Wanted: Dead or Alive

So the traps are set.  No hangman's noose, no firing squad, all it took was some pie tins and beer.

And as our garden becomes a haven of death, I said to Barry, "I bet there aren't even any slugs.  They are supposed to come out at night.  I don't see a one."  And just as my conscience was clearing Barry found this cute/ugly little dude on a plastic container in the garden.

Guilt is back on the table.