Yum

As I look forward, the unwavering stare of 40 rednecks unnerves me
As I look behind, the trash bag parka that consumes the fried-chicken-eating person engulfs not only the man’s dignity as a judge but the self-confidence endowed upon myself through countless days of drinking the horrendous lard-based Freddy’s Fat Gain Formula
As I look up, I look down because the downpour of rain stings my eyes
As I look down, I look away because my stacked hotdogs are soggy to the point of being 80 sausages stranded in a gelatinous sea of cold buns
I look to the left. Kobiyashi
And I look to the right. Joey Chestnut.
So I feel like a hamster
But this all fades into past
The whistle blows
My days of training react
I grab a handful
Shove it in my mouth
Swallow the buns
The sausage goes south
Kobiyashi’s got his shake
I repeatedly whack my tummy against the table
People look up from their concessions
I think they got the wrong impressions
My gag reflex triggers
But the trained muscles in my esophagus expel nothing but air
My body’s trained like a soldier
Executing performance like a champ
Despite my double duo ferocious stomach-eating cramps
My mind enacts in harmonious unison with my body
A truth-boggling virtuoso of saliva, sausages
Disgraced to eat these foods in these conditions
Both too shoddy
For a divine talent like this
No one has ever witnessed this like this
In the home stretch
My discipline ascends to levels never before known
And I bring up the last link
To the puzzle
Done.
I turn, victorious.
Then frown.
No one in the crowd.
Not a single person around.
12 seconds flat
Each my opposition had finished them all.
I lose by 2 ¼ hours.
Cheaters.
Possessed with some kind of pathetic superpowers
My legacy tumbles
I think it’s back to lifting dumbbells
My belly rumbles
Gonna go buy some wholesale chocolate-berry crumbles.