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Yeah. That’s how my Tuesday began.
I walked into the kitchen — coffee still brewing, eyes half-closed — and then I froze.
Right there on the wall, where a splash of paint should’ve lived in peace, was something… pink. And foamy. And weird.
Not pink like cherry blossom or Barbie dreamland — but pink like a chewed-up eraser that had somehow fossilized. Eight centimeters long. Slightly bent. Crunchy-looking, like a hardened marshmallow that’d gone rogue.
It was glued — glued — into the corner of the wall like it had grown there overnight. At first, my caffeine-deprived brain ran wild. Was it a mutant shrimp? A piece of Halloween candy that climbed out of the trash for revenge? Some kind of strange, wall-borne growth?
I blinked. It was still there.
Of course, in a moment of sheer panic (and mild curiosity), I did what any reasonable adult would do. I posted it on Reddit.
Within minutes, the theories rolled in — fast and furious.
Ah yes, the internet — a comforting mix of helpful DIY-ers and horror story enthusiasts with a flair for the dramatic.
Thing is… it didn’t smell.
It didn’t move.
It didn’t even feel particularly natural.
I poked it gently with the end of a wooden spoon like a nervous scientist. It crunched faintly. Not like Styrofoam — more like something dehydrated, like the last chunk of a pot noodle that didn’t make it into the bowl.
There was no hole above it.
No drip trail.
No obvious source.
Just this fleshy pink blob, as if the wall had decided to manifest a polyp in protest of my décor.
It didn’t sit right with me.
It looked… deliberate.
So I called the one man who always has some answer, even if it’s not the right one — my landlord.
He walked in, glanced at the thing once, and — I kid you not — laughed.
Then, in a scene I can only describe as “horror movie but boring,” he took a single disinfectant wipe, swiped it clean off the wall (crunch included), and tossed the now pink-streaked wipe into the trash.
No gloves.
No pause.
No horror.
“It’s probably just some old sealing foam,” he said, smirking. “Let me know if it comes back.”
And then he left.
That’s it.
No dramatic exit, no speculation, not even a slight acknowledgment that something had grown out of my wall like a cursed fungus from a haunted Airbnb.
Landlords, man.
Honestly? I still don’t know. But here’s the most logical explanation, according to Reddit, my own paranoid deep dive, and a few too many home improvement YouTube rabbit holes:
It was probably old expanding insulation foam that had squeezed out of a small crack, maybe from behind the drywall or a long-forgotten hole sealed during a haphazard patch job. These foams can age badly, change color, and re-expand years later if exposed to moisture or heat.
Still, there’s that small voice in my head — the one that binge-watches conspiracy TikToks at 1 a.m. — whispering:
“What if it wasn’t foam? What if it was something else?”
The truth is: I’ll never really know.
But I do have pictures.
And a clean patch of wall where the pink foam once dared to bloom.
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