Weight of the World
Most people come here to see the Chateau de Chillon, repeating Byron's "Prisoner of Chillon" like a meditation on rosary beads. Others come for the beautiful panoramas offered by the Rochers-de-Naye.
And me? I'm just stuck here, cursed by the Gods to hold up the Alps so they won't crush the place. Yeah, you heard me. This place would topple if it weren't for me. Me sentenced to hold the place up until the end of time.
I guess this is where I tell you why I've been sentenced to this eternal task. I'm Masha the Cheese Thief.
That's right. I stole the Gouda of the Gods. And the Gods are picky about their property. You can't let someone steal property from one God and not have that person seriously punished. One crime will give rise to another crime, because then everyone will think they can get away with it. Hence why the Alps are on my lumbar.
You see this block of cheese, which smeared on your abs, would protect you from all sorts dangers except lawyers. And I, being originally Masha the Fireplace Sweeper, got it into my head that: "Hey, maybe I could become someone or something better."
Little hint here, Fireplace Sweeper to the Gods not all that glamorous. It wasn't just sweeping cinder from their fireplaces either. Gods are moody, drama queen slobs. I'd be cleaned out cinder, smashed plates, broken glass and the occasional bones of someone who displeased a deity and got tossed into the fireplace.
Look, I'm just saying it wasn't a nice job and I wanted to move up in the world. But how do you do that? I couldn't log on to a computer and find a better job back then. No. You had to be bold and crafty. You had to be the type who would steal magical cheese and slay a dragon . . . you know unless the owner of the cheese was pissy and the dragon was someone's beloved pet. Then you're not a hero. You're an asshole sentenced to eternity holding up the damn Alps while people in Jimmy Choo, listening to Amy Winehouse on their day-glo iPods, walk around mindless to the fact that a cheese thief is all that's keeping them alive. But hey that's my cross to bear, I'm just glad you stopped by for a bit to hear me yak. It gets lonely holding up these mountains you know. It really does. And, if you ever come by again--no pressure now--I wouldn't mind if you brought me some hot cocoa, friend.
First published: May, 2007
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