"Passion of the Slime" By Erica Podwoiski

It happened on the edge of a parking lot at Redwood National Forest. “What the fuck is that!” I yelled, more a statement than a question. I pointed to a lemony blob on the ground and repeated myself, louder and faster, while families with small children hurried into their cars. As I lurched closer to the unidentified terrestrial object, I realized that it was alive and covered in slime. “That’s just a banana slug,” an unimpressed stranger said. “I can’t believe it’s not butter!” I exclaimed. Other humans came and went without much consequence as I hovered above the creature, transfixed. The slug’s tiny optical tentacles met my gaze and I ceased to be afraid. Before I knew it, my clothes were unpeeling, and my feet had turned viscous. The slug whispered its desires to me as we began to bite one another, now equals in size, eager to make love like bananas. You can imagine my delight when the slug revealed its penis, which emerged from a pore in its head and measured no less than the entire length of my body. Our forms intertwined like two dripping crystals, and we wriggled for hours beneath the tallest trees on Earth. Afterwards we ate each other’s oozing genitals; I swear it tasted just like banana bread.