The Great Eating Competition

The IHOP Initiation

It all began on a seemingly innocent evening at an IHOP, during one of their “unlimited pancakes for $5” nights. But for Icarus and Agent Smirnoff, pancakes were just the beginning.

Icarus functioned like a human PC—commands in, actions out. When r/Atheist, the de facto commander, ordered him to eat a crayon dissolved in water, Icarus obeyed instantly.

Enter Agent Smirnoff, feeling the primal urge to one-up Icarus. He boldly declared that he, too, could devour a crayon like a seasoned champion. And just like that, iteration one of the eating competition was born.

The rules were simple: eat the weirdest, most unimaginable objects possible. The loser? A “baby.”

Halloween Day Madness

By Halloween, the competition had escalated into pure chaos. Icarus and Smirnoff, half-wasted and fully unhinged, scavenged the streets for edible absurdities: plastic wrappers, stray straws, and eventually… anything they could get their hands on. Smirnoff even managed to devour a sombrero—something Icarus couldn’t ethically match.

The aftermath? Let’s just say traces of the contest were found in the most unglamorous locations the next day.

Metro Bar Mayhem

The saga continued at the Metro Bar. The competitors upped the ante: a used wrapper, a discarded shoe, a porta-potty (yes, really), a metal street sign, snow salt, a random plant… the limits kept stretching. Icarus was disgusted by the shoe, but he persevered. Smirnoff, as always, remained mostly unfazed.

The floor became a buffet of absurdity. Icarus reignited the competition with a pizza salvaged from the ground, promptly matched by Smirnoff.

By this point, it was clear: Icarus was hitting his limits, Smirnoff was just getting started.

Spring Break Special

The saga didn’t end with Halloween or the Metro Bar. During spring break, the competitors visited a friend’s house and continued their audacious feats. That day, a metal poker chip and a wooden chair were added to the list of consumed items—because why stop now?

The NYC Escalation

Years later, after graduation, the Retards (as the fellowship of chaos had dubbed themselves) planned a pilgrimage to New York City—part nostalgia trip, part victory lap, and part chance to see if their stomach linings were still coated in iron.

It was there that Icarus was destined to meet The Rizzler, one of the founders of the original Retards, who happened to be in the city for a job interview. By nightfall, the squad was already wasted—Smirnoff back in full drunken flow, Icarus hitting peak mania, and the Rizzler orchestrating like a field marshal of degeneracy.

Then came the command.
The Rizzler, eyes gleaming with unholy fire, pointed at the grime-soaked subway floor.
“Icarus. Lick it.”

Without a second’s hesitation, Icarus dropped down like a knight obeying his king, tongue pressed flat against the filth of the New York underworld. Germs, rat piss, and ancient gum became his Eucharist.

Gasps turned to roars. Smirnoff, unwilling to concede even an inch, immediately matched him, dragging his own tongue across the diseased tiles as if baptizing himself in subway sludge.

The crowd of onlookers—half horrified, half reverent—couldn’t decide if they were watching the collapse of civilization or the birth of urban legend. For the Retards, however, it was neither. It was simply tradition.

The Chicago Trip

Roughly a year later, the Retards decided to export their chaos westward—to Chicago. If New York had been their Rome, then Chicago was to be their Carthage: a city destined to be wrecked by stupidity.

This time the cast included r/Atheist, Smirnoff, and BBW, who were desperate to engineer another legendary moment from Icarus. The three schemed like Bond villains, whispering their plots with suspicious grins.

Their gambit? Command Icarus—like the obedient PC he was—to leave his phone by The Bean and simply… walk away.
And he did. Without a flicker of hesitation.

Now, here’s where the genius came in: Icarus is usually sharp enough to catch when he’s being baited, so the trio needed a second distraction. Something so immediate, so ludicrous, that his brain would reprioritize in real-time.

Enter r/Atheist. He turned to Smirnoff and bellowed:
“Smirnoff! Lick that pole!”

Smirnoff, born for moments like these, planted his tongue firmly on the cold Chicago steel. Suddenly, Icarus had a dilemma that could fry a supercomputer:

• Retrieve the abandoned phone, OR
• Match Smirnoff’s dare and keep his honor intact.

His internal processors whirred. The blue screen of death loomed. And yet, like a hero of Homeric proportions, Icarus chose chaos. He bent down and licked a nearby pavement railing, cementing his status as a man who feared no germs, no rust, and no tetanus.

The phone, of course, was retrieved later—it had all been a prank cooked up by BBW. But the legend of Chicago wasn’t about the phone. It was about the sight of Icarus, half-drunk, crouched in Millennium Park, lovingly tongue-polishing public infrastructure while tourists snapped photos of The Bean.

The Final Escalation

In true gladiatorial fashion, Icarus was hospitalized for something unrelated—but even that didn’t end the competition. He swiped blood gauges, which were promptly consumed.

Bike tires joined the roster of consumed items. The stakes were sky-high: either someone dies trying to win, or the competition reaches the ultimate extremes. Theoretically, Icarus would need to drink gasoline, and Smirnoff… well, something even more extreme.

Verdict: A Draw

The competition ended not with a clear victor, but with a shared respect for the sheer audacity of their actions.

A draw, yes—but one for the ages. Legends, chaos, and a trail of questionable digestion. The Great Eating Competition would live on in infamy.