Monday, May 19, 2003

I've been studying slugs. Everybody needs a hobby. I've noticed there are two distinct types.
Firstly there's the common old garden slug, which is small in stature, generally black or dark brown, has two horns on its head and resembles one of those horrible black liquorice all sorts that's been left overnight in a glass of hot water. These annoying but generally harmless gastropods nibble my hostas and shrivel up when placed beneath a magnifying glass.
The second type is the house slug. These creatures are large and look like turds. They are light brown in colour with bright orange saddles and pointed teeth. They eat cheese and biscuits late at night as well as the common garden slugs should any of them stray into my kitchen. Some house slugs grow up to fifteen feet in length and can swallow the kitchen sink in one bite.
Last night I crept downstairs in my dressing gown with a torch and watched four of them feasting on a horse that had got itself wedged in the overflow pipe from my sink. It was a ghastly sight but a fascinating one to witness. Fortunately, none of them knew I was there. But I was. Oh yes I was. Hiding behind the vacuum cleaner with my blunderbuss, waiting patiently in the shadows, biding my time, listening to the dull thuds and wheezes of my heart as it moved about the living room...watching their movements intently, the gentle heave of their bosoms in the night, the aroma of muslin mixed with slug sweat.
Then suddenly, movement!
The shred of cupboard doors!
The crash of pots and pans and cutlery!
The screams of terror as five slimy hatchlings fresh from this season's clutch felt the might of two steaming cartridges slamming into their foreheads!
There will be drinking in the anti-slug headquarters tonight. And there will be tears down at the police station where the inhuman cadavers, shapeless and oozing, are even now being reeled in on dripping stretchers.