Word: Glutch

glutch

\ gluhch \  , verb;

1. to swallow.

noun:

1. a mouthful.

   
*********************************
     The sign was tempting him.  Much more than it probably should have, considering the circumstances.  He stopped to gaze at it, like it was emitting some kind of strange siren call that affected only him.  He stood in place in front of it, gazing at its plain white surface and unassuming black letters, which spelled out “Hot Dog eating contest!”  
    Suddenly, he felt his head jarred forwards, the violent motion accompanied by a brief shock of dull pain in the back of his head.  Recovering quickly, he turned around to see who his assailant was, even though he already knew.  He met her face head on.  Well, as close as  he could anyway, since her eyes were a good three inches below his.  Still their piercing gaze had a way of making them seem much higher.  She looked at him, then at the sign behind him, and back to him again.  She immediately knew exactly what he was thinking.
    “No.”  She said firmly, crossing her slender arms in front of her.
    “Oh come on!”  Was all he could say in response.  
    “No Doug, I am not watching you stuff your face with hot dogs for no reason.”  
    “No reason?”  Doug said, “How can you say that?  This contest has plenty of personal significance.  Why, my old man could...”

“Oh no you don’t.  Don’t you start on about your so called ‘family legacy’.  I mean seriously, who could be so proud of a legacy of face stuffing.”  She said, putting two of her fingers to her forehead.  Doug looked genuinely hurt at her words.

“Tracey, baby, I love you and all, but sometimes I wonder how you can be so blind about all this.”  He said, puffing out his chest in pride.  “Contests of eating are more than just face stuffing.  They take endurance, strategy, effort, a strong will, and an iron body.”

“You mean iron stomach.”  Tracey said, interrupting her boyfriend rant.

    “The stomach is part of the body, so it still counts.”  He said before continuing his (no doubt well rehearsed) speech on the virtues of eating contests.  Tracey had heard it all before from his father and older brother, so she tuned out most of it, choosing instead to start mentally working on a new poem she would write down later.  Finally, he was nearing the end, so she put her more creative thoughts aside and focused back on the moment.
    “And besides, I didn’t eat much of anything all day, so I’m starving.”  He finished
    “You don’t have to eat here.”  She said bluntly.  “This is a fair.  There’s plenty to eat.”  She gestured around them, to the many food stalls around them.
    “It’s not the same.  Anyone can just buy food at those places.  Few can handle the challenge of the competition.”
    Tracey looked at his face, alight with hopeful anticipation.  She sighed, knowing there was just about nothing she could do that would tear him away from that contest.  
    “Fine, fine.  But don’t expect me to hang around watching.”  
    Doug practically leapt on his girlfriend, smothering her small body in his large embrace.  He let her go quickly though, and ran off to enter.  
    “Ok then, see you later!”  He called back to her.  She just hung her head and walked off to do something that held her attention more.
    Doug managed to get his entry in only a few minutes before the contest started.  As he sat down at the long table and the massive plates of hot dogs in front of each table, he eyed his competition.  None of them seemed like they would pose much of a threat, but he knew that in cases like this, looks could be deceiving.  Most of the people were teenage boys.  Although Doug knew they could eat a lot, they often lacked focus and could wear themselves out before really reaching their limit.  An older, middle aged man sat at the end of the table.  He was small, both in height and width, and was probably there more for the story than anything else.  Ultimately, no real competitors.  This contest would be easy for someone who had been raised with this kind of thing like he was.
    Then, with only a minute to go before starting, the final contestant sat down, and he made even Doug a bit nervous.  The man seemed like he was roughly Dougs age, but he was huge.  Waves of fat hung from his body, hanging out of his poorly fitting clothes, as if the man was showing off his accomplishment in growing such girth.  His skin glistened with grease and sweat, and smelled distressingly like the hot dogs in front of him.  He panted as he sat down on the stool that now seemed like it was about to buckle under the weight.  This man was clearly accustomed to eating massive amounts of food, and if the smell was anything to go by, he knew how to handle hot dogs in the quantities the contest would demand.  This man was a threat.  Dougs only hope was that he was as slow as he looked.  
    Doug was brought back to the moment by the announcer calling for the contestants to get ready.  He focused on the food in front of him, tuning out everything else around him.  At that moment, his entire world revolved around the hot dogs in front of him.  The announcer signaled the start of the contest.
    Doug immediately grabbed his first dog, and stuffed it in his mouth unceremoniously.  He chewed it as much as he could, ignoring the taste of the poorly made hot dog.  While still chewing his first, he grabbed the second one and stuffed it in alongside the first.  Then followed a third, then a fourth.  His mouth already puffed up like a squirrel with too many nuts in its cheeks, he chewed as fast as the mass of food would let him, and swallowed it as soon as it was soft enough.  The dogs were rough going down his overstuffed throat, but he could handle it.  

He repeated the process of stuffing, chewing, and swallowing and quickly as he could, not taking his eyes off the ever dwindling pile of hot dogs in front of him.  As he neared his final round of stuffing, he took a risk and ventured a quick peek at his competition.  The middle aged man had dropped out with half his plate left.  Most of the teens were showing signs that they were just about ready to call it quits as well.  Then he looked at the fat man.  He almost lost his rhythm when he saw what was happening.  The fat man was not only winning, but his technique was extraordinary.  The man managed to combine putting a hot dog in his mouth, chewing it, and swallowing it into one fluid motion.  It would have been beautiful if the man himself wasn’t so grotesque.  Doug once again placed his focus on his own plate, making every effort he could to speed up his own eating.  

Finally, he was down to his last hot dog.  He had just managed to swallow the previous four and was raising this last one to his lips, when he heard it.  the announcer had just declared the end of the contest.  The fat man had won it.  Doug was more than a bit disappointed with the result, but he was not about to be seen as a sore loser.  He did was was necessary to congratulate the winner and show his begrudging respect for the man and his method of speed eating.

He left the contest stand with his head hung, and his stomach full of the hot dogs. He could even still taste them on his breath.  He looked around a bit, and saw Tracey there at the very edge of the crowd.  She had decided to stay and watch after all.  He saw this, and was again confident in his abilities of speed eating.  He would try again next time the opportunity arose.  Tracey on the other hand, greatly regretted her choice, and wished she had been anywhere else.  

*****************************

Mmmmmmm, makes you want to eat hot dogs, doesn't it?