The Insurmountable Slice William Gibbs

I consider myself a food enthusiast. That is, I love food in all of its aspects; the obvious nutiritional significance, the delightful variations in flavor and texture, the cultural connections, and sometimes even the visual beauty of it. One may be hard-pressed to present to me a dish that I can not appreciate in one way or another. Due to this, I find it nearly impossible to recall an entire meal that could honestly be considered my "worst." Rather, I will speak of a single foodly entity, a slice of cheese - one which revealed to me the darker side of humanity.

It was a cool Saturday, sometime during April or May if I recall correctly. I had slept in late that day, resolving no earlier than noon that I should roll out of bed and get something done. Assessing the to-do list, I found that a visit to my grandparents' house was in order. It was to be a typical trip: I would chat with them about family goings-on, empathize with their complaints or opinions on this and that, munch on cookies or pretzels, then leave. Easy enough, I had done it a thousand times before.

As I made my way to their house, I noticed that the sky was becoming increasingly dark. Life seemed to have been frozen then: no animals frolicking...