It’s 1983 or so. I’m in front of the TV. Of course. Eating microwave popcorn. Of course. Watching Falcon Crest. Of course. I think to myself “It’s amazing. These people don’t even need to act. Their hair does it for them.”
Suddenly a giant slug lurches into the living room. We’ve had an infestation since the dam burst. I try and ignore him for a while, focusing in on Lorenzo Lamas’ hair. But the slug is so damn big I want to vomit. Instead I check myself, mechanically drawing handfuls of popcorn to my mouth.
Then my Uncle Lance comes in and pats the slug on the side like he’s a horse. “C’mon boy, let’s take you out back and hose you down.”
Later on I can’t contain myself any longer.
“What are you doing with that slug, Lance?”
“What about it?”
“It’s disgusting.”
“Shows what you know, son. That slug is a genius. He told me all about the future. About these space cars called Hybrids. Also everybody owns a walkie-talkie and uses them like it’s no big deal.”
“Oh come on, how would a slug know all that?”
“Use your head man. It’s in the soil. The future is written in the soil.”