Everyday Junglist

Love in The Time Of Post-Apocalyptic Moulds

“Post Apocalyptic Moulds?, What the fuck is a post apocalyptic mold?” Aaron had to nearly scream to ensure his scavenging partner Dave, who was mostly obscured by the blowing black dust, would be able to hear him “I don’t know man, you tell me. What do I look like a fucking microbiologist?” Dave yelled back then doubled over, racked by a massive coughing fit, mostly the result of inhalation of the poisonous atmosphere, an unfortunate and unavoidable hazard of his chosen profession. Aaron rushed to his friends side, put his arm around him and helped him scoot around a corner to a quieter spot where they could sit, partially shielded from the hounding winds and ever present, deadly particulate filled air. “I have no idea either bro but I found this heart shaped locket partially buried in the muck about 20 clicks east of here. Etched on the surface, it says `From EJ to DJ: Post-Apocalypytic Moulds. All my love. December 2019’” Dave had mostly recovered from his coughing spasm and turned the locket over in his hands inspecting it closely as Aaron continued to describe what he had found. “When I opened it a small piece of neatly folded paper fell out.” He took back the locket than handed the now unfolded paper to Dave. “It’s the damndest thing, the print is so fucking tiny, but clearly hand written, I don’t know how the fuck the dude could write that small, and there are images, digitally rendered, of what the author describes as various incarnations of the post apocalyptic moulds.” Dave quickly scanned the scrap of paper, essentially confirming what Aaron had conveyed, then whistled softly to himself as the age of the object, and the potential implications slowly dawned on him. “2019, damn, that’s almost 50 years ago, and more than 10 years PC (pre-cataclysm).” “Yep. Crazy right? I’ve been slowly deciphering the text and think I mostly have it figured. Thank God we didn’t lose magnifying glass technology in the cataclysm” Aaron said half jokingly. He had more of a sense of humor than his best friend, but that was not saying much, and post cataclysm, humor was a thing in desperately short supply, much like water, food, and just about everything else. Dave glared at Aaron “Not funny bro. If you’re done playing stand up what does it say?”