Posts Tagged ‘thunder or lightning’

Quotidian Gastropod Rapture

Upon first arriving in at our home in Beeston, Bethany and I ventured out into the biting cold and inconsistent rainfall of the evening that typifies our locale. I believe we were in desperate need of cookies, or adult diapers (I don’t want to talk about it). After stepping through our entryway, I witnessed a veritable cornucopia of slugs strewn about the sidewalk and brick walls that line our street accompanied by several of their cantankerous and anti-social cousins, the snails. It was as though somebody had detonated a slug bomb on our avenue (wouldn’t that be an amazing invention? Mayhap someone will invent such an apparatus. How angry could someone truly be after hearing a loud explosion to find themselves bedaubed in slime-exuding creatures, rather than seriously injured?… happy birthday, Katie) When we returned moments later, though, the rain had subsided and all of the slugs had vanished from sight.

Over the next several days, I took note of the mucus trails that painted the footpath in the backyard every morning, though it was little more than a fleeting observation. It was not until a mid-morning journey into the town centre that I confronted the issue espoused in the title of this entry. High-stepping down the sidewalk, as is my prerogative, I nearly planted my foot upon (and performed the compulsory skate/slide) a lone slug. I believe it attempted to move more quickly out of the way, but it was difficult to gauge from its facial expression or body language as to whether it was exerting itself in any way. Without thought, I found myself uttering, “What’s he doing out at this hour?” Not that I object to diurnal slug-activity any longer, as in the folly of my youth and association with such rabble prejudiced against this slithering kind. The question immediately resulted in a mental response, “Why shouldn’t he be out during the day?” and further, “Do you ever encounter slugs at midday, aside from this new friend? Where do slugs go when the darkness fades away?” or, as my wife would say, “Wey de hell de slugs is?”

I have contemplated numerous theories, and have narrowed it down to these three most likely scenarios:

1.) Slugs are daily raptured into the presence of the Lord. This means that all the amillennial and postmillennial slug believers were wrong, and that the lone wolf of a slug that I encountered the other day was the Kirk Cameron of the slug world: he was… Left Behind. Further, this means that every day is the period of tribulation, during which the remaining slugs must avoid the wrath from above, which manifests as a hailstorm of enormous mammals rain down their feet upon these plodding creatures. The slugs in heaven look down upon their brethren partly in sadness, yet also with joy for having adhered to the correct eschatology. This is of little matter though, as their lack of a complex central nervous system means that they forget the scenario every evening when the Lord returns them to the earth. Oh! If only the others knew that a theology of the end-of-time developed in the late-1800s, pseudo-confirmed by the formation of Israel (because their adherents brought about said formation), though difficult to prove by a careful reading of the text, they too could partake in the diurnal marshalling of slug souls.

2.) They are the Jekyll and Hyde creatures of the animal kingdom; able to transform from slug by night to pigeon by day. Ponder it for a moment. Though seemingly unrelated, they share several key characteristics of note: intelligence- though a biologist will insist that pigeons are of a higher neurological order than slugs, experiential evidence dictates otherwise; both are disgusting- slugs leave a trail of mucus, while pigeons have the uncanny capacity to have a bowel movement at precisely the wrong time (such as in Amsterdam when a certain someone is walking on his way to the train station); alchemy- slugs are frequently ingredients used by witches in the concocting of a special potions. In all their years of observation beside the cauldron witnessing sorcerers/pseudo-chemists attempting to transform lead into gold, is it not possible that they discovered the key to transformation of matter, but that their limited mental functions and resources led them to settle on this avian as the highest order of life? The slug I found out at lunchtime may have forgotten the spell, or not realized that it was daytime due to the sun’s inability to penetrate through the clouds. I certainly hope Jesus does not attempt to return via England as we will have no idea which way to look.

3.) Slugs have mastered hide-and-go-seek. The game involves more than a few chums staying the night, or a sanctuary at a church lock-in. This mofo is worldwide. Our roaming snail was “it.”

These are clearly the most logical conclusions that one may draw from the situation.

Aside from this observation, there is little else of note. The other day, Bethany and I passed an apartment complex called 2BM, and I thought, “That’s redundant.”

*Flash-bang*

From a religious badger,                                                                                                                                 Friar Talbert

P.S. If you are a malacologist, please do not respond to this post… buzzkill.