Do I wanna go out with a lion's roar?

[cyrano]

So the last time I started early, it made for a heck of a response. Let's see if lightning strikes twice. IAFIAYAQ day!
Last Friday you acquired, as a pet, a sentient piece of cheese. (Don't look at me--this was RoseNeko's idea.) I want you to tell me all about this cheese--what's his name? Is she a Rochefort, a sharp Cheddar, a well cultured goat cheese? What's its personality like? What wacky hijinks have the two of you been up to this past week?

Comments

[phillipalden.livejournal.com]

My cheese is a mixture of cheddar and jack, (a mutt.) He came from the government so he's a 50lb block.

He has a habit of saying; "eat me," quickly followed by; "just kidding."

This heatwave is making him a bit ripe and he's too big for the 'fridge.

[kezbat.livejournal.com]

My cheese, handily, is Stilton, which suits both of us well because I hate the taste of it so she won't get eaten. Her name is Bridget, and I've been annoying her by treating her like an oracle and consulting her on decisions. I figured a sentient piece of cheese has to be something special. She doesn't agree and likes to answer with "fuck off, I'm a piece of cheese."

[moonlightnrain.livejournal.com]

I have a lovely Humboldt Fog named Herb (it has a fucking H in it). Mostly we've been working on this neat trick where I slice off bits of him, eat those bits, and the next day they have magically grown back. It makes him giggle and it makes me, well, fat, but we keep doing it anyway.

Oh, Herb. *tickles under his chin*

[roseneko.livejournal.com]

I'm not certain I should play this game if I'm going to be taking all the blame...

But then, I suppose I would be remiss if I didn't tell you about my piece of Pike Place Market Flagship Cheese, whom I inadvertently met while brandishing a Wüsthof kitchen knife in its general direction. Fortunately he persuaded me of the error of my original intent, and, after some discourse, I ascertained that his name was John and he was, in fact, a shape shifting alien life form who was on the run from several otherworldly authority figures. Having found himself cornered in a cheese shed, and few other options being available, he had availed himself of the best opportunity for camouflage, only to learn that his food source was in scant supply on this planet and he lacked the energy to change back.

Having listened to his story, I nodded thoughtfully for a moment before plunging the freshly-sharpened German-made knife into his creamy, nutty flesh. And he was delicious, especially on sourdough bread with salami.

...Why perform such a heinous deed, you ask? Really, now, perhaps a modicum of critical thinking is in order. Shape shifting alien cheeses are all well and good, really. But this one was a plain, garden-variety cheese that just happened to be a poor liar.

I mean, a cheese named "John"? An alien cheese, no less? You've got to be kidding me.