As a rational, scientific person, I spent large portions of my life convincing myself that there's no such thing as bogeymen, monsters, or things that go bump in the night. Then I go outside late at night with a dim, flickering flashlight, hunting snails in the garden, and find my beliefs put to the test.
The rustling trees and scudding clouds hide the moon. The tall grass hides any number of venomous, toothy creatures, not to mention ax murderers. I make a mental note to mow more frequently.
I spot a snail or two. They make daring breaks for freedom, passing pillbugs left and right, but it's no use. They're captured and pay the ultimate penalty for trespassing.
Then something moves.
It's not a snail--the shadow is too huge and grotesque. I swing my flashlight and find myself face to face with the largest spider I've ever seen outside of the zoo. So this is why no rabbits have been bothering our garden--they've probably all been eaten by this spider. I know exactly what he's thinking as he stares at me with his multiple beady eyes. "Yeah, he's big, but think of the meal. I bet I could take him."
I calmly determine that the garden is likely snail-free. Might as well head back inside. I straighten up, take a deep breath of fresh evening air, and stroll into the house.
The next morning KLa looks out the window. "What happened to the garden? There's a giant hole in the fence and something trampled an entire row of beans."
"Snails," I say. "I must have missed one."