May 19, 2010 by Stef
Dear Snails Who Live In My Yard,
I like you. I really do.
Your alien little faces amuse me.
Seriously, how weird and adorable are you guys? So weird! So adorable! Whenever it rains, you mobilize like a little be-shelled army.
I am particularly tickled by your blatant defiance of gravity.
And when you park it with your buddies and just chill out on my fence?
I’ve decided that this is charming.
But. There is such a thing as too much charm. I mean for real, you guys are pretty much everywhere.
As you are probably already aware, your kind tend to be rather … well … slow. And you don’t seem to be terribly organized beyond a general compulsion to be OUT and ABOUT after a good rain.
I can respect that. Really, who doesn’t love a good walk in the fresh-scrubbed post-rain world?
Unfortunately, your wanderings often intersect with my wanderings.
I’m alot taller than you, see. And faster. So you’re not exactly in my field of vision during these unfortunate intersections, nor can you swiftly dodge out of my path.
The aftermath is just awful.
Please know that I take no joy in this! There is no malice! You are not under attack!
In fact, there are few things I loathe more in this world than the awful popping/crunching/squishing sound of one of your intrepid explorers meeting his fateful end under the heel of my shoe.
One of those things would be when this occurs whilst I am barefoot. Dear god, the horror.
So please don’t take it personally, Snails Who Live In My Yard, when your loved ones retreat into the only protection they know – their shells – only to have that protection suddenly turned into fragmented daggers gouging into their soft alien flesh.
I like you. I really do. My mom wanted me to gather you all up and cook you in butter and garlic, but I refused.
Because it just wouldn’t be neighborly.
Also, I don’t know where you’ve been.
The Giant Foot Of Crushing DOOM