Go (not to) find the cheese guy.
In the vast Northeast of Italy, where corn and pigs cast their tyrannical shadow over the plains and the mountains in equal measure, there is a saying as popular as obscure, since everyone knows what it means, but no one seems to understand how it actually means anything at all. The say goes:
“Tu cjataras ben chel dal formadi!”.
It can be translated as “Some day you are going to meet (or to find) the cheese guy”. It is a cautionary proverb, something that can be roughly interpreted as “Pride before the fall”. It gets uttered to bullies, inveterate wrong doers and generally against anyone who dares to neutralize your own bullying and wrong doing, and it is well implied that this mysterious Cheese Guy is going to some day punish the person who crosses them.
Who they might be, and why do they wander the Friuli wasteland punishing evil and dispensing biblical justice on scoundrels is really not clear to anyone, as the warning is so ancient that it’s origin has long gone lost to the sands of time, currently occupying the whole area of Pordenone without any sign of possible retreat.
Attempts at finding the etymology have actually been made. Eminent glottologists and random owners of internet connections try sometimes to claim that the word Formadi, “cheese”, might actually refer to the “Formwork”, alluding to someone who will give you the right shape like concrete poured into a mold, your maker.
The next day no trace of the heretics is left, a form of well seasoned montasio left there where their mendacius, arrogant voice was heard for the last time. Or in place of their wi-fi router. Of course a nightmarish incursion follows, once those dairy glutton fiends feel the call of that blasphemous mix of calcium, proteins and flavour, bringing great discomfort the whole community, and the planet itself.
Given these premises, it is only natural that the best sign you may wish for a happy continuation of your day is to not find the cheese guy, but in order to reach this benaugural goal you will need first to go looking for him, every morning.
This is an ancient tradition among the Guardians, and everyone knows that actually finding this obscure, mythical creature would bring consequences as dire as they are unknowable to anyone unlucky enough to succeed in the quest.
Of course merely pretending to look is considered the apex of shame in the hierarchy of their values—an act punishable by the solemn rite of pointing at the culprit while laughing, for the rest of their natural life.This practice, officially known as Perpetual Pointed Mockery (or PPM), is not particularly frightening—but it is endlessly annoying, and it definitely puts the object of the sentence in mortal danger.
Imagine trying to sneak behind a twisted, mind-shattering fiend, enemy of all of us humans and the world we inhabit, while some kid follows you around giggling and pointing directly at your exact position.
That’s why after putting some thought into it, I have come up with a practical solution that will make cheating as obsolete as its punishment is well deserved. That is, a lot. Very obsolete. And I’m not saying that just because I am one of the unfortunate souls who have to live with it as a consequence of my constant attempt at bringing the tribe into the twenty-first century, a time in which even a meek Roquefort loving scientist could still join their ranks.
You don’t want to find the cheese guy, I explained to the fierce warriors, trying my best to ignore the pointing and the laughs that have become the constant background of my existence on the mountains. Still, I raised my voice so to be heard through the ritual raspberries, you have to go look for him because of.. uhm.. honor? But they only grace miscreants and wrong doers with their terrible presence, bringing the double edged gifts of cosmic retribution and wheels of cheese. So, why, I concluded, bringing the kind of silence that precedes illumination, don’t you just stop bullying each other at least during the search?
Be kind. Rebalance that karma! Piggyback the old lady on your way to the massive rock you have to move to see if this entity that escapes such petty human descriptors as gender, size or geographical provenance was napping down there! I told them. Try to stop to be the kind of person who will find the cheese guy, while you are looking for them, and you might fail successfully.
“He.. They… escapes… What?” They asked incredulous, shaking their beard as their eyes were protruding in disbelief. “Of course the cheese guy is a Guardian like us, and a mighty one at it, you overarticulate fool!” then the pointing started again. But the laughs were less incisive, almost doubtful. As a matter of fact, right now there isn’t a moment in the day more appropriate for a pleasant visit to the Guardian’s village than during the forty-five minutes after breakfast, when everyone is meticulously fondling haystacks and exploring caves, saying good morning to each other and offering beer to the passersby.
After that any visitor should quickly evacuate, as the vengeance for these forced niceties could be even worse than to actually find the cheese guy.
submitted by /u/RobJube
[link] [comments]