Story Contest! Post your scary dairy tales here and win a cheesy treat for Halloween
Open thread: post your most frightening, eerie cheese-related story, real or invented, and the best story will win a sack of tricks and cheese treats. 500 words or less.
Scary Stories
Ha! I have plenty of scary stories of me drinking milk and forgetting to check t he expiration date! Look before you drink!
The New England Cheese Zombie Experience
My boyfriend Kevin and I decided to vacation on the Vermont cheese trail. Our first stop was a vineyard's bed and breakfast, and I woke up with a hangover as we went to our cheese destination. Though the Green Mountain air felt great, the slight hint of manure in combination with my herbed chèvre was too much. I sobered up on crackers as Al gobbled up his smoked cheddar.
Al complained of cramps as we settled into our room for the night. I heard moaning from the bathroom, and thought he was constipated. I heard the bathroom door open, and a horrible smell made me look up from my book. "Ew, KEVIN! Keep the door..." I looked up, and screamed.
Kevin was a zombie! I shrieked as he walked towards me. I was cornered with nothing but a cheesemaking book in hand. We spent many nights watching B-movies, and I knew how to kill the undead--go for the brain. But do I kill the man I love, or allow him to eat me and suffer together a la Romeo and Juliet? Paralyzed, my finger held my place in a rennet and enzyme chapter. I closed my eyes as he lunged towards me... and into the mini fridge next to the bed. He took a bite from a brick of cheese. The smell of cheddar was all I remembered as everything went black...
I opened my warm eyelids to see Kevin--handsome, human Kevin--next to me, reading my book. "Hey sleepyhead," he said as he gave me a kiss. I stared at him and he laughed at my tousled appearance. I didn't attempt to describe my dream to logical Kev. But I noted a distinct organic smell in the bed--Probably Kevin's toxic farts.
We went to our next stop, and again I felt nauseous. Nothing could explain my new-found lactose intolerance. Each night on the trip, I had the same disturbing "Zombie Kevin" dream and smelled that same smell. At our last stop, I found a crumble of cheese under the blanket. I put it in a sandwich bag, and we returned to our college. I slept in my dorm room, and woke up without remembering a zombie dream.
Classes began, and during a slow day as a professor's lab assistant, I tested the cheese I found in the bed. I found something surprising--a strain of bovine spongiform encephalopathy--mad cow disease! I didn't tell anyone about my discovery while I made dean's list again.
I was accepted into a biochemistry doctorate program, and Pre-Law Kevin became a renowned New England cheesemaker. Despite sleeping minimally due to my busy schedule, Kevin worked even longer hours perfecting batches of cheese. In fact, he seemed to never sleep! Each time he made a new batch of cheese, he seemed to become more agitated and less attentive. And he would NEVER reveal the source of his starter culture...
I miss the old Kevin, but even more than that... I miss cheese.
Double points for the toxic
Double points for the toxic cheese farts.
When I was a child, my mother
When I was a child, my mother would buy cheese-injected Oscar Mayer hot dogs for my weekend lunches. The most horrifying bit of all is that I enjoyed them quite a bit back then.
If that isn't frightening, I don't know what is!
Couldn't be any worse than
Couldn't be any worse than Russian spaghetti dogs, could it?
Now THAT is an abomination.
Now THAT is an abomination.
Now THAT is an abomination.
Now THAT is an abomination.
Cheese in quotes, of
Cheese in quotes, of course... Orange goo is what it resembled.
scary cheese story
I don't know why I have always thought food was disgusting, no matter how beautiful your preparation of a meal I have always seen it as a sign of decay. I will eat the food but why bother, it (the food) and I are only temporary, made up to look like forever. I felt this way even as a child. food attracted flies, little skin biting almost invisible fruit flies. A day in the sun was so much better without food, which would always attract stench and more flies. They'd sit on your food, and look at you like they were bragging that they got there first. "Eat it," I'd say to them, "what do I care?"
Obviously, this attitude has gotten me into so much trouble. Most socializing includes eating, and eating as a celebration. eating together is the same to me as dying together. But I do it. It is evil, it is necessary.
As unusual as you might find my attitude, I have been proved correct in a devastating way. I was forced to attend a food celebration. It was of very close colleagues, by close I mean that they shared an office with me, and frequently forced their lunch stench on me. I had to go. I went.
