The Famous Bowl has a black plastic bottom and a clear plastic top that fogs appealingly from the jungle heat of the beige glop inside. Here's where, in a quirky indie-film moment, I'd eat a sporkfull and realize… "Hey, this is pretty good!" I had considered that reaction as I drove the Famous Bowl home. It sat on the passenger seat next to me like a sullen runaway I'd picked up on the interstate. I wanted us to bond somehow. I wanted to eat my words. I like when things work out unexpectedly.

The Famous Bowl hit my mouth like warm soda, slouched down my throat, and splayed itself across my stomach like a sun-stroked wino. It was that precise combination of things, and so many other sensations that did not go together. At all.

...

I managed three or four more spoonfuls, trying to be fair. I am not the healthiest eater, but this was a level of crap I hadn't earned a belt in yet.

# posted by Chris Roberson @ 5:51 PM