A Tale Of Good And Evil

My mum is rearing snails...really.

Today i came back from uni only to be greeted on the front porch by a tupperware of snails.

Ever since i moved to my new place some time back, the garden has been the pride and joy of my mum and dad. This is not to say that they are superb gardeners with a natural green thumb, or that my garden is exceptionally pretty, but rather they have put much more effort into it this time around compared to before.

Never before have they shown this much interest in potted plants or taken so much time and effort to ensure every foliage in the house remains vibrant and more importantly, alive. Of course there has been the occasional plant murder when my dad would accidentally put too much fertiliser in one pot or viciously dig out that poor defenceless papaya tree that my mum planted (he doesn't believe in the practicality of having a fruit tree in the house :S) but all in all, i would say that they're doing quite well.

So imagine their horror one day when they found their beloved garden infested with snails. No idea where those little fellers have been hiding all this time but they sure like a grandeur appearance. It was as if a whole clan reunion was taking place right here in our garden and everywhere u turned u could see snails. Ok so i may be exaggerating a lil bit, but yeah there were quite a few la.

Without hesitation, my mum started her conquest to rid her precious retreat from these pest. She scoured the area high and low, leaving no stone unturned literally. The snails were handpicked one by one and off into a tupperware they went. When she was done, she smiled. Emerging triumphant, she could once again breath easily knowing that her lil garden was once again safe. Little did she realise of her final obstical.


'What should i do with these?' she turned to ask me.


'Kill it la! Squash them all at once. Or better yet, pour salt and see them melt!' I replied with a wicked grin.


But being the softy that she is, my mum couldnt do it. She thought it was heartless if she killed those snails, even if they did pose a threat to her garden. So in the tupperware those wretched snails remain till this day still awaiting their judgement. Uncertain about their future. And if you listen carefully at the stroke of midnight on a clear silent night, when the moon is full and the air is still, you would hear the soft mourning of those greedy snails crying

'Woe is us! Woe is us!'