I've written numerous What Would You Do tribute stories, envisioning a spinoff where a wilder version of the show somehow finds its way to late night TV. This is the latest installment, the full version of which you can find on my Patreon (patreon.com/hooliham) in both coed and male-only variants. I hope you'll consider becoming a patron today -- it's only $3/month!

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"This show is hilarious! I promise, you'll laugh so hard you won't even remember how nervous you are."

So said Kerry, trying her best to soothe the anxious nerves of her best friend Sydney, who had a blind date set up with a mystery guy she'd met (but hadn't seen photos of) on a dating app. Their chemistry was instant. Their backgrounds were similar, and so were their hobbies. It felt like a match, but the app was designed to withhold photos from potential daters, so today would be like a final test. Would the attraction still be there when she saw his face for the first time?

Sydney had had terrible luck with men. Despite being a solid 5-foot-8, with flowy, long brown hair, a strong upper body and legs from years of high school and college volleyball, she could never hang onto a guy for very long. For one, she was shy, which limited her opportunities. And when opportunities did arise, many of her suitors weren't that interesting, weren't that attractive, or if they were, they didn't reciprocate her feelings. This 'Jimmy' guy held a ton of promise. She felt different about him. Optimistic. But it had been forever since she'd been on a date. So she went all out. She visited a hairdresser, who styled her brown locks to frame her face just perfectly. She wore a black cocktail dress, classy, but still a little revealing. And Kerry did her makeup, doing her best to embellish her green eyes.

At Kerry's recommendation, Sydney found herself in the audience of the revival of the variety show 'What Would You Do?', which was popular in the early '90s and became a cult favorite ever since it returned on the Comedy Channel last year with a more edgy format, this time to Daytona Beach, Florida. Sydney steadfastly refused to have drinks before the date, passing up the benefits of liquid courage in favor of a clear mind. So Kerry decided to take her here.

Kerry had been in the audience for a taping in the new show's early days and had a rollicking great time. At the very least, they would sit in the crowd and Sydney would be as entertained as she was. It would certainly take her mind off her frayed nerves for an hour. And if she was chosen to play a game, even better. She could go home with a prize and have an awesome story to tell this mystery man!

The studio implemented a nice new touch to keep the surprise going for first-time guests: separating the main stage from the audience with retractable curtains. Sydney was left in suspense, her anxiety level only rising. Not only did she have a date just after this, now she found herself at a taping of a mystery show that may or may not do much to soothe her racing thoughts.

With little warning, the studio lights turned bright, the curtains were drawn back, a stagehand ran out waving his arms to call for applause, and before Kerry and Sydney knew it, the show's theme song was playing and its legendary host Marc Summers came bolting on stage. Sydney surveyed the scene: the crowd losing their minds, this host in gaudy clothing, and all around the edges of the stage, one contraption after another designed to make a person into a complete mess:
The Pie Coaster: A rollercoaster leading into a giant pie turned vertically
The Pie Slide: A chair atop a ramp that descended into another giant pie
The Cruci-Pied: Something resembling a giant X with locks where wrists and ankles might go.
The Human Fondue: A platform situated above a giant tank filled with a mystery substance, with a very large bucket suspended above the platform.
The Dunk Tank: Something resembling a diving board high above the stage floor, suspended atop a cylindrical tank filled with a green, goopy substance.
And the piece de resistance, The Torture Machine: a chair with locks for someone's wrists and ankles, surrounded by four cakes arranged in a semicircle, all on mechanical arms that appeared ready to launch them at the person seated in the machine. Nozzles pointed directly at the seat, ready to blast a mystery substance directly at the victim. And like the Human Fondue, an oversized bucket with some unknown goop contained inside.

Sydney immediately turned to Kerry, a wry smile on her face, uncertain what to make of all of this. "What is this show?" she exclaimed.

"You'll see!" Kerry replied giddily.

As the theme song ended, the applause reached a crescendo and all attention turned to Marc at the center of the stage.

"Howdy, everybody," Marc exclaimed, "My name is Marc Summers, and welcome to What Would You Do! How's everyone doing today?" Generous applause.

"This is the show where we put amazing prizes up for grabs, put contestants in unique situations, and find out what they'll do in order to take them home!

"Today, we've got an interesting physical and mental challenge for our lucky contestants, and the winner could take home up to $600 cash! I think you're really gonna love this one. For this game, I'm gonna need two people. I'd love for a man and a woman to join me on stage. Anyone want to play?"

