Welcome To The Bitchery
Welcome To The Bitchery

Heeeey everybody. So... It’s been a while.

Actually it’s been like three years. And for that I apologize. I went and got a “real job” and lost most of my free time in the exchange. Then to top it off my “hop around the country and race cars” side hustle took off, so I’ve wound up spending 70-ish days a year on the road for that nonsense, which is fun, but pretty much jackhammers the final nail in the “free time” coffin. To everyone who was here back before I vanished, I’ve missed you! To those who found GT after I left...


I’ve been meaning to come back here for a long time, if for no other reason than to give the end to the story of Cousin Mooch. I kinda left it in the air, and someone (I think Adultosaur) even messaged me once asking what happened. So, long, long overdue, here’s how it all ended!

(For those who missed the Chronicles of Mooch, or need a refresher because it’s been forever and I’m a terrible person, here’s Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3)

So my last update on Cousin Mooch was in November 2014, which is about the same time I started my “real job.” Because of said job I wasn’t around the funeral home nearly as much, but I still checked in a few days a week. Mooch was still deeply embedded, the unpleasant routine of his infestation had become “normal.” Then, in January, a ray of hope cracked the darkness! Dad told me Mooch had filed for assisted housing at one of the senior apartments downtown and was approved! He was getting his own place and would no longer be fouling up ours! We could return to only having to deal with the smell of actual death and not his far more pungent stench.


February came. Mooch was still living in the funeral home. Then March. Then April.

I asked dad what had happened, if Mooch had lost the apartment somehow. Nope, he’d had the apartment since early January, was paying for it even, but refused to move in because it didn’t have any furniture (bed, couch, table, TV). Mooch of course made zero efforts to acquire those things. In late April we got fed up enough that we went to the store, bought him all the furniture and appliances he said he needed, then took it all to his apartment and set it all up for him. There was no reason for him not to leave now.


Or so we thought, but May came and went and he was still there. Dad, as ever, was too busy and too decent to force him out. It seemed this nightmare really did have no end. Then, a surprise twist. There was a family reunion in Ohio planned for July. I wasn’t going to be able to go because I had a schedule conflict with a race, but dad, my brother, and Mooch were all planning on piling into the van and driving out. A week before the reunion Mooch announces he’s moving out of the funeral home. He calls a few of his friends and has all his stuff cleared out in two days. The suddenness of it all caught my dad off guard and made no sense, until they got to the reunion. Mooch spent the weekend strutting around the place like a king and bragging to everyone about how he’s his own independent man living in his own place. Dad almost sprained something from constantly rolling his eyes, but we know better than to look a gift horse in the ass. Whatever the reason we were finally free. Two months or so later we were finally free from his lingering stench as well. He still calls dad occasionally, asking dad to bring him food (sometimes dad agrees, sometimes he doesn’t), but he hasn’t set foot back in the funeral home since. Huzzah!

Two final parting gifts though:

When he left we discovered that despite having the bedroom that connects directly to the second floor bathroom, he decided to abscond with one of the kitchen mixing bowls and use it as his personal pee bowl. We’re 80% sure he dumped it out in the kitchen sink at least once.


Driving out to the family reunion Mooch rode in the back of my dad’s minivan while my dad and brother were in the front. After the trip dad found out that instead of saying he had to pee, Mooch had been quietly peeing in empty soda cans during the drive. Some of them had tipped.

Never again.

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