Brrrr! The chill of winter sets across Wormwood Valley as the holidays pass and we find ourselves entrenched in the depths of the duldrum days between Winter and Spring or as they have come to be known in and around Wormwood, the Slug Days. And nothing warms the soul better than Slug Bean Coffee and hot Slug Snot Tea after a good outing of Slug Smashing. Not only does this traditional and disgusting activity keep the limbs moving and the blood flowing, but it has become a somewhat questionable tradition in Wormwood as of late also.
Wormwood Valley, with it's vast dark forests, hides a great deal of secrets, and secret species as well. And one such species, unknown until only a few years back was the Wormwood Forest Slug. these are not your average slime dripping slug, moving slowly across wood and rock and leaving a foul little trail in their oozing wake. No these are all of the foul and tasteless things that make up their smaller brethren, as well as a set of very sharp, very corroded, and very nasty teeth. they grow in length from several feet to well over 20, and often when rising up to feast on birds and small animals from the trees can stretch to a height of nearly 30 feet at their worst. They are often seen only when delving underground (which one should never be seen doing in Wormwood, as this is of course a very dangerous and culturally frowned-upon way to be spending one's time) as they inhabit great caverns and dens of goo-infested caves deep beneath Wormwood where it is said they feed on the insects and tree roots of the massive forest undergrowth, stretching their roots deep below the ground. Why they developed a taste for meet is relatively unknown, but they have none the less. these giant crawling creatures of disgust become an even greater problem in the wintertime, and for whatever reason, after the Holidays. It could be the tendency to discard old Christmas Trees, or the drippings of old candy cane and rotten fruitcake that draws them up from their subterranean pools of filth, or it could be that they enjoy a good frolic in the snow every now and then, but they become quite the dangerous and ill-tempered nuisance this time of year.
Thus, the tradition of scattering them back to the woods grew into an outright battle some years back.
They were considered a slow moving, albeit foul annoyance until it became clear they were not just satisfied with Wormwood residents half-eaten leftovers and undecorated drippings. When old Mrs. Stewson of Milldrip Lane saw a fairly young and rather rambunctious hoodlum of a slug making its way along the forest road past her wood side cottage one winter morn, she tried to shoo it away with a friendly offering of her recently put-out-to-trash undecorated Christmas tree. As she hoisted the tree as best she could over her wrinkly shawl covered arms, she inadvertently pricked her hand on the Wormwood Pine's spindly sharp branches. As she yelped, the blood trickled down her arm and on to her freshly crocheted shawl, wrapped delicately around her fragile geriatric limbs. As this slug began to chomp away lazily at the tree, it's tentacle like eyes peered down from their greenish-black goo covered stalks and saw the bright red life-juice drip hypnotically onto the white snow. As the creature gulped down the trunk of the tree into it's great cavernous belly, it quickly scooped it's neck down to partake of this curious substance, and in the process, took a bit too much of a snippet from Old Mrs. Stewson's left arm. As it's great suctioning mouth lifted her entire frame high into the air, her normally crotchety and ill-tempered demeanor grew increasingly more panicked with every foot he lifted her up into the forest canopy above until suddenly, in one great sad swoop, it swallowed her whole, her cane flailing in agony as it dropped to the snow, her legs and orthopedic shoes disappearing forever into the great green slime covered mouth.
The next morning as the mailman delivered her monthly issues of Kitty Cat Collector and Denture Aficionado magazine, all he saw of old Mrs. Stewson was her cane, a crooked wooden crutch, lying haphazardly in the freshly fallen snow. The only sign of her great disappearance was a glop-covered trail leading into the woods, the clear sign of a giant Wormwood slug. Well spreading the news as quickly as he could, the mailman rushed into town and spread the word to everyone he could all across town square. Soon after, the snails were considered major threats, not just slimy foul smelling vandals. Bats and pitchforks and weapons of every imaginable contortion and design were developed with salt-encrusted blades, salt-filled grenades and even salt-spitting became a popular protective past time, all in defense of this great disgusting threat.
Sure enough not a week had gone by before another attack took place, this time as Mr. Willoughby crossed the Old Wormwood covered bridge in his newly restored jalopy. He came to a great massive slug, stuck head first inside the covered bridge as it attempted to free itself from it's oversized predicament. As he honked and yelled at the massive green road block, the putter of the jalopy and the pitch of it's archaic horn drove the slug into a rage. Squishing and jostling from it's aging wooden prison, the slug shot forth like a slime covered rocket, straight at Mr. Willoughby, mouth gaping wide as Mr. Willoughby looked deep into the encroaching, and utterly disgusting smelling pit of doom about to engulf not only him, but his freshly painted vehicle as well. In one great swallow, they both disappeared from Wormwood Valley.
Now, word of this surely must have reached the great Slug colonies because more and more of the great beasts were being seen on the borders of Wormwood Valley, and their fear and obedience to the residents had grown less and less. The town Militia was called to the footsteps of the old Wormwood School, once a great Pirate fortress, and the townspeople enacted the Slug Smashing Act which, with the help of the Mayor and the Wormwood Valley Council, became a traditional day of driving out the foul creatures once and for all.
One of the townspeople who fought most bravely at the battle of Wormwood River, Mr. Varishnu Kashnipit actually allowed himself to be swallowed whole by the beats and cut his way out from the inside! A very disgusting move that did not win him any popularity in the arena of good aroma's, but was an effective albeit simply grotesque maneuver. He was also the only resident interested in cleaning up after the battle. With the mayors great thanks and heart-felt approval Mr. Varishnu toiled long into the night, picking every piece of smashed slug, scalloped skin, and sliced slime from the trees, rocks, and bridge of the Wormwood River. No one could understand why in the world Mr. Varishnu would want such a mass of fetid foul smelling flesh. Until the next morning.
As the residents of Wormwood Valley began their day, they were greeted by the strange swirling smell of Mr. Kashnipit's Coffee and Slug Bean Tea stand offering steaming hot cups of wormwood Slug Bean Tea, and Slug soaked coffee. It grew to such a raging success that he soon had to find a more permanent residence than his rattling wooden cart. It was right there on that very spot that now sits the fine Wormwood establishment of Kashnipits Coffee and Tea, complete with european style cafe tables overlooking the gurggling waters of the Wormwood Fountain and allowing a picturesque and post-card worthy spot for all Wormwood residents to enjoy the wormwood Square ice skating or the gentle breezes of the summer. No, many have questioned how Mr. Kishnipit stays in business with the almost complete abolishment of the slugs, but it is also well known that he is quite the spelunker. And it is believed that eh has a series of underground tunnels, passages and secret doorways right beneath Wormwood square that delve deep below the surface of Wormwood and into the deepest, darkest, and most dangerous corners of the slug-infested underground. While the secret of his Slug Slime Coffee and Slug Bean Tea remains a mystery, the popularity and prominence of his establishment does not.
So sit back, take of your ice skates, and take in a deep breath of one of the most curious delicacy's in all of Wormwood Valley.
Cheers!
Reporting from deep below Wormwood Square,
Inkly Tolew the Third Esq.
Manager, Operator, Owner
Wormwood Valley Information Operations Publication
