Slug: (squirm squirm squirm)
Me: Ah, you're making an "S." Well, all slugs can do that.
Slug: (wriggle wriggle wriggle)
Me: Oh, a "W." Now that's pretty impressive. I didn't think you were long enough for that. What's that you're doing now?
Slug: (writhe writhe writhe)
Me: Is it a "C"? No, a "J." Or is it an "A"? I feel like you need some vowels if you're going to spell something. Is that what you're doing?
Slug: (flop flop flop)
Me: Of course, it seems to me you'd have a hard time doing really angular letters, like a "T" for instance. How could you possibly make a "T"? You couldn't, could you, and what if that were your next letter?
Slug: (sludge sludge sludge)
Me: What is it boy, what are you trying to tell me? Wait a minute - S,W, A...T. SWAT! Sweet jeepers, is that it? Are they watching the house right now? You can just nod your head or something, you don't have to spell it all out.
Slug: (slalom, slalom, slalom)
Me: I think I'd better put you outside, otherwise they'll know we had time to talk.
And with that I tore a page out of a magazine, scooped him up, tossed him and the paper out the front door, and went back upstairs to bed, where my last thoughts before sleep consisted of wondering whether or not the slugs were trying to contact me, and if they were, would Hermione Granger be willing to relinquish her title of Queen of the Slugs to me?