The party was in a windowless and colorless banquet hall. Metallic chairs, polyester curtains. Even as I arrived at a normal time, the food tables had already been attacked; as you probably can guess, it was not that I wanted anything on the tables, but only that looking at the squashed and broken bits of a variety of hard and soft cheeses, sprinkled with other crumbs of bread and fruit and crudites (as others look at train wrecks), I felt dizzy.
The room began to spin, lights flicker, smells intensify, smells especially of roquefort, camembert, pont l'eveque. A colleague noticed me and my pallor, and he moved into my field of vision with a plate of each. I refused, politely. No thank you, I am not hungry. He told me how special they were, each and every one. They had had to go far to find these cheese, some flown in, some brought by specially appointed messengers from Europe. He held a piece in front of me as if a prize a prize before my lips. He dropped it gently on my tongue. I was trapped in social intercourse. And then he beamed at me, awaiting my reaction. I tried to smile and say mmmm. Then another. We did this with back and forth several times, washing it down each time with some light wine--that, I don't mind. Until I began to notice what felt like little pockets in my throat. pockets of cheese. I could not see them, they were inside me. But I felt the cheese collecting, each piece joining its neighbor in suffocating me. The cheese was growing, taking over the insides of my body, moving in, so to speak. As the cheeses moved they needed more room to move. The man beside me noticed nothing as he excused himself to meet others and treat them to same ignominies.
PS, anonymous, If you want to
PS, anonymous,
If you want to qualify for the prize, please email me at wfertman@culturecheesemag.com!
Wow.
Really scary! Taps into the very common fear of food that pops up in American culture, that rears its ugly head in eating disorders and body-obsessions.
On slightly lighter theme of eating and being eaten, have you ever seen "The Stuff"?
Never saw it but just looked
Never saw it but just looked it up. Looks up my alley
No, but would love to, will
No, but would love to, will look it up
My scary moment
Has anyone ever whispered in your ear in a way that made your ear feel like it wanted to close right up because you felt that persons breathe or they were just WAY too close? During this past summer on an 85 degree night here in Kentwood Michigan, I didn’t want to turn the air conditioner on because it’s just too darned expensive, and everyone was in bed sleeping except for me. I have a tendency to stay up late because that seems to be my only alone time.
I have always felt a weird presence in the house and have tried to ignore it and certainly didn’t talk about it because I didn’t want anyone to think I was weird. So on this HOT night, I was charging my cell phone in my bedroom and didn’t want to sit on the bed and wake my boyfriend up so I sat next to the bed on a laundry basket with folded clothes. As I am sitting in the dark looking at Facebook, I felt that presence beside me and a LOUD and VERY clear manly whisper in my ear said "IT'S TOO HOOOOT!" kind of like he was angry!!
EVERY single hair on my body stood right up and my ear felt like it was closing and I even jerked to the side and turned my head to get away from whatever was there. My heart was POUNDING!! Using the light on my phone, I turned it and scanned the room looking for something!! I then thought my son was playing a trick on me but he was in his room sound asleep. I felt tears build up in my eyes because I was actually frightened!! I turned all the lights on in the house so that I could get a little bit of sleep before getting up for work.
I am not a person that is bothered by much.... but THIS was the freakiest thing that has happened to me!! I was once told by a friend of mine that I have a ghost that follows me named Charlie. She started that about 11 yrs ago when the apartment I lived in always had electrical items turning on and off. My TV would turn to black and white fuzz in the early morning and my ceiling fan would come on in the middle of the night. Also the light that had a dimmer switch would go up and down. Those things frightened me a little bit but nothing bad ever happened. So every time I moved I would notice small things but the whisper in my ear was NO JOKE!!! I wasn’t much of a believer in ghosts until now.
Real life ghosts!
Not cheese-related, of course, but real—that counts for something!
Scary cheese story in Ireland
While traveling near Cashel in Ireland, I climbed the mont of Cashel and stared down on the cows below grazing on the emerald green grass. Under most circumstances this wouldn't be a scary thing, but this day was unlike any other. The cows had taken on a personality of zombies! They didn't want to be milked, didn't want their milk to be enjoyed for cheese. In fact they were organizing for a revolution against the farmers. Didn't they know that if a cow doesn't get milked only bad things follow?
These cows had transformed themselves from kind, gentle cattle to bloodthirsty beasts!
A farmer climbed up to the mont and commented that he was kicked by his favorite dairy cow while chewing its cud. The cow turned to him and replied, you will not milk me. I don't want my milk to be made into cheese.
And so it goes.
Hmmm....
Who doesn't like a zombie cow? Maybe needs a twist ending, though?
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