By: Jacob Mattie, Peak Associate

There are slugs in my kitchen. As someone who uses this kitchen, I am not happy about this. However, as a writer for The Peak’s Humour section, I am ecstatic about this goldmine of schadenfreude-inspiring material sliding underneath my door on a trail of mucous-y secretions.

At first, I thought their trails were the remnants of a previous tenant’s party: dried and flaky strands of what looked like saran wrap or some type of party streamers — again, I am a Humour writer for The Peak and thus live the life of a recluse. It follows that I am not well-acquainted with party paraphernalia. 

I didn’t think much of it until I found the first slug. 

I opened my door and stared in disbelief at the slug on my kitchen floor, which looked as out of place as a slug (which belongs outdoors) would in a kitchen (which should not have slugs in it). I quickly yote it outside, but to no avail — the slugs already knew their way in. I soon came to discover that the silken strands on the hallway carpet were their trails. From my count, there were enough of them to constitute a party, so I’ll chalk that up as a win for my investigative skills.

Over the days and weeks that followed, I came to be acquainted with the local slug chapter. Sometimes I’d find as many as three of them on the floor. Once, I found one on the ceiling. In a memory that haunts me to this day, I found one while running late for work, and was forced to leave it there. Where did it go? Is it still in my home? For the rest of the week I dreaded putting on shoes lest I feel a tender cushioning beneath my toes, and the seepage of slug through my socks. Gratefully, this was avoided, but I have yet to find the slug. 

I put a lot of thought and research into discovering what might have been the cause of this. Using my skill as a professional journalist, I attempted to reach out to the slugs to arrange an interview — they did not respond.

I like to think I’m pretty neat — I don’t leave much food out, and since the start of quarantine I’ve stopped my habit of adorning my walls with sexy slug calendars (yeah, you show us what’s under that mantel, you salacious gastropod). But it turns out they just like to come in and hang out! Of all things, of all places, it’s the slugs that like to vibe in my kitchen. I’ve been trying to get an attractive someone, or even friends, to come over, but despite even the immense social clout offered by writing for The Peak, it’s seeming like the best luck I’ll have is with Junji Ito’s Slug Girl. 

I eventually found that if I place a line of salt across my doorway, the slugs won’t come in. If people ask if it’s to keep the demons out . . . I’ll tell them yes. That’s exactly what it’s for.