You Snooze, You Lose

     He loved to laugh when contestants in Kiss the Mortog got a face full of muck. He loved to cheer for players in the Cheese Roller contest, and the one where they whack a kass as hard as they can -- though that got a little boring after awhile. And even though he admitted to being baffled by the turdles in the Turdle Racing event -- he had a hard time calling it racing -- he enjoyed their funny little antics as well. But best of all was the food-eating contest. It was his very favorite event. A festival wasn't a complete festival without it. He was certain to enter every time because as much as he loved food, he also loved winning. And he won every time.

     Every.

     Time.

     In this particular contest, he was up against a local pastry chef. He might be some stiff competition, the king noted with satisfaction. He liked the idea that he might have a bit of a challenge. There were also two farmboys, brothers by the looks of them, and big. The king would have to keep an eye on them. Brothers in competition with each other could push a contest to its limits. And lastly, there was a young turmac with berry juice smeared all over his face. King Skarl stifled a laugh. He's not competition, he scoffed. Eating berries in the Turmac Roll was hardly practice for a contest of this magnitude.

     Smug in his confidence to out-eat all the competitors -- yet again -- Skarl took his seat at the end of a long table. The pastry chef sat to his immediate left, then the farmboys, and the turmac was on the other end. Skarl tied on his bib and watched as the turmac had to have someone help him with the bib though Skarl couldn't figure out why they bothered. It was already apparent that he was a very messy eater.

     These competitions were no small affair -- it wasn't just how much you could eat of a single food. No. Skarl liked his food-eating contests in an all-you-could-eat banquet style. Why eat only berry pies when you could have the whole meal? Today's event would feature a mutton stew with hot crossed buns, and plum pudding.

     He waited as everyone was served their first equal portions, picking up his lucky wooden spoon and wrapping one meaty hand around the bowl of stew.

     Good, it's not too hot, he thought. You didn't want to take extra time blowing off a steaming stew. Too many contestants made the mistake of speed-eating, but Skarl had learned that pacing was everything.

     The contest began and all the contestants dug into their stew. Attendants stood by ready to fill mugs, take away empty bowls, and replenish the participants with their next round. A yellow Lenny stood in full view with a scoreboard so that everyone could keep track of how many courses had been eaten and by who. Skarl could see bets being made by the audience as well, and knew that all their money was on him.

     He was well into his third course when he first glanced at the scoreboard. So far, everyone was evenly matched except for the turmac. He had five marks on the board, which meant he was already into his sixth course. Skarl chalked this up to one of those speed-eaters. The turmac would slow down soon enough.

     Two courses later, Skarl was on his fifth round and the pastry chef had already had already dropped out.

     What a disappointment, thought Skarl. The farmboys were on their sixth course and eyeing each other angrily. The turmac, however, was on his eighth course. Skarl was surprised, but not worried.

     I suppose I have some unlikely competition after all, he thought as he accepted his sixth course.

     The farmboys were disqualified somewhere between their ninth and tenth course for throwing their portions at one another. They fell from the table in a brawl and a few disgruntled attendants had to escort them away. This left the turmac at the other end of the table in full view of King Skarl.

     Skarl had already checked the scoreboard. He was in his tenth round and the turmac was in round twelve. Skarl thought this was a sure sign of him slowing down -- until he got a good look at him. The turmac was most definitely NOT slowing down, he was just trying to stay awake! The attendant would place the next round in front of the turmac, who would then open up his considerable mouth and eat it all in one bite! ALL of it! In one bite! Bowl and all! He would then close his eyes and chew. Skarl was sure he was falling asleep, but when he was no longer chewing, the attendant would place the next course on the table and he would open his eyes and yawn and then do it all over again.

     Skarl didn't know whether to be appalled, impressed, or worried. After another entire course disappeared into the gaping maw of the turmac, Skarl settled on worried.

     They ate, and ate, and ate -- and ate some more, but finally even the king had to admit defeat. The final score was King Skarl at 28 courses, the turmac winning with 32.

     Needless to say, this did not put the king in a good mood.

     Some time passed before the king decided to hold another festival. The merchants, peasants, and farmers weren't sure what to think about another one so soon, but since it was a chance to celebrate instead of work, they didn't mind.

     People noticed when the king didn't laugh at the messy Mortog contest. They noticed when he didn't cheer during the Cheese Roller competition. And they definitely noticed when he didn't even bother to attend the Kass Bashing or Turdle Racing events.

     Skarl was already seated at the food-eating contest table when the other participants, on-lookers, and well-wishers arrived. He made sure the invitation for the turmac to participate in this event would not be overlooked, and sure enough, the turmac waddled in sleepily, bigger than he had been the festival before.

