It’s just not Bill’s day today.  Things aren’t going smooth at work.  His supervisor is always picking on him, never satisfied with his work no matter how he tries.  It’s all eating him up, the frequent hints of insults, the glares that always make him uneasy, and the unpleasant things he always hears about his performance.  He should just quit, if only it were that easy.

Jenny, his wife, is out with friends again — always wasting his hard-earned money, always nagging about his wages not being enough to feed the family, always complaining, etc.  She sounds just like her mother.  No wonder why his dad left.  Bill wants to hit Jenny sometimes, but he controls himself.  I don’t know what will happen once my saturation point is reached, though, he thinks.

With a sigh, he goes to the kitchen.  His insides are rumbling from hunger.  I wonder what’s for dinner.

He finds a neon green Post-It paper on the fridge door.  It would have been sweet if the words written there is “I love you! See you later!”  Unfortunately, it isn’t.  Instead, he finds a note saying, “Make your own dinner.  I am going out.”  She’s so cold!  He’s becoming more and more irate.

Bill makes himself a simple ham and cheese sandwich.   Bite by bite, he replays today’s scenes in his head.  Each chew brings about a bitter feeling.  He wants to shed tears, call someone and tell him (or her) that life sucks.  Yet, there is no one, and he feels alone in this world.

Finally, he stands up after finishing his sandwich and goes back to the kitchen to tidy up.  As he washes his hands, he sees some garden slugs by the sink, which irritates him even more.  Argh! Wouldn’t this day ever end? Job sucks, my wife nags, and now these slugs are really getting in my nerves!  He needs to do something about it.

He looks around and grabs a bottle of iodised salt.  Aha!  Prepare to perish, slugs!

He sprinkles salt enough to cover the entire body of the first slug.  Almost immediately, the slug curls a bit, changing its appearance to an ugly brownish-yellow mush in the middle of its clear yellow and sticky slime.  One down, one to go.  Bill is now grinning like a Cheshire cat.  What an odd way to relieve stress.

He directs his attention to the other slow moving critter that seems to be unaware of its fellow’s fate.  Make your last crawl to safety, slug.  Sorry, you’re here tonight of all nights.  Bill lets out an evil laugh before attacking the poor creature with salt.  “Die, slug!!” he screams like mad.

But wait! Something seems to be wrong.  The slug seems to be growing in size!  Bill blinks a couple of times, but the slimy critter becomes bigger and bigger, spreading slime all over the kitchen floor.   He seems glued to where he is standing.  It is already too late when he realises what is going on.   The enormous slug is on top of him now, and he is suffocating.  There is no way out.  Then, everything becomes black.

Jenny finds him sprawled on the floor 2 hours later with his wrists slit open.   He was bathing in his own pool of blood.  There isn’t any slime, and there aren’t any slugs.  He just snapped.