Plog was a snail. He wasn’t one of those slimy snails. Well, he was a bit slimy, just a bit, but in the endearing way that nannas often smell of lavender or cookies, subtle in a nice way.
During his meanderings among the zinnias, delighting at their red and pinks and yellows, and suddenly making more slime in his excitement at the feast before him, Plog’s mind wandered for a moment. His long, crawling, foot came to rest.
Now, Plog may be a snail but at heart he has a longing, a longing to be in business. Once he’d though of starting a garden centre however, he would probably just eat all the profits and the stock and anything else organic lying about so that idea didn’t really work.
He has been considering a furniture store recently, outdoor furniture. Everyone needs furniture right? And as a snail, well, who better to know all about garden furniture, being that he had spent so much time around the PVC and canvas and nylon chairs and tables. Hmm, Plog, thought, but how to raise the capital?
~ ^-^ ~
In the very short time I’ve known Plog, he has grown on me. There are doubts in my mind about his ability to run a furniture store but, having said that, I’m curious about how he might get on, if indeed he does get the store up. This is one to work on further I think. ^_^