Conversing with Snails

“I’m going to the supermarket,” I told my roommate, pulling my arms through the sleeves of my jacket.
“It’s 1:30 in the morning.”
“Yup.”
I had never walked to the store, day or night, but it couldn’t be more than a mile or two. I had slept all day, and that always made me productive at night. I had already done my laundry, and I needed groceries.
I walked. Cars drove by. People passed. It was nighttime. I’ll spare you the details.
I spent about half an hour in the grocery store. I meant to be able to cover my tab with the twenty I had in my wallet. As they say, never buy groceries when you’re hungry. I paid the fifty dollar bill with my debit card.
I began the twenty minute walk back to my dorm. “Hello, hello, hello,” I said to no one, as I walked past an apartment complex garden. I was in a good mood.
“Hi,” came a shrill voice in a bush. Before I could respond, the voice continued. “I’m a snail.”
“Hello snail,” I said. What else would I say? What else was there to say?
“I’m a snail, too!” chimed another, equally shrill voice.
“Hello to you, too.” There simply was nothing else to say.
“Get home safely.” I thanked them, and carried on my way. I began singing a song I liked about butterflies. I like to sing when no one is around to hear me.
“I’m also a snail,” said a snail brick fence, in plain sight, and peeking its head out of its shell. I looked back; my previous encounter had been well out of hearing range of this spot. It was odd to me that this snail would use the word “also”.
“We snails have super hearing,” it told me, answering my unasked question.
“That’s interesting. I have to go.” I wasn’t trying to be rude. I really had frozen food in my grocery bags, and I wanted to get home before they defrosted. I started walking again.
“It’s kind of weird how you sing to yourself. You’re also tone def.” I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t. I walked all the way home without another encounter.
I carried the food up the stairs to my dorm. As I turned on the light, I exposed a mass of black people fucking on the living room floor. They were like a swarm of ants. I turned off the lights, and went to my bedroom, where my roommate was asleep. The colony of horny ants blocked my access to the kitchen, so my freezables would have to wait anyway.
I decided to just go back out. I really didn’t feel like stopping for the night. I fumbled with the broken door handle, the damn thing coming off in my hand three times before I could open the door. I heard the oral noises of the room behind me. I was glad to get out.
I went to sit on an empty patch of lawn nearby. I was three AM, what else was I going to do? There was nothing to do.
“Hey,” a high pitched voice. “I’m a snail,” it said, rather redundantly. I saw it on the grass a foot or so away. “What’s up?” it asked.
I told it my story of a dorm full of screwing African Americans and thawing groceries. The snail seemed sympathetic.
“Why don’t you have a cigarette?” it suggested.
How did it know I had a pack on me? Maybe it was just making a lucky guess.
“I’m not really in the mood…”
“C’mon, it’ll pass the time and it’ll make you feel better.”
“I’m trying to cut back.”
“Aw, just one won’t hurt at all.”
“Why do you want me to smoke so bad?”
“Honestly, I adore the smell of tobacco.” For the sake of the snail, I lit a cigarette. Snails sure are proud of their species, I thought as I puffed. At least they talked to me.
I decided to wanted to go into my building’s lobby, and do some writing.
“I’m not really feeling this cig,” I told the snail basking in my smoke.
“awww…” I felt bad.
“Why don’t I leave the cigarette here right by you?”
“Mother fuckin’ awesome!”