A Cheese Weasel Story by Rob Callan

‘Twas the Third day of April, when all through IL,

No employee was stirring, not even Noelle.
The mousepads were polished and dusted with care,
In hopes that the Cheese Weasel soon would be there.

At home, all the devs were still snug in their beds,
While visions of pepper jack danced in their heads.
And back at IL, though I hate early rising,
I’d just settled in for some spec-based revising.

When o’er in the pantry arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my cube to see what was the matter.
Away to the hallway I flew like a flash,
And kicked down the door to our sugar-food-stash.

The luminous buzz of fluorescent-style lighting
Served well to enhance my early-morn sighting.
When, what to my sleep-deprived eyes should appear,
But a fidgeting rodent, scratching his ear.

He sputtered and belched, like a truck pow’red by diesel,
And I knew right away this must be the Cheese Weasel!
He was covered in fur, from his head to his claws,
And befitting his office, held Kraft in his jaws.

A bundle of queso he’d flung on his back,
And he looked like a fieldmouse nibbling a snack.
But the pose was deceptive, for the victuals he bore
Would soon be passed out to the teams on both floors.

Incisors so pointy! His eyes, how they glistened!
His breathing was raspy and quick, when I listened.
Dairy-a-curdled was this creature’s game!
Cheese was his passion! He called it by name:

“Ricotta! Manchego! Feta and Brie!
Cheddar and Swiss—all beloved by me!
Munster and Gouda! Parmesan! String!
Feeling run down? Gorgonzola’s the thing!

“In the wee hours of April the third, I distribute
Gifts to nimble employees who work to contribute
Their talents to building a program that pwn’s
All opposers who sell in their market-share zones.

“A yellow Kraft single is what I will leave
‘Neath mousepads worldwide each Cheese Weasel Eve
The cheese is intended to lighten the load
For groups who bust humps to deliver clean code.”

He spoke no more words, but turned with a jerk,
And headed to where the Production-folk work.
Hefting his cheeses, he dropped off a slice
At the desk of each artist or dev who’d been nice.

Audio, QA, Writing, Design,
Got a KraftY Reward from this weasel benign.
He paused at Geoff’s desk with some hesitation;
Weighing Geoff’s merit (which was now on probation).

“Come on!” I said, “Weasel, leave poor Geoff alone!
He’s worked like a dog! Throw the brother a bone!”
“Fine,” said the rodent, “He should count himself blessed,
‘Cause I’ll give him a slice—just like the rest.”

The weasel completed his nocturnal mission,
Leaving no trace—no chance of suspicion.
He sprang to an air duct, scaled up the side,
Pried open the grill, and scrambled inside.

I got all morose as I watched him retreat.
Without Weasel around, I’d feel incomplete.
But I heard him exclaim as he scurried away
“A good day to all! Happy Cheese Weasel Day!”