But Dweebs didn’t have any problem with the oatmeal and grits either. He came in second this time.

“Don’t worry,” Smurf said. “He’s just pacing himself.”

Bombardier lost it in the third round—which was hard-boiled eggs slathered with mayo. He got a beat down from some fifth grader from the Sly Fox cabin. (As far as I was concerned, the less Bombardier ate, the better for everybody in our cabin, considering his specialty.)

We were down to eight campers now. That included one of the two Bobcat dinguses who’d pushed me off the raft that day. The suspense was something else.

“You got this, Dweebs!” I yelled, really getting into it now. I didn’t just want him to win. I wanted the Bobcats to lose, and lose big.

I watched every single bite, painful as it was to look at. And you know what? Dweebs did it! I guess the Bobcat kid just didn’t have a stomach for chocolate-covered ants.

Now we were down to the final round, with four campers left. They all looked stuffed to the gills—and even a little scared—as the smirking counselors carried out foil-covered dishes and put them down on the tables.

Even poor Dweebs looked like he was ready to throw up the towel—I mean, throw in the towel.

“Here we go,” Major Sherwood said. “Don’t lift off the covers of your dishes until I say so. Ready? Set? EAT!”

When Dweebs lifted that cover, all I saw was a bowl of green lumps covered in white and sprinkled with something that looked like it had come off the bottom of a hamster cage.

I found out later that this awful concoction was broccoli, cream sauce, and more ants, but without the chocolate. I’m not kidding—you could hear the whole camp gag at exactly the same time.

Anyway, I won’t keep you in too much more suspense, because the final chapter of the Grossathon wasn’t really that close. As soon as Major Sherwood said “Go,” Dweebs went at that glop like it was green M&M’s covered in frosting and sprinkles. I guess you could call that taking one for the team.

Muskrats shoot… score… and win! Dweebs brings home the gold!

And as for the Bobcats—well, better luck next time.

See you on Day Two, Bullyboys!