Mould Civilization. The Legend.

It has just come into my head, that is the way human cerebral physiology works, an amazing story which took place in what it was my dwelling some time after arriving to this corner of the rural England (well, actually, to be honest, I have also just found the text where I narrated that story). An awesome account about the cruel and ruthless fighting for life, about survival and evolution. This one is for you, ladies and gentlemen…

The concept of cleanliness according to a British post-teenager.

It happens that the sons of…the United Kingdom with whom I lived at that moment left, on certain occasion, a mug in the kitchen containing an undetermined liquid, tea I reckon, and eventually they forgot about the mug, as well as the liquid inside. It was full to approximately one quarter of its capacity or so. Days went by, and with the poor mug fallen into the most absolute oblivion, at least by its legitimate owners, mould did not take long to show up. In the beginning there were only some shy and minute colonies floating on the surface, which I made out by chance one day while I was washing my own stuff, even if as time passed, a morbid and irresistible interest for the mug with the corrupt liquid started to take over my will, forcing me to have a daily look at the microscopic invaders’ progress. As time went by, the shy colonies gradually turned into a robust and thick layer covering all the surface of the liquid, and this surface itself started acquiring a consistency close to that of the candy floss you can buy in small villages’ festivals, with those windy filaments rising beyond the half of the mug’s height, whereas the liquid contained inside became more and more inconsistent and transparent, undoubtedly due to the unceasing work of  our tiny friends in their effort to extract even the last single nutritious particle from that miraculous soup. The clock ticked on relentlessly, hours were flying by, hours became days, days became weeks, and as these got lost in the mists of time, an odd as well as fascinating phenomenon took place in front of my surprised eyes: the level of the nutritious liquid contained in our well-known mug was unavoidably decreasing, as a result of the tireless oxidative effort of our sexless protagonists. After an unknown period of time, as so long it was that I cannot clearly recall it, the liquid disappeared, literally devoured by the avid colonies of microscopic fungi, so that only some rickety, thin and pulverulent colonies were still left, adhered to the bottom of the mug in a last and desperate attempt to find their way through the race of survival, but unfortunately condemned to the slowest and cruelest death throes due to starvation. Yes, my friends, I witnessed the birth, height and decline of a population, what do I mean a population! A society, a civilization in miniature. During the course of the time while I enjoyed a privileged position as an observer, entire mould genetic lineages perished in the most absolute ignominy while others, better adapted to the mug, arised by punctual mutations and perpetuated their succesful genes all over their liquid habitat.

The conclusion we can draw about all this is clear: undergraduate post-teenager students are so dirty, fucking hell!

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8 Responses to Mould Civilization. The Legend.

  1. A powerful thought…

  2. sofia says:

    blimey! very good observation iker and beautifully written

  3. Alfredo says:

    I think this is one of the best example of an amazing mix between science divulgation and sense of humour. I’m really really impressed.
    May the mould be with you!

  4. elizabeth says:

    Hi Iker, really enjoyed reading this you have a great way of writing. It kept me interested the whole way through… you should visit my flat… you’d get at least 20 blog posts out of the amount of mould on the walls!! Brilliant description of the post teenager undergraduates… I should know… fucking hell! 😉 xx

  5. karraspito says:

    Stephen J. Mould would be so proud…

  6. Sr. Bizarro says:

    I just would give a present to the people that left the cup. I will buy for them a cup, but with a Dionaea muscipula planted inside to trap flies. Just for a healthy world…

  7. iva says:

    All my admiration for such a great observation! And for the patience! Was it me the cup would be most likely washed way before the continuous white coat stage… Thanks for posting it. I enjoyed reading the whole story. Very well written!

  8. Genève (Heredianista) says:

    Lovely writing!

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