Death of a Slugman

When Sister and I were in high school, we had rabbits; and every night we had to go out to the shed to take care of them. [Mom is allergic to rabbits, so they couldn’t be in the house. We built an enclosure for the rabbits off our shed that was insulated. I’m not going to get too heavy in the details because it’s not that important.] [Easily distracted, is what I am. Not by shinies {usually}, but my thoughts {and cute stuff}.]

Oh yeah. I’m writing a blog post.

One night, on our way out to feed the rabbits, I noticed that I accidentally squished a slug with a cinder block [used to keep the door of the rabbit shed open while we were inside].

Me, being an observant sort, noticed that the slug was making a face.

I told Sister, “Oops, I squished a slug!”

And I heard the slug moan.


Alright, I admit. It wasn’t the slug. *I* said it in place of the slug, who was probably thinking it right before he died.


Uhm… I don’t think I’ll be posting on Friday. Hopefully I’ll be able to post more of Nora’s story on Saturday… My life is taking a turn for the busy. [-er than what it had been, even with the babysitting being a bit less than what it had been.]


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