Dagget consumed pies, hot dogs, and hot chilies in gluttonous quantities for sport. He was the undisputed champion, but the thrill was gone. An adrenalin junky and attention seeker, he craved risk, a heaping helping of tasty fame.
“Only the old school competitive eaters gorge themselves on digestible fare,” he said, scratching what he believed to be a cast iron gut. “I’m going to ratchet up the stakes.”
Rabid Rush Energy Drink sponsored him; the product needed launching. ESPN-Extreme was eager to broadcast; their ratings were slumping. Oh, and yes, The Guinness Book of World Records dutifully chronicled it all.
So Dagget hunkered down and ate a large bowl of needles, tacks, and crushed glass. For hours, this modern day gladiator spooned that killer kibble down his gullet like breakfast cereal until it protruded from every pore.
Starved for entertainment, savoring the grim stunt, the large stadium audience cheered then jeered their hero; and as vultures are compelled to do, they picked his corpse clean of flesh-snippets for lockets and sharp souvenirs.
What? You’re surprised we acquired an appetite for this sort of thing?
Rebecca Nazar feels you should turn off your television and go play outside.