Never mind the Secret Ninja Worm Army, I currently have unholy legions of slugs at my command (‘Command’ in this instance meaning ‘all over my bloody garden’). The rotten little buggers are everywhere, on the lawn, on the path, one the roses, on the broccoli… pretty much everywhere they can get their nasty rubbery bodies to leave a snotty trail. You can’t hurl a sharpened rock around here without slicing an appendage off at least three of the little sods. And have you ever hacked a slug’s head off? It’s like squeezing a neoprene toothpaste tube full of slimy-black gunk. Squoooooosh, it all comes out.
And just what bloody good are slugs? Why? Even wasps have their purpose, before they become grumpy bastards and start stinging everyone for the fun of it, but SLUGS? All they’re good for is eating things, leaving silvery trails of mucus over everything, and getting stuck in Little Miss’s fur. Honestly, they’re like vast black bogies, welded into her tail, and if we don’t get rid of them for her, then she has to lick them out... Urgh. Can you imagine having to lick yourself free of slugs?
Much though I hate to say it, I’m going to have to get medieval on their asses. Maybe make some sort of crude trebuchet out of discarded lolly sticks and elastic bands and send them screaming away into the middle distance? It’s either that or the neoprene toothpaste thing.