Fistfuls of Meat

Inspirational song: Misty Mountain Hop (Led Zeppelin)

They were doomed to failure. The challenge was too extreme for more mortals to accomplish. In one short hour, they were tasked to consume six pounds of food and drink, to celebrate the sixth anniversary of a growing and thriving brewery in town. It was a pound of beer ("a pint's a pound the world around"), a pound of fries, and a four-pound cheeseburger. It's utterly ridiculous. The brewery offered six slots for the competition. As this is Mr S-P's favorite brewery in town, the place he stops anytime he wants to have a beer outside of his own home, naturally he wanted to be one of the six. He talked our neighbor into being a second. Three other mad souls offered their own bellies as sacrifice. There was not another in the sphere of influence of this brewery willing to round out the six. It certainly wasn't going to be me.

I arrived shortly before noon. The eaters were halfway through their allotted time, and more than halfway through their "fistfuls of meat," as T's girlfriend so accurately put it. They all looked pained. There were obviously different strategies. One guy attacked his burger, leaving the fries and beer for last. One guy ate the meat and left the bun, managing about half the fries. T shaved columns off the burger and nibbled at the rest. Mr S-P ate his burger from the top down, like an archaeologist on a meaty dig site. I'm not sure I could identify the strategy of the last guy.

By the time I started watching, my guys' race was already run. I think they picked at it a little, and finished their beers, but that was all they could muster. The two guys on the far end really worked it. Plenty of people came by to cheer, jeer, and marvel. The time-keeper walked through often like a town crier.

No one ate everything. I don't think it was possible. In the end, it came down to weight. They weighed what was left. The winner and second place were separated by an ounce or two, each having around a pound and a half left. T made it under two pounds. Mr S-P didn't. Not sure about the other person. Mr S-P seemed deflated that he came in dead last. I looked at his tired face and bloated belly and said, "Did you really lose? I bet tonight when everyone else is truly miserable, you'll find you are the real winner."