Wanda absently thanked the proprietor and inspected the cheese on the cracker. A creamy, off-white, slightly shiny spread, it smelled acrid and salty.

She shrugged, said, “They’re gonna revoke my Greenpeace card!” and took a tentative bite.

The taste was fairly bland and a little heavy, like brie or camembert, but there was a hint of… what? Was it vegetal? Herbal? Almost… grassy?

She took another bite, larger this time, trying to determine the origin of that elusive flavor. Looking up to ask for more information about the cheese, she realized that she couldn’t breathe. Or speak. Or move.

The room was a fog around her. As her hands and feet grew numb, she silently screamed for help.

The world tilted, and all she could see was the proprietor’s skeletal smile. “Our specialty, like nothing you’ve ever tasted,” he said. “Or will again.”