Randy Horn began asking ridiculous questions years ago. His favorite: "How much money would it take for you to eat a live, kicking cockroach?" Answers ranged from five bucks ("You better hope we don't find one, because I've got a $5 bill," he'd reply) to no money on earth ("There's got to be a number," he insists). Little did he know, but the questions that worked for years as pick-up lines would become the basis of a $2.4 million company called Zobmondo!! Entertainment (No. 696 on the 2007 Inc. 5,000). Why Zobmondo? His buddies used that word in lieu of a profanity. "If you stub your toe, that's Zob; if a car runs you over, that's Zobmondo!!"

Over pizza and beer, Horn's friends brainstormed hundreds of "Would You Rather...?" questions (the first: "Would you rather bite the curb and get kicked in the back of the head -or-- get a paper cut on your eyeball?") There's no right response -- as long as players are engrossed in spirited debate.

I've always dreamed of being an entrepreneur. I had a paper route two years before I was allowed. My parents vouched that I was responsible. I was 8 years old, working four different routes. To this day, I can nail the smallest spot with a paper.

In high school, I started an auto-detailing business. I learned how to clean and wax my Volkswagen Scirocco to absolute perfection. So I decided one summer to go around to fathers of friends of mine and offer to clean their cars. I started at $39 a car. My entire summer was booked before it even began. I upped it to $79 and was raking in more than anyone I knew. I was the college kid driving someone else's Ferrari. That summer gig helped fund college.

Eventually I got a real job. It was 1991 and I had just graduated from Berkeley with an industrial engineering degree. I worked for a container shipping line. Right out of college, I was taking business trips to Hawaii.

After three years as an engineer, being in the back room frustrated me. I'm a social person. So I lobbied to become a sales rep. Eleven interviews later, I got the job. The company's most important person is the one bringing in money.

A year later, I was off to UCLA's Anderson School of Business. The two guys who started Stamps.com were in my class. I enrolled in a business plan course and needed an idea quickly. That night, I was on a double blind date that was going nowhere. So I tossed out a few "Would You Rather...?" questions. It was magic. Suddenly we were laughing. I walked out of the restaurant saying, "I'm going to turn this into a game."

I presented my business plan at a school competition. A judge approached me later; he wanted to invest. That's when I realized I was onto something.

The day I graduated in 1997, I was commencement speaker and on the front page of the Wall Street Journal's "Marketplace" section. It was the best day of my life. My family kept joking, "It's all downhill from here."

Deadlines consumed me. I had six months until the February toy fair to turn my concept into a printed game. I raised $250,000 from my dad, sister, and ex-girlfriend. I hired starving comedy writers to generate content, collecting 15,000 questions, 1,500 of which were actually usable. Then I created a bunch of handmade versions of the game, with a rough-looking game board, and enlisted friends and family for focus groups.

By November, it was time to get the game printed. I scoured the back of the toy trades, got quotes from the top four firms, and chose one. I spent $50,000 on inventory of 5,000 games, not knowing whether any would sell. The games arrived in finished condition only three days before I left for the toy show.

I arrived at my out-of-the-way booth at the Javits Center in 1998 with a homemade banner. My game had a polarizing effect. Some didn't get it; others loved it. I got small orders from independent toy stores. Then Cheryl Stern from the Game Keeper, the largest specialty game chain retailer, stopped by. "My husband says this is the best game in the whole show." That put me on the map.

Failure terrified me. So I worked really hard, personally calling 75 stores a day, persuading them to carry my product. In the first year of business, we sold 12,000 games.

A liaison from Hasbro visited my booth the next year. Hasbro is the 800-pound gorilla in the game business. They wanted to license my game. That's a home run right there. To help grow our brand, we signed a mass-market exclusive with Target. We came out with a PG-rated version of the "Would You Rather...?" game, a travel edition, and card games. Around this time, I signed a deal with a network production company to turn my game into a TV show. We got as far as creating a pilot of the show, but it didn't pan out.

Over time, I felt Hasbro's commitment waning. My brand manager left Hasbro, and I felt like I didn't have anyone guiding the ship. Sales suffered. So I terminated the deal. This was a major crossroad. Do I get a job, or market independently with a product some people considered a failure? I believed in it.

So at the end of 2003, we redesigned and repackaged the game, and I started making phone calls all over again. It's been rapid growth ever since. This year, our games made Target's spring set, which is traditionally a streamlined product line, featuring only the top performers. This was a huge accomplishment.

Right now, I'm developing two brand-new concepts for party games. I view them as a little risky. But Zobmondo!! is all about creating a social event that people remember. I want to create games that make people say, "Wow, there's nothing out there like this."