Say Cheese!

While I enjoy the soft, smooth taste of cheddar or a good piece of Monterey Jack as much as anyone, I curled his nose in disgust when I smelled a foul cheesy odor.   I searched vainly through the kitchen trying to locate the allusive morsel behind the stink.  Unable to find it, I ceased my search and stormed into the bedroom looking for my wife.   Perhaps she knew the cause.  Unfortunately, she was out shopping, so I was left to find the source of my annoyance alone.

Suddenly it dawned upon me that the smell was as strong in the bedroom as it was in the kitchen.  I entered our guest-room and sniffed.  The cheesy odor was in every room in the house!  The only way that was possible, I deducted, was if it was in the heater.  Perhaps my wife put a loaded mouse trap too close to the furnace intake.  She loves the kind that cages the mouse so we can release it later.  They seldom catch a mouse, so the cheese stands alone for several weeks.  As I traipsed down the stairs, my sock covered feet slipped on the carpet and I barreled to the bottom.  Grunting and murmuring my newfound hatred for carpeted stairs, I closely examined the furnace.  Finding no mousetrap, I pulled out the filter, promptly cutting my finger on a jagged piece of metal.  With my finger in my mouth, I inspected the filter, but saw no sign of cheese or spoiled milk.  I shoved the filter back in its slot and walked out on the porch to get away from the stench.

Breathing in deeply, I once again smelled the odor.  “Does the whole world stink of cheese?” I shouted.  Just then, my wife pulled up in our van with a load of groceries.  No sooner had she opened the door to her vehicle then I pounced off the porch and rushed to ask her why everything stunk.

“I’d give you a kiss,” she said with a smile, “but you have a piece of cheese stuck in your mustache!  And why are you bleeding?”

2 responses to this post.

  1. I sense a bit of mental instability here with all of the slipping in/out of third person writing.


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