COLD SESAME NOODLES + TRIVIA + RIDDLE + HUMOR + ART ILLUSTRATIONS

LOST IN SUBURBIA
BY TRACY BECKERMAN

Living in the suburbs, I encounter lots of wildlife to keep my on my toes.  I’ve had several run-ins with aggressive squirrels, a quarrel with a cranky woodchuck, an unfortunate encounter with a pissed-off skunk.  But none of this prepared me for the monster thing I stumbled upon while we were on vacation in the woods.  This thing was so big and so scary, I thought I might end up spending the whole two weeks indoors.  It was gargantuan.  It was behemothic.  It was…

A slug.

Now this was not just any slug.  I’ve seen slugs in the past in my yard and on my deck that were your normal, everyday, garden-variety slugs.  This was not that slug.  This slug was was the largest, slimiest gastropod I had ever laid eyes on in my life.  It was brown with dark spots and probably about eight feet — I mean, inches — long, stretched across the middle of the front wooden stoop where I had nearly stepped on it.  Surely, had that happened, it would have swallowed my foot, maybe my whole leg, depending on how hungry a monster slug gets.

Fortunately, I noticed it just before I put my foot down and half-jumped/half catapulted over it onto the grass below.

“Joel!”  I shrieked to my husband inside.  “Help!”

He came running out with the dog and a bat.  We had heard on the news that there were bears in the area, and I’m sure the first thing that ran through his head was that I was under attack by an angry bear.  I’m also sure the thing that didn’t run through his head that I was under attack by a giant slug.  To be fair to the slug, it hadn’t actually tried to attack me.  But I had no idea if slugs were territorial and might get aggressive when threatened.  Was it possible to get slimed to death?  I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t want to be the first person to find out.

Fortunately, my husband lunged out the door and over the stoop, missing the giant slug entirely, which was a good thing because otherwise it might have eaten both of us, and I would hate for my kids to become orphans and have to tell people their parents died in a tragic slug assault.

He looked around for the black bear and obviously saw nothing.  Then he looked down at me on the ground.

“What’s going on?  I thought you were in trouble.”

“I was.  I am,” I said.  “Look!”  I pointed to Slugzilla on the stoop.

Joel dropped the bat, and he and the dog went over to investigate.

“Wow, that’s a big one,” he said.

“Don’t get too close!”  I yelled, scrambling to my feet.  “It might try and slime you, and who knows, the slime could be toxic like a poison dart frog.”

“Slugs are not poisonous to humans,” he said, shaking his head.

“What, are you suddenly a slug expert?”

“I’m going to look it up,” he said, ignoring me and disappearing inside.  A moment later he came back with his phone in hand.

“It’s a leopard slug,” he said, showing me a picture of a slug that looked a lot like our slug.  “They are common in this area and not poisonous.”

“What about murderous?”  I asked.  “Does it say anything about murderous?”

“No, not murderous either.”

“Well that’s a relief.  But I’d really like it relocated to another location where I don’t risk stepping on it or it swallowing me.”

“Don’t worry, honey, it looks like it’s on its way someplace else,” he said as we both stared at the giant slug.  In the time since I had first discovered it, it looked like it had moved a mere millimeter to the left across the stoop.

“Yeah,” I said, “And with any luck, it will arrive there next week.”

~ Tracy Beckerman is the author of the Amazon Bestseller,
“Barking at the Moon:  A Story of Life, Love, and Kibble”
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