     The king barely took notice of the other participants. The turmac was the only one that concerned him. This time, the courses would consist of Mortog Stew -- made from local mortog berries, not real mortogs -- and marrow cream pie.

     The event began without fanfare, and Skarl made sure to keep an eye on the turmac. He was determined to match him course for course, but even though the turmac kept a steady pace, it was at a rate which exceeded King Skarl's own. The other contestants fell out, leaving just the turmac and King Skarl, but in the end, it was the turmac's whopping 51 courses that beat out Skarl's 45. The king ripped off his bib and threw it onto the table. He stomped away without speaking to anyone.

     In the following days, he was moody and dissatisfied with everything and everyone. He stormed around the castle making the servants jump and dash about nervously. Then one day, a thought occurred to him and he sent for Kayla the Sorceress, who was a clever potion maker. They met behind a closed door with no servants in attendance and weren't finished until late into the night.

     The following day saw King Skarl in a much lighter mood. He went out into the kingdom to speak with the shopkeepers, farmers, and townsfolk. While he was out he learned that the turmac that had been such a difficult adversary was much liked by the people. He was friendly to everyone, made people laugh, and much loved by the children. He was once very helpful -- and then he got too big to move around easily. King Skarl suspected that what they weren't saying was that the turmac had become a nuisance to the local farmers, raiding their fields and orchards to fill his never-empty belly.

     Skarl planned for another festival, a special festival, grander than all the others. Through raised eyebrows and whispered rumors, he spared no expense.

     The grand day arrived, but the people didn't look in a celebratory mood. They moved slowly and spoke quietly. No one laughed, or cheered, or had much fun. And then the food eating contest was about to begin. People mulled about, shuffling their feet and generally looking like they'd rather be anywhere else.

     King Skarl, the turmac, and the others took their seats and donned their bibs. This event would feature King Skarl's Mashed Potato Tribute, and bullseye pie. All was ready. The yellow Lenny was standing anxiously by the scoreboard looking very worried, and all the attendants were in their places wishing the contest were already over.

     And so King Skarl and the other contestants began to eat. And eat. And eat. Round after round went by and the audience grew quiet. The first participant to drop out made it to round 30. The second made it to round 48. That left King Skarl, the turmac, and one other participant -- a Moehog visiting from Tyrannia -- who was looking more than a little ill. When the Moehog dashed away from the table grabbing for a bucket, he was at round 56. King Skarl and the turmac were the only ones left and they were tied at round 63. One by one, the audience members began to sit and wait the event out.

     He can't stay with this much longer, Skarl thought. I just need to hang in there a little longer. But he had to admit, he was way past full. He burped. He didn't think he'd ever be able to eat potatoes again after this.

     Skarl looked out over the audience camped on the ground, looking disinterested. He saw Kayla in the back, hard to miss since she was the only one still standing, and she gave him a slight nod of encouragement. He looked over at the over-stuffed, sleepy-eyed turmac. "Bring more food!" Skarl bellowed after they had both consumed round 65. The attendants jumped, looking like they had nearly fell asleep themselves. They placed the next round on the table and the turmac wrapped his mouth around all of it, as usual. Skarl watched him closely.

     Skarl finished round 66 and shouted again, "More food!" It was placed on the table and he began to eat. He noticed that the turmac, however, hadn't opened his mouth again yet. Skarl kept chewing -- and watching -- but the turmac didn't move. When he had finished all of round 67, instead of calling for another round, he said, "Somebody poke him with a stick already."

     The attendants walked up to the snoring turmac and tried to wake him. Several of them joined in trying to shake him, but to no avail. They simply couldn't wake the sleeping turmac. King Skarl declared himself the winner of the food-eating contest at a final score of 67.

     But winning didn't make him happy. Instead, he became grumpier by the day.

     There were no more festivals. No more food-eating contests. No more laughing.

     King Skarl eventually had to have the turmac relocated to a different section of the realm where he could sleep out his days -- however long that may be -- in peace. This didn't stop people from visiting him, more often than not trying ridiculous measures to wake the poor creature. (Even a stray arrow from the Ultimate Bullseye competition didn't make him twitch.) This activity was at the visitor's own risk, however. It seemed that on rare occasions, the turmac would wake long enough to eat whatever was in front of him, including petpets, almost as though he still believed he were participating in the food-eating contest. Even so, he soon became a rather popular attraction that vexed Skarl to no end.

     The people that remembered the king in happier days tried to cheer him up by telling him jokes. People came every day, hoping that at least one good joke might bring him around to his old self. To this day, it hasn't happened yet, but that doesn't stop them from trying.

     And now you know the true story.

The End