Monday, April 27, 2009

Attack of the 50ft Woman



I was going to devote a post to The Attack of the 50ft Woman, but there's only so much you can say about 50 ft women. They're, well, rather tall and have breasts that could double as inter continental ballistic missiles.

Instead I have decided to devote a few words to slugs. I have a fiercely held (though empirically unproven) conviction that slugs appear through wormholes in the space/time continuum. They appear overnight from nowhere to deposit their slime on my hallway parquet flooring. Gratifyingly they dissolve when sprinkled with salt, but unfortunately this doesn't stop them emerging from the wormhole the next night.

There are few less pleasant experiences than a slug squelched underfoot. The resultant goo oozing between ones toes is a cross between snot and a lightly poached egg. Wiping the essence of slugness from between ones toes is not the perfect start to the day.

That is all I have to say about slugs at this time.

9 comments:

mapstew said...

Be thankful they're not 50ft slugs!

Madame DeFarge said...

Slugs are not good. But playing with salt and slugs is good. Does that make me cruel and heartless?

Jimmy Bastard said...

Parquet is it? Holy mother of Christ, you'll be moving to Bearsden next, with the other upper crusts.

Just be glad they're not the infamous 50ft slags from Ardrossan!

Peevish McSnark said...

Oh how I hate the slimy bastards! I've never found them indoors, though. Do you leave your windows open?

KAZ said...

I consider a lightly poached egg to be about as appetising as snot - so this post was not the best way to start my day.
Thankyou Garfer.

MJ said...

We have Banana Slugs!

Mopsa said...

You're lucky it's not rat or mouse innards squidging between those toes of yours.
And I'd have thought salt on parquet was a very bad idea....unless you like to eat salted slug?

Tessa said...

I used to live in a bedsit in Birmingham, many years ago. It was a lovely bedsit in all respects except one—waking up every morning to find slug trails across my blankets. I never found out how or where they were getting in, or why they found my bedclothes so attractive. But, in the spirit of you can get used to anything if you just flatly refuse to think about it, I stayed in that bedsit for two years. And in all that time, I never saw one of the little blighters, just the evidence of their nightly trek across my recumbent, and probably loudly snoring, body.

The Poet Laura-eate said...

She goes nicely with the Tunnocks Teacakes packaging though. Perhaps she could advertise their health-giving properties!

;- )