Gasteropods and Gastronomes

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What is it with snails and paper? There’s not a darned packet, bottle or jar in my shed that bears anything resembling a readable label. And why, oh why do the perishers always manage to voraciously devour every last morsel of the label you really, really wanted, because your memory ain’t what it used to be?
Slugs, on the other hand, do not share their shell-bound cousins’ gastronomic proclivities. Fine dining a la carte is more their forte.
With this in mind, please allow me to regale you with a little monologue I penned a while back. It IS garden related, so I don’t think I’ll get my wrists slapped for including it here. Hopefully, it will at least make you smile.

A Journey

It’s been a long day. Well, I suppose you could call it a day, but as I usually travel at night, it all depends on your viewpoint. Although, having said that, my particular viewpoint leaves a lot to be desired. I don’t get to see much when I’m travelling, and when your route is governed by the location of the next meal, it can be somewhat restrictive.
Then of course, people make changes. They put obstacles in your way, move things around, that sort of thing. I don’t travel far, but when I’ve found a route with a good meal at the end of it, I like to stick to it. Pardon the pun. What pun? Oh. You’ll see.
Jake comes with me sometimes. He’s one of my several offspring, but being young he does tend to get rather distracted. He’s also quite small for his age, which does tend to worry me. Where is he at the moment? No idea. Come on, we’re going this way. Yes, I know it looks dark and dangerous, but it’s a good short cut if you‘re careful. I found it three nights ago, followed my nose so to speak. Plenty of good fresh food, and somewhere to shelter when you’ve eaten your fill.
No, I can’t go any faster. Three miles a night is my top speed. You go on ahead if you want, but be on the lookout. They don’t like us being here. Lost our Sally last week, way over the far side. I told her, “Your curiosity will be the end of you, my girl,” but would she listen? Anyway, they got her. Trapped. Carted off the next morning.
You’re off are you? Well, I might see you again on my travels; that’s if the beer traps or the little blue pellets don’t get me.

Bye y’all
Bbb

• 3 Jul, 2011
• 3 likes

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