My Author-itis

He sat there watching as other cans and bottles left the pantry, wishing greatly that he would be chosen next. Inevitably, though, whenever the door opened, the hands that came in always grabbed something else. Monday, it was breadcrumbs. Tuesday, microwave popcorn and a can of garbanzo beans were chosen. Wednesday, the last tube of tomato paste, a jar of olives, and a box of pasta were taken away. Being perpetually left behind was more than one poor can of chicken noodle soup could bear. He wanted so badly to be the next one out of the pantry, but it always seemed that the other cans and boxes were picked while he just sat on the shelf collecting dust.

As time went on, the can of chicken noodle began to resent the other foods in the pantry. He started calling them names and taunting them to try and ease the…

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