The Killer Snails of Lichen Rock

Ever hear of the Battle of Salt and Rain in ‘03?

It wasn’t part of a greater war. It accomplished its’ purpose: Ending subjugation and cruelty in Miss Martha Maples’ backyard garden.

Previously, historians theorized it was the course of nature, like any territory fight. But a recent excavation uncovered new, ground-breaking evidence that alters our understanding of the relationship between common slugs and snails.

Warrior Slug Culture

Before we examine the strife of yard mollusks, let’s review what we know about the grouping of slugs located in Miss Maple’s backyard: They were known across the garden as the Warrior Slugs of Blue Tarp. Evidence suggests these slugs maintained a war-like society. Their cruel nature aligned with bellicose training, making sturdy soldier slugs.

Their hold on local bug life was cutthroat and ruthless. They had no patience or time for any bug or otherwise. Everything that was not a slug was brutally slaughtered, for no other reason than crossing an imaginary boundary.

In line with their brutal nature, Warrior Slugs were incredibly territorial. They strived to eradicate all “Enemies of the State” within their territory.

Their methods of eradication were barbarous. They set border traps, filling trenches between rows by using their combined weight to push soda cans over onto their sides, making sticky puddles. The resulting lakes of soda were large enough to drown hundreds.

Another eradication method they used included gathering forces to produce a frothy mucus, forming it into a barrier formation, which they then would guard with at least one soldier slug every 10 centimeters.

Every foot soldier was equipped with a weapon made from metal plot descriptor, sharpened with a rock. And sometimes, by end of day, it is said that more than one body lay at the foot of every soldier slug. Any destroyed bodies which hadn’t been cleaved in half with sharp weapons were likely killed through asphyxiation, either by the froth they dare try to pass or under the weight of a Warrior Slug. Their cruelty didn’t end at death. Their war-focused culture dictated that they carve pieces from every carcass to be used as decorative trophies and jewelry.

Along with their provided weapons, every high-ranking slug would receive a customized mantle plate fashioned from snail shells and twisty ties. Excavations at the site two decades later indicate important Warrior Slug names, interpreted from scratches found on those crafted chest plates.

Not much more is known about their lives or culture at this time.

Origins of the Snails of Lichen Rock

On the other hand, oodles of knowledge is easily referenced about the underdogs, the Killer Snails of Lichen Rock. Their lore has been passed down for decades. To the point where all snails consider the Killer Snails of Lichen Rock their ancestors.

The ragtag snail cadre grew up together under the mossy outcropping of a huge hunk of limestone. They were smart-ass and whip-smart snails who didn’t need or want the regimented life that seemed to propel the warrior slugs.

Barricaded from the freshest vegetables by the Warrior Slugs, the motley snail crew found workarounds for daily comforts. Their lives were rugged, matching The Lichen Rock they called home. While they were not trained in routine and regulation, there was plenty of space and fresh air, and most importantly, moisture to grow a strong and healthy consortium of rebellious and slime-shined spirals.

Consequential Observations

A couple of important notes before this fraught tale begins:

1. As you can guess, there was no love lost on either side. The spring and summer leading up to the battle, tensions were high, vibes were acrimonious. From 1999-2003, snail shell fragments were commonly found strewn about, and local snail numbers dwindled.

2. Despite the slugs being three times larger, their brain size was eclipsed by the snails. While the slugs communicate through wet gurgles and gaggles, the snails have a complex language of slicks, snicks, and smacks. It is believed they could understand each other’s spoken languages through an evolutionary kismet—an internal translation mechanism in their lower eye tentacles.

Troops Gather

That cold, fall dawn, at least 75 battle hardened warrior slugs line up along the wood plank on the lush sunlit side of the north garden bed. They graze and take in nutrients from the rich soil beneath them, as is the age-old slug tradition.

