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“Sherlock, there are slugs in the kitchen.”
“Mm? Well, you said I could.”
“I thought you meant small slugs kept in an aquarium, not massive Amazonian slug-beasts from Hell slugging around willy-nilly! Why are there tree branches everywhere?!”
“They aren’t Amazonian slug-beasts, John, they actually originate from Europe, and the tree branches are there to assist with—“
“What, jousting?! Have you got a monkey to put on the backs of these things? They’re huge! Oh ugh, ugh! Sherlock! What are they doing? That’s repulsive!”
“Oh, have they started?”
“They smell HORRID, Sherlock, look at the mess they are making, slug slime all over the lino and the table… it’s everywhere!”
“But look! See how they are rolling around in circles like that? They’ve begun their courtship.”
“Courtship— have you started a slug dating service?”
“Slugs don’t date, John. This is for an experiment.”
“Right, of course it is. Did you have to give them free reign over the kitchen, though?”
“It’s the safest place for them. I can keep an eye on them, they won’t get hurt, and I will clean up when all is said and done. They wouldn’t have done it in an aquarium; they need somewhere high to go.”
“High? What do slugs need to do up high? They aren’t going to start dive bombing us, are they?”
“Of course not, it’s for mating purposes.”
“… Mating purposes.”
“Yes, keep up. I wanted to witness the ritual for myself. While it’s an hour’s long process, it’s actually quite fascinating. Watch. This is their foreplay.”
“I’ve never seen anything less erotic in my life. I feel sick watching this.”
“You’re a doctor, just think of it as—“
“Bogeys? Blowing their noses all over each other? Because that’s what it looks like.”
“Vaginal lubrication. Or pre-ejaculate.”
“Mmmno. I prefer bogeys. Sherlock, why do they have to do it on the table?”
“Because that’s where they decided to start, how am I to know the logic of slugs? I’m a detective, John, not an entomologist! Besides, I can’t interrupt them now; it might take ages for them to get to this stage again. Don’t worry; I’ll clean it all up.”
“Yeah well, see that you do. Would it disturb them if I made a cuppa?”
“You may want to give your mug a good clean, but as long as you don’t jostle them they should be fine.”
“Maybe I’ll skip the tea. So, what exactly am I watching, besides nightmare fuel?”
“They are courting, I said. They are essentially scenting each other right now, getting a… feel. They are readying themselves for the production of essential mucus but it’s obviously safer for them to do this preparation on a flat surface. It takes hours, usually, to produce the quality of mucus needed… but … John, were they doing this dance when you first saw them? They may have already been doing this for hours! See, they are starting to separate and… oh yes! Yes! Look at that trail! Why didn’t you tell me they’d been at it?”
“Why didn’t I tell you? I wasn’t even home! You said you were keeping an eye on them.”
“Well, I put salt around the entryways and around the appliances to keep them from going too far without dying a painful death.”
“I told you they were slug-beasts from Hell.”
“If that’s a pop culture reference, I’m going to ignore it and hope you actually took interest in the Wiccan culture study I posted on the website last month.”
“But, wait, where are they going? Oh God, they move so much faster than I thought they would!”
“Watch. I think they are… yes. Good. They are picking the highest point in the room. It was hell getting that branch up the stairs and then on top of the cupboard without help. Oh don’t look at me like that, I’m not complaining that you weren’t around; you would have been too short to be of any help anyway. Now John, watch them carefully.”
“I don’t have much choice, I still think they want to dive bomb me. I feel uneasy with those slug-beasts getting ready to mate above my head. Oh my God, what are they doing now? What’s THAT THING?!”
“That’s its penis, John. Well, we call it a penis, they are actually both hermaphrodites.”
“But what’s it doing coming out of its bloody HEAD? I thought that was its head!”
“You were right, that is its head. And watch… now the other one has his penis out.”
“They look like weird little … webbed hands. Oh, now what are they doing? That doesn’t look safe—WATCH OUT!”
“No, no, don’t worry, they’re doing that on purpose—“
“IS THAT WHAT YOU MEANT BY ESSENTIAL MUCUS?”
“Yes! Exactly! It’s like their vaginal discharge—“
“AS THEY SQUASH THEIR FREAKY PENISES TOGETHER FROM THE SIDES OF THEIR HEADS.”
“Stop shouting, you’ll disturb them. Will you let me explain?”
“I just… I don’t understand what I’m looking at. I’m feeling disturbed.”
“Then let me continue with the narrative, just stop shouting. So, those are their penises, for lack of a better word. They extend from their gonophores, which is an opening at the side of their heads.”
“Yeah, I got that bit.”
“The foreplay you walked in on was to assist with the production of that mucus, which you can see—“
“Is a bloody bungee cord.”
“I was going to say an umbilical cord, but that’s much more accurate, thank you John. So they needed their combined mucus to act as an adhesive—“
“I really would rather imagine it as bogeys than vaginal secretions at this point.”
“Or pre-ejaculate.”
“Adhesive pre-come. Yup, I’m never having sex again.”
“Don’t be silly, of course you will. Try to look… past the slugs. No, really, watch them. They created that mucus together. That is their mucus, that is their bond and that is what is keeping them from falling to their certain death. And they spent hours and hours making it together. For this moment. This moment right here. Watch them, see how they twist? Watch them spin together, John. The cord twists one way, gets tight and taut, and then releases and spins them the other way. They just fall together, by the strength of the bond they made¸ and they have until the end of their fall to achieve their goals. Down they go, down… down… twisting and turning. And as they near the bottom of their fall, they begin to pull their penises apart from each other- see? One last caress and they’ve tucked them back into their gonophores. They still hang onto each other; they need their bond to be strong enough to give them a safe landing. They continue to dance, like kisses goodbye and… there. They are now both pregnant, and they go their separate ways.”
“That was… amazing.”
“Was it?”
“Only you could get sentimental over slug sex.”
“Shut up. You were utterly hypnotized.”
“Maybe the slugs had nothing to do with it.”
“Of course the slugs had something to do with it- why wouldn’t they?”
“Never mind. I’m going to bed.”
“It’s not even half six, John. Why wouldn’t the slugs have anything to d—“
“Make sure you clean that up, yeah? Good nigh—“
“No John, I need to know!”
“Figure it out.”
“Were you aroused—of course! You were aroused by them!”
“I was not aroused by the bloody slugs, Sherlock! Jesus!”
“But you were… are? Aroused. What was… oh.”
“Oh for fu--“
“Was it the narrative? Did you personify them, John? Did you… were… you a slug?”
“Good night.”
“… Do you want me to... come form a bond with you?”
“Oh God, yes.”