Whoa, all of these slugs are really starting to get annoying, right? Those slick sacks of goo are just all over the damn place. Don’t you just hate slipping on, crushing, and murdering whole families of slugs? I mean, what’s up with that? I feel like there should’ve been some sort of email about this by now. My room is in complete darkness since every square inch of my window is covered in a thick, viscous layer of straight slug, and I just don’t know what to do!
But I’m sorry—I’ve been rambling again. How are you dealing with the slug plague?
Wait, what did you just say? Do you not see the slugs? How could you not even notice them? I wake up every morning, covered head to toe in slug, and you maybe saw one on your bike basket once? Oh, now you’re pretty sure it was a snail? Okay. I’m a little pissed off now, not gonna lie. Do you just walk around with every sensory nerve in your entire body completely shut off? The things I would do, the unspeakable crimes against God that I would commit, to not see another one of those mucous-laden bags with their beady little eyes.
No one else has even mentioned this whole slug locust thing? I…must be a prophet, a soothsayer of what is to come. Luckily, now you sort of have a grasp on what the slimy future holds, but I must warn the others before it’s too late, and those pouches of gelatin run/slowly crawl rampant. Still a little miffed about all of my clothes being soaked with slug juice, but I must fulfill my moral duty to humanity. Godspeed.
