Looking for Slugs

My grandfather rambles off plant names
and uses the flashlight to direct us.
I could smell the growing fire
as I felt the cool, grainy dirt crawl under my fingernails,
but no slugs.
I had to find one first;
whoever did would get to drive the golf cart tomorrow.

The cat-lantern-decorated trailer
became the site of my sister and I's excavation.
We knew the routine of every night.
We dug in the dirt,
and lifted leaves of plants
while we searched for slugs.

I crouched low, looked under each leaf,
then I finally found one.
I giggled at the feel of the cool, slimy slug slide across my palm.
My grandfather spotlighted it with the flashlight
and chuckled, making me smile.

It was light grey in color, soft, and tiny.
My sister came to my side with a frown.
Tomorrow
the golf cart would be mine.