The door opened slowly, incrementally revealing the tantalizing mysteries inside. The throng gathered just outside of the door pulsed and surged, their peanut-sided brains processing in vain the images provided by their startled eyes, attempting to comprehend what was within their view for the very first time.

Suddenly a milk-curd-ling scream rang out. There, laid before assembled throng, was the cold case. Nay, it was not the CBS television show of the same name that somehow miraculously survived for seven insipid seasons and counting. (Unbelievable, I know.)

No, it was a cold case containing cheese curds.

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