Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Sluggo




HP has adopted some very unflattering nicknames around here. Sure, there's Beautiful Baby Girl and Cutes McGee. But there's also Dump Truck. It just came out; it was so organic, so inappropriate. What I meant was that she was solid as a truck, and we just kept dumping food in her. Get it? Dump Truck. But inappropriate in the sense that Garbage Can would have been more accurate. I mean, dump trucks involve hydraulics and inertia; garbage cans just sit there, waiting to be picked up.

Neckfat is another one. Pretty self-explanatory. Sounds like a punk rock band. Check that. A ska band. Do they still make ska? It’s like a black hole in there. The absence of light and sound; if you get too close to the event horizon, you may just get sucked in and implode. Just ask that Strawberry Shortcake bib.What Strawberry Shortcake bib? Exactly.

Well, she’s progressed. The newest nickname is simply The Slug. Not soooo bad, right? Applied based on her current level of self-propulsion. You know, it’s funny, you put her on the living room floor, go out for a burger, and when you come back, she’s ALMOST exactly where you left her. It’s almost like she’s just messing with me; I’m all like, I didn’t angle you 45 degrees, little missy. Just what the hell has been going ON around here, anyway? You want a French fry?

But that’s how it always is for slugs, right? You walk by one after a storm, the poor bastard right in the middle of a high–traffic footpath, and you’re all like, awww, poor little swuggy-wuggy. You give him a little pep talk (No no, right THEN left), a little pat on the shell (wait, is that a snail?), and send him on his slimey little way. Yet we never actually move them to a secure location, do we? Best not to, slugs carry all sorts of unsavory diseases. Plus you don’t want to start some sort of weird slug Final Destination death-cheating cycle.

But then you come home from wherever and he’s still there, basically. He traversed a distance of approximately four inches. And that makes you mad.

“MOVE, SLUG, MOVE!!” you scream, suddenly shouldering the thankless burden of a slug’s life coach. Yet he is unfettered, sits there in his own goo; slugs are reknowned for their mental resilience.

My point is that this is a lot like HP right now. She’s slimy. She also strongly dislikes having salt poured on her person. Coincidence? Let’s ask the expert:

Me: Bub, do you think your sister a slug?
Bub: Eggatory, good buddy.
Me: Eggatory? You mean where bad eggs go to languish for eternity?
Bub: Eggatory, good buddy.
Me: Thank you for the clarification.
Bub: Thank you, good night!

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