Beebo bowl, without realizing what was going on, because of her own self defiance and willing ignorance, separated herself from the comfortable hot noodle bowl’s she was used too – the ones that taught, boiled and flavoured her. Without realizing it, Beebo bowl landed far away from those noodle bowl’s, seeing it later on too late, and looked back and knew she was too far in something else to go back.

She had landed in the midst of the thick broth, laded with flavours she was unused too, and later on liking, flavours that sooner than she’d expected became her flavour as well.

Beebo bowl found those other noodle bowl’s again and for a while she remembered her old flavours, but only for a bit, because where she had landed she was no longer alone and had met other not-so-lost noodle bowls as well for company, though in reality, they didn’t really know where they were.

Beebo bowl felt uncomfortable with the other noodle bowls that she had lost but found because of her different flavour. It tasted sweet, but stunk, it was fantastic, but unhappy, it excited her, but she hated it.

Poor Beebo bowl, she tries to balance in the middle but her broth keeps spilling whichever way, until there’s so little left, all of who she was originally disappears.