Archive of Our Own ^beta

The carnival was like any of the other carnivals that had come to Amity Park—rides full of screaming kids, games that were obviously rigged, carnival food that would be responsible for high cholesterol and heart problems but not caring in the moment as the fried goodness entered the mouth and stomach, organisers prepared with insurance in case of a ghost attack.

And, of course, sporting contests for prizes.

Especially the one the carnival had for anyone who dared to enter it.

Danny, Sam and Tucker were at the carnival, playing games, eating carnival food, going on multiples rides and just enjoying being regular teens for once—it helped that there was no ghosts attacking and Danny’s ghost sense hadn’t gone off once and he needed to deal with the ghost—when Tucker spotted the contest sign and grabbed his best friends’ arms with one hand and pointed with the other, a grin on his face.

“Hey, guys, look!” he exclaimed.

Danny and Sam looked at where Tucker was pointing at and saw…

“A hot dog eating contest?” Danny said, frowning at the sign.

“‘See how many hot dogs you can eat in under sixty seconds without hurling and win the grand prize’,” Sam read out in a deadpan voice, brow wrinkled.

“Yeah, and look at what the prize is!” Tucker exclaimed, grin growing wider as he let them go and ran to the sign of a giant anthropomorphic hotdog holding another hot dog, smiling as the contest’s words that Sam had read out was written in bold in a speech bubble, with a sign-up sheet next to it and several names written into the slots. Underneath was a large stack of money and a gaming system as the prize. “First prize wins you this! I’ve been meaning to get one of these babies for months!”

Tilting his head, Danny observed, “You’re gonna sign up, right, Tuck?”

“Hell yeah I’m signing up!” Tucker confirmed as he signed into the last open slot. “I have a natural advantage, after all!”

“A near-concerning love for processed meat?” Sam guessed sarcastically.

“Close, but better! I have the Foley bottomless stomach for meat! No way am I losing this!” Tucker declared, a confident grin on his face as he crossed his arms.

Danny and Sam exchanged a look before Sam looked back at Tucker and said, “We’ll be rooting for you, Tucker.”

“Yeah, and that you’ll totally crush it!” Danny encouraged, fist-bumping Tucker.

“Yeah I will! This contest is made for Foleys!” Tucker declared confidently, grinning as he eyed the stage where the contest would be held as the organisers set everything up, eight other would-be contestants milling about until the contest was announced.

The trio decided to do the same, sticking around as the prize and hot dogs were brought out and the contest host, wearing a hot dog costume, walked out. Holding a microphone to his face, he announced, “People of Amity Park! Welcome to the Grand Hot Dog Eating Contest!”

People cheered as the contestants walked onto the stage. Danny gave Tucker a thumbs up while Sam smiled encouragingly as he joined the contestants as he sat at the end while the announcer kept talking. “Our contestants are gathered here for one thing—eat as many hot dogs as they can under sixty seconds, and win the grand price of a hundred dollars and this gaming system!”

More cheers went off as the announcer now looked at the gathered contestants, grinning. “Contestants, are you ready?”

Eager exclamations answered the man as he held up a hand and declared, “The contest starts… now!”

A timer went off and the eight other contestants and Tucker dove into the hot dogs, cramming the food into their mouths and chewing and swallowing with barely a chance to breathe. Cheers of encouragement went off, including from Danny and Sam as they cheered for Tucker and his bottomless stomach as the pile of hot dogs grew smaller and smaller on his plate.

The seconds ticked down and other contestants soon gave up, hurling into provided buckets. But Tucker kept going, determination and Foley pride at stake, the pile growing smaller…

Until the timer hit zero and Tucker jumped up from his seat, fists pumping the air, plate clean of hot dogs.

“And we have a winner!” the announcer declared as he pointed to Tucker as Danny and Sam whooped and cheered. Turning to the techno-geek, he asked, “Young man, what’s your name?”

Leaning into the microphone, Tucker answered, “Tucker Foley!”

“Well, Tucker Foley, how does it feel to be winning a hundred dollars and this gaming system?”

“Feels great, man! I can see a night with myself and that gaming system later on,” Tucker replied.

The announcer chuckled. “What’s your secret to winning, Tucker Foley?”

“Sorry, man, but that’s a Foley secret I’m taking to the grave,” Tucker replied with a grin.

The man laughed. “Fair enough. Enjoy your prize, Tucker Foley!”

Tucker only grinned as one of the organisers handed Tucker the now-boxed up gaming set and bag of money. Taking it with some difficulty, Tucker made his way back to them, where Danny instantly took the gaming set off of Tucker—ghostly super strength came in handy for things like this.

“Wanna head back to my place to set this up and play some Doomed on this baby?” Tucker suggested.

“You’re on,” Danny said, him, Sam and Tucker grinning as they headed toward Sam’s car parked outside the carnival grounds.

And ready to spend a night playing video games on the gaming set Tucker had won with hopefully no ghosts interfering.