Are you feeling sort of down? A little crappy? Buddy, I get it, and, even better, I know exactly what you need: a big, painful injection of vitamin Would You Rather, injected right into your neck! It’s been way too long, right? So let’s do this!
You remember the drill, I provide you with two highly plausible but hypothetical situations, and you tell me, via the compu-comments below, which you’d prefer to have happen. To you.
Off we go!
Would you rather:
You’re desperately trying to open an old bottle of brake fluid when, using a blowtorch, you finally get the very stuck top off. Before you can grab the bottle to decant it into your very dry brake fluid reservoir, you see a tiny pointed hat pop out of the opening, soon followed by a filthy little gnome.
The gnome is thrilled, just thrilled to be free from his prison in that bottle, which he claims he was trapped in for political reasons, not what you may have heard about exposing himself to a tiny bus full of commuting gnomes, which is a total bullshit rumors spread by his ex-wife, who’s a real bitch, according to him.
The gnome wants to reward you for freeing him, and since he’s pretty good at gnome-magic, he can do some impressive stuff. Seeing that you’re something of a gearhead, the gnome offers to give you the power to have any car part you need, at any time! That would be amazing, right?
There’s just one catch: due to the nature of gnomian magic, the only way it works is if the part materializes in liquid form in your stomach, requiring you to vomit it out. Once the magic liquid is out of your body, it will begin to coalesce into the part.
Of course, if it’s a 50-pound axle you need, you’ll be vomiting 50 pounds of magic axle liquid. Or 300 pounds of engine block juice.
It’s pretty painful. Still, free parts, right?
Or, would you rather:
You download a new dating app called Shiftr, which is targeted at gearheads. You find a really charming and exciting person on the app, and, after a bit of talking, you decide to meet! You’re very excited, and you can hardly wait for the next night, when you agreed to meet.
You arrive at the agreed-upon bar, and you see your match: if possible, they are even better-looking than their pictures. You approach, and introduce yourself.
The moment you reach out to touch your date, the entire bar goes dark and time itself freezes. Your date morphs into their true form, the all-powerful ghost of George Romney, former CEO of the now-defunct American Motors Corporation.
George apologizes for catfishing you, but says he’s been so lonely (and yes, maybe a little horny) that he really felt like he had no choice. Still, he feels bad about what he’s done, and now realizes this is no solution to his loneliness.
As a way of making it up to you, George Romney will use his magic ghost-powers to resurrect 1975 AMC (the only year he has access to, for tax reasons) and make you the CEO.
The whole company will be brought back: long-gone factories will re-materialize, inventory will re-appear, money in the bank will re-form. Patents and plans will be yours. Dead workers will be back, as ghosts, to help you get started, but you’ll also have the means to hire new ones, and be a celebrated job creator! In moments, you’ll be the head of a fully-functional major automobile manufacturer.
Of course, no product you can build will be competitive with anything modern, and even if you could convince people to buy brand-new Pacers and Gremlins, they’re not going to meet any modern safety or emissions standards.
Still, you can figure this out! You have all of AMC’s resources and a ghost army to build cars! How about it?
Oh, and George kind of wants to know if maybe you’d want to make out, just for a little bit. It’s cool if you say no, it’s just that he is giving you a car company. No pressure, though.