Author's Note: Ever wonder how the Brotherhood gets their cash? Well, I did too, so I wrote this series of one-shots to try and extrapolate on it.
Disclaimer: I do own X-Men: Evolution. And it's opposite day. So I really don't. But the opposite of opposite day is a regular day, so I do. But I really don't.
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Eating Contest
Grab, bite, chew, swallow, repeat.
This has got to be a dream come true. All the hotdogs I can eat, and people paying me to do it! I'll admit, when the guys first told me about this eating contest thing, I thought they were playing some kind of trick on me. They do that a lot. So naturally I was a little suspicious when they started telling that not only was there going to be a big contest with tons of free hotdogs, but a cash prize to the person who could eat the most. I mean come on, paying people to eat?
Grab, bite, chew, swallow, repeat.
After I got a little less suspicious, they showed me a bunch of newspaper articles and stuff to convince me it was all legit. After that I went from suspicion to shock. It was like I had just beat the X-Geeks by myself and then won the lottery, only a million times better!
Grab, bite, chew, swallow, repeat.
There was a catch though. In order to get entered into the contest, you had to pay an entrance fee. A big entrance fee. Problem was, money's been kinda tight ever since Boss Lady left. We all pooled our money and it turned out we only had enough for one person to enter. It was kind of a bummer, really. You see, even though we all knew that I would probably win, everyone getting all the hotdogs they could eat would have been nice. The guys were real nice about it though. They all insisted I be the one to enter. They knew I wanted it the most. Well, that and I had the best chance of winning, and we really needed the prize money.
Grab, bite, chew, swallow, repeat.
So here I am, up on a big stage surrounded by more hotdogs than I've ever seen in my life. There's a counter behind me telling how many hotdogs I've eaten by now. I think I'm up to fifteen. The guys are down in the crowd below, cheering me on. Well, Toad's cheering me on. The little guy's going nuts; hopping up and down and whistling. Makes me feel good to have a little buddy like him. Lance is trying to look cool, but I can see he's cheering me on in spirit. Pietro…. well, he's doing his part by taking bets on who's going to win. It's okay though. He's just trying to make more money, and if we need one thing, it's more money.
Grab, bite, chew, swallow, repeat.
I sneak a look at the other people in the contest. There's about nine other people, not counting me. Wait, no, eight other people. The guy on the far right just gave up. What a wuss, only ate seventeen 'dogs. One of the X-Geeks entered the contest too. Figures. They always have to try and outdo us. Well, this time, the ball's in Freddy's court. No fuzzy German-talking freak is gonna out-eat the Blob, that's for sure.
Grab, bite, chew, swallow, repeat.
I'm up to twenty-six hotdogs. Two other people have given up by now. One of em even ran off to puke. The X-Geek -what's his name? Nightcreeper or something- is still in. I'm kinda surprised, you wouldn't think that such a skinny little wimp would be able to pack away twenty-two hotdogs. Make that twenty-three hot-dogs. I guess he's like Pietro and Toad, those guys use up their food faster than most people, so they eat more. Yeah, that's probably it.
Grab, bite, chew, swallow, repeat.
Another guy dropped out. Literally. He just passed out. He only made it to twenty-seven. The guys have quit cheering me on. I understand though, this is a big money-making opportunity. Toad's making himself useful and snatching people's wallets. I think it's neat how he can do that; take wallets without the person knowing. Pietro's still taking bets. I can see that he's already collected some money from people that bet on the losers. Lance is… where is Lance? Oh. He's over there trying to talk to Kitty. Figures. I wonder what Kitty's doing at a hotdog eating contest? I thought she wasn't allowed to eat hotdogs. Not coch… kush… not Jew-food.
Grab, bite, chew, swallow, repeat.
I'm up to forty hotdogs by now. Two other people dropped out at thirty-five and thirty-seven and a half. No one passed out or threw up though. Now it's just me, the fuzz-but, and some little Asian guy less than half my size. I can tell that freakshow isn't gonna last too much longer though. It might look like he's still going strong, what with the way he's shoveling hotdogs into his mouth, but I know different. See, his problem is he's going to fast. I know a thing or two about eating lots and lots of food, and rule number one is that you gotta pace yourself. It doesn't matter if you have the biggest appetite in the world, if you eat to fast, you'll fill up real quick.
Grab, bite, chew, swallow, repeat.
Yep, I knew it, fuzzy's down for the count. He shoulda paced himself. I'll admit, though, I'm kinda impressed. I wouldn't have thought the little shrimp would make it to fifty hotdogs. Now it's just me and the Asian guy. He's pretty good. I can tell by the way he eats that he's pacing himself just right. He's at sixty-one hotdogs. Just two behind me. He's eating his hotdogs really weird too. Keeps taking the dog out of the bun and ripping it in half, then eating it. Does the same thing with the bun, but he dips it in water. Weird. I'm not worried though. Really.
Grab, bite, chew, swallow, repeat.
Okay, I admit it, I'm getting a little worried. That Asian guy has to be a mutant, because no human could put away that much food and still keep his pace! We're tied now at seventy hotdogs each. I gotta do better. We need that prize money. Bad. If I don't win, all that money we put into paying for admission will be for nothing. Plus it looks like Pietro would owe a lot of people a lot of money. Speaking of Pietro, he finally stopped taking bets and started cheering me on. Toad and Lance are back to cheering me on too. I guess they could see that things are getting close. It's nice having their support.
Grab, bite, chew…. Uh oh.
I can't swallow. It feels like someone just flipped a switch in my brain and all of the sudden I'm full. This is bad. Very bad. I need to eat; I need to win! I can't let the guys down! C'mon Freddy, you're the BLOB! You can do this! ALL OR NOTHING FREDDY, ALL OR NOTHING!!!!
"BUUUUUUURRRRRRRRP"
Woah. I feel great! I got my second wind! That Asian guy is in trouble now! In less than a minute I've regained my lead. It's 80-76, and I figure it's time to end this. I stop eating just long enough to turn and look the Asian guy in the eye. He's giving me this "I'm still gonna win" look and has half a hotdog hanging out of his mouth. That "I'm still gonna win" look vanishes though, when I grab about twelve hotdogs in my hands and stuff all of them in my mouth at once.
Chew. Chew. Swallow. Grin.
The Asian guy's eyes practically bug out of his head. He knows he can't win now. Hanging his head in shame, he gets up and walks off. Hah. Crouching dragon, hidden tiger my ass.
The crowd's going nuts now. Toad's jumping up and down so high I'm surprised nobody's said anything. Lance has dropped the cool guy act and is whistling and clapping. Even Pietro's taking a break from collecting his money to cheer for me. The contest judge comes up and gives me a neat crown that says "Lord of the Large Pants" on it and my $1000 prize money. Then, out of nowhere, he gives me an extra $1000! When I asked him why, he said I broke some kind of all-time world record for hotdog eating. Go figure.
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Author's Note: Because Fred doesn't get enough love, damn it. You get twenty points if you can tell me where I stole the "Lord of the Large Pants" crown from.
Now, you can review and be a kind, considerate reader, or you can not review and be an evil Nazi bastard who beats up children and old people. Your choice.