[ WP ] A long time chef discovers a soup so delicious it grants immortality . A moral dilemma about whether or not to share his creation with the world ensues .

`` Watch out mister!'' Three words that would precede one of the biggest realizations of my life. 
 
 It's true, I poured my heart and soul into that soup. Years of travel, years of flavors, years of pots and pans and burnt hands went into that soup, but I could never have imagined something so delicious could be something so powerful. 
 
 I woke up as many people like me do, in the morgue. Only people like me were usually in the movies. 
 
 I apologized to the mortician, who I had scared shitless. It was understandable though. After all, men in their eighties do n't usually survive being hit by a bus. 
 
 Once the man calmed down he explained that I did seem unusually devoid of damage for someone who had been dragged eight feet under a bus. 
 
 I begged him to destroy my medical records. I think he ultimately agreed because I reminded him of his grandfather. It happens a lot more than you'd think. 
 
 I immediately suspected the soup, there was no other alternative. No other food had ever made me feel so... young. And I've been drinking a morning espresso for years. 
 
 But how far did the soup go? Was it a one time thing? Drink the soup, survive an accident? Or had I just avoided something I had begun to make peace with the moment I slaughtered my first rabbit for supper back when I was a boy. 
 
 I did n't know what to hope for, eternity or a peaceful death. 
 
 When I got home I pulled the leftovers of the soup from the fridge and spent many minutes staring at them. It was only natural to test the extent of the soup. I'll spare the gory details, but let's say that by dawn I knew I could n't die. 
 
 I wept for my wife as the sun rose. If only I had been a better chef sooner, perhaps she would have enjoyed that sunrise with me. 
 
 Lady was an obvious choice as the first person to share my soup with. At least she always felt like a person to me. Lady, short for Ladle, was our chocolate lab. My wife and I used to joke when she was a puppy that she would out live us and that it was foolish of us to adopt her. By the time I finished my first batch of what I would come to call the Soup of Life, she looked as old as I felt when I woke achy in the morning. 
 
 I've never seen her eat anything so fast. The change was dramatic and instantaneous. Her eyes cleared and her tired ears perked up. It was the second time that day I cried. 
 
 That was the only time I decided to share my soup. As a man that wanted to make the perfect soup to share with the world it pained me deeply to burn the recipe. I'll admit that the act was mostly symbolic because that recipe is burned into my soul, as unforgettable as knowing how to breath. 
 
 I've had many sleepless nights. It felt right not to share the secret of immortality. How could I ever bare the burden of the consequences such an act would incur? But as I watched the news the *what ifs* kept nagging me. What if all these people did n't have to die? What if holocausts were impossible? What if traffic accident fatalities dropped to zero? 
 
 But there was Lady, her head on my lap, reminding me that the only organism I knew I could trust immortality to was n't even human. That there simply was n't space enough on this planet to free humans from their only sure fate. 
 
 Times change, people come and go, and I've come to be resolute in my decision. 
 
 There's one thing though that always makes me laugh. The difference between the batch of soup before the Soup of Life, and the Soup of Life, was bacon.
