It was a cloudy morning in the countryside, and Lala woke up to the sounds of birds chirping and the soft rustle of the wind through the banana leaves. She stretched and looked outside the window, where CEO Kien was already up and moving around, preparing buckets and baskets. Today was the big snail-harvesting day!
“Lala!” Kien called out, his voice full of excitement. “Put on your old clothes! We’re heading to the swamp!”
Lala blinked. “Swamp?” she murmured, a little unsure. She had helped on the farm before—planting rice, feeding chickens, even chasing goats—but she had never harvested snails. Still, her curiosity and love for nature made her smile. “Okay, let’s do this!” she called back.
She changed into some old pants and a long-sleeved shirt, grabbed a straw hat, and tied a scarf around her neck. When she stepped outside, Kien handed her a pair of rubber boots. “You’ll need these. Trust me.”
As they walked together to the swampy area near the lotus pond, Lala noticed how peaceful everything seemed. The water glistened in the soft morning light, and frogs croaked lazily along the edges. But as they got closer, a strange, muddy smell filled the air.
“This is it,” said CEO Kien proudly. “The perfect place for big, juicy snails.”
Lala peered into the water. “How do we find them?”
“They hide under the water, beneath weeds and mud,” Kien explained. “You reach in, feel around, and pull them out.”
“Reach into the mud?” Lala asked, already feeling a little uneasy.
“Yep! Come on, it’s fun!” Kien encouraged with a laugh.
At first, Lala hesitated. But then, determined not to look afraid, she kneeled by the water and plunged her hand in. The mud was cold and squishy, and something wriggled past her fingers. She yelped, but Kien laughed gently. “That’s part of the adventure!”
As the morning went on, Lala became braver. She learned how to feel for the snails’ smooth, round shells and carefully pull them up without getting pinched. The basket started to fill with all sizes of snails—big ones, tiny ones, and some that tried to escape.
But slowly, something started to bother her.
First came the itchiness. Her arms and legs started tingling. At first, she thought it was just the mud drying, but then she scratched her arm and found red bumps.
“Um, Kien?” she said. “Is it normal to feel itchy?”
Kien peeked over. “Oh yes. The water here has some tiny bugs. But don’t worry. We’ll wash off later.”
Then came the smell.
After a couple of hours in the swampy water, Lala noticed that a strong, swampy odor had taken over her clothes. It was a mix of mud, snail slime, algae, and something unidentifiably gross.
“Ew!” she whispered, lifting her arm to sniff. “I smell like a swamp monster!”
Kien chuckled. “That’s the true scent of hard work, Lala!”
“I think I smell worse than the snails,” she muttered.
By noon, Lala was covered in mud, her shirt stained with greenish slime, and her face dotted with mosquito bites. Her hands were wrinkled from being in water too long, and the itching was becoming unbearable.
“I think I’m ready to go home now,” she said politely.
Kien nodded. “Good work today! You did amazing. Let’s head back and get cleaned up.”
They loaded the snails into a cart and walked back to the farmhouse. Every few steps, Lala scratched herself and gagged a little from the smell. “No one better come near me right now,” she joked.
Once home, she rushed straight to the outdoor shower. She scrubbed and scrubbed, using soap, lemon leaves, and even baking soda to get the swampy odor off her skin. “I may never be clean again!” she moaned playfully as she rinsed off for the third time.
After drying off and changing into fresh clothes, Lala sat down on the porch with a glass of iced sugarcane juice. Kien joined her, holding up a big bowl of the cleaned snails.
“Still feel itchy?” he asked.
“Less now,” she smiled. “But wow, that was one of the dirtiest things I’ve ever done.”
“You did great,” Kien said proudly. “Not everyone can handle harvesting snails. It’s not just about getting dirty—it’s about patience, care, and knowing where to look.”
Lala sipped her drink and looked at the snails. “What are we going to do with them?”
“Tonight, we cook them. I’ll make spicy stir-fried snails with lemongrass and chili.”
“Okay, that might make the itch and smell worth it!” she grinned.
As the sun began to set, the kitchen was filled with sizzling sounds and rich aromas. Lala helped Kien cook, even though she kept sniffing herself to check if the swamp smell was truly gone. She laughed when Kien said, “You smell like lemongrass now. Much better.”
When dinner was served, they sat with Thuy and Grandma, eating the fruits of their muddy labor. The snails were chewy and spicy, perfectly seasoned, and absolutely delicious.
“You know,” Lala said between bites, “I didn’t think I’d enjoy this day. But now that I’m clean, fed, and surrounded by good company, I’d say it was a pretty great adventure.”
“Even if you were itchy and smelly?” Kien teased.
As the sun began to set, the kitchen was filled with sizzling sounds and rich aromas. Lala helped Kien cook, even though she kept sniffing herself to check if the swamp smell was truly gone. She laughed when Kien said, “You smell like lemongrass now. Much better.”
When dinner was served, they sat with Thuy and Grandma, eating the fruits of their muddy labor. The snails were chewy and spicy, perfectly seasoned, and absolutely delicious.
“You know,” Lala said between bites, “I didn’t think I’d enjoy this day. But now that I’m clean, fed, and surrounded by good company, I’d say it was a pretty great adventure.”
“Even if you were itchy and smelly?” Kien teased.
“Even then,” Lala nodded. “Though next time, I’ll bring stronger bug spray.”
Everyone laughed, and the night continued with stories, jokes, and the satisfaction of a day spent close to nature—even if it meant dealing with swampy mud, slimy creatures, and a smell she’d never forget.
That night, as Lala lay in bed, freshly bathed and smiling to herself, she thought about all she had experienced. Getting dirty, itchy, and smelly was just part of the story—but the real memory was the fun she had with Kien, the lessons she learned, and the pride of doing something new.
And as she drifted off to sleep, the faint scent of lemongrass on her hair reminded her: sometimes the messiest days become the most unforgettable.
