clown making balloon animals for the children of the workers. As the president of Benson Riley Co. nervously cleared his throat into a microphone, Charlie watched the clown slip off behind a building and smoke a cigarette.

“Please take home any leftovers,” the president had said as he concluded his remarks. “Remember, we are still a family here.”

Around the same time, Charlie’s mother suffered her own career setback when she accidentally misread a label, and let the majority of her recently acquired stock of MaxPower energy bars expire in the basement. Though she hadn’t had much success in convincing her family and friends to buy into the MaxPower business plan, she was convinced that Charlie’s recent enrollment in Cub Scouts would provide the fresh leads she needed to finally break through to the “Expense Card Executive” level, and allow her to repay her initial investment in the project. Her online research yielded mixed results about whether the bars could still be consumed past their expiration date. She was surprised to find that almost no one on the MaxPower Success Forum had ever even tried the energy bars themselves. After she tentatively nibbled on half of a Blueberry Blast in order to test the waters, Charlie’s mother experienced extreme nausea, intense skin irritation, and mild hallucinations. In the end she was forced to consider the venture a complete loss.

With the plant closed, and the energy bars past their prime, the Wheaton family was plunged into dire financial conditions. Charlie and his siblings, two younger twins named Ashleigh and Braxton, spent many nights listening to their parents argue over what do about their crumbling house, which was now at risk of foreclosure. The tract housing where the Wheaton’s lived was nothing special. It had been built during the rise of Benson Riley Co. during the post war boom, with an increasingly wealthy middle class suddenly taking great interest in home grills, and the company needing new living spaces for their expanding workforce. By now, the rows and rows of identical houses were falling apart at every crack and seam. Oftentimes Charlie had to pull peeling paint chips from the eager mouths of Braxton and Ashleigh, who seemed to have a particular love for the paling yellow color which covered the living room and stairway.

It was during one such argument between Charlie’s parents that producers from Extreme Home Makeover visited the Wheaton family. Charlie, Ashleigh and Braxton were perched together at the top of the stairs listening to their parents yelling, the two younger siblings munching quietly at the peeling paint, when a knock at the door captured everyone’s attention.

Charlie’s father opened the door, and two men and a woman stood on their porch. Everyone shook hands and they entered the family’s home, the three guests settling uncomfortably on the vinyl couch, shoulders pressed together like they were commuting on a crowded bus. They explained that they were producers for a TV show called “Extreme Home Makeover,” and it was their job to find families who were on hard times and deserved a break. Charlie noticed the woman’s eyes were darting all over the house as they spoke, searching for something she seemed to be finding.

“We heard about what happened with the XYZ plant and we think it’s just awful,” one of the men said. “We were told you worked there for quite some time.”

Charlie’s father nodded.

“Over 20 years. I was a floor manager when everything closed down. Hundreds of people out of work, just like that.”

The producers looked at each other gleefully.

“Mr. Wheaton, we know you’ve been through a lot,” said the female producer. She peered up at the three children at the top of the stairs, two of whom had yellow paint flecks around their mouths.

“This whole community has, “she continued. “We think your family would be perfect to feature on our show. We’d like to rebuild this house for you— make it brand new, and completely custom to your desires.”

Charlie’s parents’ eyes widened.

“The real workers in this country deserve better,” said one of the other producers, leaning forward. “We want to show that there’s still hope for families like yours. What do you say?”

Charlie’s mother looked around the living room and into the kitchen. Recently the faucet had begun to expel brown sludge before sputtering out water, but only if no one had run it in a while.

“Well, I’ve always a marble island,” she sighed.

Ten minutes later the producers were on the porch shaking hands again, having secured signed contracts from the Wheaton family.

The next day, a team of yet more producers flooded the Wheaton household. Charlie watched from his bedroom window as black SUVs filled their driveway, then the sidewalk, and eventually the entire street. Hoards of men and women popped out with cameras and notebooks, eagerly pointing at the Wheaton’s house and gesturing wildly. All of the activity made Charlie nervous. A team of videographers slowly made their way around the property, documenting as the host of the program made a show of kicking in rotten drywall and crushing cracked linoleum under his expensive leather boots.

“Extreme!” he yelled, punching clean through a window that shattered and splintered at the frame.

The crew visited each member of the family one by one, asking them what they would love to see in their dream home. By the time they reached Charlie’s room, he was overwhelmed by the noise and the strangers and the lights. Charlie was sitting on his bed, legs scrunched to his chest, clutching a toy racecar tightly. The host pulled a chair up, then flipped it around backwards and sat with this arms folded over the back rest.

“Now tell me buddy, what would you like your new bedroom to look like?” the host asked Charlie, practically yelling.

“I don’t know,” Charlie said, meekly.

“Aww come on!”

The host pushed the chair closer with a loud scraping sound.

“You can have anything you want!” he exclaimed. “What sort of things do you like?”

“I don’t know…” Charlie repeated. He hung his head in his arms.

The host looked at the boom mic operator, who shrugged his shoulders.

“Come on kid, give me something.”

He peered at the red toy racecar in Charlie’s hands.

“You like cars buddy? You love racecars?” the host asked.

Charlie said nothing.

“Ok! Great! Racecars are so fun. This is gonna be so extreme!”

The host got up from his chair and made a slashing motion across his throat to the camera.

“Jesus Christ, these fucking people,” he said as the crew shuffled out of the room. “Let’s go find the twins.”

Charlie began to cry softly.

