Thursday, December 17, 2009

Chased By A Giant Slug


For the past few weeks, I've noticed that there has been a "slug trail" on the rug at the bottom of our garage stairs that lead up to the kitchen door. Every time I'd walk on that rug, I'd shudder just a little because I'm not overly fond of slugs and the thought that one was lurking somewhere in the garage did not bring peace, happiness or serenity to my little, ol' slug-hatin' heart.

Well, Monday night I had to go out into the garage for something. I put my foot on the first step into the garage, looked down and there on the stairs. Was. The. Slug.

I stared.

I shrieked.

I threw my hands up in the air and fluttered them wildly.

I jumped up and down.

I shrieked again.

And then I turned and ran back into the house.

My gym mates would have never even recognized me. The slow moving, forty-something woman on the treadmill who plodded along beside them week after week had been miraculously transformed into a gold medal runner.

I flung myself through the kitchen. I screeched around the corner. I sprinted down the hall. I hit the stairs at warp speed squared, all the while imagining that the slug had suddenly grown into a nine-foot creature and was, at that very moment, racing behind me through the house, breathing down my neck and plotting (in his little slug brain) my imminent capture and eventual demise.

I thundered up the stairs, feet pounding in horror, heart beating in terror, mind bursting with the dreaded "slug news" that I would have to share with my unsuspecting family.

I flew around the corner of the bedroom where Steve was seated placidly in a comfortable chair, calmly reading a book. He had obviously heard me coming (who could miss the sound of all that gasping and galloping?) and stared at me in some curiosity, waiting for me to catch my breath and find the words that would best express the magnitude of the situation to his husbandly ears.

I was finally able to gasp out the hideous, horrible, horrendous news.

"Steve! There. Is. A. Slug!" (I almost added, "And it's chasing me up the stairs" but I wisely opted not to.)

Steve stared at me and I stared at him and then I repeated myself in even more hysterical fashion. "A slug! Downstairs! In the garage! Do something!"

Now obviously Steve knew this wasn't an emergency. This was not a nine-foot rattlesnake curled up in the living room, nor a rabid raccoon racing through the dining room. This was a slug.

Slugs, by their very nature, are sluggish. Slow moving. Non panic-inducing.

However, Steve has been married to me for a long time and he is smart and wise enough to know that anything that causes me to sprint and thunder around the house deserves his immediate attention. (Sprinting and thundering are not on my usual list of daily activities.)

So he mustered up some alacrity and some sense of urgency (so that I would be impressed by his great husbandly concern) and diligently plodded downstairs to deal with this threat to Homeland National Security, not to mention Smith Wife Happiness.

I stayed upstairs in the bedroom, wringing my hands and hoping against hope that the slug had not by that time, grown to fifteen feet, attacked Steve and carried him away to the dreaded Kingdom of the Slugs.

Then the thought occurred to me that I should go and share the news with Sarah so that she would be prepared to run for her life should the slug escape from Steve and come running after her as well.

She listened calmly to my ranting, watched curiously the flinging of my hands in the air and gave me the most sympathetic look she could muster in the face of this extreme non-emergency.

A few minutes later, my own personal Sir Galahad returned from his mission. He did not thunder or sprint or wring his hands. He merely stated with the greatest of masculine calm, "Dear, the slug is now outside."

I shrieked, "You TOUCHED it? You got NEAR it? You saw it up CLOSE?"

Another round of hand wringing and hand flinging followed at the very thought of having actual contact with the terrorizing creature. I finally sat down in a chair in the bedroom and started to take DEEP breaths.

By this time, Sarah had joined Steve in the room and they gathered around me, trying to express their great sympathy and compassion in the best way they could, while all the while attempting to keep themselves from giggling out loud at my unaccustomed display of drama.

When Steve finally realized that I was going to survive the trauma and was becoming a little more calm he said, "I bet you went through all these theatrics just so that you could have a new blog story to write."

Sarah burst out laughing and said, "Yeah, Mom! You just wanted something to write about on the site!"

I put on my most offended face and said, "I am NOT going to write about this!"

And they said, "Yeah, right."

And I thought to myself, "Well, maybe . .

9 Had Something To Say (Just click here!):

randybethmo said...

Yes...I too laughed at this entry the first time you wrote of it -- and guess what? I am still laughing!!! Thank you so much for sharing. I hope that the unpacking is going well and dwindling. Have a great weekend!

Nancy said...

Thanks!

Random said...

Brilliant. I had completely forgotten this entry, but it still makes me laugh! I love slugs and all things slightly squishy and creepy, but I guess for the sake of those who don't, we can be glad they aren't fast-moving.
I wonder why there are so many slugs near the ocean (they were plentiful the year I did research at the marine station in Bamfield, too) despite the salty air. Perhaps the humidity outweighs the salt?
In any case... at least sea slugs are beautiful.

Anonymous said...

I remember this entry from it's 1st airing. It still brought a smille to my face today. Have you checked your new home for slugs? You should..especially the 9 footers!!

Have a good day!

Krista
Boise, ID

Anonymous said...

I, too, laughed again at this retelling. I think there was a movie about the 15 foot slug - it was called "The Blob"! Only kidding!

Love, Guerrina

Anonymous said...

Many years ago, I took two separate sign language courses, but I never could learn to "read" the signs.
They went too fast. But, I had my book, so I, too, like Megan, would learn the signs for the songs that I taught my Junior Kindergartners. I also directed the
Juniors, Seniors, and First Graders when we would do special musical assemblies (apart from the ones the Music teacher had). My favorite was "Let there Be Peace on Earth." First we'd sing it, then sing and sign.
And then Miss Patti would play it (in a higher key, I think...you know, I don't read music) and the children would just sign it with the accompaniment.
That would always make me cry.... not only because it was so beautiful, but because it showed that the children really knew what they were signing.

Sure hope I got all my gn/ngs in the right order for that message.
xxoo
mrs pam

Jenny said...

Just stopping by from SITS :D

Anonymous said...

It's nikki from the blogathon! Saw your link on SITS! hehe. LOVE this story. I hope all of you are well!

Cha Cha said...

OH YOU CRACK ME UP. THANKS FOR SHARING AND HAPPY NEW YEAR