You always wanted to know: So, what happens when you eat fourteen corn dogs?
First off, you win. Even if the dude next to you–who only ate nine corn dogs–is declared the “official” winner of the contest because of some lame technicality, because beers count as points. I mean, you just downed over 2600 calories of sweet spongy goodness slathered in two cups of condiment slime as coolly as if you’d been nibbling the corner of some cucumber sandwich at a tea party. WINNER!! Way to make them wish they had blabes as stout and sturdy as yours.
Then comes the good stuff. After about two hours, Stomach will start sending signals to Brain that in spite of how tasty Mouth found each and every bite, your processing facility only has a seven corn dog capacity. Pride will put up a good fight against Stomach, with feats of Socratic argument and high school debate team mastery, but all this yelling will wake up Survival Instinct in her brain stem cave and she will deliver a swift kick to the throat of Pride. You will barf up seven corn dogs and be happier for it—a pleasant trip down memory lane to the time when you dabbled in recreational bulimia when you were seventeen.
You may wake up in the middle of the night to discover that 8000-plus milligrams of sodium have you feeling like that crusty moth that’s been decomposing in living room window sill for the last four months. You will need to get up and drink some water. But first, by some miracle of physiology, you will have to pee. Prepare yourself. This pee will be like no other pee you’ve ever peed. When the beefy smell rapes your sinus cavity you will feel inclined to check and make sure you didn’t accidentally stick a Slim Jim in your urethra while you were sleeping. Nope. Just pee. Best not think about your kidneys right now…they’ll bounce back.
The next day, your gums will feel as though they’ve plowed their way through fourteen corn shrapnel-crusted cheese graters to get to fourteen stick-violated nitrite tube centers, and everything will taste like that metal chain-link fence your so-called friends dared you to lick on a frozen January morning when you were in the second grade. Eat anyway. Lots of fruit if it’s around. If it’s not around, just keep pounding water. If you’re lactose intolerant, now’s the time to pound a quart of milk. It may hurt but motility is all that matters right now. That pushy bitch in your brain stem won’t let you eat another corn dog until these are out of your system completely.
You want another corn dog.
Originally published as “Tiny Arteries: So What Happens When You Eat 14 Corndogs?” in HELLARAD Issue #12