When wandering awoke that morning, he realized something was horribly wrong. "I should be wandering," he mused. "And yet I am not, and never have."
Later that morn, as Wandering stared at the sunrise as he wavered on the very edge of Cliff Dangerous, he mused further: "If I am never to wander, what is the point of living? What difference did it make if the dreariness ended now or 30 years from now?"
But just as he was about to jump, he remembered the one love of his life - the one thing that kept him going all those long years. Cheese.
But as he strolled back towards the town to fulfill his new mission of owning and operating a cheezerium, a thought struck him like the pang of a lobotomizing ice pick to the brain: he had been here before. Deja-vu? Or something more? Whatever it was, Wandering knew he hard this cry for justice before, he knew he had smelled this bloodthirsty scent in the air. As Wandering listened to the ravings of TVMan, he knew everything was the same. Except one thing: Wandering himself.
Wandering's suppositions were not merely the result of mental illness - Wandering had, in fact, just barely begun to hit upon the unfortunate fact that the deadly play which was just beginning had repeated itself a million times before, and would repeat itself a million times again, over the course of several millennia. Also, a bizarre cosmic shift had caused Wandering, in this single iteration of the play, to not wander.
But these thoughts had already left Wandering's mind, as he approached the place he had always and would always call home: the old House of Polysolysheoth in the district of Parcheesi in the town of Dagafabawat. When he entered, he grabbed the nearest piece of paper, and started to busily toil away at a sign. And when he finished, he hung it on his front door. It read:
"I can't go on living, goodbye world!"
...Quickly realizing his mistake, Wandering flipped the sign over.
"Wandering's Cheezerium - coming soon!"