The Mold Chronicals Part One: Interspacial Relations To The Alternative Pathological Link

As many of you now know I am homeless; forced from my place of dwelling by a silent agent of mother nature’s contempt. All but a few of my possessions have been taken from me by this tyrant, and it has sent me on a Trail of Tears as real and potent as the one undertaken by the Choctaw in 1831. I am a man without a place to call my own. An empty vessel made of broken dreams and shattered promises that floats in an ocean of the tears of a thousand sobbing orphans sent darkly into the sun in a rocket ship made of sorrow and unborn wolverine cubs.


(place a quote by a poet in here to look smart)

I do not know for how long I will be exiled. They say 10 days, but that is but a drop in the bucket of time. So to pass this time I shall chronicle my misadventures in this place called “hotel”, and allow you a view into the world which I know inhabit. Ladies and gentlemen this is The Mold Chronicles!

Day One: Night


After cataloging my various worth-while possessions I packed a suit case filled with essentials , and headed out to my new home. It is much larger than my actual room with a fold out couch/bed, cable TV, shower, fridge, coffee maker, desk, soap, towels, wastebaskets, curtains, floor, ceiling, door knobs, hair dryer, air, and air conditioning. Technically I now have more than I did previously.

I then set up my computer, unpacked a few things , and set down to surf the net. Unfortunately the wired connection no longer works so I have to wait for the opportunity to use one of my parent’s lap tops. I then settle in and see what’s on TV.

Ah television. I have not watched you in so long. What are you up to my friend? What news of the world do you bring? Cattle mutilations and alien abduction on the History Channel? What the…. That has nothing to do with history! At this point I watch two episodes of King of The Hill, and decide that I have had enough TV. I crack open a beer and engage in simulated space combat for a couple of hours, then take some pictures.


At this point it is late. I must be up early tomorrow in order to grab a few things before the anti-mold patrol shows up so I do the sensible thing and keep drinking while watching TV. More cow mutilations. E has z grade celebrities making snarky comments about shit no one cares about, and Nick at Night no longer exists.

After a few flips I settle on a replay of Obama’s 100th day address. As I watch I begin to notice that he says “um” between every sentence. In fact the more he speaks the more he “ums”.

“Well I um believe in um in um bridging the gaps um”


The odd thing is that the more he does it the more the reporters do it until I am buried in an avalanche of unconfident speech. It’s as if he was trying to hypnotize them. As the speech ends I take one last swig of the juice and it’s lights out.

I am awoken the next morning at 9 a.m. My hopes of bacon and eggs are dashed as the “continental” breakfast that was promised consists of yogurt and an oatmeal package. Oh well off to home one last time. When I get there the manager of the complex assures us that all paper based items will be tossed no matter what. I decide I shall take my comic books to the hotel after all. Maybe I will try to sell them later.

End Chapter One

The Pros so far: Spacious room, easy climate control, I can poop on the floor and some else will clean up after me, cable TV, and a nice desk.

Cons so far: My shower makes an angry whistle until I adjust the head at some random angle, cable TV, no internet, and possibly haunted. I have not checked on that last one yet.

Tonight I shall wander around a bit, and get my bearings. I’ll report more then.