Soup. Fucking soup. God, do I hate it. It's one of those foods that just really irks me; probably in the top three. It's really upsetting and when people tell me that they love soup all I hear is, "I love stupid."
My biggest problem with soup is that it's evasive. When I'm trying to fill my big ol' belly, I don't want to have to work that hard for it. If I did, I'd go hunting. Do you see me running madly at a beast in the wild covered in mud, my eyes wild, a knife in hand? No, you don't because that's bullshit. I go grocery shopping (and still look that way).
I don't like dipping my spoon into the bowl only to bring it back up with nothing on it because everything that was once on it slid off on the upswing. Fuck that. And if I want that piece of chicken (one of four in the whole goddamn can), I don't want to have to chase it around the bowl. Get on my spoon and don't give me any grief! It wouldn't even be a problem if there wasn't a billion cups of broth for every one cup of food. Bastards. I can just see them chuckling in a darkly lit room overlooking their stupid soup factory.
"Let's fill the can with broth, Teddy. Then, we can just put in a scoop of food and save money."
"Like the chip bags?"
"Yeah, Teddy. That's exactly what I mean."
You sons of bitches. Dirty rotten scoundrels. I'm not gonna eat your evasive soup. I refuse to be ripped off by some jolly bastard named Teddy in a tuxedo and top hat twirling his mustache and conspiring against the innocent hungry people of the world. Why the hell is he wearing that in a soup factory anyways? It'll get dirty. Unless he covers himself in a thick layer of broth, in which case all of the dirt and dust will just slide off of him like my fucking noodles and chicken slide off of my spoon. I hate Teddy. I hate his soup. Don't ever talk to me about soup. I have PTSD over it.
With a grumbling stomach,
- The Absurdist
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