“So You Want To Talk About Slugs”

I bet you didn't know that semislugs outnumber thoroughbred slugs. You probably haven’t given much thought to poor semislugs at all. I’m sure that when it comes to gastropod molluscs, you think snail and slug, shelled and shell-less, take it or leave it pal. But I’m here to tell you: semi-slugs outnumber pedigree slugs. For there are many ways to be nearly shell-less, or as good as shell-less. There are tiny shells not fit for purpose, unseeable by the human eye. There are internal shells, buried inside like secrets. Luckily, as a category, “slug” does not share your tasteless prejudice. Slug will house them all.

A kingdom of misfits, the kingdom of slug. A kingdom with very few strict entry requirements. A lack of a shell, a lack of a spine, and in the case of the semi-slugs, a lack of a claim to purebred slugness. A lack of a lack of a shell, if you will. When you understand them as I do, you come to know: the whole system is defined by absence.

No wonder, then, really, no wonder the likes of you pity the likes of slugs, writing them off as slippery, insipid, ultimately harmless. But you’re a fool to underestimate them. They've got razor-sharp teeth, slugs. They're carnivorous, some of them- cannibal, even. And I’d wager you didn’t even think about their weapons. Yes! Weapons! Arrows forged inside their own bodies, to shoot at and skewer their potential lovers. This is what courtship is to a slug-bloody and bodied and dangerous. I'm sure you didn’t consider that if they become entangled when they fuck, slugs will eat their lovers’ genitals to get free.

Before you cast slugs as the villains here, consider: they are preyed upon by almost every single subset of vertebrates. Both sets of genitals, as well, slugs. Bet you didn't factor that into your Platonic Slug. Bet you didn't pin the genitals somewhere around the middle of the slug, right next to the respiratory tract. Most overlook it, but it’s an important part of slugness, this proximity of breathing and fucking. Also: having two sets of antennae, one to taste and one to discern light from shadow. Also: their movement, a muscular wave. Also: suckering against surfaces, like a boiled sweet against the roof of your mouth. Also: the horror of seeing one plastered against your tiles. Also: laying eggs.

But you’re still not there- not quite at the wet pulsing heart of slug. Do you know what you’ve missed? You’re still picturing a colourless slip of a thing. But slugs can be hairy. Slug can be vulvic, ruffled like the hem of an ostentatious gown. They can look like ink spills; blood clots; the handles of pocket knives; a hedgehog in the colouring book of an artistic and reckless child; a climax of butterflies, a handful of lentils; slender pears; melted tigers, damp leopards in repose.

I can't remember if I told you, but my parents gave me a toy kitchen set when I was young. They set it up in the garden for me. Naturally, I turned it into a slug palace. I ripped out the sink and used it to gather them up, setting them free to slither and glisten over their plastic utopia. I bet you can guess exactly how my mother reacted when she saw.

Dylan McNulty-Holmes

Dylan McNulty-Holmes (he/they) is a writer and editor who lives in Berlin. His writing has been made into a T-shirt, live-scored by a disco band, and added to the digital archive of the British Library. It has also been published by Redivider, ANMLY, Pilot Press, and The New Welsh Review, and was shortlisted for 2022 New Media Writing Prize. His debut poetry chapbook, Survivalism for Hedonists, is forthcoming with Querencia Press. More of his work can be found at dylanmcnultyholmes.com.

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