The Slug

If you know anything about me, you should know that I am overly in love with pie.  It’s true.  And that is where this story begins.

On Monday nights I play volleyball with people from work; it’s awesome.  This last Monday, my friend Jordan came back from a party with a huge pie left over.  I jokingly yelled to him that pie was my favorite food.  He gave it to me!  Best person in the world award goes to Jordan Fehlen.  However, as I already said, I was playing volleyball.  So instead of taking my pie into my room right away, I put the box on the grass with the rest of my stuff.

After a wonderful game of attempted volleyball, twas wonderful, it was time to pick up my things and take them inside.  So I gathered up my water and my sweater and my keys, and then I picked up my pie.  I noticed there was some chocolate on the outside that got onto my arm, so I licked it off; except the pie was apple.  The chocolate was a slug!  Needless to say, I am scarred for life.

I ran into my room and threw the slug in the trashcan.  Then I went into the commons to enjoy the pie with some friends, still almost vomiting from the slug incident.  Then my roommate comes out and asks, “Now what did you learn from this?”  My response?

“Don’t lick things off your arm.”

This is yet another reason that I’m glad I’m single.  No man’s gonna wanna kiss a slug eater.

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