I hate snails so much I don’t even want to step on them. But when I so, I’m secretly glad. I’m not boastful about such eliminations, even ones so miniscule and hapless, but I do parade my pride for my internal plebs to see and worship. My liver and my lungs. My intestines as well. They, both of them, love a good parade.
But the crunch disturbs me. And the soft centre, easy under foot. Snails never leave home. I respect them. But my respect can only extend so far. Were a snail a pig and my foot a wolf, its shell would be nothing more than a straw house in the wind. If I could, were I Richard Branson or Bill Gates, I would not invest my green in airplanes or cancer; I would throw some love the way of the Gastropoda with the coiled shells. You know what I’m talking about.
Those unlucky suckers are found in freshwater, marine, and terrestrial environments. Most are of herbivorous nature, though a few land species and many marine species may be omnivores or carnivores. I’m serious. One can’t move but be covered from foot to phallus in snail. Unless, perhaps, you live in a high tower, built from slave ivory, you must know the humble snail and its weakness. A shell, a logarithmic spiral, just calcium bicarbonate shards when stepped upon, dissecting the homeowner.
Were I Richard Branson, I would park my plane and ask my engineers to adapt some of that future, space technology to saving the snail. Were I Bill Gates, I would shut Windows down and ask myself some serious questions.
“Can bionics enhance the mobility and manoeuvrability of the snail, revitalising it, rebranding it as a dangerous animal?”
“Perhaps one to be feared by man?”
“Will the homely/marketable characteristics of the snail be lost if it has the abilities to hijack a consumer airliner, terrorising untold numbers of humans, now a lesser species?”
“Can Windows Vista be installed into the snail?”
“Will it be user friendly?”
Were I you, the reader, passive and bovine-ish, I would make this a brain topic for the head receptacle to be future externalised by the mouth hole, also used for food insertion. I would, between tea sups, splurt “snail” and other relevant word materials at opposite-sitters for their own think consumption. Were I you, I would consider green alternatives to shoes that would be made useless by ex-snail mush stains and sacrificed by fire accordingly. Lateral alternatives such as titanium shells or hover bikes.
Were I me and these sausages fingers, I would sleep the skies and poke young eyes for sport and fame. I would grab snails by the scruff and order them to “evolve, already” because “we’ve only been waiting millennia, you lazy buggers.”
And I would suggest you do the same.