When the dirty and muddied snail crew surreptitiously slide past the slugs to the patch of near-ripe carrot morsels, Corporo Genero Martin Ludo Slug III has to do a triple take before he can overcome the shock of the trespassers’ appearance and recognize that they’re eating the slugs’ bounty. He sees red. His warriors had been religiously guarding that row of carrots for months in the belief they’d feast on them at the end of this garden cycle—soon. This is a heinous attack! The scarce months were nearly upon them!

*grumble* *gurgle* *gulp*

Corporo Genero Slug III isn’t playing games. With those slimy sounds he commands his troops, “Enemies of the state have infiltrated our carrot border! All troops in position. Now!”

His division of 40 slugs were at ease on some dilapidated wood.

When Catapo Comma Christoph Dominic Slug hears the Corporo Genero’s call to arms, he immediately drops his dirt clump. This is not a drill.

“The catapults for red level enemies!” he gurgles loudly.

He pushes his troops to take control of the catapults. The 22 soldier slugs it takes to maneuver those eight catapults know they must move the equipment to key areas and critical hit points between the carrots and radishes. As stealthily as possible, 13 more infantry slugs join them to push the heavy, four-inch-tall catapults.

A light sprinkle taps on the blue tarp covering the garden.

Threats

When the first foot soldiers arrive at position, they’re confused. Why isn’t every snail fleeing in terror?

Instead, those damn rebels smugly munch the slugs’ carrots by rights and territory.

It appears the slugs’ monstrous size and military might did little to cower the tiny band of snails. In fact, they show no indication of relinquishing the carrots.

The rebel snails will not slink away in fear. They’ve had enough of the slow genocide of their kind. After four summers of snail ‘eradication,’ these 38 rogue snails were the quarter of the snail population left in Miss Maple’s backyard garden. They are prepared to die for these carrots.

So, they silently group around each carrot, ten guerilla snails between each of the four carrots in that row and the five rebel leader snails: Rogues Snerrance and Severus, and three rough and ready Sigma snails slide forward to indicate a parlay.

The rain beats down steadily now on the tarp. Occasionally, fat drops make their way under the tarp from above, where a hole was chewed off last winter by a squirrel in his efforts to bury the most perfect walnut for later safekeeping.

The last of the soldiers and the catapults take position two feet away.

Corporo Genero Martin Ludo Slug III, and his right-hand, the estimable Lieuto Admiro Michael “Muscle” Slug, slime up to talk with the leader snails in the trench between the rows.

Corporo Genero Slug III gurgled, meaning, “You must not have gotten the message: You don’t belong here. What makes you think you can enter?”

“Oh, do you mean the last four summers of snail genocide?” Sneers Rebel Leader Snerrance Snail. “You can’t kill everyone to keep the garden bounty to yourself!”

Before Snerrance finishes, Corporo Genero Slug III interrupts. “Four summers? Nothing. Leave now or we’ll eradicate the rest of you.”

Silence and tension fills the air as the Corporo Genero’s internal translator finishes speaking. They’re at an impasse. This no longer the time for glugs and gurgles or smicks or smacks—It is time for war.

The Deluge

Minutes tick by as the leaders glide back to their key positions. Through the silence, all snails proceed to climb into the carrot’s leafy foliage, preparing for a brutal attack.

The next moments are identified as the first failure in the slug offense: As the rain continues to beat on the tarp, Catapo Comma Christoph Slug orders, “fire!” Soldier slugs move to obey, loading small pebbles onto the catapults’ spoons and bottle caps. The catapults’ rubber bands sling back and slap up against the blue tarp impeding their launch attack.

The catapults needed more room to maneuver.

Through dawning horror, every soldier slug surrounding the slingshots realize they all just signed their own death certificates.

With each forward snap, their overloaded arms hit the tarp, causing the catapult structures to wobble and become unsteady. The rocks meant for their enemies fell with precise and unerring force on all surrounding slugs, killing some and maiming others.

The catapults’ wildly swinging arms jostle and jerk the tarp; along with the rainwater accumulating above. Collected rain pours down, sloshing and funneling into the hole made by that squirrel last winter.

