“Everything I learned in school, mixed together with water and chicken broth, isn’t worth the soup served at a soup kitchen. I was a bring-my-own-spoon kind of student.”
“Today I ate my manuscript with the very spoon I used to write it with. My book was called “Chicken Noodle Soup for the Stomach.” I wrote it with alphabet soup, and then edited it with a can of chicken noodle soup.”
“I skimmed the pond scum with a spoon like broth in a soup bowl. Why does everything have to remind me of her?”
“I am the broth of love. Make soup to me.”
“I eat overcast skies for breakfast, because sunlight isn’t filling enough. As a lover, I’m a bring-my-own-umbrella kind of guy, because a soup bowl doesn’t offer enough space or protection.”
“Though my skull is the size of a soup bowl, everything in the universe—and more—can fit inside my imagination. And guess what? My imagination tastes like chicken noodle soup.”