Posted in Books & Stories

Lost Thoughts — Volume One: Schizo Soup (Cereals & Schizophrenia Alternate)

As usual I awoke from a deep slumber in my uncomfortable little bed and immediately went into the kitchen exactly as I did every other morning. Passing by the bathroom I picked up my bottles of pills to treat schizophrenia and depression, also exactly as I did every other morning. I took the big blue containers from the medicine cabinet and looked at them menacingly. I hated taking pulls, especially with my breakfast! I squeezed the containers in between my fingers and walked downstairs where my usual bowl of alphabet soup was waiting for me. I hated eating cereal for breakfast. I hated eating cereal period. My grandfather had always lovingly prepared the soup for me ever since I’d moved in with him two years prior.

I forcefully threw the pill bottles onto the table and sat down, waiting to be served my morning bowl of soup. Oddly enough though, my uncle wasn’t around to eat with me that morning. In fact the house was completely silent. He’d made the soup, but left it near the kitchen sink. That was odd for him and as I got up and walked closer to investigate I noticed that much soup had been spilled all over the floor and little alphabet pastas were floating around on the floor everywhere. I bit my bottom lip and headed over to grab my big bowl of alphabet soup that was way too full before sitting back in my usual spot at the table.

Intensely, I looked at the little letters floating around passively in the broth without moving a muscle. After a few minutes of looking into my bowl of soup I noticed that the letters were spelling out different words. Joseph Stalin. Adolf Hitler. Donald Trump. Disgusted, I abruptly got up and looked around the room for my grandfather. I wanted my grandfather! The fear and anxiety of being alone overcame my body. I looked down at my myself and noticed that I wasn’t wearing my usual white nightgown. I had on weird striped pyjamas that didn’t belong to me. What the hell were those?! I was in my own house, not a concentration camp or the insane asylum! I swallowed hard and looked intensely around the around one more time.

I took an old fork from the counter and squeeze it in my hands. I felt my blood pressure rise, that happened when I got angry. My God! There was nothing I hated more than eating alone in a dirty environment! The mess of soup in the kitchen was disgusting! I squeezed the hot and sweaty fork one last time before violently stabbing the letters in my bowl of soup. The broth and little letters splashed everywhere, subsequently making an even bigger mess and spelling out more words and sentences. The zombies are coming. I cringed and threw the fork at the wall with all my might. I shoved my hand in my lukewarm soup and grabbed a bunch of letters before then shoving them in my mouth and swallowing them whole.

The pasta was too mushy and the broth was too cold! Gross! With each chew I became more and more disgusted so I spit everything out on the floor. There wasn’t anything else to eat so I forced myself to swallow that disgusting soup. I didn’t get far because it was too disgusting so I decided to take the bowl and go dump the contents in the toilet upstairs. On my way upstairs I looked towards my grandfather’s room but instead of finding his bedroom door I came face to face with a while wall. There was a slight sound coming out of it, like a broken TV, so I threw my bowl of soup at the wall and electricity came out of it as it began to warp. The NKVD want some more tea the little letters spelled out as they slid to the floor.

The wall began to melt and revealed some sort of holographic projection on which I could see my grandfather serving alphabet soup to cannibal Nazi zombies in the kitchen downstairs when they cast a magic spell over the soup and the little letters levitated into the air and consumed my grandfather. He vanished into the bowl and the zombies ate their respective servings. I didn’t notice if the hologram continued showing different images or not, all I knew was that I needed to get back downstairs, get a baseball bat and track down those Nazi zombies and make them bring my grandpa back!

I ran down the stairs but stopped abruptly in the hallway as I came face to face with one of the zombies who had merely been in hiding because they had never left the house after they made my uncle disappear. I ran into the kitchen since I couldn’t pass the zombie to get to the basement door but three more were sitting around the kitchen table. I grabbed the rest of the pot of soup that was still on the stove and got ready to whack one of them with it but as I prepared for a confrontation they began reciting their magic spells again and I knew that I needed to get rid of the soup before I disappeared too!

I quickly ran back upstairs and dumped the alphabet soup into the toilet and flushed it. It appeared like it had gone down the drain for a few moments but then it came back up and the toilet overflowed. A million little letters came violently spilling out onto the floor and flowed into the hallway. The little letters spelled out all of my dirty secrets for everyone to see and I started panicking! Then I heard the zombies laughing their butts off in the hallway as they read what my alphabet soup was telling them about me. All I could do was scream and scream some more. Then I opened my eyes. I was laying down in my bed and my grandfather was trying to wake me up from my nightmare.

“It was just a dream, everything is fine,” he reassured me, “come down and eat your alphabet soup before it gets cold.”


Liberal Muslim, social justice and human rights activist, cat lover, author and fellow human.

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