Ben Jax collapsed. His arms and legs convulsed. His body went dead. The other contestants covered their mouths in dread—which one of us might be dead next? This is what the strain of reality TV challenges did to us. Forget the prize money, I feared for my life.

"See that? Ben Jax died of a heart attack," Chef Crank said, flicking lint off his suit jacket. "I told you ÜberChef USA was the most intense culinary competition on the face of the world."

"Who's going to tell his wife?" someone said.

"He's single," someone else said.

But Ben Jax was faking it. He shot up, lifted me off the ground best he could considering my girth, and heaved me to my knees. I was in pain but I appreciated his vision. To swing me around in all his glory because our team was safe from elimination, but.

"And, cut!" the Lighting Tech shouted. He walked up to Ben Jax. "Drop dead again. Only this time make it realistic. Can you foam at the mouth?" He turned to the cameramen. "Is there a foam bullet around here?"

"Just the blood ones," cameraman Jim called back. "And I don't even think we have those."

"Whatever, whatever," the Lighting Tech said. "Places everyone. Camera ready? Lights ready?" Cameramen Mike and Jim gave an I'd–rather–be–somewhere–else nod.

Ben Jax slicked back his hair underneath his cowboy hat.

The Lighting Tech picked up his megaphone. "Take it from "Then you ain't chugging moonshine,' Gordon. Eighty-six your comeback line, Joe. Quiet on the set and action!"

"Then you ain't chugging moonshine," Chef Crank concluded for a second time, deeming our team safe.

Ben Jax collapsed. His arms and legs convulsed. He clutched his neck. He choked himself silly. He whipped his head from side to side as if he were having his own nightmare of returning to Mexico. He kicked his cowboy boots hard into the earth. He rolled over like a beagle and kept rolling. He rolled and rolled until we thought he'd roll into the brook. Then he rolled back.

He shot up—but this time I ran away. He chased me in circles, as I attempted to escape humiliation. But I wasn't much of an escape artist and finally he grabbed me from behind. He tried to swing me in the air again. But he got me about an inch off the ground, less than before, I was that heavy, and he was that worn out. I fell on my knees with a thud.

"Cut! Fabulous! Fabulous!" the Lighting Tech said. He sniffed heavily. "I smell People's Choice, I can smell it, and—print!"

Ben Jax boxed the air. Everyone applauded as I brushed myself off.

"Maybe we don't need the cue card lady after all," Chef Crank said.

"Brilliant, brilliant," The Lighting Tech said, texting someone.

Cameraman Jim patted Ben Jax on the shoulder. "Good job, amigo." He lit a cigarette. "Now, that's reality."