Pages From Life

[That Guy With Maus]

It wasn't long after I moved to the Pacific Northwest that I started hearing slug stories.

There were the usual ones like "10 million slugs can't be wrong". And it seemed like everyone knew some kid who tried to eat a slug when they were little. It was usually a neighbor or a brother or sister, but I actually met someone who admitted to trying to eat one. I'm told one bite is all it takes.

Other stories involve salt, but I'll skip those.

They're slimy little things. They're so slimy that they leave a trail wherever they go.

An old girlfriend told me about a time when she was a little girl that she collected a bunch of slugs in a pan and took them inside the house to show her dad. When she found him asleep on the sofa she decided to put the pan under the sofa and go and play some more. When she finally came back there were slug trails leading in every direction from the pan.

A friend once told me about a time she was sitting in her living room watching TV when she noticed a line running up the wall and across the ceiling. It was an old house and since old houses tend to settle and crack, she figured that's what it was. Then she noticed that the crack went across the face of the clock hanging on the wall. Upon closer examination she realized it was a slug trail.

Since I didn't grow up here I don't have any slug stories of my own. And in a way, I'm glad.

[T L Cole]

To pass over the salt option is to leave out the best part of growing up around slugs. As a little kid the excitement to walk out the front door in the morning to see a couple slugs hanging - or should I say, slithering - out. The time it took to do an about face and run back into the house would of had any baseball coach left in awe. Once the salt shacker was obtained it was another about face back out to create the crime scene. Yes, with in minutes the slug was shriveled up never to leave a slime trail agian. The day would progress with a feeling of satisfaction after such a honored task of salting a slug!