Before I begin, make certain that you do not mistake this story for French Onion Soup for the Third Cousin's Sole or Split-Pea Soup for the Sautéed Sole. Although it may be confused with Egg Drop Soup for the Dover Sole, this account is far different ...

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If there's one thing I love about wonton soup, it's the scallions. Actually, I hate the scallions, but what's to stop you from believing me. I write; you read. And if you don't read, I still write. This is a major problem in common literature, a lack of credibility, if you may. Yet contemporary literature has adopted this style, and thus readers have grown indifferent. Of course, there are exceptions, and I am sure they are abundant for that matter, but the problem persists either way. Over time though, a slow transformation took place in which a problem became a solution. How so? A solution in the sense that it offers escape. Pick any individual at random; I am sure they are plagued with countless problems. Some they will share, while others remain hidden, eating away at their soul. This creates a dilemma: when these problems are brought to the surface, one can suffer emotional damage. What better way to soothe that pain than with a passionate delicacy, maybe some soup?

I hope you all enjoyed that paragraph, because it does not pertain to the rest of my story. The only thing soup soothes is a sore throat, and even this assertion is shaky. So instead of babbling about some heart-warming story, I will recount a true test of faith:

My soul has been extremely bothersome as of late ... I would even go so far as to say my soul was being tormented. Forgive me when I say soul, the use of a homonym may be deceiving. My spirit is just fine; it's my left sole that truly became a nuisance. The darn thing hurt for three weeks with no sign of improvement. Perhaps I should have seen a doctor, but I don't really like doctors, so time was the only cure I had. Just 22 days ago I was enjoying good health, and then agony struck my poor unfortunate sole. You see, I have a habit of leaving things around, valuables included (nothing good can come from that statement).

Anyway, to make a long story short, I left a paycheck on my coffee table. This coffee table is eye level to my 100-pound German shepherd. He snatched up the check and took off. I followed in pursuit, but to no avail. I soon tired and almost relented to the dog, but

being the strong-willed individual I am, I made one last attempt. I scrambled across the floor and then stumbled to the ground. I jammed my left foot and banged the sole against the couch. I lay on the floor grasping the sole of my foot, and the pain persisted. But stop ... I do not want your pity. I would never allow a troublesome sole to prevent me from living my life.

Although my speed remained unharmed, I was beginning to lose confidence in myself. It's not every day you hurt your sole; it's safe to say I was ill-prepared for the untimely injury. As each day passed it seemed as if something was eating away at my sole. It was horrible. As the twenty-third day of injury approached I didn't know what to do. I had to act soon or my sole would be nothing more than one of the bones my dog chews on. My poor, poor sole, what should I do?

I came to the conclusion that a simple solution to my torment would be relaxation. What better way to relax than by ordering Chinese food? To be delivered, of course. I ordered a beef with broccoli platter complete with wonton soup. I waited anxiously for my food to arrive, and when it did I delved into the contents of the brown bag. The first thing I pulled out was wonton soup. The pain in my sole mounted as I poured the soup from its original container into a porcelain bowl.

Now this is where things became a little strange, maybe even celestial. There were four wontons in the bowl, clearly my appetite's number-one priority. Yet as I ate the first wonton I could feel something stir inside me. My sole felt a little better - coincidence? I think not. I ate another wonton; my sole felt even better. I quickly devoured the last two wontons and imbibed the broth. Sure enough, the pain in my sole was gone. I left my table and went for a run with my dog.

If this story doesn't inspire you, I don't know what will.