So… my dreams have been absolutely cray-cray recently. I mean, here’s how the whole bizarre, slug-filled dreamfest went down last night:
I was out wandering through a lush green and quite serene forest with the sun shining through the branches. Birds were singing, and everything felt peaceful—until I noticed a turtle, minding its own business, slowly making its way down the path. “Wow, nature is so calming,” I thought.
But then, out of nowhere, two slugs slowly slithered onto the scene. They weren’t your ordinary slimy slugs, though. These slugs had attitude. One wore a tiny slug-sized leather jacket, and the other had a bandana tied around its otherwise non-existent neck. They oozed over to the turtle, blocking its path like they owned the forest.
Stopping in my tracks, half-confused and half-fascinated, suddenly I’m asking myself what was about to go down here.
“Yo,” said the slug in the leather jacket, his voice surprisingly deep for something so small and squishy. “You think you can just stroll through our turf, slowpoke?”
The turtle blinked, totally unbothered. “Uh, yeah. It’s a free forest?”
The slug with the bandana slid closer, puffing out his imaginary chest. “Not without payin’ the toll, it ain’t.”
“Toll?” the turtle said, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
“Yeah,” the leather-jacket slug chimed in. “You gotta fork over… whatever you got. Lettuce, berries, maybe some shiny pebbles. Don’t make us get rough with yous.”
At this point, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Two slugs trying to mug a turtle? Ridiculous. But what really got me was the turtle’s reaction.
“Oh, please,” the turtle said, rolling its eyes. “You’re slugs. What are you gonna do? Slime me to death?”
The slugs exchanged a look, clearly offended. “Hey, we might be slow, but so are you!” Bandana slug shouted.
Leather-jacket slug nodded. “Yeah, it’s not like you’re running away or anything.”
The turtle shrugged. “Touché!.”
I thought the slugs might back off after being roasted like that, but instead, they went full-on mobster. Bandana slug whipped out what appeared to be a tiny toothpick (where he got it, who knows?) and waved it menacingly.
“Last chance, buddy,” he said. “Hand over the goods, or we’ll… we’ll slime you up real bad!”
The turtle sighed, clearly over this nonsense, and started pulling its head back into its shell. “You know what? I’m done. Go mug someone else!”
“Hey, hey!” Leather-jacket slug yelled, climbing onto the turtle’s shell. “You can’t just walk away from us!”
Except, of course, the turtle could. And did. Very, very slowly, that is.
The slugs tried to keep up, but they were slugs. They slid like two inches before giving up, panting dramatically.
“Man, I told you we should’ve mugged the rabbit,” Bandana slug muttered.
And just like that, I suddenly woke up, laughing at the absurdity of it all.
Moral of the story? I guess, even in your dreams, turtles don’t take crap from anyone?
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