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He was a slug.
Bobby knew this, that he was a slug. He knew that he existed to do slug-like things. He lived in a garden; it was the garden of a retiree in Seattle but he sometimes imagined that it was the leaves of Martha Stewart he chewed on, not those of Muriel Zathwait, someone who prized her roses but also loved all of God’s creatures. She often left bowls of beer out for the slugs in her garden. Bobby usually just sat on the rim, watching his brethren get drunk off the brew, raising their optical tentacles to the generosity of Muriel before falling over drunk and drowning in the golden amber.
Alas, Bobby was in AA. He had lost both his parents to alcoholism, and was not about to fall into that same trap.
Bobby liked Muriel, he really did. He’d sit under a mint plant and listen to her sing while she pruned her roses. He stayed clear of the roses, seeing how much she cared for them. Bobby often dreamt that she cared for him the same way, that he could slime his way across her palm as she sang about Casey and the girl with the strawberry curls as the band played on, or about the man on the flying trapeze. Her voice probably wouldn’t be considered good by human standards, but by the standards of a sober slug, she was beautiful and with the voice of an angel. A slug-angel perhaps, as her throat always rattled with phlegm, but an angel none-the-less.
Every day Muriel puttered and sang. Sometimes she talked to her roses — about the death of her husband, the man who gave her roses daily. About her one child across the country in New York living a life so busy he never called and never had children, and about the other child buried not too far from there. She took the bus there on Sundays, and, if her roses were in bloom, she’d bring one of those as well.
Every day Bobby listened to her stories. Then, one day, he realized what had happened — he was in love with Muriel. He lived for her stories, to listen to her speak and sing. He had begun suppressing his natural slug tendencies to make her happy — and even kept the other slugs away from her rosebushes. It was a love he realized was, if not wrong, at least damn inconvenient. She was a human; he was a gastropod, a hermaphrodite with a ‘love dart’ that wouldn’t work on her.
Then one day she stopped coming out back. Bobby noticed the lack of old-woman song immediately. He slimed his way over to the glass door separating her world from his, but saw nothing. He turned his optical tentacles first one way, and then the next, and still nothing. He sadly slimed himself back over to his space underneath the mint and watched the sun cross the sky. That night he dreamt of Muriel — he dreamt that she was surrounded by roses and many others sang to her — but she was quiet.
The next day greeted him with silence once again. The other slugs recognized a difference in him, but he had always been different. Plus, he kept them from the rosebushes, a tasty treat to all of slugdom. Bobby once again slimed his way over to Muriel’s house. This time he dared to slime through a crevice that led to her inner sanctum. He smelled the lack of Earth, which wasn’t what he was expecting. But, somewhere underneath it all, was the smell of roses and mud, and the echoes of Muriel — a tired echo, one that had hung around only to tell Bobby what he already knew. There was no more Muriel to hum and prune the roses. There was no Muriel to leave out beer for all the slugs to feast upon. She had joined her husband and child in the great beyond.
Bobby listened to the echo. He let out a sob of remorse that only gastropods can make, and this joined the last heartbeat of Muriel. Bobby knew he couldn’t live without his human love — she was his true sun. Her voice alone gave his life meaning. He slimed his way into her kitchen, his optical tentacles dragging on the ground, his cries falling on bleached linoleum. Then he looked up and there on the table saw his salvation — a blue cylinder with a picture of a little girl in a yellow rain slicker. That was his answer. He would once again be able to hear the sweet sounds of his Muriel, he would once again stand under the mint and gaze at the source of love in the world.
Victorya currently has works in Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine, Necrotic Tissue, and various anthologies. You can read more of her Zooicides at http://darktomorrow.net/TZ.htm
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24 Responses to “SALINE SOLUTION • by Victorya”
Comments
« Podcast EDF029: Building A Sparrow • written by Chad Redden • read by Matt Cowens | Home | A PERFECT ENVELOPE • by Maria H. McDonald »
June 21st, 2010 at 2:45 am
If it weren’t for the title, the ending would have been a bit ambiguous.
