Not an eating contest

They said it wasn’t a contest, but you’re still determined to win. 

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It's not a contest Hari, the senior insisted. So pathetic, Hari thought, that they need to remind me that every ten minutes, just because he was so much better than everyone else, he was blowing them out of water, they changed the rules of the game so now everyone won. Or some bullshit. He didn't care for the prize that's not he was into this for. He was for the glory, the bragging right and the ego boost of having beaten your peers. Everyone had an expertise, and this was his.

By the end of it, Hari was down thirty-two slices of bread and seven eggs. The breakfast had gone for over 50 minutes, and very soon it would be time for class. The nearest 'competitor' was at 22 breads, he insisted until the very end he didn't intend to compete, didn't want to compete, that he was just hungry and planned on skipping the lunch. Hari ruffled the poor guys hair, he was so outdone by the winner, he was having a tough time admitting defeat. That's something you needed to have if you intended on not winning everytime... a good sense of humility... to know when you're overextending your abilities, and to realize when the game is over. Sure, Hari had himself overturned a board or two of Ludo, flipped over chess pieces at some point in the past but bygones were bygones, he was a winner, a gracious one and would not rub it on anyone's face. All he cared about was the spirit of the game, and the spirits of this game were venerating worshipping rather him right now.

The first lesson was a little difficult, he had a tough time keeping his eyes open. The many kilos of wheat flour that had gone into his body had started breaking down, his body needed some rest, he knew but telling your teachers that you would be napping during their lecture because you had a heavy breakfast was not an option. The champion eater soldiered on.

The second class was more challenging than the first, for all the grain had made past through the foodpipe into the digestive system, and his body was putting a tough bargain with the large unexpected consignment of butter and dough it had just been sent. Confused too, a little bit, for his stomach was growling already by the third class. I can't be hungry already, Hari reminded himself, this is just my body trying to digest the breakfast.

The runs began in the fourth period. And they didn't stop for the rest of the day.

Hari was surprised his body had so much 'stuff' in itself, for he would have guessed that he'd be disappearing a long time ago. At 11.30 in the night he had used the restroom thirty-seven times since lunch, and had lost more than half his body weight by his own estimate which he realized couldn't possibly be right. He felt bloated and gross at first, like if his legs gave way he could just float in the open. That's when the first round began. And went on and on and on.