Food for thoughts

"Okay… what is this? What is this supposed to be?
There’s something in my soup, and on top of it are leaves. Were they swept up from the street?
What's on that plate? I’m not a rabbit. Are you trying to kill me? I expect homemade chicken soup, not some sad scraps or a bowl of water with noodles the chicken barely glanced at.
How dare you serve me this after a hard day’s work?"

"Get the chef, I'm not paying for this cheap garbage."

I'm not sure what I'm looking at, if the table is set, how to eat this. Chicken soup is the meal for those who are ill (don't ask me why). It doesn't look like this.


see @freewritehouse for the pic1000 contest