Tales for Awful People


How the Snail Got out of His Rut
October 15, 2010, 1:23 pm
Filed under: Life's Journey | Tags:

A snail who often spent his time on the shady end of the lettuce patch was minding his business one day when a giant hand came from the sky and picked him up by his spiraling shell and put him in a sack.

“This is a pretty turn of affairs,” said the snail. “I wonder what will happen now?” He munched some of the lettuce upon which he rode, and looked out of the burlap sack in the afternoon sunlight. The speed of his journey was dizzying. “I didn’t know I could survive this level of transportation,” said the snail, for he was used to living alone, and like many eccentrics, he had the habit of speaking outloud. “Surely soon everything will fall to pieces.” Suddenly, there was a jolt, as someone set the sack down.
Then, with a whoosh of leaves, the sack was overturned and the lettuce and the snail fell upon the counter. “I’d better just see what happens next,” said the snail.

With that, the leaf of lettuce he had adhered himself to and all of its near neighbors were sent under a bath of cold tap water and shaken vigorously. “Well!” said the snail as he went flying, “This is a far cry from the garden.”

He landed beside the kitchen door, and to his chagrin, he noticed that a large foot was approaching fast, and another one behind it! “I can’t outrace that,but I will try,” said the snail, and try he did. The foot missed him by so narrow a margin that the wind of its passing bent one of his horns. “I should get back to the country I understand,” said the snail, “but how can I? This new country is ridiculous!” He stood on his one long foot and watched the goings on of the kitchen. He was so fascinated that he didn’t notice that he was getting drier by the minute. When it occurred to him, he tried to walk on his slow march back towards the garden, but nothing happened. “How curious!” said the snail, and he blinked (he wouldn’t tell me how).

The problem was solved when the cook dumped a bucket of warm soapy water on the floor, and swept the broom after it. “I didn’t wash to travel in this manner, but I suppose it’s perfectly logical,” said the snail, as he was carried out the door, down a narrow worn path from where the cook dumped the water each day. “What an exciting afternoon! I can’t say as I care for these suds, but I will soon be out of it.” He was. The water soaked down into the dirt, and the snail was left just a few inches away from the lettuce patch.

“You know,” he said, “Maybe I don’t like lettuce so much after all,” and he left that garden as fast as he could to see the world. It took years, because he was a snail, but they’re eating his dust now, back in the lettuce patch.

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