Annette, loyal friend of the Mindreader, has discovered a disturbing piece of information concerning one of the staples of the American diet; out of concern for the health of the general public, the Mindreader feels compelled to disseminate this information.

Recently, Annette’s stomach initiated a fairly one-sided conversation, the full account of which has been provided to the Mindreader:

“I want food,” said the stomach.

“But–” protested Annette.

“I WANT FOOD,” said the stomach, in a tone reminiscent of Mr. T when foolish villains dared to threaten the A-Team van. Annette, having previously witnessed the fearsome wrath of B.A. Baracus, wisely avoided physical harm by not giving her stomach backtalk. (Sucka.)

This conversation compelled Annette to forage for food. Fortunately, like Hannibal Smith, she’s always handy with a plan, so it took her no time at all to find what she needed: a box of macaroni and cheese. Pleased by this discovery, she set out to make macaroni and cheese tasty like Howlin’ Mad Murdock made craziness fun.

Ah, but like an A-Team plot, it was not as simple as it should have been. Before she could start on her way to a great American meal, she was waylaid by that nefarious villain of scrumptiousness: the expiration date. In fact, her macaroni and cheese wasn’t just expired; it was a culinary antique: it expired in 2004. To be precise, it expired on 15 December 2004.

Still, this seemed like a minor barrier; pasta lasts a good long time, and the powdered cheese mix … well, that could survive a nuclear attack and greet the fallout with a smile and a hot meal, so surely it scoffs at the very mention of an expiration date. Right?

Not so right. Actually, wrong. After realizing that her macaroni and cheese expired when Snoop Dogg was dropping it like it was hot, Annette decided to inspect the contents of the box. And that was when she made her horrifying discovery: like the retiring Bob Barker, even powdered cheese is subject to the ravages of time.

When she opened the packet of cheese mix, the sad reality was readily apparent. Rather than seeing the pleasant golden powder just waiting to be combined with actual dairy products, she was confronted with a different substance. It was not a pleasant, welcoming yellow; instead, it was a darker shade of yellow, perhaps most accurately described as slightly foreboding. And its smell did not give a hint of cheesy goodness; instead, it could be described only as odd-smelling.

Annette, knowing she could not in good conscience suppress this information, immediately contacted the Mindreader. And that brings us back to the present, where, like Templeton Peck confronted by a failed con, a stunned world struggles to handle the revelation of the mortality of one of its mightiest foods.