The slug sandwiches
I was volunteering at a restaurant that needed kitchen help. They specialized in slug sandwiches, and they had many varieties. I was helping to make sandwiches from big flat purple slugs. They kept the slugs in a Tupperware container, where they were stacked on top of each other, moistly alive and waving slightly. The cook who was working with me took one out and pulled at it, making it stretch, adding cheerfully that “You gotta watch these guys. I’ll put one in a sammich and it’ll just stretch and stretch ’til it’s too long to fit in the bun. Then I gotta cut it or it’ll just keep going.” He slapped the slug into a sandwich roll already filled with lettuce, and we watched the slug stretch out.
I found this all nauseating and couldn’t bear to eat the sandwiches, though I was allowed to have as many as I wanted, free of charge. Instead I went around town making deliveries to all the businessmen who’d ordered slug sandwiches for lunch.
I was driving down a long, isolated road in Almaden, edged by hills covered in lavender. I looked up and saw that there were cats everywhere amidst the lavender. On the hills closer to us, crowds of black cats watched us with big round yellow eyes (like this), while on the hills further in the distance, fluffy Burmese-ish cats milled around, their purple-tinged fur giving them a mysterious shadowy look.