Upon Reposing in a Cistern of Live Slugs
Evenings, during the golden stretch of time between dinner and sleep, I like to spend lying on my back in my vat of live slugs. Some would think it odd to while away hours relaxing in a sticky, moving container of mollusks, but I assure you that those people have never experienced the rapture themselves.
The first few minutes in a vat of slugs is like going to a stranger's dinner party. There are the nervous glances around at the little clusters of people, all foreign, all conversing amongst themselves in such tight, exclusive-looking groups. You may hesitate for a few moments, unsure, and you hang in that tenuous spot near the doorway as the people already at the party pay no attention to you. Perhaps, if only to gain a sense of purpose, you walk, still ignored, to the table with the big bowl of pretzels, and you eat one, and you chew and chew but the pretzel is too big or your mouth is too dry and all you get for your chewing is a mouthful of powder. You are alone. Then, the magical moment: One of the guests mistakes you for someone she knew in high school, and you are saved. You have entered into the conversation, and the guests embrace you as one of their own, and they close in around you, layering you in pleasant parley. You go back to the pretzel table and cautiously put a pretzel in your mouth and chew, and it dissolves into salty mush, and you swallow it, happy to be alive.
Stepping into the goo, one must gain the trust of the slugs very slowly, because the slugs don't remember you from the last time; their memories are quite small. You must introduce yourself to them every time, so every time is a new adventure, like a first kiss, nervous and exciting. You must court them, entice them, and the slugs must warm to you, eventually breaking from their own little huddles to engage in tacit dialogue. At first the conversation is simple. How's the weather outside? But we get into deeper subjects too. I'm sure Tina noticed your new suspenders. In fact, she thought they were sexy, you stud-muffin. They are ideal slimy listeners, and if you listen really carefully you can hear the advice they dispense freely, like perfect friends.
One of the things about slugs is that their little bodies turn into suction devices and they attach themselves to you quite firmly if you let them. Often, after a long evening in the vat, slugs gently sucking all over your body will raise faint, red marks, little slug kisses. That's the love.
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