Marc's eyes immediately turn to the crowd behind him. His request is met with a multitude of hands, aching for the chance to buy $600 worth of stuff. Maybe somebody could even flip traditional gender roles and be the one to treat him to dinner and drinks tonight.

At that exact moment, Sydney feels a hand lock around her left wrist and her left arm yanked skyward.

"Oh my god, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" she yells at Kerry. She tried to yank her arm free, but Kerry's grip is too tight.

Marc spots this struggle occurring in the third row, sees a lady with a beautiful black dress on, and knows exactly who he wants to play.

"You, madam, what's your name?"

"Sydney, oh my gosh."

"Please come down to the stage, Sydney Oh My Gosh!"

Sydney, never comfortable with being the center of attention, looks mortified. Her face is frozen, her mouth agape in some combination of fear, anxiety, and embarrassment. Kerry nudges her to her feet and gently shoves her into the aisle. Sydney shuffles her way down the steps and waits patiently on stage, while Marc shifts his attention to finding a suitable guy.

Marc jogs to the other side of the audience. He scans the crowd all the while, and lo and behold, he finds almost the exact same situation he just saw with Kerry and Sydney. A bashful looking guy with his left arm raised high in the air by a companion.

"You sir, what's your name?"

"J-Jimmy."

"We've got some nervous nellies in here today! There's nothing to be afraid of! Jimmy, come with me please! Let's play a game, shall we?"

The audience cheers as Jimmy and Marc jog down the steps to join the waiting Sydney on stage. Though not dressed anywhere near as resplendently as Sydney, Jimmy looks great himself, his short dark brown hair glistening and neatly parted to one side, wearing an athletic fit pink polo shirt, showing off his well-built arms, shoulders, and small waist, as well as dark slim fit jeans. Sydney sized him up and liked what she saw. The jeans were so slim that she could see his package poking through, which she thoroughly enjoyed as well.

Stagehands set up a podium slightly to stage left, and two booth-style gunge tanks slightly to stage right with stools set up inside. There is no front door to either tank, but attached to one side of each tank is a steel shelf with a button to press. It seems this game is going to require Sydney and Jimmy to buzz in, or something like that.

Marc stands next to Sydney and Jimmy, both of whom are shuffling their feet, hugging their knees together, and keeping their arms close to their chests. Their nervous body language shows the jitters they feel. Neither wants to see the contents of those tanks released on them. They secretly hope for the other person to get tanked.

Marc begins. "So, Sydney and Jimmy. Let me tell you this. $600 cash is one of the biggest prizes we've ever given away on this show. And you can both go home with up to that amount if you can win our game today. But you're gonna have to earn it."

"This was before your time, but back in the '80s, there was a gameshow called Press Your Luck. We're going to sit each of you in one of these tanks, and your job"

A yelp is heard off-mic.

"What was that?" Marc points the microphone in Sydney's direction.

"I said no, I don't want that!"

"Oh, well I'm sorry Sydney, but it's too late, you volunteered for the game!"

Sydney is heard whining off-mic, continuing her protests to no avail.

"So like I was saying, you're each going to sit in a tank, and we're going to run our game board, as you'll see right here."

A large monitor is set up behind the cameras; like in the original game show, the game board is overlaid over the edges of the screen, with random squares lighting up with various prizes and punishments listed on them. Scattered throughout the board are fuzzy characters with menacing looks on them: the Whammys.

"We're gonna give you 7 spins each, and your job is to accumulate as much money as you can with those spins. Many of these squares are pretty straightforward. You'll either win a prize, like $50, or a punishment, like, well why don't we show 'em guys."

Heads in the audience swing toward stage right, right behind Sydney and Jimmy. At the same time, hands from the audience start pointing at a burly, masked man wheeling out a large cart full of massive cream pies and water guns shoved in multicolored buckets of goo. Both Sydney and Jimmy bury their heads in their hands. They see the rows of pies and the numerous buckets. They see the gunge tanks. They see the contraptions ringing the stage. And they immediately get it. It's probably no longer a matter of whether they'll get messy. It's a matter of how messy they're going to get.

"That's right, guys. With each of your spins, you'll either land on a cash prize, a penalty like the ones you see here, or Marc points at the monitor as a Whammy starts racing across the screen these little rascals, the Whammys. Hit one of those, and you'll lose all the money you've gained to that point.

"In each round, the squares will light up randomly. When you're ready, all you have to do is slam the big red button in your tank, and wherever it lands, that's what you get!

"Now, in a sense, you guys are working together. Because whatever square you land on, you can pass the contents of that square to the other person. So, for example, Sydney, if you've accumulated $300, and Jimmy only has $20, you might want to send your Whammy to him, because he doesn't have much to lose.

