Would You Rather?

by Will Musgrove

At first, most people don’t recognize they’re cursed. At first, most people see the curse as a blessing from the gods. King Midas did. I did. That said, the wasps started stalking my buddy Jerry last week, and now I’m in hiding.

I can’t tell you where I am. If I did, you might come and find me, which is better for you and me if you didn’t. What I can tell you is I used to be a big fan of would-you-rather questions. Would you rather this or that? The days can get pretty stale. You can run out of things to talk about if you just talk about what’s possible. Would-you-rathers fill the space with something fun—something hopeful even.

The best would-you-rathers, though, have a catch built into each choice, because what’s life but mitigating catches? Real or imaginary. 

“Would you rather have a million dollars, but a family of wasps stalks you wherever you go?” I said, signing my bar tab. “Or would you rather never be stung again but be broke?”

“Easy. Give me the million bucks and the family of wasps.”

We left the bar and headed for Jerry’s POS Ford. Halfway there, we spotted the dad hiding in a bush. Despite the gray slush covering the sidewalk, despite snot-freezing wind reminding us we lived in the Midwest, he wore shorts and a Ralph Lauren polo as he peered through the leaves. The child swung a tennis racket behind us. The wife followed, holding a glass of pinot grigio at the stem, pinky extended.

“Check your account,” I said to Jerry.

He showed me his cell phone, and there it was, a cool million. That’s when I realized I could bring would-you-rathers to life.

The wasp family sprinted toward him. Jerry yanked free the tennis racket and used it to fend off the mom and dad, backing up all the way to his car. He sped away, their boat shoes flopping after him.

As I walked home, I thought about what Jerry would spend the money on, about all the good I could do. I could end world hunger with a question. I could bring about peace on Earth. No one needed to merely hope again, not with me around offering a choice.

When I got back to my apartment, Jerry’s cousin Liam was standing in front of the building with everyone I knew and some I didn’t. They surrounded me, demanding questions to their answers.

“Jerry called,” Liam said, handing me a folded piece of paper. “He told us how you made him rich. We want to be rich.”

I unfolded the paper and read aloud. “Would you rather be a billionaire or not?”

“I want to be a billionaire,” Liam said. He checked his account balance. “The money’s not there. Why isn’t the money there?”

“Because there has to be a comparable catch.”

“Okay, what’s the catch?”

Soon people wore the same socks for days and brushed their teeth with toilet water. Soon reptilians ruled the northern hemisphere. Soon dragons scorched the sky. Soon the world was filled with unmitigated catches and no hope.

Now you know what happened. You should also know I miss asking would-you-rathers. I know I shouldn’t, but I do. I miss the daydreamy look in people’s eyes as they weigh the choices.

So, I have another question for you.

Or would you rather?

We left the bar and headed for Jerry’s POS Ford. A little disappointed that a swarm of wasps didn’t swoop down and sting him, I poked Jerry under the ribs and made a buzzing sound. We drove to my apartment, and he fell asleep watching football. Staring at the popcorn ceiling, I thought about how every would-you-rather is a blessing and a curse. Every curse has a hint of blessing. Every blessing has a hint of curse. Which one was I? I’m hopeful one day I’ll find out. Maybe that’s good enough. Hope. You can do a lot of good with hope.

Jerry farted.

There’s always a catch.

***

Will Musgrove is a writer and journalist from Northwest Iowa. He received an MFA from Minnesota State University, Mankato. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Timber, The McNeese Review, Sundog Lit, Tampa Review, Vestal Review, and elsewhere. Connect on Twitter at @Will_Musgrove or at williammusgrove.com.