It’s not “crazy” unless it talks back
I am not making this up, but at the grocery store tonight there was a man, on his hands and knees, talking to a can of Campbell’s mushroom soup. I know it was mushroom, because when you seen a man on his hands & knees talking to a can of soup, you have to get a little closer to find out what kind.
I’m left feeling a little empty. In my thirty years on this earth and countless cans of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup, we’ve scarcely said a word to each other. It raises a good question though: when you’re crazy, who initiates the conversation? Do you talk to the can of soup, or did the soup, perhaps, reach out first? Was it something simple, “How’s it going?” or something deeper, some more meaningful that compelled it to break all these years of silence?
And which is crazier? Sure, both are, but I think if you initiate you’re further on on the road to crazy. Talking to a can of soup out of the blue is fucking nuts. As for the latter, well, after all, if someone talks to you, it’s only polite to respond. And maybe that can did say something interesting – I’ve got to imagine a can of mushroom would have some fairly unique insights – so without realizing it you fall into an in-depth and beautiful conversation. In the world of mushroom, where is does rank to be a cup of soup? Did he have bigger dreams of being a portabella? Is he simply happy to escape a future of being dug up by boars?
I suppose it makes since chicken noodle doesn’t talk to me. After all, the chicken is dead and the noodles themselves aren’t going to talk, they’re just fucking noodles.
