#69 A Heat Rash In The Shape Of The Show Me State; or, Letters From Me To Charlotte by Los Campesinos

Holy Lord has this been a fantastically terrible week for me in a physical sense. I’ve had a headache every single day, my stomach has hurt three of the days, I’ve felt nauseous on and off, at one point I went more than 24 hours without eating, my left wrist hurts whenever I move it and sometimes even when I don’t move it, I now have a sore throat which I feel is going to be worse tomorrow, and at the start of the week I puked a whole lot which was climaxed by some yellowish sludge that burned and tasted like what I can only describe as what I assume a raging butthole tastes like.

Despite all that, the very worse part of my week was the can of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup I had. I fucking love Campbell’s chicken noodle soup. It’s fucking fantastic. So much so that I used the word fucking twice already, and I only cuss when I’m really excited or really mad or really in between the two. I know Campbell’s is really basic, just the noodles and about eleven small pieces of chicken that sink to the bottom mixed with one can of tap water, microwaved to shear perfection. Progresso and Chunky’s have nice chicken noodle soup with all the fixin’s, but I’d still pick good old fashion Campbell’s with a spark of pepper to spice it up.

One fucking problem though. This is nothing against my mother, because in theory what she did was very wise. She bought me the new Campbell’s chicken noodle soup which you can drink straight out of the can. Great when you’re on the run or too sick to sit up and slurp the soup out of a bowl annoyingly with a spoon. However, how-fucking-ever, this isn’t the same soup as Campbell’s classic chicken noodle soup. The noodles and chicken and carrots have to be small enough to fit through the hole you drink from. Wait, did I hear carrots? Carrots!

Campbell’s classic chicken noodle soup didn’t have carrots, and you know what, I fucking liked it that way. I don’t have problems with carrots. In fact I like the occasional carrot. I don’t over do it, but once a month I like the long cold carrot in my hand right outside my mouth in the stance of a cigar as I say, ‘what’s up, Doc,’ in the world’s worst Bugs Bunny impersonation. I don’t even mind the carrots in soups like Progresso when they’re a nice big circular chunk of carrot, and you get a hint of carrot in the flavor. But darling the carrots in the Campbell’s chicken noodle soup I had weren’t those carrots. They were these small flavorless mush balls that ruined every fucking thing that was ever good about Campbell’s classic chicken noodle soup.

Behind the broth and the noodles the carrots were the third thing on the ingredients list. Something doesn’t seem right. Well it’s soup, so the broth covers that part. And there are noodles in it. No problem, the second ingredient was noodles. Hmm, chicken, chicken…what’s this, carrots? Carrots is next on the ingredients list. It comes before chicken. What the fuck? It’s chicken noodle soup. If I wanted carrot noodle soup I’d go to that part of Asia where carrots are abundant; probably some place in China. I can’t fucking believe there were more carrots in the soup than chicken. It should have been called carrot noodle soup featuring chicken, which is like going to a comedy show with Carrot Top featuring Louis C.K. No, I want Louis C.K. to be the headliner, not Carrot Top – although I don’t particularly have that big of a problem with his prop comedy, he was just the first often-thought-as-bad comedian that came to my head, for obvious reasons. The chicken is the reason the people go to the soup. Other soups have noodles, but it’s the chicken noodle where the chicken takes center stage. Everyone can’t wait to sink their teeth into the chicken bits. The carrots are supposed to be like foreplay, warming you up and salivating your mouth until you get to the main event, chicken. But these carrots were more like foreplay if it included anally raping one’s mouth with a dildo made of coal (how does someone anally rape a mouth?) Those are the types of questions that keep me up at night.


About Danniel

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