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#7 – Grilled Cheese (aka Sasparilla ShaWilleeuhm)

#7 – Grilled Cheese (aka Sasparilla ShaWilleeuhm)




Grilled Cheese grew up in a monastery somewhere in the vicinity of the Swiss Alps.  He was left at the door one spring morning, where Brother Henricus Michaelis, a Senior Monk who was vying for the new Abbot position posted on Craigslist, found him.


Brother Henricus Michaelis had been craving a grilled cheese sandwich ever since he became tonsured in the Great Schema. 

 He just didn’t understand what the big deal was about grilled cheese sandwiches. Was it such a secular indulgence? He wondered this and other things, such as whether seals could knit, and if so, how well.

When he found little Sasparilla on the monastery doorstep that crisp spring morning somewhere in the vicinity of the alps, he felt emboldened. It was by no means a Martin Luther (the Protestant guy, not the Civil Rights guy) moment, but he knew that he needed to make a statement.

He thus christened the new member of the Holy Goatherders of  Nerthington Monastery “Grilled Cheese,” or “Sasparilla ShaWilleeuhm” (when the current abbot happened to be around).

Young master ShaWilleeuhm grew up strong on goat milk, and could identify the differences of 4300 different slices of goat cheese based solely on the smell and texture of the cheese.  He knew all 479 goats by first, last, middle, Catholic, and sometimes even maiden name. All was quite well for Grilled Cheese Sasparilla ShaWilleeuhm, as life was a simple matter of tending his flock of goats, saying a few hundred prayers a day, and attending mass at least twice a day.  Life flowed along like melting ice cream sandwiches filled with gummy bears until one fateful day, which happened to be March 15th of a year long forgotten.

Grilled Cheese was walking into town to buy some supplies for a few upcoming birthdays of his flock.  He needed flour, biscuits, butter, a piñata, and a pint of Mad Dog for Father Windsorley. It was to be a night of extraordinary fun and extravagance, to rival even Bilbo Baggins birthday party, though he unfortunately had no ring to make himself disappear for the goats.

While he was walking into the secular town of Grindelwald, he noticed that some people were standing in front of the engine of a black van that had a picture of Elvis Presley playing a dragon fiddle on the side.  He was taught by Brother Henricus Michaelis to be a good samaritan at least sometimes, “when it won’t get yourself maimed ya know,” as he would always say. He thought this particular quarry appeared to be fairly innocuous, with their drawings on their skin and machetes strapped to their backs.  He thought they were probably wheat farmers from the south, and so offered his assistance.

“Hello there good travelers.  Dost thou have troubles with thine ebony van, and can I assist with the repairs of said vehicle?”  He was actually quite adept at repairing small block engines, which he learned to do when he was a mere 8 years of age.

The wheat farmers appeared to be quite grateful, and seemed even jolly, breaking open new pints of Mad Dog in celebration and smoking something out of glass pipes.  “How grand!” thought Master ShaWilleuhm.  He knew this was an extraordinary day indeed. When he was finished repairing the van, he wished them a grand journey.

They insisted upon his going to the local tavern with them, to have a ‘few brewskys man’ with them.  He declined 5 times before they looked very offended and quite possibly bloodthirsty, so he thought it to be in his best interest to go with them.

He then sent a text to Brother Henricus Michaelis, saying that he was going to the “Loose Ladies Tavern” with his new friends for a drink, in order to carry out his full duties as a good samaritan.

When Brother Henricus Michaelis read the text, he nearly dropped his Droid.  It wasn’t that he was concerned about GC Sasparilla ShaWilleuhm going to the tavern (he had frequented it enough times dressed as David Bowie), but he had received a prophetic vision 14 years ago after he had ‘inadvertently’ consumed 4 buttons of peyote. He didn’t want to believe it at the time, but now he knew that the vision was true.

In his vision, Brother Henricus Michaelis saw an older (around 37) Master ShaWilleuhm going into the Loose Ladies Tavern with some people who had machetes strapped to their backs.  “Oh,” he thought during the vision, “they’re just wheat farmers from the south, so that’s ok.”  But the vision didn’t stop there.

Grilled Cheese proceeded to drink an amazing amount of alcohol, and even started smoking some substance out of a glass pipe with the southern wheat farmers. He started ranting things like “I’m bigger than the world bitches!  Yeah! HAHAHA” and “I’m the REAL Earl Grey!  I’m the REAL Earl Grey.”

What started as a one night stand with debauchery turned into a 5 year spiral into chemical derangement. After 5 years of it, he found himself mumbling something about government conspiracies on a street median begging for change from people in Volvos and Mazdas in Wisconsin. He was offered a chance to recover by what appeared to be a squirrel with a goat head driving a Mercedes (he had taken a few hits of LSD that morning for breakfast).  The goat head reminded him of something….something that he had lost.  He wept for the loss of something that he really couldn’t remember because he was just too fucked up to remember it.

The 42 put him through an intensive rehab session, and during the recovery time, to stave off boredom, they taught him how he could control minds.  And he learned, and was damn good at it.

Grilled cheese is now wanted by every intelligence agency in the known universe, and is still prayed for by Brother Henricus Michaelis from time to time.