Slug and Boots

    At flute choir last night, I got a little lost in the reminiscing about the Buzzard Ballet, which has a line similar to The Nutcracker, which reminded someone of “The Enchanted Eggplant,” but I do know that Kim said our notes were a little sluggish.  Wanting to participate in this fascinating stream of consciousness, I helpfully pointed out that I write about slugs.  And then Vic told his slug story.

    If I remember correctly, he was camping, and one morning when he put his boots on, he encountered something rather large and squishy:  a slug.  Just imagine the slimy mess left on that socked foot as he drew it out of the boot to investigate.  Other slug experts may already know what he discovered:  it is incredibly difficult to clean slug off one’s sock and out of one’s boot.  Evidently, slug remains do not respond to water; the proteins don’t break down.

    Here we will leave Vic working on slug clean-up and turn to a shocking realization of mine concerning flute choir:  we have never played a flute piece dedicated to slugs.  We’ve performed Flutes and Vegetables  (which included “The Enchanted Eggplant”) and we are working on a wildflower march, but there is a noticeable absence of slugs as inspiration for flute music.

    Surely slugs have something to offer.  Definitely, they pose a challenge.  How do you present the essence of slug in a piece of fine music?  How could you musically capture their slime and their slowness?  What would a world be without slugs?  What redeeming or comedic value could be the basis for a slug composition?

    Sadly, my capabilities do not include composing, but there must be someone out there with a heart for slugs and the burning desire to honor them with song.  It occurs to me that Vic’s slug story could be told in a musical medley.  A proper slug tune would be a plodding piece with directions to play moving notes (if there are any) sluggishly.  Perhaps there could be some clashing, keen musical drama in order to capture the soul’s dissonance as one discovers the slug slime embedded in the boot.  Naturally, after the height of musical but sluggish emotion, there must be a resolution . . . but how do you recreate clinging slime?  Maybe some glissandos could capture its lingering essence.  And what would you name the piece?  Slug ‘n Boots?  Ode to Slug?  Titles aside, it is suddenly clear to me that the alto and bass flute parts would be well suited to fully express the low, round tones of a slug in motion.  The piccolo could provide some frantic, high-pitched peaks for the first glimpse of smashed slug.  And dissonant chords would well represent the problem of slime removal.

    There, Vic.  I almost have it written, save the actual notes.