The crowd was cheering, my stomach was in agony, but I had never been happier. My dream of winning the World Hot-Dog Eating Championship had come true at last! The months and months of training were finally paying off. Eating 30 hot-dogs a day might sound delicious, but it was the hardest thing I had ever done. Just the thought of having to eating another one was enough to make me puke. Holding in the slew of hot-dogs I had just churned down I stepped up to accept my trophy. Flashing Camera's blinded me but all I could do was beam at the crowd. Booming voices chanted my name. I could almost feel the ground rumble they were so loud. Wait, I actually could feel the ground rumbling. Something wasn't right, the mass of voices was twisting into metallic grinding and screeches. My legs had become jelly, which was the last thing I needed considering the rickety pavilion hanging over everyone's heads was about to come toppling down any second. The people around me were melting away. Grinding screeches grew nearer, sending violent shock-waves through the ground. I knew I didn't have long, and in a desperate effort to escape I forced my legs to work. There was just enough time for me to make it out alive, but a few yards from safety my stomach clenched into a cold brick. The trophy. There it was, sitting on the podium where I had left it. The sunlight gleamed off of it, as if beckoning me. Suddenly my legs were heading back to it, no matter how strongly I resisted they just kept going the wrong way. The sound of screeching gears grew louder and I knew there was no longer a chance of escape. Just as that thought left my mind I looked up, to be crushed by a slab of concrete.
I bolted up. Rough familiar sheets were clenched in my clammy hands. It took several minutes for my breathing to return to normal. Outside the room's grubby window an eighteen wheeler was squealing by. I cursed it for ruining my favorite dream. It was the closest I could come to realizing my life aspiration. After all I was only a nine year old boy with no parents, what hopes did I have of becoming anybody? Let alone a world renowned eating champion.
My alarm clock flashed seven thirty at me in glowing red numbers. For a Saturday this was too early to be getting up, so I rolled over in hopes of my dream returning. After thirty more minutes of twisting and turning in blankets I realized sleep wasn't going to happen. Groggily stepping out of bed I looked over at the mirror in the corner of the room. My bony frame was swallowed by the extra large t-shirt advertising Mario's Italian restaurant. There were hardly any stains on it, so I just pulled on a pair of red running shorts and crusty old sneakers. After swiping a sour tasting tongue over my teeth I found that they weren't too fuzzy and therefore nixed the idea of brushing them. Now the only though on my mind was FOOD.
The Orphanage almost never had anything worth eating. I decided to go get a doughnut from the shop down the street as usual. Once I hopped down stairs and out the door my feet automatically headed in the right direction, guiding themselves over the treacherously cracked sidewalk. This gave me time to contemplate what type of doughnut I would buy. The though of custard and jelly fillings spun around my head until I bumped into a large, sweaty, wolfish man. When I say wolfish I mean he was exceptionally hairy. Seriously, there must be some sort of award for this amount of hair. Looking down at me like I was a bug, he removed the cigarette from his mouth, and opened his lips just enough to growl "Watch where yer goin' kid." Rather than nodding and skirting away like a reasonable person I found myself frozen there. Not because I was traumatized from the experience of being in contact with his once white wife beater or the tufts of hair sticking out of it, but because of the vehicle he was standing by. It was an eighteen wheeler, with the words "Piggly Wiggly" stamped across it. Probably the same one that jerked me out of a blissful state of peace this morning. I know that it really wasn't that big of a deal but the rage boiled up inside of me. All I could do was stand there. An awkward silence lingered in the air until he muttered "Weirdo." in a disgusted voice and hauled himself back into the behemoth of a machine. My mouth twitched holding back a smile. He was headed straight for the round-about, a disaster of an intersection that most regular sized cars had trouble maneuvering. A blast of warm exhaust ruffled my dark hair, and I tore myself away from the distraction to buy my breakfast.
Most people might find large delivery trucks common in their neighborhood, but not here. The Piggly Wiggly in the neighborhood is pretty small, it's never gotten a delivery from anything larger than a sixteen-wheeler. What could be in that truck? I pondered this while munching away on the chocolate extra sprinkle doughnut I had just purchased. The rest of my day was spent at the pond doing normal weekend things. I almost caught a fish, well not really, but I saw one.
Besides my dream of becoming a world class eating champion i seem like a pretty regular kid, and I am except for one thing. I live in an orphanage. I don't know what happened to my parents, I was just left on the door step one day. The permanently tan pigment of my skin and slight curve of my nose tell me that I must have some Indian heritage, but the bright blue of my eyes suggest that I'm not full blooded. So pretty much all I know about my parents is that one of them is Indian, that's it.
Once the sun begins to sink I decide I should head back home. I keep an eye out for the eighteen wheeler, but it's nowhere in sight. By the time I've choked down the dinner of green mush and meat-ish substance sister Clara plopped down on my plate, I still can't get the thought of truck out of my head. I decide that tomorrow will be devoted to discovering the secret of that truck, and find myself drifting to sleep hoping that good weather is on its way.
