So some hil-arious fucker conjured up the idea of the Krispy Kreme Challenge- a four mile race with the twist in the middle being that you must power eat one dozen glazed donuts and complete the race in under an hour, without projectile chunk blowing. I’m sure that by now you are familiar with Krispy Kremes, they are morsels of melt in the mouth heart attacks that could convert the most hardened of meth heads to donut addicts. One box of these is equivalent to the average man’s entire daily calorie intake and eating them can veer very quickly from a religious experience/ crack high to a worryingly tight feeling in your chest and instant tooth decay.
Unsurprisingly this started as the brain child of Chris McCoy, a college retard and NC state basketball team sophomore (that’s all Greek to me- all I know is he’s one of those ruddy cheeked sports fucks that’s permanently in shorts and a backpack and high fives everyone). The story goes something along the lines of ‘I was with my college buddies and then I was totally like ‘˜hey dudes lets turn this otherwise leisurely, no-pressure walk from campus to the Krispy Kreme store into a FUCKING RACE, YEEEAH, BRING IT ON!”, and then they all took their tops off and high-fived some more’¦I’m sure it went something like that anyway. McCoy is obviously onto something, as the race has gone from having a mere 150 runners/ vomiters to almost 5000, its popularity lying in the combination of the ‘competitive’ aspects of running and eating. Yes, eating is a competitive sport in America and I can just imagine people running up to you in MacDonalds with a stopwatch shouting ‘GO, GO- PUSH THROUGH THAT PAIN BARRIER’ as you inhaled a Happy Meal out of fear.
In fact I’m pretty sure everything is a sport in America- who can become morbidly obese the fastest, who can have the highest rates of gun crime, who can get into more wars etc. Case and point- if you’ve ever experienced drinking with a group of Americans, the great British tradition of slowly nursing a pint and steady liver damage can turn into a sudden and wholly unnecessary need for competition with everyone keeping mental tallies. ‘DUDE HOW MANY JAGERBOMBS HAVE YOU HAD? I’M SO DRUNK RIGHT NOW DUDE, FUCK, I MUST’VE HAD LIKE 15 SHOTS, 18 BEERS, 2 KEGS AND ONE PROSTITUTE’. Why are you counting? How are you remembering to count? I can’t even remember my own name.
Have a look at the video below, it includes people sharing their deadly serious techniques on the best way of eating the donuts without choking to death, how they prepared for the race with a warm up of fifteen full fat burritos, as well as how they should avoid any kind of bending over for fear of throwing up or shitting their pants.
Maybe one day us British will think of an equivalent, like competitive queuing or an athletic event that combines eating pie and mash with kicking someone’s head in at a football match. One day Britain, one fine day.
