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"Don't worry, Susie. This will all be over soon."
"You said that last night. I don't believe you no more."
"Slug-speed, Susie, cannot be rushed."
"What does he want with our barn anyway?"
"It's a her. See... you can tell cause she's carrying some barns back to her babies. She's got plenty though, and is probably just heading down to the pond, same as we do when it's too hot to stay inside. Our barn's just in her way."
"Coulda went 'round..."
"Nah, a small detour like that'll cost a slug a day an a half."
Where'd she come from then?"
"Dunno, Susie. Only the slime trail knows for sure."
"So we're supposed to just stand by while she goos right over the top of daddy's barn?"
"Yep."
And so it went, the giant slug-snail, right up and over the Dougal family barn and down to the pond, just like Mikey said. Come September, Pa Dougal went out to attempt his annual re-varnishing of the leaky old barn, and noticed a peculiar sheen glinting off the roof as the last Summer sun set over the cornfields. He stopped, turned around, and went back to feed the cats instead, unwilling to kill his beer buzz with thoughts of the supernatural. A few weeks later, Mr. Dougal sat on the porch and watched in awe as the first thunderstorm of the season cannon the night sky, and the rain, torrential, bounced off the barn like it were aluminum. He thanked the stars that the hay would finally stay dry. The fishing pond hadn't yielded a catch in weeks, and the kids were bored. But with dry hay, Pa Dougal could finally afford a horse.
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