Soubi went to the store. Soubi was going to buy some noodles. Noodles were Soubi's favourite and a staple of his diet. Being a carbohydrate, with a flexible and accommodating nature when it came to adapting and improvising recipes, Soubi felt that there existed between him and noodles a kinship in their basic nature.
Noodles were like the blank fighters of the world of food. Undergoing a beautiful metamorphosis in the tumult of popping, battering bubbles of scalding hot water, the noodles lost their stiff and brittle self and became the flowing, fluid stuff of pale wheat-coloured glory that could bend and wrap and withstand and ultimately be destroyed, chewed and crushed to bits within his master's mouth, and then broken down further to mush to acidic stew to molecules to nothing, nothing at all as his self was incorporated to his master's use, to provide his sustenance, and nothing was left that was Soubi.