A Doomed Cheesy Romance

Opening

Long ago in an old Geronimo Stilton book, eight-year-old me read about the doomed opera of a mouse who was obsessed with cheese but couldn’t eat it on the account of being deathly allergic. Even back then, something about it struck as poetic to me, and although I cannot recall which book I read it from (I’ve read far too many) or even the title of the opera, I find myself compelled to expand the idea.

A Doomed Cheesy Romance

All her life, Isabella Região was praised as the most beloved mouse of all of Italy. Flourishing as a model, actor, and global phenomenon, she found her face plastered on newspaper, billboards, and even Rogue trucks speeding down highways. Her chestnut hair and high upturned nose were iconic all over the world, but they also granted her the unique ability to smell cheese from miles away.

To this beautiful mouse, cheese was the love of her life. She could not envision any other mouse bringing her this much happiness. Besides, it worked out in her career, too- if she married a normal mouse, the media would go crazy, flaming her for her poor choices, and she would hate to put any poor mouse through such a hassle. Oh, but the other male actors- how she hated their attitudes. She just knew that the instant she married, her “husband” would try to steal all her glory.

No! She just wouldn’t have someone riding on her coattails or rather in this case, the train of any of her gorgeous dresses. She had built her life too well for it to be ruined all for some pompous fellow who strutted in with nothing and hightailed out with everything. 

All these thoughts had been festering in Isabella’s mind as she sat with her eyelids closed in the makeup chair. In a couple minutes, she would be walking down Milan’s biggest runway in her gorgeous midnight blue gown. The silky, satin masterpiece flaunted a deep V-neckline, adorned with opalescent pearls, and a hypnotizing lace train that ran about two ft behind her. 

All this work was to win Miss Cheeseverse. In her mind, Isabella already knew she would win, but it would seem unkind of her to not put in as much effort (she was more worried about the media’s take on it than her competitor’s feeling, however). Finally, the artists moved away from her, and like clockwork, she began moving backstage. 

The makeup artists had finished earlier this time, and she feels a bit nauseous with anticipation. To calm herself, she quickly pulled two cheese bites- Brie and Gouda. She chewed the Gouda cube first, savoring the bouncy texture before moving onto the Brie. Its creamy texture melted in her mouth and filled her stomach with butterflies. The director called for line up and all the models found their positions. Soon, models began slipping through the heavy black curtains and strutted down the walkway. 

It was Isabella’s time to shine. This particular runway asked for a strong horsewalk. Though just a mouse, she must pump her legs as if she were the strongest mare to exist. She tightened her core to keep her upper body straight and let the lights blind her. Cameras flashed like crazy, not wanting to miss a single motion. Soon she gave her pivot and returned back. 

The show ended, and she had won as usual. A week later, sitting in a relatively new apartment overlooking New York, she riffled through the fashion newspapers. Her picture-perfect face was sitting smack dab on the front page, but the article wasn’t about her; instead Amy Slickfur, her strongest competitor, seemed to be the main focus. She quickly skimmed the article which narrated the account of a staff member who claimed to see Amy curse Isabella.

Using the power of 15 rat traps and an old witching spell, Amy had made Isabella unable to have her greatest desire. Of course, the media went wild with speculation, calling Amy a witch but also wondering what Isabella’s greatest desire could possibly be- a secret lover? In the parlor of her apartment, however, Isabella had fallen to her knees. She knew what she could not have- cheese.

After that fateful day, Amy was disgraced from the modeling world and was effectively hated by every mouse in the world, but despite the comfort that news brought Isabella, her career had also sputtered out.

As high and mighty as Isabella was, no fame or money could ever replace the sensation of cheese to her. Struggling with withdrawal, she soon became a recluse with no friends or family to help her through hard times. She had never built meaningful relationships, partly with traveling but also partly due to lack of effort. Now, she was entirely alone with no one to lean on. Worse, paparazzi also frequently bombarded her windows, trying desperately to capture the bundle of blankets she had become. Furthermore, she was unable to shop by herself- people would immediately crowd around her, pushing and screaming in her face. Instead, she was forced to rely on staff. 

Isabella spent years in an almost vegetative state. Every day and night, she fought off the impulse to devour cheese. Until one cold, windy night, she couldn’t resist anymore. It was around 1 am, and she was starving. She snuck out of her lavish, cream-colored mansion. Her shaking paws padded across cold pavement till she found her old warehouse. Shivering, her thin paws typed out the code, and the door lifted up revealing wheels upon wheels of cheese. The aroma of cheese wafted through the air and hit her in the face. A punch had never felt so good.

She lost all control- after years and years of starving herself, she was determined to finally eat to her heart’s content. Every kind of imaginable cheese was consumed- soft and creamy to brittle and crumbly. She felt the poison filling her stomach, her skin broke into rashes, and her throat began closing, but she continued eating.

On October 11, police were alerted by Isabella Região’s staff that she was missing. At her warehouse, the police found a peculiar sight- the once globally renowned model was lying dead, surrounded by husked out wheels of various cheeses. In her right paw, she clutched a pawful of Parmigiano Reggiano.

Any love that brings true happiness is worth dying for.