AUTHOR'S NOTE:There was this e-chat with some friends about banana slugs, and of course nobody in the USA ever has anything really important to think about on April 15 (the Ides of April?). I thought about B&D instead. Maybe we need a new fiction label along the lines of "Procrastination".

---

"Really fancied that bird," Bodie said wistfully. "Can't I--?"

"Me or the bird," Doyle said firmly. "What's in there? Oh god!"

"Banana slugs. Like bananas, don't you?"

"Bananas I can cope with," Doyle said. "Banana slugs I draw the line."

"Don't want to get one for Cowley's birthday, then?" Bodie lingered beside the display terrarium.

"Give it to him in an empty Glenfiddich bottle. He'd slug you."

"Leave the malt in the bottle, you think he'd drink it anyway?"

"Wouldn't do the slug any good, would it? Probably get the RSPCA down on us like a ton of bricks."

"Well, what about tequila, then? Cruel to those worms."

"Don't think he likes tequila. What about a hissing cockroach?"

"Some kind of fancy drink?" Bodie followed Doyle to the next display. "Judas priest on a pogo stick! Are those real?"

"Get them trained to attack," said Doyle thoughtfully, "put the Alsatian breeders right out of business. Talk about your psychological edge."

"You talk about it. Don't you want a trained slug too?"

"Got you, sunshine."

"Not for long," Bodie muttered. "I've had it with Exotic Pets. I'm going to the Food Hall and look at something wholesome, like chocolate-covered ants or crispy-fried grasshoppers. But," he added defiantly, "first I'm going to have another chat with that bird."

"Don't go trying to pass on any bad language," Doyle ordered. "Pretty Polly is all it needs."

-- THE END --