I am a diehard fan of Campbell's Chunky Soups. I like to consider myself well versed in culinary expertise and I thought they had a good handle on it. I lived off of their soups in my college bachelor life and couldn't have made it to adulthood without them. For years, I have thought of myself as a man until the other night when I was uncontrollably forced to huddle into the fetal position and weep in a puddle of my own vomit.



I desperately wanted to enjoy the premise of Buffalo Chicken in a soup format. Desperately enough to pour the neon orange substance into a bowl and attempt to justify consuming it. It was only after it reacted to heat that it gained sentience and began to slowly warp my adulthood into that of a swaddling baby. I have never been more disgusted or shocked at an odor in all of my life. It quite literally felt like a brick wall had fallen on top of me. I gasped for air and begged for the good Lord or any holy or unholy being to snatch me off of this earthly plane in order to escape the wrath so aptly named "Kickin' Buffalo Chicken". The odor quite literally kicked my organs into a riot, and I evacuated both my bowels and my gut.



Once I thought the battle was over after a night of agonizing pain, I had no idea that the battle had only begun. The odor filled my home and violated my loved ones to the point of their departure until the beast was quelled. It was all I could manage not to turn on the gas and pray for a quiet death. I instead found hope in my religion and attempted to thwart the beast myself. I can only thank the good Lord for providing me with the strength to do so. Unfortunately, most of the ordeal is a blur, as the Buffalo Chicken's "kick" struck my brain like an adamantium bullet.



It is because of this that I must rate this product as "unsatisfactory".