Slugging It Out In DC Traffic
So I bolt out of the house, grab the Washington Post in its plastic sleeve from off the lawn, swing into my car and head for the Metro to go to work on Thursday.
I notice on my left pants leg a dollop of gray auto lube, which makes no sense. "Goddammit, how did that get there!" I ask no one, and use my left thumbnail to take off, thinking it mustn't linger and soak into the material. I am driving with that hand, thumb outstretched to keep the grease off the steering wheel, and grabbing around blindly with my right hand on the ash tray area for a Kleenex or paper or something to wipe my thumb, in complete violation of everything I learned as a teen in driver's ed. This is how accidents happen, you know.
Awareness that I was going something stupid must have woken me up more fully, because in mid-grabbing-around, my eyes focus went from the road to the side-mirror and back, onto my thumb. It was beautifully back lit by the road ahead, and I could see that was no blob of axle grease, IT WAS A SLUG.
Not sure if I screamed. After a little near lane-changing, I got hold of a stiff piece of paper and convinced my hitchhiker to crawl off my finger and onto the paper, which I had to keep rotating to keep him from escaping. Poor beast! Is it possible for a slug to look puzzled riding around on a thumb? Suddenly finding himself hoisted into the air?
(Slug's casts his little eye-stalks around wildly, saying in slug speak, "How did I get up in the air? Where am I? Why is this women screaming? WHAT IS GOING ON???")
He had an even more puzzling adventure in a few minutes. When we arrived at the parking garage, 5th floor, I had no greenery upon which to park him, after I parked the car. So I ran over to several sides, looking down with my slug-on-paper for grass or someplace a slug wouldn't be squashed or dried out. Finally, the south facing side had a lovely tree on grass, so I ripped off the square containing my hitchhiker, took a deep breath, and dropped him toward the tree - down and down, caught by a breeze, winging perilously close to a cement landing - no, slug, no! - then he finally lands on the grass, off the beaten path. No idea of his final fate. I only hope he held onto the paper until it landed softly.
When I got to work, I had to do a little spot-cleaning for where he had slimed my pants leg. I told some coworkers, and was told by one, "You know you're gonna have a dream about this tonight, only it'll be this big (indicates 5 feet long with his arms) and coming after you!" If I did, I don't remember. I did remember to check the newspaper bag for slugs the next day, however, before I got into the car.
I notice on my left pants leg a dollop of gray auto lube, which makes no sense. "Goddammit, how did that get there!" I ask no one, and use my left thumbnail to take off, thinking it mustn't linger and soak into the material. I am driving with that hand, thumb outstretched to keep the grease off the steering wheel, and grabbing around blindly with my right hand on the ash tray area for a Kleenex or paper or something to wipe my thumb, in complete violation of everything I learned as a teen in driver's ed. This is how accidents happen, you know.
Awareness that I was going something stupid must have woken me up more fully, because in mid-grabbing-around, my eyes focus went from the road to the side-mirror and back, onto my thumb. It was beautifully back lit by the road ahead, and I could see that was no blob of axle grease, IT WAS A SLUG.
Not sure if I screamed. After a little near lane-changing, I got hold of a stiff piece of paper and convinced my hitchhiker to crawl off my finger and onto the paper, which I had to keep rotating to keep him from escaping. Poor beast! Is it possible for a slug to look puzzled riding around on a thumb? Suddenly finding himself hoisted into the air?
(Slug's casts his little eye-stalks around wildly, saying in slug speak, "How did I get up in the air? Where am I? Why is this women screaming? WHAT IS GOING ON???")
He had an even more puzzling adventure in a few minutes. When we arrived at the parking garage, 5th floor, I had no greenery upon which to park him, after I parked the car. So I ran over to several sides, looking down with my slug-on-paper for grass or someplace a slug wouldn't be squashed or dried out. Finally, the south facing side had a lovely tree on grass, so I ripped off the square containing my hitchhiker, took a deep breath, and dropped him toward the tree - down and down, caught by a breeze, winging perilously close to a cement landing - no, slug, no! - then he finally lands on the grass, off the beaten path. No idea of his final fate. I only hope he held onto the paper until it landed softly.
When I got to work, I had to do a little spot-cleaning for where he had slimed my pants leg. I told some coworkers, and was told by one, "You know you're gonna have a dream about this tonight, only it'll be this big (indicates 5 feet long with his arms) and coming after you!" If I did, I don't remember. I did remember to check the newspaper bag for slugs the next day, however, before I got into the car.