Through the hole in the baseboard Mac Mouse could see the cheese rind lying tantalizingly near, a mere scamper away.
“No!” cried Ma, grasping his tail. “It ain’t worth it!”
Mac fumed. “You can’t hold me forever, Ma.”
Caractacus Cat grinned silently. Mac’s patience was what he was counting on.
A mouse lived inside my walls. I tried to feed it cheese and peanut butter and other tasty things.
“I cannot take your gifts, sir,” it said. “I am afraid you will trap me!”
I convinced it I wouldn’t. We became friends.
A small problem: my rodent-phobic wife found out.
This story is based on a title suggested by @eikoandmog
Ramone had a very diverse selection of friends. He enjoyed spending time with Havarti, Provolone, Mozzarella, and Brie.
He didn’t get along that well with Cheddar or Feta, but Gouda was fun.
Ramone’s mom told him, “Cheeses can’t be real friends,” but he knew better.
Oh yes, he knew better.
“MAKE WHEY FOR THE PRINCE!”
“Oh, sorry, I’ll step aside, didn’t see you coming.”
“WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!”
“I’m making way!”
“NO, NO, NO! I SAID ‘MAKE WHEY‘!!”
“Make weigh? What, does he need a scale to stand on?”
“ARE YOU CALLING HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS FAT!?”
“SUMMON THE EXECUTIONER!!”