During the week of construction, TLC paid for the Wheatons to stay at an all-inclusive resort in Tampa. Their room had two beds, a pullout couch, and a peculiar moisture that seemed to accumulate and ooze from every surface. Charlie’s mother spent most of the week watching television and ordering club sandwiches to eat in bed. Meanwhile, Charlie’s father took the kids down to the pool and bar area where he would sip light beers, getting progressively more buzzed while bragging about the new house he was having built for him. Coincidentally, the resort was also hosting over 500 undergraduates who had taken advantage of a sponsored deal that allowed them to stay at half price during the week of their spring break. Charlie and his siblings were only able to play in the pool in the first day of their stay. By day two, the undergraduates had taken advantage of the unlimited alcohol policy with such efficiency that the pool’s composition had shifted to majority excrement. In an effort to control the situation, an exasperated hotel manager simply closed the lid on the hot tub, which had become so full of hot vomit that it resembled a stew. Industrial chemicals would need to be ordered in order to address the pool itself.

Charlie got an awful sunburn that week, which matched his father’s reddened face in the B-roll footage TLC shot of the family enjoying their trip.

When the chartered car finally turned the corner onto the Wheaton’s block, Charlie could see that over a hundred of his neighbors were gathered around a large bus parked in front of his house. They were wearing hard hats and ill-fitting neon t-shirts and almost none of them were smiling. As the car parked and the family piled out, the host of the show popped out from behind the bus, flanked by two cameras.

“Welcome home Wheatons!” he bellowed. “Are you ready to see your new home?”

Charlie scanned the crowd and saw one of his classmates looking down at his shoes, held at the shoulders by this mother who was glaring at the Wheaton family. Others thronged unenthusiastically about the bus, which was plastered with the host’s face in a look of faux shock and excitement.

“Ok! Say it with me on the count of three!” the host screamed, waving his hands in an effort to involve the crowd.

“1, 2, 3— Move that bus!”

After a moment the huge face on the side of the vehicle lurched forward with a belch of exhaust, revealing to the Wheatons their brand new house. The crowd clapped weakly. It looked almost exactly the same, minus a new coat of paint, Charlie thought. Next to him, his mother fainted into his father’s arms.

Standing in the newly-manicured front yard was the president of Benson Riley Co. along with the host of the program. The two smiled warmly as the family made their way slowly to the front door.

“This is the least we can do,” said the president to Charlie’s father as he clapped him on the back and handed him a set of keys. He turned to the crowd, who were still applauding intermittently.

“Remember, we are a family!”

Cameras jockeyed for position as the host dramatically threw open the front door, revealing another team of videographers in the living room waiting to capture the family’s reaction. The family stepped through the doorway and looked around at the new layout while receiving instructions from the host.

“How exciting is this?” he questioned. “Isn’t this great? Aren’t you happy! Show us how happy you are!”

Outside of the house, producers began collecting t-shirts back from the crowd who seemed unsure about what they were supposed to be doing next.

As the family worked through the rooms of their new house, the host set the scene for viewers at home.

“Ok guys, do you remember what this looked like before?” he asked, holding the door knob to the bathroom with white knuckles. “A real piece of shit, wouldn’t you say?”

Charlie’s parents nodded in agreement. A real piece of shit, they said.

“Now look at it!” the host screamed manically, throwing open the door with such force that it smashed into the interior bathroom wall with a loud thud. Where there was a bathtub before, there was now a glass shower with a large stainless steel head.

“Would you just look at this fuckin’ tile man!”

The host dropped to his knees and pressed his face against the new black tile on the floor. He breathed in deeply.

“Ooooh yeah. That’s good shit, right? You love it!” his eyes flashed wildly.

Yes, we love it, said Charlie’s parents. The cameraman zoomed in on their faces and encouraged them to grin more widely.

When they reached Charlie’s room, he could feel the stare of several lenses focused directly on him. His stomach felt tight. The host gripped him from behind.

“Ok bud, you ready to see your new room?” he whispered.

Charlie shrugged. The host turned to the cameras.

“When I heard about how much Henry loved racecars, I got an awesome idea for how we could make his room extra special,” said the host. “Hey, why don’t you take us in and we can take a look!”

Charlie opened the door and peered around. The walls were painted bright red, and all his furniture was replaced with similarly colored materials. His bed frame was made to look like a racecar, and the sheets featured all sorts of racing paraphernalia. On the walls hung pictures of racecars and racecar drivers, none of whom Charlie had ever seen before. A brand new ceiling fan, also bright red, featured blades that were racecar shaped.

“Well, what do you think?” the host asked? “Extreme right?”

Charlie gulped, and nodded sheepishly.

The host walked over to the bright red dresser and opened the top drawer to reveal a new set of clothes, also featuring racecars and all red coloring.

“These are all for you too, bud!” the host cried. He began pulling them out one by one, showing the camera before throwing them in the air dramatically.

“Hahahaha! So extreme!” he cackled.

When he emptied the drawer, he walked over to Charlie and motioned for the cameras to get a tight angle. He bent down on one knee and put his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. The man smelled strongly of cologne and it frightened Charlie.

“I know things can be hard sometimes,” the host said, looking directly into Charlie’s eyes. “Mom and dad fighting, feeling hungry, not knowing if you’ll have what you need to go to school.”

Charlie said nothing.

“But guess what buddy? That’s all over now. You know why?”

Charlie looked up at the host. The host smiled softly.

“Because you’ve got a bitchin’ racecar room now, that’s why! Aren’t you so excited?”

Charlie stood for a moment, then nodded slowly.

“Woohoo! How extreme!”

The host rose to his feet and pulled out his phone while the camera crew moved fluidly to set up for a shoot in another area of the house. Charlie looked around the room again and noticed something that puzzled him.

“Hey mister," Charlie asked, pulling on the host’s pants. “Where is my toy racecar?”

The host looked down at him blankly, then turned back to his phone and walked out of the room.