Hottest hot wings cause dire-est diarrhea

I don't know what's up with Emma, but whatever it is, we aren't cool anymore. Now Perky's mad at me just because I had to help her to the jeep.

It's not like I wanted to. I was being polite.

She didn't even get in an 'accident', I was behind her when she looked at the turn, then at the wheel, then let it go as if she knew what she was doing.

I mean, she put her hands in the air like she was at an amusement park, she didn't even scream. She knew what was going to happen.

Now Perk's muttering things to the window and won't even face me.

Whatever, after we eat she should be fine.

As I thought that, we pulled into a mall parking lot. Plaza wings are the best, but only when they're spicy.

Listen, I know she's mad at me but…

"I bet I can eat more hot wings than you," I whispered.

"In your dreams," I heard her scoff.

"Well, how about we see," I taunted.

"Yea, how about we see you lose," She giggled then turned to me with what I recognized as her 'you're on' face.

We all climbed out of the jeep and Perk and I went to consult my parents about our race.

"Ma, dad, me and Perky wanna have a hot wings race," I told my parents while I'm sure Perk was talking to hers.

"King, the last time you tried this you had you and Olivia sick for days," She reminded me.

"I'm older now mom, I can stomach a few hot wings," I told her.

"We all can, but last time you ate 58," she growled lowly.

"I promise I won't eat 58 wings this time," I told her. She looked at me for a minute before she sighed.

"Fine," she gave in. Thanks, ma.

"Your mom said yes?" I asked.

"Yep, you?" Perk asked in reply.

"Yea," We went one way and everyone else went another way.

We stopped at the first wing place and ordered.

"200 of your spiciest wings, please," I told the man behind the counter. He laughed at us but proceeded to get the wings.

"That comes with a free jug of milk, and uh, try not to poop until you get home," He smirked at us and took my card and swiped it.

Perk grabbed the wings leaving me to grab the cups and jug of milk. We walked over to a table surrounded by people, families nowhere in sight.

"You know, your tongue will burn for hours along with some diarrhea, sure you wanna do this?" I gave her one more chance to back out.

"I should be asking you that," she said nonchalantly. You'd think I'd be more confident than her, doing stuff like this all the time. Nope, not in the slightest.

"On your mark," I picked up my first wing and so did Perky, we'd split it 100; 100, "get set," I put the wing near my mouth and Perk followed suit, "eat!" I bit into my first wing and so did Perky.

I'd noticed eyes on us since we walked in but now I felt more.

"He's doing it again," I heard someone whisper. Ah yes, this was clearly not my first time having a wing-eat-off. No, I'd done it with an earlier contestant much like Perky. Well, I mean, she was my friend.

We wanted to see who could eat more hot wings, so I doubled the stakes by making them the hottest hot wings they would serve. And these wings were like the ones I ate with the contestant, Olivia, except way hotter. What used to be spicy is weak now.

I won, with my 58 wings, thrown up as soon as I got home. It also came with severe diarrhea for days. I couldn't hold down anything.

I'd promised to never eat more than 30 hot wings from then on to save myself the pain, but here I am. Eating more than 30 hot wings just to be better than a girl at something.

I mean really, she's better at underwater running, go-kart driving, and doing hair (but I mean that's a given).

I'd like to be better than her at something, other than basketball, obstacle courses, snake, and (hopefully) nerf gun battles.

But, now I'm at wing 73 and my body is begging not to take any more wings. I don't know how many wings Perky has eaten but it looks like she's still going strong.

"Getting full?" I asked while trying not to pant. Honestly, these wings were hot, but I wasn't gonna let her, or anyone else, know that.

"Mhm," She told me. For whatever reason, that didn't make me feel any better. She said she was getting full but she was still tearing into the wings like she did on her first bite. I'd started picking the skin and meat off the chicken and eating it that way.

There was ranch to go along with it but there was a silent agreement to not touch the ranch.

Now, I'm on my 82nd wing and I don't think I can take any more.

But, I still tried. I took off a little sliver of chicken and put it in my mouth, I chewed it up and swallowed it, but as soon as it went down a bunch of throw-up came up. Luckily, I didn't spit it out and swallowed it immediately.

"Alright, I'm out," I slapped the table and put my hands up.

"Oh thank god, I'm about full," Perky groaned yet still bit into her chicken.

Is there something I'm not seeing here? There are 3 more wings on her plate and she says she's about full?!

There has to be something wrong with her stomach or maybe she's silently farting so she has more room to eat. I don't know but I'd love to learn.

"All done," she took the last bite of her last wing and groaned.