This year I am working on a story called Bob vs. The Alien Slug Monsters. Instead of an outline I have a basic list of plot points I want to cover between meeting Bob and sending him off to fight the king of the slugs. There is more of a cast of characters than an actual outline, so we will see how the story develops. And with that intro we continue with Bob Versus the Alien Slug Monsters…
Day 81: He peered between the branches of the bush in front of him.
He peered between the branches of the bush in front of him. Two slugs were approaching. Their disks were moving at a steady but not speedy clip. The two slugs were the ones he saw with the king in the Bowl-a-Rama. They were extra decorated and he thought they were more of the body guard variety than anything else.
‘If they found the desiccated eggs they would have been coming fast,’ Bob thought. ‘Maybe,’ he adjusted. He didn’t really know the slugs or what would cause them panic but he suspected that would be it. ‘Maybe the slug king just wants a status report.’
The slugs drew closer and Bob gripped his fists full of salt. They would be passing through the gap in the plantings less than a foot from him. Bob took a deep breath as they went through the gap. He through his salt at them hitting the two slugs squarely in their heads. One squealed and looked like it would turn. Bob ducked down low and grabbed another two handfuls of salt.
There was a gurgling sound and an awful stench drifted towards Bob. He felt like gagging. He swallowed hard not wanting to be throwing up if they attacked. He heard the sound of the disks continuing on but no further sound from the slugs. He risked a peep through the hedge and saw both of the body guard slugs were mostly melted into sludge.
Their disks continued forward and then collided with the stretcher holding the woman coated in melted slug goo. The stretcher didn’t move and the disks came to a stop. Bob’s heart was pounding in his throat and he took a slow deep breath trying to tell it to calm down. All around him were the stretchers but no slugs. At least not living ones.
‘And there are no eggs, at least not the ones I could find. Just the slug king.’
Bob took a deep breath. He felt himself steady. He didn’t know if the slugs sent battalions out to the suburbs. He certainly would have. ‘But then I also wouldn’t have continued trying to get into the bodies on the stretchers without finding out why my soldiers were dying.’
Clearly he and the slugs did not think along the same lines.
‘But what now.’
Bob realized his calf muscles were cramping up from squatting for so long and he decided to sit down on the ground. He was hidden from casual view from any remaining slugs, if there were any remaining slugs. He just wasn’t sure what to do.
‘I could go after the king,’ Bob thought. He peered through the bushes at the goo filled disks. ‘I wonder what he will do when they don’t come back.’ Bob swallowed hard. If the slug king had more soldiers he would no doubt call them in, retrieving them from the different points.
He looked over the stretchers still placed in the parking lot and wondered if he should give them all another coating of salt in case other slugs came and tried to go for them. He was, at the moment well stocked with salt, but he would not be able to restock as he had before. The other restaurants between here and the Bowl-a-Rama were now salt less. He looked into his bag to check the contents.
Ten til Midnight 