ONE HUNDRED SIX

"It's a competitive eating contest, not a popularity contest."  That's what you tell the cameras at the end and it is a lie.  It's a lie because once you get home you're going to spend an hour on your fanpage defending your actions, and attacking your attackers.  You can barely believe you have a fanpage, but that's another story.  "Do the rules say I'm not allowed to interfere with my competitors?"  The rules do not, no.  It is of course implied, but you're damn sure gonna dive through that loophole.  Win, win, win, right?  "So if the rules didn't explicitly bar me from interference, how did I break any rules?  All I did was eat the most meatballs within the time limit, just like I said I would.  And I did it by any means necessary, just like anybody else would."  Yeah, you did.  One hundred and six.  Good for you, a badge of honor for fat fucks everywhere.  "No, I do respect my competitors."  No, you hate them.  You have no respect for them, or this little contest of theirs.  That's why you slipped them the hot sauce, that's why you flipped that other guys plate.  You hate these fat fucks, you want to take their fat fuck dreams and crush them.   And it's about punishing yourself, because you think that you're fat scum as well.  But you can't say that to the cameras, of course.  "I am very proud of what I have accomplished today."  And that was the biggest lie yet.