As you all know, we have a very special pet in our hostel  called Tic Toc. He is a dwarf crocodile, a very rare species endemic to the London hostels, and his main duty is to open the luggage room for our lovely guests. However, he is also in charge of eating those who don’t do their dishes. Since eaten guests are usually bad for business, we have put up this warning in the kitchen in the hopes that it will make people wash their pots and pans, and so, survive the night.

Warning Sign

However, one fateful night, I made the mistake of ignoring this very serious warning. After all, so far my relationship with Tic Toc had been all laughs and giggles, and we even had a few dates but it didn’t pan out, so we stayed really good friends, and so I figured he would probably let this one go. I was wrong…

I was working at reception, pretending not to speak English so that guests will leave me alone, when I suddenly felt something on my shoulder.


Even before I looked, I could see my life flashing in front of my eyes. When this picture was taken I was just at the part when I discovered chocolate, which is why I look so happy. But, eventually, I decided to face my destiny and I looked the beast in the eyes.


Oh-oh! I thought. As he looked at me with a glare of disapproval, I tried to think of a way to escape my untimely death. I tried reasoning with him and, when that failed, I bargained and bargained and tried to offer him all that I had and what I didn’t have but I thought I could realistically steal. Nothing worked. All my pleas just seemed to make him even hungrier. Then, he made his move!



This, unfortunately, is my last known photograph, seconds before my death. It sucks that my last mark on this world shows me looking like that. I mean, just look at that face.

So, to make sure that no other innocent soul, guilty of nothing but of not doing their dishes, will suffer the same fate, I have come beyond the grave to write this blog post and to haunt this hostel.

Well, the haunting part is really just for fun.

On certain nights, when the moon starts to whisper her forgotten lullabies, you may still find my ghost seating at reception, just as I used to do when I was alive.

Actually, if I’m being completely honest, my spooky spectre is still doomed to work at the hostel.

I mean, who can haunt for free in this economy?

But anyway, just do your freaking dishes!