Black Mold Madness

by

So I spent the entire Memorial Day weekend helping someone with a remodel of an old home. Three straight days of hard work in 90 degree heat and 90 per cent humidity was enough to taint my mood but then, on the Holiday itself, there came the task of ripping up 40 year-old orange and brown shag carpet from a “finished basement”. Well, if the smell alone down there hadn’t already convinced me there was something unpleasantly wrong with the situation the sight of giant swaths of black fungus underneath the carpet and all through the foam cushion was the fucking alarm bell ringing confirmation.

Mold. Black Mold. Shitloads.

I was horrified, of course, that we had been breathing the corrupted air in there for three days. I knew full well the possible damage that stuff can do to a person. From the short term effects like headaches, congestion and rash to the long term effects like permanent neurological damage.

Then I realized an even more horrifying truth.

This is how zombies are created.

I know it. This is how it starts. The fungus gets inside you and the next thing you know you’re searching recipe sites for “how to cook human brains”.

I just have a bad feeling about this. I’m worried that later tonight I’m going to be crawling through my neighbors windows, a viscous black ooze leaking out of my nostrils and ears and mouth, face ravaged by rot and a rancid black mold actively growing out of every bodily orifice. I’m coming to eat your babies, people, but it’s not my fault I swear. I’m probably going to crack open your skulls with a table leg to gnaw on your gray matter. I’m might even chew off your grandmother’s tits. I don’t know! I might!

This is horrible. I never wanted to be a zombie at all, I swear. Let alone a baby eating, grandmother defiling Black Mold Zombie From Hell.

This is what I get for helping people. From now on I’m staying in my Zombie Proof Bunker. I have soup. I have grain alcohol. I have porn.

Who needs brains anyway?

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