The Slug

When I was a relatively young child, whenever I saw worms in the road, I would pick them up and transport them to the sides in order to prevent their deaths.

One time, a bright orange slug was slithering along or whatever slugs do. In order to assist it and keep it alive, I attempted to pick it up. The second my fingers grazed its skin, it recoiled and an orange slime flushed out of its glistening slug flesh, sticking to my hand.

I yelled at it and told it that I had been trying to rescue it as my mother brought me back home.

When I attempted to wash my hands, we swiftly came to the realization that the slime would not easily be removed. We brought out increasingly bristly towels and washcloths, scrubbing hard, for several minutes at the very least until, eventually, we succeeded.

Slugs are jerks. They don’t deserve to be saved.

And yes, I did continue to rescue earthworms. They’re perfectly decent organisms and could use a little more respect. I mean, we treat humans nicely, sometimes even humans with the same level of consideration as earthworms.

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