Brothers and sisters, I must confess a grievous truth. Surely, ye have marked how our cheese supply hath dwindled most mysteriously. The cause, I fear, is none other than mine own hand. When the moon sitteth high in the heavens, I do rise from my rest, creep to the window, and devour the cheese straight from its sack. Verily, I am ashamed, and I do swear to atone through mine own toil. I hope ye can find it in your hearts to forgive me.












