Congratulations Banana Slug!

Most slugs dream of moist places and midden heaps, places where they can be comfortable and just chill for most of their brief, slimy lives. But not you. You’ve always wanted bigger, better things. So it’ll surprise no one when you slither out from under your neighbor’s compost heap and enroll in Piedmont Community College tomorrow.

You’ll start inauspiciously enough, taking some math and science classes to try and build a better understanding of the world. Some people will look at you weird because you’re a giant banana slug who has somehow taught himself to speak, but you’ll ignore the haters. You’ll just apply yourself every day and do your best to achieve.

Eventually it’ll pay off. During your second year you’ll discover accounting and economics coursework. You’ll start building up some real credits and, come the end of your sophomore year, you’ll get your grades up and transfer to Piedmont Non-Community College. There you’ll acquire a BS in accounting and, while graduating, get your CPA.

You’ll set up a small, inauspicious tax-firm in downtown Durham, where you’ll meet your wife, a young coed who will come into your place with tax trouble and find your non-threatening attitude and glistening membrane enchanting. The two of you will have two incredibly weird looking kids and raise them quietly until you’re eventually called upon to represent one of your clients in court.

You’ll come to the courtroom dressed in your best custom tailored suit (you’re a slug, so it will have been quite expensive to get together) and you’ll deliver your testimony honestly, discussing how your client requested that you defraud the government and you quietly refused and presented his records honestly. Your client will be sentenced to two years for tax evasion and you’ll get a mention in the local paper for your integrity and trustworthiness and how it’s a little odd you gave up one of your clients.

This will lead to an increase in business, which will lead to you hiring on some additional help, including a hungry young single mom with a lot of heart and nothing to lose. She’ll hit on you one late night during tax season and the two of you will have a brief, torrid affair. Your wife will never find out and, even years later, you’ll still give your ex-employee recommendations after she’s moved on and the two of you stop sleeping together. You’ll always feel a tinge of guilt about it, though.

You’ll finally die when the client you gave up to the Feds comes to visit you one day with a shaker of salt. Your son will shoot him in the chest with a revolver he keeps in his desk (against your wishes) and then take you to the hospital, where you’ll die in your wife’s arms, surrounded by family as the salt devastates your gooey slug body.

Congratulations Banana Slug!