Once there was a kingdom of cheese makers. These cheese makers knew everything about any kind of milk and knew how to make any kind of cheese. They held festivals of cheese for which people pilgrimaged. They even built a house of cheese once a year for kids to eat through the walls and floors. Not one of these cheese makers had any muscle tone. All of them looked like balls of cheese with legs and arms like toothpicks and little round balls of cheese for heads.
Other kingdoms traded with them except one. This one kingdom was made of people who thought of nothing but hunting and war. They spent all their time making blades of every kind. And this kingdom loved to eat so much that they had become cannibals. And they had tasted the meat of the cheesemakers and it was like a steak marbled with a cheesy fat. Only the other kingdoms held them back from destroying the cheesemakers because they loved their cheese so much.
Whenever a cannibal carved through a cheesemaker, it was as satisfying to watch how the blade sliced through them as eating them. But whenever a cheesemaker was cut, the smell that was released could knock a cannibal out with one whiff. In time, though, the cannibals could not be held back nor could they resist the idea of feasting on the cheese makers. So they did attempt to attack the kingdom of the cheese once.
The Great Cheese War, as the cheese makers called it, was won by hot liquid sticky cheese that the cheesemakers dumped on the cannibals. The cheese cooled and solidified them wherever they stood. The cannibals could not eat their way out of that much solidified fondue and had to surrender under the stench of all the cheese they had cut. After this, it was common for people to ask “who cut the cheese?” when someone passed away.
One year, as any other, there was a cheese carving competition. And one cheese maker, Klaus, was an excellent cheese sculptor. He had won year after year. But this year he concocted the wildest vision in a dream the night before. And so he chased after that dream and made a cheese sculpture that went beyond what he had ever done. The attention to detail was mind-boggling. It was the most elaborate miniature cheese castle anyone had ever seen. There were aged Gouda curtains and Feta rugs. Brie beds and Roquefort chandeliers.
Of course, he won the competition but after that he never made another sculpture again. Instead, he spent most of his time staring at his cheese sculpture. And he would bring it to the competitions year after year as it got moldier and moldier but nobody had the heart to tell him to stop. The moldy clump, that was a Käseschloss, was still a brilliant castle to the cheese maker.
Eventually uninvited from the competition, Klaus kept it at home and stared at it all alone. Long after Klaus died, or cut the cheese, his story was told by the cheese makers as a lesson to not hold onto any achievement no matter how rich and cheesy. And it became common for people to say to others “stop holding your cheese” whenever they needed to move on to making something new.