However, a piece about ‘slug love’ has to be a five – or something close!
June 21st, 2010 at 5:01 am
This is simply fabulous! I don’t have the words to tell you how much I love this story.
June 21st, 2010 at 5:25 am
I had a hard time sluging my way thru it.
June 21st, 2010 at 6:39 am
Loved this one – delightful little flight of fancy, with just the right seasoning of tristesse.
June 21st, 2010 at 9:07 am
Nice, very nice and piquant.
PS: “love dart” Hehehahahahheehehea.
June 21st, 2010 at 9:56 am
It was fine until the end. I was enjoying it but have no idea what this blue cylinder was supposed to be. I am guessing that it is a product/brand that I have not seen here in the UK.
June 21st, 2010 at 10:08 am
Re: Natalie, #6.
I had the same problem until I connected the blue cylinder with the title and realised the it must be a salt shaker.
Like you, I’d be interested to know if this is a particular brand in the States.
June 21st, 2010 at 10:09 am
Wonderful imaginative tale.
Well constructed…and…thought out
4 ****
June 21st, 2010 at 10:15 am
Thanks so much for the comments! I didn’t actually consider that the Morton Girl might not be global.
June 21st, 2010 at 10:18 am
We learn something new every day!
http://www.mortonsalt.com/heritage/mug.html
June 21st, 2010 at 11:02 am
I was just picturing it ending up being Morton’s salt substitute for some twisted reason! Nice story Victorya.
June 21st, 2010 at 12:23 pm
What an imaginative piece!!! Of course, one has to take it with a grain of salt.
June 21st, 2010 at 2:04 pm
I’ve read stories lite this before so it was a bit cliche, but I did feel somewhat sorry for Bobby. I couldn’t figure out what the yellow cylandiar was eithier until reading the comments.
June 21st, 2010 at 8:31 pm
Wow, that was different. I like the fact that EDF selects a … wide … range of stuff. I note Jen has seen stuff like this before, but: I haven’t. Three ***
June 21st, 2010 at 10:38 pm
I enjoyed that the author did not spell out that it was a box of salt; I recognized the description of the ubiquitous (in the US, anyway) Morton Salt girl.
I got quite a kick out of this story. Very imaginative and, oddly, touching. Only thing I would change is the sentence, “She had joined her husband and child in the great beyond.” I would leave out “in the great beyond.”
June 21st, 2010 at 11:18 pm
Ahhh! Slime-crossed lovers.
June 22nd, 2010 at 12:20 am
I loved it, I would recognize the Morton’s Salt girl a mile a way. And, *snif, snif*, I could see the tragedy coming. That sounds very much like something I would write, hmmmm, have you been spying in my head again? LOL
June 22nd, 2010 at 1:33 am
You know, the thing I like about Victorya’s writing is that it’s whimsical, yet dark. She has such an amazing way of creating a situation (be it a perfectly real or impossible one) and making it seem so natural, only to have things go wrong. The classic ‘unobtainable person’ is so well done here. Sure–the main gist of it might not be anything new, but the characters, imagery, situation–it’s magical, something that few people can write, yet even fewer can write well. Add to the fact that her voice is so unique and you can’t go wrong with this story.
June 22nd, 2010 at 4:27 pm
Love it! A slug in AA! LOL! And touching. I hate to admit it, but my eyes welled with tears at the end. Brava!
June 23rd, 2010 at 6:02 am
I just love this story. Pretty sure I would read a whole novel with Bobby as the main character.
June 23rd, 2010 at 2:12 pm
I think I’m going to cry… : (
June 25th, 2010 at 9:28 am
This is the reason I come to this site. Absolutely off-the-wall grand.
September 10th, 2010 at 4:37 pm
I agree with Kody .. and Autumn seemed to enjoy “A slug in AA!” as much as I. Good read, fun, funny, yet poignant. Good job!
September 10th, 2010 at 4:38 pm
P.S. The title is PERFECT!