Rebel Snerrance Snail is the first to see the disastrous cascade of water. He screams: “Climb higher up the carrot leaves!”

It is a deluge the snails narrowly avoid by their higher position.

The water falls in torrents onto the battleground. Flushing everything down into the crevasse, sweeping away Catapo Comma and Lieuto Admeero, decimating the slug warrior forces.

Secret Weapons

The battle has not yet seen its end, though. No.

Corporo Genero Martin Ludo Slug III still stands on his beefy haunches, surveying the destruction from his perch atop a large melon, commanding his troops to the end.

“Stay in positions! Stay in formation! We must defend our land!”

He doesn’t realize the battle is already lost. The remaining revolutionary snails, outnumbering their enemy, climb down from their perches to meet the weary, drenched warrior slugs in the mud of the crevasse.

Rebel Snerrance need not issue a commanding slick or a smack. Those killer snails know their next move. They’ve prepared for this moment for months. Those snails aren’t as feckless as to delight on carrots without forethought of their enemies.

Their next maneuver is what will become their pièce de résistance, granting them a lauded spot in this history book: They came prepared with poison slime. High concentrations of salt stored in secret shell compartments near their left flank. Every snail bathed in a special mud that repels salt from their bodies before the battle for this very purpose.

Every last snail pulls a cord looped on their neck, releasing a flood of liquid salt, effectively hosing their enemy.

They have no mercy. They dispatch every last warrior slug, leaving remaining slugs to writhe in vinegar and disintegrate into viscous brine.

Soon, their warrior leader, Corporo Genero Slug III, frantically gurgles across the battleground. A swath of Killer Snails surround him, pointing their shells toward him, to cover every inch of him in liquid death.

“We’ll never surrend--!”

Corporo Genero Slug III’s last words were cut off by his final gurgle.

Extermination

Rebel Snerrance gloats with mud-and-salt-crusted relish, sliding over the enemy leader’s remains.

“This land is ours too. Don’t forget how they brutally decimated us. It’s time to get them!”

His pneumostome heaves. Snerrance feels a rush overcome him, so he goes on, trusting his instincts.

“Our work isn’t done. You know what those slugs are capable of doing! We must exterminate every slug so we never have to live in fear again. No tolerance for cruelty!”

A gaggle of agreeing snicks and smacks rises in response. As a mob, they surround the flat stone by the big cabbage, where the rest of the warrior slug clan live and now hide.

Rebel Snerrance, drunk from the power of winning the battle, directed: “We must never live in fear again! We must make it safe for our children and our children’s children. We have no tolerance for their cruel nature. WE WILL EXTERMINATE THEM ALL!”

This is the moment when the blood of war clogs thoughts. A moment in time when the killer snails had already achieved their goal and won the territory by rights. And then continued with the complete extermination of the warrior slugs’ clan and culture.

Every killer snail, in sync, releases their second hatch compartment, containing more of the saltwater mixture. In the chaos, many Warrior Slugs’ wives and mothers tried to carry their young on their backs through the brine, effectively forfeiting their lives for the safety of their children. But even the slug youth were not safe from the salty slaughter.

At that, the snails truly earned their killer moniker. They were heartless in their cruel determination to exterminate every slug in the garden that day. And been proven that that filled second hatch of saltwater ensured every slug’s death.

Later, when the last slug screams stopped echoing off the tarp over them, Rebel Snerrance takes prominence and announces: “These carrots, melons, and parsnips are ours to claim forevermore!”

The bloody and exhausted Fibonacci shells cheer their triumph beside their carrot trophies. They immediately began their feast on all the garden’s bounty.

Aftermath

Garden plot historians agree; the aftermath of the massacre was an unbearable sight. The decimation was tragic. Coagulated sludge was all that remained on the battlefield and among the cabbages.

The amount of salt spilled that day caused irreparable damage to that garden patch. To this day, the spot lays bare of garden growth. And no slug societies have been established in Miss Maple’s backyard since.

Philosophers familiar with snail and slug history and that battle have questioned which course is better: Eradication or extermination?