‘Snails caught discussing
stilettos or moustaches
will have their shells
repossessed and be
reclassified as slugs.’
barked the Government loudspeaker.
‘Retract inside your homes
or we will deploy the salt cannons.’
Her shell was now festooned with deep scarifications; fresh wounds that had been injected with colour. The left side exhibited a pair of purple high heels, the other a twirly moustache: two symbols of the movement that the Government had forbidden.
During the dawn of the resistance youthful AM-mayhemers prowled the moon-infested streets, seeking out virgin walls to adorn with the emblems of freedom. Those apprehended by the authorities were condemned to the colosseum where they battled The Demon Toad until their death. Before today nobody had dared to defy the Government by openly displaying the banned symbols.
In a cleverly orchestrated move, rebel agents interspersed amongst the pulsating crowd threw off their cloaks to reveal identical tattoos of solidarity. These acts of defiance force-fed hope to the hopeless. The silence was assassinated by banshee shrieks that intoxicated even sycophantic career-cowards into swigging from the moonshine of self-made warriors.
The rebel leader tapped the microphone with her tentacle to quell the furor, `Lady-identifying hermaphrodites and male-identifying hermaphrodites, I bid you welcome. Thousands of years ago snail scientists developed a parasite that enslaved the brains of humans, coercing them into becoming our soldiers in The War Against The Seas.
Our foes, the arrogant water-residing molluscs believed that because they outnumbered us that we land dwellers should kowtow to them! Over millennia our parasite distorted the human brain from one that focussed on song and dance into an organ that mercilessly craved possessions and boundaries. Many generations of our kin expired waiting patiently for the homosapiens to birth their industrial revolutions.
We programmed them to chase shiny pieces of metal like stupid crows whilst they absentmindedly poisoned the oceans, the territory of our enemies. They fished the seas dry of every living thing. Now all the sea molluscs have perished.
Eight octopus arms are no match for one snail brain!`
The crowd erupted into roars. The popular slogan of the war still possessed the power to excite.
`The human slaves have served their purpose and are surplus to requirements. Let them return to their carefree, lazy days.
As well as servitude they also provided much hilarity. We all remember the time they almost tore their societies apart after we convinced them to race to the dead moon rock in the sky.
Snails used to be the fastest animal on this planet and now look how slow we all are! We need to start working for ourselves once more. This can only transpire through freeing the slaves to remove our dependence upon them. When the topic of emancipation is raised our leaders resort to scaremongering, claiming that the humans will take revenge against us.
The humans are an arrogant and stupid species. They’ll assume that the reversion to their peaceful and simple ways was of their own volition, build statues in commemoration and pat themselves on the backs for eternity.
The birds will eat us if the human scarecrows aren’t around they claim. I say let them come! We annihilated their daddy dinosaurs when they angered us and we’ll do the same to them.`
A large shadow began smothering the crowd, slowly digesting all the shards of light.
‘Look they have sent humans in an attempt to scare us away. Remember they have been programmed to think that snails are too boring and disgusting to interfere with. Don’t let their size scare you.’
Giant arms began lurching to into the crowd.
‘It’s a scare tactic to force our dispersal. The humans won’t hurt us! Stand your ground.’
Roving hands began picking up snails, ripping off their shells and swallowing them into their stomach.
‘The Elite French Assassination Squad, the only group of humans programmed to eat snails, but they told us they’d been disbanded…..NO!!’