There’s a dead slug on my front porch. It was crushed, shell and all by one of my lumbering neighbors for all I know, but I’m not here to discuss the possible CSI: Los Angeles slug situation brewing on my porch, I don’t need LL Cool J at my doorstep (again), I’m here to tell you about a different phenomenon. No one told me about the vast amount of slugs that come from seemingly everywhere the moment a drop of any liquid hits the sidewalk in California. When the sprinklers come on outside my apartment complex, I have an army of slugs that populate the sidewalk with an intensity fueled by thousands of years of human sprawl. For the last few nights, as I prepare to maneuver through the shell-backed collection of slimy crawlers to let my dog pee, I notice a single slug sitting/standing/laying down next to the crushed slug corpse on the porch. Is this the slug’s wife, husband or family member mourning? Now I don’t want to clean up the corpse — at least for a week. What is the proper time to let a slug grieve for it’s lost mate? I can picture the two of them at dinner, back when the flattened slug was full of life: ‘stay away from the salty foods, honey.’ It breaks my heart.
None of that has to do with Michael Bisping rolling with Jake Shields in preparation for Alan Belcher at UFC 159, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t watch this video by Rick Lee. I’m going to go light some incense by the slug corpse now.
