“There’s a hair in my soup. That’s the problem of using my helmet as a bowl.”
“To call it helmet hair was an insult to my helmet.”
“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.”
“When I’m feeling down, I make myself a big bowl of Up Soup. The bowl only looks empty, but in reality it’s full of hope. Grab a spoon, there’s plenty for both of us.”
“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 don’t know how to bowl.”“Right, that’s a problem, since this place really screams ‘professional bowling,’” Silas snips back, rolling his eyes.”