Death of a Slug - short story

The slug was found dead in the early morning hours, before even sun rose up on a somber Wednesday. It wasn't found on its bed, died of all natural causes. It was on a kitchen table. As the inhabitants of the kitchen were not there for a couple of days, and the circumstances of the death of the slug was not known, police were summoned to investigate. First arrived were the detectives.

Detectives screened the scene with their vigilant eyes, noticed the unusual scenery of the slug's death. First of all, this was one of the kinds, which ever happened in this part of the kitchen. Slugs were meant to spend a private and confidential life, and only occasionally and rarely sighted during the day. Of course, by looking at the dead body anyone would argue this happened during the night. But slugs do not die on the street. No matter how much sluggish they are they always crawl back to their hiding places for their last breath. This unfortunate one could not. And its dead body is now on full display to any daytime creature. Fully naked, and it was a savage sight.

Living slug

The body was lying still; there were no sign of a grapple. There was no splatter of blood anywhere. But the odor of the decaying corpse was suggestive that this happened more than 24 hours ago. There was no rigor mortis, but nobody knew slugs, whether they have it as slugs are considered boneless in their bodies. They survive in this harsh kitchen without any disturbance, by being wise and slippery.

Crime scene investigators, took photographs, of the surrounding. There was a streak of worms, crawling out of its body while they were at it. Everybody wore a mask as the odor was virulent for anyone except for the worms themselves. Hopefully they were not granted a nose by the gods when they created, otherwise all the dead bodies would cover the earth's surface instead of compost. Apart from a trail of slime, there were not any other tracks. No weapons, no signs of a struggle. Even the teapots were kept nicely laid out on racks. It seems the perpetrator whoever was just dispersed into the thin air, covering up all its tracks.

Perhaps the slug had a MI. Chief investigator murmured to his second. But do they have hearts? I mean slugs? If they do, we have to consider other possibilities. Maybe the Slug had a pulmonary embolism after a Bum surgery. Even a subarachnoid Hemorrhage is a possibility, but it seems unlikely the cause of death is due to herniation of its brain, as there is plenty of space for a slug's brain to expand. After all it doesn't have a skull. Although the chief wanted to be silent, in his thinking, he wasn't and even the fingerprint man could hear his train of thought.

Maybe the slug ate some salt and had an anaphylactic reaction to it? Deputy hypothesized. "Don't be absurd" Salt does not produce anaphylaxis. If that is your theory, we can say it ate some peanut or some pineapple. But I checked the garbage can first thing arriving. It was empty.

"Maybe we should start with knowing our victim first". So, they glanced into the face of the slug, again. It looked like a normal slug in its mid second week of life. Well-built 2 inches long, yet with a sad look on its face. There was a tattoo at the underside of its belly, which was difficult to read in the dim light of the dawn, so Chief lit up a torch to it. It read "Melani M" in faint letters. Its decomposing guts were seeping liquid through wormholes of its underbelly. Deputy looked at it once with a disgusted face, while Chief stared at it with a grin. That itself was enough to explain who was more experienced, and why he was the chief. He leaned forward and smelled what came out of slug mouth. But there was nothing concerning.

So, the investigators backed up. And the forensics took over. After careful documentation, they took the body away, in a brand-new corpse bag. "I am sure autopsy will give us something and make sure to run the dental records and that tattoo in our database to pick up anything". But I have a feeling this one is going to be tough." Chief concluded.

Soon the morning rush hour was there. Children crowded on the roads, parents accompanying them to schools. Restaurants started to open one by one. And the investigation was suddenly halted as the kitchen belonged to a friend of a local politician. The detectives were asked to leave as soon as possible and close the crime scene. Chief went away with a frown in his eyes. It may be just a slug today, but wait until it becomes a "rat tomorrow, a rabbit day after and an elephant might die in a kitchen before this is over, it's you and me Brain, you and me can only let it not happen." And Brain nodded in agreement. And they were seen leaving the site, in their black ride, just as the front door of the restaurant opened.

end of short slug story