The Man Who Could Talk To Snails

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic


An idea i had for a story based on a passing comment I heard. Of course just in progress but if you want to leave feedback on what I have so far that would be cool :) , just wondering how it reads.
I hope to update this very soon.

Submitted: December 08, 2017

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Submitted: December 08, 2017

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THE MAN WHO COULD TALK TO SNAILS-



 

He mumbled thanks to the cashier and awkwardly carried the cabbage out of the store. Marcus Greenbaum had been a wreck pretty much his whole life. Couldn’t play sport, got bad grades, had a pretty minimalistic love life and now lived in a tenement in New York. Left disappointed with what life had to offer, he had discovered a bizarre talent of his.

 

On the other hand, Laurence was a real pain in the ass. He was an inherently slow worker and an over-demanding employee of Greenbaum’s. But he and Greenbaum had a mutually beneficial agreement that neither could afford to screw up. The streets of New York were no place for a snail as sophisticated as Laurence, and he was quietly grateful for every cabbage leaf. You see, Laurence had become an excellent listener, and Marcus became the go to guy if you had spouse trouble.


 

21:00

 

Marcus gingerly held his business partner by the shell, skulking through the dark suburbs, gliding between streetlights. He eventually came to the right house.

“ This is the place Laurence” he whispered, “ I’ll pick you up tomorrow at the hedging just over there “ he continued , pointing to a grouping of shrubbery.

 “ Aight, she’s home alone right? “ Laurence asked, wringing out his stalks in preparation.

“ She should be, but she’s not “

“ I see “.


 

21:30

 

Laurence finally reached the porch, the letterbox was definitely too heavy, and there was no obvious gaps under or around the door. He sighed, realising that he was going to need to find an open window.  


 

22:30

 

An hour later he had crawled his way up to a small bathroom window at the back of the house, left slightly open. He stopped right at the cusp, and raised his stalks to peer in over the frosted glass. The bathroom led out to a dark bedroom and there didn’t seem to be anyone around. Upon reaching the marble sink he heard a woman laughing downstairs, followed by the clinking of glasses. “ Textbook “ he grumbled. He struggled on the downward journey to the floor on the marble, nearly slipping a few times but after just 20 more minutes, he had made it. Twisting his stalks around he looked back and took satisfaction from leaving a horrendous streak on the masonry. He smirked his little snail smirk and continued on, hoping to find a vantage point in the bedroom.

 


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