I have a pet snail called Eric. Well, I have Ernie too, but he is smaller. Eric freaks my lover out, it’s the eyes, the ones on the stalks, the way they pulsate and bobble on the stems, He hates them. He often won’t eat the food I cook in the kitchen because Eric and Ernie live there. In a cage of course. But my lover thinks they escape in the middle of the night and crawl over the food and on the plates. I’m scared of slugs, they are slimy vagrants, but snails are all right, they have houses, though Ernie’s cracked a bit a few days ago. He doesn’t eat enough cuttlefish to make his house strong. It is like building a tower with jelly. His insides remind me of jelly. When I told my lover this he didn’t eat dessert for a month.
I can’t wait to tell my lover I took this photo of Eric in the large pasta bowl. He will never eat Italian again with a smile.