ABOUT:

Attack of the 2am Cheese People is what I like to think of as absurd fiction. The following story was written a year ago by me and inspired out of the blue by a 1990's TV commercial for a product called Lurpack Butter. (Google Lurpack & Douglas Aardman and you might see why.) - Enjoy & upvote if you like this story. Also, if you would like me to develop this story further, feel free to leave a comment.

Attack of the 2 am Cheese People

For all intents and purposes, Sarah Sanders Mayweather Mildew was a perfectly normal young woman.

Like many women of Sarah's age, Sarah worked in an office, finished at 5 pm on a Friday, and spent the weekend partying in trendy Soho wine bars, before visiting her grandparents for dinner each Sunday.

Sarah, however, had a very big and very somber secret. Namely, that Sarah wasn't a completely normal young woman at all. This was because, as strange as it sounded (even to herself), every night at around 2 am, Sarah would be attacked in her bed by an army of small flat cheese people.

Where the cheese people had come from, or how they had gotten into her apartment, Sarah wasn't sure. At one point, she had surmised that their being might be the result of GMO Laughing Cow cheese segment, which she remembered falling behind the kitchen counter a few months before her troubles started.

Perhaps, Sarah had thought, the cheese people had evolved from that segment. The only problem was that one day after ripping out her kitchen counter, Sarah had found the segment in question, still intact and still right where it was supposed to be.

Thankfully, what Sarah did know was why the small cheese people attacked her.

"We are here," the cheese peoples 5cm tall Cheshire Cheese ringleader had announced as he kicked down her bedroom door one evening: "To seek revenge on behalf of all of our brethren, whom you have so gratuitously consumed over the course of your lifetime!"

And so, at 2 am every morning, the assault on Sarah would start.

First, a contingent of American cheese slices would fly in out of nowhere and hold Sarah down. The Cheshire Cheese ringleader of the nightmare cheese people, would then straddle Sarah's bosom and pour scalding hot fondue over her. Then a barrage of Philadelphia coated breadsticks would fly at her like missiles, followed by a vicious beating by a block of Blue Stilton.

Needless to say, Sarah's morning ablutions often took much longer than most other peoples. However, after washing dried fondue out of her hair and masking her blue stilton bruises, Sarah was able to lead something of an ordinary life. What is more, what kind of choice did Sarah have? Who in their right mind, after all, would ever believe her story, even if she did sometimes smell like ricotta in the morning?

One day, however, Sarah finally decided that she had endured enough. As a final act of defiance Sarah, therefore, left work early one afternoon, bought an electric blanket from Home Depot, and installed it secretly under her long-suffering Mexicana cheese stained mattress cover.

Sarah's battle plan was simple. While the cheese people might be able to remain solid at room temperature, they would surely suffer some kind of bodily liquefaction should she suddenly turn the heat up.

And so it was that as 2 am approached that evening, Sarah simply waited patiently for her the arrival of her Cheshire Cheese nemesis and his brutish Parmesan foot soldiers.

"Argghhh!" Then came the expected warcry, as the cheese people arrived right on schedule. This time, however, Sarah didn't resist as the American cheese slices began pinning her to her bed sheets. Instead, she simply flicked the electric blanket control and stared defiantly as Mr. Cheshire Cheese himself stood upon her bosom, and began pelting her around the face with his customary slice of Dutch Gouda.

Of course, the cheese peoples beating was as savage as always. Sarah knew, however, that her element of surprise depended most of all on her own patience and endurance. Then, just as a cruel Babybel cheese who Sarah hated worst of all started screaming obscenities into her ear, she realized that her plan was working!

The American cheese slices holding Sarah down had been slowly reduced to just goo. Even better, Mr. Cheshire Cheese himself was starting to liquefy on top of her.

"What have you done?" Sarah's delicious smelling assailants started to scream, as she jumped up and began bundling her electric blanket around the remaining cheese army.

"I've won!" Sarah shouted, smearing fondue over her face like Amazonian warpaint. - And Sarah had won. Where before there had been only blue veined misery and hopelessness, there was now just a Quattro Formaggio ruined electric blanket, ready and waiting to be disposed of in her apartment incinerator.

That was until Sarah heard the dreadful tread of something even worse than militant cheese in the corridor behind her,

"So," jibbed the gruff voice of a remorseless and stupendously over-sized Ritz Cracker rolling into view in Sarah's bedroom doorway.

"You really think this is over do you?"