One day my friend Kerry and I got to talking about Easter. Mainly candy. Peeps came up, whereapon the man known as Kerry wagered that he could consume 100 of the sugar-covered marshmallow, uh, things. This proved to be a grievous error. The day after Easter, you know, the day you can get Easter candy for a diminutive sum, I appeared at his house with this in my possession:

    Hijinx ensued.

    We opened the Peeps, placed an emergency puke bucket nearby, and the game was on. I decided to keep track of his progress scientifically, charting his condition while he displayed Peeps consumed and elapsed time Flava Flav style:

0:00 and 1 Peep: Here at the zero minute, Kerry has not eaten anything since his morning cereal at 9-ish. It's now 3PM. Kerry, obviously, reports being hungry. He is optimistic about his peep-eating ability. His grandmother remarks "If he's stupid enough to do this, he deserves to die," a factor which may come into play later.

2:16 and 5 Peeps: Kerry is looking to be in good form so far. Also, his tongue is amusingly pinker than usual.

4:29 and 10 Peeps: Kerry is appearing a bit less enthusiastic about Peep-eating. He asks for water, which I allow. He sips carefully to avoid a hazardous Peep-water reaction that would bloat his stomach to pigeon-exploding porportions.

7:00 and 16 Peeps: "Feelin' a little funny in the head here . . . Hope I don't pass out or something."; "I'm feeling a little gurgly down there."

8:21 and 20 Peeps: Not looking too hot there. The K-Man is forced to take a short breather. He removes his outer shirt, perhaps to lessen restriction on his stomach.

11:30 and 24 Peeps: "Likin' the white," he exclaims. Has his rest restored his Peep-eating ability from near pass-outeyness?

18:01 and 32 Peeps: No.

    Kerry, to quote his observant cousin, "looks like shit, dude". After wondering aloud if the Peeps are getting bigger, he says he's "starting to feel like an idiot". Starting?

26:00 and 36 Peeps: After being offered 50 cents for each additional Peep eaten, and fifty dollars if he can devour them all, Kerry struggles to complete his task, but alas, only eats four more Peeps before succumbing to his marshmallowy fate.

78:00 and 36 Peeps: Kerry retires to his bed, taking the bucket with him. He's fast approaching death. He gives me that sickly, why-are-you-still-taking-pictures-of-me stare.

158:00 and 36 Peeps: Kerry loses consciousness. Rest in Peace.

    In conclusion, it appears that high-level Peep-eating is best left to professionals, like that little Japanese guy that can skeletonize a cow faster than a school of pirahnnas. Kerry came to some time the next day, so I felt a little better knowing I hadn't killed him. Regardless of whether or not Kerry lived or died, I was right, and isn't that what's really important?

    The answer, of course, is no. No it isn't.