I was standing in my hallway, clad only in boxers. It was late, dark out, and yet Marion was on the porch smoking. She was smiling, bent over something. Drugged with sleep but overwhelmed by curiosity, I stumbled to the glass door and knocked.
“Babe.”
She jumped and dropped a lighter. On the red brick in front of her, something burned. It was a gooey pile, slowly flickering out.
“Jesus, why are you awake?” she whined halfheartedly.
I gestured to the flaccid dick hanging out of my boxers. She sighed.
“His majesty had to take a leak. Please, continue…” I stretched the word out into moments, hoping to egg an answer out of her. She dropped swiftly to the ground, snatched the lighter and popped back up before quipping,
“Melting slugs.”
“You’re what?” I gasped, half way between laughter and horror.
Within moments she had snatched a large slug from the brick wall with her tweezers and torched the slimy body. Its head crumpled in on itself, the antenna crisped into smoke and its gooey slim coating quickly melted into a viscous puddle of sludge.
The look on her face was joyful. She nudged me and laughed.
“I hate bugs.” She shuddered. I quickly scanned the cement patio and counted two-dozen glistening scorch marks. The lighter flicked off. Now seared to my brick wall was a shaking glob of white and brown and burnt jelly.
She sharply clapped her hands together, startling me from my horrified trance, and marched briskly inside just in time to hear a buzzer squawk. Oven mitt in, er… on hand, she flipped the timer off, swung open the oven and spatulaed steaming chocolate chip cookies onto a decorative plate.
It was 2am on Tuesday night. I had work in the morning, but cookies? How could I not have cookies. Does your girlfriend make you cookies?
I had two. And a glass of milk. As I looked up from the table, licking my fingers, I saw her on the patio again. Except this time, she was sitting on the ground, legs askew. I dropped the empty glass. I slid to my knees outside before its crash reverberated though the house.
I clutched her drooping head to my chest and slowly ran my fingers all over her body, feeling for a wound of any kind. She gurgled and coughed, eyes suddenly opening wide. Her mouth gaped open and I saw a large chunk of cookie.
She was choking, Oh Thank God! I could handle this. I turned her around. Arms tight, I locked my fists under her sternum. She hiccuped and I pumped. Her throat constricted. I pumped again. This time, she coughed, spraying the glass door with bits of cookie. The pieces slid competitively down the glass.
“Thanks.” She coughed weakly and sighed into my chest, completely spent. “Eyes are bigger than my mouth, I guess.”
I stood her up and leaned her against the wall. The glass door intrigued me. Three wet pieces gently raced down the gritty glass. Two were similarly sized cookie bits; the other was a vibrant, orange slug the size of my thumb oozing a viscous green trail.
Marion stood, head in her hands. I seized her jaw and pressed her tongue flat. Large blisters coated her mouth. My finger scratched one and it burst, spilling sickly yellow mucous and dark blood everywhere. She didn’t even put up a fight.
“We have to go to the hospital.” I stared into her vacant eyes and smoothed her hair back. I tugged her behind me and into the hallway. Across the room I saw the glistening trails of the racers. Marion coughed, snapping me out of my morbid curiosity.
At the end of the sheet of glass, the slug oozed off and down the side. It had time to take three sturdy undulations before the first cookie piece hit the ground. I could see it crawl over a burnt pile of goo, undulate and grow an inch larger.
I dropped Marion’s hand and rushed to the glass. All the puddles of goo were gone and the now apple-sized vibrant, orange slug stared straight at me, though it had no discernible eyes.
I slammed and locked the glass door, ignoring the smile lingering on its nonexistent lips. From the hall I heard retching and rushed out. Marion was bent over hurling blood. I closed the front door, threw her into my car and dialed 9-1-1.
