Slugs? Gross!

A True Story. The grossest things happen to me sometimes.

I hate bugs. I hate crawly, slithery things.

When I was about 14, I went to the store and bought hyacinth bulbs. I love hyacinths - they smell heavenly, they grow fast and all they need is some dirt and occasional water. So I bought bulbs. I didn't buy pots, I had pots. I didn't buy potting soil, I had lots of dirt right in the backyard. So far so good.

After returning from the store with my precious bulbs, I got the pots, dug some dirt, planted the bulbs and got ready for some lovely hyacinths. I wanted the flowers in my bedroom, so I placed the pots in my windowsill which received nice indirect western sunlight. My mother knew I bought bulbs but I neglected to tell her about my planting technique. The problem came that night after I went to bed.

I'd been asleep for a couple of hours when something woke me. I don't know what made me come awake so soon after falling asleep, it was certainly not my usual pattern. I normally slept through the night and, in a small house with five other people (three of them boys), you get used to noises and adjust to sleeping through them. Anyway, I halfway opened an eye, not sure why I was awake, and found myself facing the wall. In the small room, my twin bed was smack up against the wall and I usually slept facing the wall so nothing unusual had happened yet.

Coming out of deep sleep, it took a few minutes to adjust to the fact that I actually WAS awake and then to wonder WHY was I awake. I opened both eyes. In the dark, I could barely see three faint elongated shapes on the wall inches from my eyes. After a few seconds of staring at these strange shapes, two things happened at once. One, I realized that elongated shapes on my wall were an unusual occurrence. And, two, THEY MOVED.

Have you ever seen someone in the movies whip a tablecloth off a table without disturbing the dinnerware? That was me whipping out of bed. I moved so fast the covers kept my sleeping shape for seconds afterwards before realizing I was no longer there. I slammed on the light switch across the room and, scared as shit, looked at the wall by my recently-sleeping head.

There, on the wall, crawling down from the windowsill, leaving a long trail of slime behind, and just scant inches from reaching the bed itself, were three slugs. Stretched out to about three inches each... Big. Fat. Nasty. Slugs.

I thought "this is it!", I'm going to have a heart attack and die right here in my bedroom. Then I thought of the slugs crawling over my inert dead body and squelched that idea. I thought about yelling for dad. Then I realized (being the responsible kid that I was, and, by the way, WHAT WAS I THINKING?) I couldn't wake him up because I knew he had to get up early for work. I didn't know what to do so I stood there in freeze-frame until the slugs slithered again and that got me moving. I grabbed some notebook paper from my desk, half a dozen sheets for each hand, and scooped the slugs off the wall onto the paper. They kind of plopped onto the paper which freaked me out but it was worse thinking about them plopping onto my bed so I held steady. I carefully ran out of my room with the slug-filled papers, ran through the house, unlocked the back door, and threw paper and all into the flower bed. I then went back to my room and got the hyacinth pots. They, too, went outside but with a bit more care.

Then I thought: But wait, what if there are more? Yikes! I carefully checked the windowsill, all of the four walls in my room, under the bed, inside the covers, on top of the covers, in my pillow, in my shoes, in Barbie's playhouse, in the closet (which was closed), every inch of floor space, everywhere they could possibly have gone and then some. And thankfully I did not find any more; the great slug parade was only three strong and they were now outside.

In the morning, I told mom about the creepy thing that had happened to me during the night. She looked at me like I was nuts, obviously not believing me. She probably thought it was all a dream, even with the evidence right outside the back door. Then I realized that it wasn't the event itself that she questioned. It was the fact that I hadn't screamed the house down. Which should have been my first reaction to having slugs in my bedroom. And she knew it. And I knew it. Today, looking back, I think I was just so freaked out that I couldn't think of anything past just getting them out of there.

End of story. Moral: Always buy potting soil for indoor plants. And, if you're not sure how to do something, ask your mother.

But, guess what? Last year I went outside to take the garbage out, didn't put my shoes on, and stepped on a slug in the driveway WITH MY BARE FOOT! I freaked! Duh.

And then, just this past spring, I was in the garage to get some of the patio stuff that had been stored for the winter. Not the furniture, but the lamps, tables, windchimes and stuff. I grabbed the tarp I had covered everything with to help keep it clean, and I grabbed a slug. Of course. With my bare hand.

The old patio stuff is still in the garage covered with a blue tarp. I bought new.