Thursday, April 27, 2006
Shell-less-looking land-mollusk, slugs seem to like to dine on dew á la plastic. Perhaps a droplet of juice had dribbled down the side of the bottle when the human who discarded it in the park was drinking.
I saved the slugs by shaking them off into the grass before dumping out the bottle and chucking it in with things that are not going to be recycled. Those Hefty stretch sacks are fairly remarkable. They don't handle scrap metal well, but overall, my experience with them is positive.
Slug is a spent bullet, a fake coin, a thudding punch, a rhymer, and above all, (as you all should know if you know me), a way of life.
It's not quite Zen and the Art of Slugging, just a de facto nom de rien.
[Interupted like Coleridge. . . ]
at 9:20 AM