I really feel sorry for slugs. I saw one on my way to school the other day that had obviously been so slow that he iced over in the night.
I can imagine him desperately trying to drag his frozen lower half into the shelter of a nearby bush.. but the frost soon caught up with him and he was all like 'DAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH'
So I picked up the ice cube and took it home. It was preserved much like a joke fly from a novelty store. Apart from this was real and not a perfect cube and if it was in your drink you would have been even more displeased when I said '...Yeah well, its actually a real slug - you just drank some slime.'
And I took it into my room and wanted to defrost him, much like you would with a bit of meat from the freezer. I took great care of this slug and kept him in a cage by my bed with all of the lettuce his tiny, greasy heart desired.
The following day when I got home from my schooling, I was surprised to see he had managed to break out of his cage - which consisted of about 20 toothpicks stuck together with distributed weight much like a house of cards. I was angry that he hadn't listened to me when I said not to go anywhere but nonetheless I was terrified at the thought of losing him - as any mother figure would.
Many questions popped into my head such as 'How will he know his way back?', 'What will he eat?' and 'How the f**king hell did he break out of that cage without hands?'
I went down stairs and found him playing Call of Duty: Black Ops on the PS3 and I was so angry. He had prestiged my account when I told him specifically not to (the same time I told him not to venture out of his cage).
More questions popped into my head such as 'Why did he disobey my clear requests?', 'Does he not love me any more?' and 'How the f**king hell did he break out of that cage without hands?'
I approached him and asked him if he wanted a drink. He did not reply. This was not very much like him. Usually he'd squirm to the left (that was yes) or to the right (that was no) or up and then down (that meant he wanted me to do him a strip tease).
I then asked him if he wanted another strip tease and he paused the playstation and moved furiously up... and then down. He must have wanted me to do it badly.
As I was undoing my zipper, even more questions went through my head, 'Does he love me in ways other than family?', 'Maybe he needs more food?' and 'How the f**king hell did he pause the Playstation?'
At this moment my mother walked into the room. She was presented with a view of a young boy's pale white bum cheeks slipping up and down either side of a garden slug. I felt so exposed and vulnerable.
Masses of thoughts rushed through my head: 'What would she think of me?', 'Would she ever talk to me again?' and 'How the f**king hell did she break out of her cage?'
In embarrassment I picked up the slug and told my mother to turn on the gas and heat up the frying pan.
She replied in shock but quickly adhered to my authoritative commands. I placed the slug onto a plate and made my mother sit down at the table. I placed some oil into the pan and as some evaporated, the rest seemed to form pictures that reminded me of the first time I met the slug. A man I met in a park at the age of 6 once said to me: If a family member ever finds out about what we did here today.. cook them a nice meal.
I thank God that I met him because he showed me some new and interesting things in that park that I didn't ever think to try...
For example 'Moroccan Lamb' is now one of my mother's favourites dishes.
The pan was just about the right temperature after this little tangent and so the slug was ready to go in. As I picked him up from the plate, he seemed to grip it rather tightly perhaps suggesting that he shouldn't be subjected to such a horrible death.
Sizzle Sizzle... sizzle.....sizzle...POP!
I felt kinda bad for murdering a friend. But then again - he did taste f**king brilliant.
