Catch a Slug!
Fillmore was stuck again, and the slug
was due any minute. Stupid dog! Elle pulled on her boots and gloves
and stepped off the curb, squelching into a good 10 cm of slime.
Stepping carefully, she made her way out to where the beagle was
completely plastered with mucus. Elle suppressed a shudder. How could
this be better than diesel? (Whatever that was.) This was why
she usually walked to school on the pedarch. She heard the slug's
horn sound two short blasts. It was a block away.
"Come on, dummy," she said,
reaching for Fillmore's collar. How could he hang his head and
squirm away at the same time? The collar slipped out of her hand.
Fillmore turned over to expose his belly. He knew she was angry.
"It's ok," she shouted, "just come on!"
Elle grabbed the collar again and dragged him to his feet. A loud
"WHOOT!" blasted from the air horn on top of the slug's
head. Fillmore gave a panicked lunge and Elle bellyflopped into the
goop. The slug was braking, but sliding right for her, slime making a
bow wave half a meter high at its front. She shut her eyes and mouth,
curled into a ball. Imagine doing this for fun, like some gangbangers
did.
She was airborne.
--
Somebody was washing her face. "Enough,
already!" She put up her hands and pain shot through her left
elbow. She screamed.
"Get that dog away from her,"
someone said.
Elle opened her eyes. She was lying on
her back, ringed by strangers, thoroughly slimed. Fillmore was
howling somewhere nearby. Her arm was broken. "Leggo my dog,"
she mumbled. A moment later Fill was nosing and licking her face. He
bumped her left arm and her vision went out for a moment.
--
Or so it seemed, but when she opened
her eyes again she was clean, in a hospital bed, and a cast covered
most of her arm. Her mother stared at her from an armchair in front
of the window. She took a deep breath.
Elle winced.
"What were you thinking, young
lady?" Mother began. Ma probably meant well, but she didn't
stop. Finally, Elle couldn't take any more.
"Ma! I wanted to get in the
Rollers. It's part of the initiation. You know, slime rolling? Now I
just have to get the tats." She pointed at her chest. "What
do you think—a bug-eyed purple monster right here? It would match
my thong beach suit."
As a way to shut her mother up this was
spectacularly unsuccessful.
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