Ever since he won the local eating competition, Jason insisted on referring to himself simply as “the Championship.” Murray was both runner-up and the waiter at the restaurant where the competition had taken place, Charlie’s. To him, losing to the Championship was not just an affront to his eating skills, it was an attack on his turf.
“More wings for the Championship!” slobbered Jason, gristle falling from his still-chewing mouth.
Murray was just about to serve the Championship when there was a gurgle, and Jason went down.
I guess I’m the champ now, he thought.