When Professor John Lowson stumbles upon an alien creature sleeping in the swamp, he immediately begins thinking about his lofty reputation. He is, after all, the self-proclaimed “greatest archaeologist in Britain.” Never mind the danger, he says. He wants to bring the beast back to civilization and reap his reward. “Do you think I’m going to let the most profound scientific discovery of all time slip through my fingers?” he asks his colleagues.
Liz Beck and Gavin Royle didn’t exactly share their mentor’s enthusiasm. They’d prefer to stick a fork in the slimy beast and be done with it. Better safe than sorry, they reason. The lovey couple just wants to get back to London and start making babies. “The monstrosity,” writes the author, “cast a cloud over their supreme happiness.”
The professor, on the other hand, is totally blinded by his mad ambition. He would do anything to subdue the creature and bring it back to civilization. If Liz and Gavin didn’t fall in line and help him, there were ways and means to silence them for good—concrete shoes, cyanide, TNT, high voltage, that sort of thing. Lawson might be a well-respected member of England’s scientific community, but he was also a selfish scheming bastard.
The Slime Beast eventually awakens from its watery lair and immediately goes on a killing and eating spree. It eviscerates its victims and eats their gooey parts. For dessert, it rips the heads from their bodies and sucks the brains out of their skulls (as you do). Weirdly, the beast develops a taste for ladies with big boobs. “The Slime Beast turns its head and sees the woman standing at the top of the stairs. Her bulbous breasts are clearly visible through the semi-transparent nightdress. It thirsts for their flavor—the slurping tenderness there for the taking.”
After a few missteps, Lowson and his crew realize that they are totally unprepared to tangle with the creature from the black lagoon. Even the army can’t figure out a way to contain it. By the end of the novel, the Slime Beast was nigh unstoppable. No longer was it a shambling monster relying on brute strength and fear. It had somehow become swift and cunning like the alien aboard the USCSS Nostromo. Things end badly with a kinky rape scene, a wild chase through the swamp and a perverse showdown between Lowson and the object of his obsession.
Like everything I’ve read from Guy N. Smith, The Slime Beast is weird and crazy in a good way. His novels always feature a muddle of influences and they inevitably spring fully formed from his hyperactive id.
The sex scenes, in particular, are totally bonkers. During intercourse, for example, Liz begs her boyfriend to “Give it to me proper, like every woman wants her man.” What exactly does that mean anyway? And who talks like that in bed?? Later, when the two lovebirds are relaxing in post-coital bliss, Liz grabs her partner’s floppy cock in her hand. Writes Smith: “His limpness excited her as much as his hardness had done.” Even with all the spilled offal, skull slurping and tit noshing, this is probably the most cringe-worthy moment in the entire novel.
[The Slime Beast / By Guy N. Smith / First Printing: November 1989 / ISBN: 9780586204962]