Looking at a Snail

College Essay Prompt: "You're walking down the street and look down at the sidewalk. What do you see?"

I am looking at a snail. A talking snail.

Why? Well, why not? Doesn’t a hypothetical question deserve an eye-catching and impossible answer?

The snail’s name is untranslatable and unpronounceable, so for simplicity’s sake let’s just call him Bob. A simple yet underappreciated name.

Bob thanks me for not stepping on him and is actually rather surprised that I noticed him. Most people, he says, are too focused on the thoughts swirling around in their heads to notice the little things in life.

“And as you can tell, I am very little,” he adds with what appears to be an impish grin. (It’s rather hard to tell, as snails lack the conventional features humans use for smiling).

I introduce myself, as is proper when meeting new…um, creatures. Now it is my turn to be surprised. He’s heard of me and my heroic rescues.

Rescues? you may ask. Yes, well, I don’t want to brag…actually, I do. I’ve saved many lives over the years. Snail lives, that is. For some reason my mother has an insatiable desire to bring every living thing in our yard under her personal domain. A side effect of this struggle for power and dominion is a sad loss of snail life. I couldn’t - wouldn’t - stand for this! Well, sometimes I did. There really isn’t much I can do when my mom sneaks out behind my back to lay baited poison for the little guys. But when I could, I would sneak them over the border. I soon became an expert smuggler, sneaking my slimy friends into a neighbor’s yard. (Don’t worry, I checked. His foreign policy has a strictly pro-snail immigration clause). Or I would give them an all expenses paid trip to the city park. So yes, I suppose I have made a name for myself in the land of snails.

Why? Once again my answer is, why not? They’ve done us no harm, and I find taking a life, no matter how small, to be a needless crime. I have to confess though, that rule is occasionally broken when it comes to spiders. Hey, I try to have mercy (I really do!) but not every spider makes it through my house un-smushed.

And so, Bob thanked me for my efforts. I invited him to stop by my place if he was ever in the neighborhood. He politely declined (I wonder why?) and continued on his way.

I watched him for a while, admiring his handsome shell, then continued on my way.

What’s that? You were hoping for a factual answer to your hypothetical question? Hmph. Well, fine. But my answer remains the same.

I am looking at a snail.