The Mold ... THE MOLD by THOMAS J. MISURACA Drake stared at the moldy gelatin. The moldy gelatin stared back. "What the hell!" Drake exclaimed and jumped back from the refrigerator. The once red, but now red with green spots, two tier gelatin ...
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THE MOLD
by
THOMAS J. MISURACA
Drake stared at the moldy gelatin. The moldy gelatin stared back.
"What the hell!" Drake exclaimed and jumped back from the refrigerator.
The once red, but now red with green spots, two tier gelatin had two white eyes,
with small black pupils, staring out the top tier.
"Don't be alarmed," the gelatin spoke from a thin mouth on the bottom
tier, "I bring you tidings of great joy."
Drake slammed the refrigerator door. What was he going to do with a talking gelatin
mold? He should have thrown it out weeks ago, when the first specks of mold developed.
He reopened the refrigerator and asked: "What do you want?"
"It's not what I want," the gelatin replied, "But what I can give."
"What's that?"
"The Knowledge of the Universe."
"The Knowledge of the Universe?" Drake laughed, "From a moldy desert?"
"I am an old and wise gelatin."
"Old maybe," Drake agreed, "But far from wise."
"I come from wise beginning."
"I know exactly where you came from-- a little blue box! I made you myself,
about six or seven months ago, from a mold my mother gave me for Christmas."
"You merely changed my form."
"And I'll change it again," Drake threatened, "Down the garbage
disposal!"
"So be it," the gelatin frowned, "Who needs Universal Knowledge
anyway?"
"Right," Drake slammed the refrigerator again. He thought about washing
the gelatin down the sink, but that would involve talking to it again. He'd deal
with it in the morning.
Drake woke in the middle of the night wondering if he should have listened
to the gelatin's Knowledge of the Universe. It might come in useful someday.
He went to the refrigerator to check on the gelatin. It appeared to be asleep,
but stirred as Drake examined it.
"Are you comfortable?" Drake asked.
"Quite."
"Good."
They stood in silence for a moment.
"Are you growing arms?" Drake asked.
"Only slightly."
"Well... have a good night then."
"Thank you," the gelatin replied, "You, too."
Drake returned to bed and dreamed of a talking angle food cake. They chatted for
a few minutes before it sprouted majestic wings and flew away.
When the alarm clock rang, Drake rushed to tell the gelatin of his dream. He was
so excited, he didn't comment on the two hands sprouting out from between the
gelatin's two tiers.
"Interesting dream," the gelatin commented.
"Do you dream?" Drake asked.
"Now and then."
"About what?"
"People who become gelatin molds."
When Drake got home from work, he heard strange noises coming from the refrigerator.
Inside, he discovered the gelatin rearranging the shelves.
"Just wanted to make the place a little more homey," the gelatin explained.
"Please do," though he felt it was rude to move things around without
his permission, Drake he was distracted by two stubs protruding from the gelatin's
bottom.
"Are you growing legs?"
"Somewhat."
"Oh," Drake closed the refrigerator.
As Drake lay in bed, he thought about the gelatin. The refrigerator was too small
for it. He decided to offer it his spare room.
The next morning, Drake rushed downstairs to make his offer. When he opened the
refrigerator, the gelatin mold jumped out with its new legs and began to dance
around the kitchen.
"I'm free!" It sang, "I'm free!"
It reminded Drake of the cartoon fruits he often found amusing as a child.
"Well," the gelatin said, "It's been fun, but I must leave now."
"Where will you go?" Drake asked.
"To seek out adventure. Would you like to come?"
"I just can't get up and leave," Drake declined, "I have too many
responsibilities. Maybe some other time."
"So be it."
Drake followed the gelatin to the door. "I guess this is it."
"I guess so."
They shook hands.
"Good luck," Drake wished.
"Luck has nothing to do with it," the gelatin said.
Drake watched as the gelatin walked up the street. When it was out of sight, Drake
closed the door and returned to the kitchen. He opened a cabinet and pulled out
the mold his mother gave him for Christmas. As he prepared the gelatin ingredients,
he thought perhaps he should have offered the gelatin that spare room.
"The Mold" first published in Compost Newsletter, Spring/Summer 1994
and reprinted in The Nocturnal Lyric #43, January 1996.
