Slug

by Jim Rose and Melissa Rossi  from

"Freaks Like Me"

The audience swarmed the stage as Slug, dressed in tuxedo, tails, and tie, ran from keyboard to center-stage spotlight, pulling handfuls of slugs, worms, crickets, and maggots out of glass jars. The unfortunate creatures squirmed and recoiled as he playfully dangled them down his throat and pulled them back out.

Slug dropped one worm onstage, and it wiggled about attempting to make a last-minute escape. "Ohhh, Slug­don't eat that one," I cautioned.

 "It's been on the floor.

Probably has hair on it." Slug smiled knowingly, picked up the worm, and slid it into his mouth, along with a handful of others, whose ends dangled, swishing, from his moist lips. Gulping gleefully, he thrust a sword down his throat to push everything down.

When he pulled it out, the sword was covered with slime and goo. "Yum," I said, "esophagus gum and slug residue! But Slug still looks hun­gry! Time for dessert! Who brought something to feed the insectivore?"

Like I had to ask. Dozens of fans ran to the stage, presenting him with bags and dishes heaped with fish heads, mice smashed in traps, lugie cocktails, gunk from garbage disposals, junk scraped off roads. Slug opened his mouth and polished off his treats with relish, licking his fingers with gusto, not letting on that this stuff was crossing even his line.
 

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