"But be careful. Because I don't know if you two have looked up yet, but we've suspended some absolutely massive buckets over these stools. And if either of you draws three Whammies, regardless of whether you passed them to the other person or not, the game is over and you both lose! And what do you think is going to happen to the contents of those buckets if that happens, Sydney?"

Marc points the mic toward her. She gulps loudly and says sheepishly, "You're gonna dump them on us."

"That's exactly right," Marc says, to a round of applause.

"But if you make it to the end of the game without that happening, we're going to pool all the money you each have won, and then you'll each have a very consequential decision to make.

"Understand the rules?"

Both tentatively nod yes. They're more concerned with their hearts beating through their chests than the finer points of the strategy of this game.

"Great, then let me ask you to step inside these tanks, and we'll get started!"

The crowd cheers as Sydney and Jimmy make their way into the gunge tanks and each take a seat. Sydney takes the one on the left, Jimmy the one on the right. The masked man stands off to the side, manning the dessert cart. Two cameramen situate themselves in front of each tank, the massive cameras looking deep into the contestants' eyes.

"Alright, let's spin the wheel and get this game started! Sydney, ladies first!" Marc says.

The monitor quickly turns to a straight-on shot of Sydney situated over her button. The game board is overlaid over her picture, and the brightly colored square jumps all around the board randomly.

Sydney plays along. "No whammies, no punishments, please, please, please and STOP!"

She slams the button and lands on

"$50!" Marc says. The crowd applauds. "Nicely done, Sydney! That's a great start!"

She smiles in relief, like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. But in reality, she has six more excruciating rounds of this game to go. Well, 13 more if she includes the things that Jimmy can send her way.

Sure enough, the board starts up again, and now Jimmy takes his first turn.

"No punishments, no whammies, and STOP!"

A foghorn sound plays throughout the studio. A Whammy.

"Oh no!" Do you want to keep that Whammy, Jimmy, or pass it to Sydney and zero her out?"

Jimmy winks at her kindly. "I'll be a nice guy and keep it for myself."

"Good man!" Marc says. "Jimmy, you're at zero, and you stay at zero!

"Sydney, time for your second spin! Let's go!"

More beep-boop sound effects as the lighted square jumps around the screen. Sydney's hand hovers over the button with a slight smile on her face, a little more confident and comfortable this time.

"And, STOP!"

A womp-womp-woooooomp sound effect plays. A pie in the face!

"Oh no, Sydney, it's a pie! What do you think? Shall we smash it in your face, or are you gonna pass it to Jimmy?"

Sydney considers this for a moment. She did her makeup and her hair so nicely for this date, and realizes it would all be ruined in an instant if she got pied. Not to mention her gorgeous dress, her absolute favorite. She couldn't possibly do this.

"I'm sorry, Jimmy. I spent all day on my hair and makeup! PASS!"

Jimmy's eyes grow wide and his mouth drops open in shock. The burly masked man springs to action, grabbing a pie and marching directly toward Jimmy. He takes just two steps before landing his big right paw on Jimmy's shoulder. Jimmy turns toward the man, sees the oncoming pie and barely has time to shut his eyes before

GLOOMP! A humiliating sound effect plays as the contents of the blueberry cream pie explode all over Jimmy's face. He gets hit HARD, making him lose his balance and fall back on his stool. He groans in distress at the force of the impact. His legs kick up to try and regain his balance, but the hand on his shoulder catches him before he tumbles to the floor.

OHHHHH!! The crowd groaned, before breaking out into raucous cheers.

The man grinds the pie up and down Jimmy's face, sending cream and bits of graham cracker crust straight up his nose, before sliding the pie tin up into his hair. His hair had been neat and glistening, but now smothered in pie mess, it's pointing in all directions, its beautiful shine completely gone. And his face? Forget it. With barely time to close his eyes, Jimmy couldn't even close his mouth, so as the pie tin was removed, Jimmy's upper body spasmed and whipped cream came flooding out of his mouth and onto his jeans. Whole blueberries and gooey midnight blue filling ooze off his face and slide down his pink polo shirt, staining it permanently.

All the while, Sydney sits in the other booth, her eyes wide open, her hands covering her shocked mouth. Thank god, she thinks. I didn't know he'd get pied THAT hard!

"That's Press Your Luck, ladies and gentlemen!" Marc exclaims. "We're gonna take a quick break, maybe get Jimmy a napkin or two, and we'll come back and see if these guys can still find a way to take home the grand prize, right after this!"

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