(EDITOR’S NOTE: This is a new column where we report the unvarnished truth from young children that describe previously unknown cryptids. This one comes from a pair of siblings in Tolland, CT who spotted something strange on a trip to the landfill with their dad. As we age, we lose the awesome powers of observation that we are born with, so we are grateful that the young ones are here to help us see the unseen! If you have kids in your life that have discovered something new, send us an email at [email protected] – we would love to spread the word!)
Greetings, young cryptid enthusiasts! Welcome to the Kidz Kryptid Korner, where we delve into the fascinating world of undiscovered creatures. This week, we’re thrilled to introduce you to the latest sensation among the kids: the enigmatic Slugman!
The Discovery:
Our intrepid young explorers stumbled upon the Slugman while investigating the local landfill. Nestled amidst discarded pizza boxes and broken toys, they encountered a creature unlike any other—a colossal slug swarm with a vaguely humanoid shape. Imagine a writhing mass of slimy bodies, each nearly five feet long, moving in perfect harmony. It’s a sight that both astounds and bewilders.
Physical Characteristics:
- Size: The Slugman reigns as the heavyweight champion of slugs. Its immense length dwarfs any garden variety slug you’ve ever seen. But here’s the twist: it’s not just one slug—it’s a collective consciousness, a hivemind of gastropod cooperation. There’s one 5 foot slug that has a writhing mass of smaller slugs crawling all over, like remoras eating the remnants of the remnants that sustain this awesome bug.
- Diet: The Slugman’s diet? Trash. Yes, you read that correctly. It feasts on discarded waste—whether it’s half-eaten sandwiches or, well, less savory items that come from toilets and butts. The landfill provides a buffet of culinary delights for this peculiar creature, who likes to eat all the grossest stuff.
- Salt Sensitivity: Like its terrestrial slug cousins, the Slugman despises salt. A sprinkle of sodium chloride sends it into a wriggling frenzy. Scientists would probably speculate that its aversion to saltwater is the key to its survival, if they weren’t too busy studying boring science stuff.
- Antennae Aesthetics: The Slugman boasts impressive antennae—large, curving appendages that sway gracefully as it navigates its trashy domain. Surprisingly, these antennae don’t pick up radio signals, though they do provide impressive mobile data service.
The Slugbooks Mystery:
Perhaps the most baffling aspect of the Slugman’s behavior is its penchant for collecting ordinary slugs. It captures them, dries them out, and meticulously arranges them into what we’ve dubbed “slugbooks.” These cryptic formations resemble ancient tomes, yet deciphering their contents remains an unsolved riddle. Are they coded messages? Slug poetry? A rambling manifesto on the virtues of slime?
Snail Shell Theft:
As if its slugbook hobby weren’t peculiar enough, the Slugman moonlights as a shell kleptomaniac. It pilfers snail shells, transforming their rightful owners into sluggish versions of themselves. Imagine a snail waking up one morning, only to find its elegant spiral replaced by a gooey, elongated form. The Slugman’s motives remain murky—though it’s clear that he’s having a shell of a good time collecting the stolen insect homes.
So, Kryptio Kidz, keep your eyes peeled for the Slugman during your next landfill adventure. Document your findings, sketch its antennae, and ponder the mysteries of its slugbooks. Who knows? You might be the one to crack the code and reveal the secrets hidden within those slimy pages. If you find him, send us a picture or a drawing and we’ll post it.
Until next time, stay curious, stay cryptid-savvy, and remember: the weirdest creatures often lurk where you least expect them!
Stan Dirkson
