Battenkiller said:OK... Open a can of Natty Light. Pour most of it on the ground. Leave an inch on the bottom and put it out by your wood pile (or garden). Next morning, go out to get the can. It will have an inch of Natty light in it, but nothing else.
Damn... even slugs won't touch the stuff. ;-P
I was under the impression that you didn't like it either. I seem to remember a pic posted by you showing a 12-pack about to be torched in your stove...BrotherBart said:Battenkiller said:OK... Open a can of Natty Light. Pour most of it on the ground. Leave an inch on the bottom and put it out by your wood pile (or garden). Next morning, go out to get the can. It will have an inch of Natty light in it, but nothing else.
Damn... even slugs won't touch the stuff. ;-P
>:-(
Woody Stover said:How do you know if it's snoozing or if it's at a dead run? It is a slug after all...
Doing The Dixie Eyed Hustle said:Ha !
It's toast. Ever step on one on your bare feet?? >:-(
Toast, I say !!
woodchip said:Doing The Dixie Eyed Hustle said:Ha !
It's toast. Ever step on one on your bare feet?? >:-(
Toast, I say !!
Worst experience ever, they always go up between your toes and just die in a heap of slime.
I say instant cremation is the way to go ;-)
BeGreen said:Glad I wasn't downwind. :-/
We have superslugs out here 6-8" long. You really know when you've stepped on one of them.
snowleopard, great poem! Or do you have a tune behind that ditty?
Doing The Dixie Eyed Hustle said:Snow, you're making me think, and that's a good thing
Thanks for sharing that.
snowleopard said:Doing The Dixie Eyed Hustle said:Snow, you're making me think, and that's a good thing
Thanks for sharing that.
to which we hear a faint, sluggy voice comment: "Yeah, finally. Fat lot of good that does me now . . . " :lol:
snowleopard said:I have an unsuspecting Slug
on some disputed firewood split
whose Carcass will explode and spit
some Natty Light into the air.
I have an unsuspecting Slug--
snoozing, running--I don't care.
It may be I shall take my hand,
Toss him him in the stove and
squint my eyes and hold my breath
And watch until the thing explodes.
I have an unsuspecting slug.
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.
The slug will likely not be here.
God knows 'twere better to be deep
Pillowed in punk and scented bark,
Where girl slugs throb in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear...
But I've an unsuspecting slug.
This morning in my flaming stove,
When next I open up the door
And I to my pledged word am true,
My little slug shall be no more.
fishingpol said:It's not a slug, but a snail I made out of cherry burl that was destined to be firewood. I won't burn it though ...
We use essential cookies to make this site work, and optional cookies to enhance your experience.