Eloise 4 < Chirpy Dirges

Eloise Emerald's Adventures In The Grass, Book 4

As ambiently kazooed proboscidean pants,
Eloise guesstimated 10 mins had elapsed,
then accorded group decamp kudos of congrats,

'Top banana, boys, a double tonguelashing
was eluded w/ cowardice canny & dashing.'
Ludo's recap of course rollicking, gloating:

'Yikey o' riley! Tho' too close for comfort,
them anuran morons let us absquatulate
right under their bulbous gazes, far too intent

on handbagging the crinkles outta each other!'
'Yez, but as bardfly, JiMo, zibilantly uttered,
"The future's uncertain & the end is always near!"

Best keep spherical Shreddies, latticed compound-
eyes panic buttons pressed peeled on surround
mode - gardens are minefields so close to the ground!

Tho' HER beady jade flyballs aren't panoramic...'
was the Dipteran of didine denomination's verdict.
'Copperpeach femme-fly, you're a watchkeeping weak link

w/ blindspots stereoscopic for a low-fi pair...

But,er,

cheers for yoincking me outta fulvous-fuscous mer!'

Internecine bunnies from a book by Brexit Potter

(or was that Richard Adams' bestseller?) were tres genteel

next to these dunnybudgies so crazy & acrasial.

Therefore Weeze rued entomological ordeal

in the grass. 'Woah, Do', behind that marmalade fringe

she'll see red, well, doubly ruddy! ' pert Ludo zinged.

Misogingerist zinger zung, soz, stung our heroinge,

heroic ginge Miss Emerald, by contumelious

carriwitchets of ingrate coprophages

chagrined. ' Now, see here, you housefly he-harpies,

Eloise A. Emerald am I, who's busted a gut

to squire Ludo on quest to untangle his foot.

As for you, Dodo, who rescued your blue butt?'

Well, this lit the fuse for an interspecies squabble

'tween 2 muscid motormouths who find faeces to gobble

& th'11-year-old micronaut they had so rankled.

But whilst Weeze was cranky, Ludo sankey & Dodo

wished himself dead,

thru chequered fankle a familiar jounce vibrated,

flybrating thru Ludo, who ineptly equipoised dread

thread's drag, heeldragging à cloche pied,

before beating his wings th'opposite, assurgent way,

for monochrome-gridded fetter a lateral sway

over Ludo this time sought. L/ perfervid fans

of some punkawallah monster quaffer of caffeinade cans

did the lippy fly's diaphanous pinions

flap against toppling tug, then as if divot

before tenacious pulvilli of now prostrate

Ludo was slab o' turf a fly could uproot,

he clung on for dear flyfe. From fit of fantods
Eloise roused herself, gathered her gapeseed
& sprinted towards Ludo, helping hand splayed.

But 'fore she could bring her own ballast to bear
upon Ludo's procumbent stand, he wasn't there,
by ankuff of unsolved crossword squares

given the hook. Flylegwork furrows 5
were testament of parallel lines to his brave,
kicking 'n' screaming renitency 'gainst tractive

taskmaster/mistress, whatever faceless force majeure
was reeling Ludo in l/ 'le kippeure'.
Weeze felt mighty bereft; this was very last straw!

'Blimmin' blimey o' crikeypooface, I'm finished!
Mum & Dad will be so sad, no scooby where I've vanished,
& when drowned by dew or dodman's goo I perish,

my boneheap will be filaments, an embryo's toeclippings!
Zany fate to which I fell infinitesimal victim
my folks'll never find out....' Young floodgates opened,

Weeze sucuumbed to doldrums repressed since
Dodo 1st bobbed past her leafraft, resilience
having then frayed till this attack of the singults.

As for Dodo, deathcult doommonger Dipteran,
at Ludo's sulcating scramble of a disappearing
act, pusillanimously he'd gawked. But Weeze's keening

over her own Shrinking Rap-shrivelled future
struck some chord. In pule pessimusical he joined her,
his compund eyes crystalised by a 100 tears.

'Alaz, we're all just swotter fodder, are we not?'
Biotic buzz on loan from dust, from flies hi to flies bot
- O buzz-hoo-hoo!' Dodo counterpointed his sobs

w/ Weeze's, but after stint of lacrymose empathy,

fly w/ the flightless namesake stood up abruptly.

'Nothing beats a good cry. Well, adios, friend femme-fly!'

His perfunctory leavetaking jarred Eloise

back to doer's default, constructive curiosity.

'How about letting me in on where you're heading, please?'

'My wings have dried out now, I'm not crawling around!

This garden's more Jackie than Capability Brown

- it's a jungle! 'Swhy I's itchin' to get airbourne,

hitch a gust to flyscrapers o' Poochipoopopolis.'

Elsewhere would be an option trumping yomping lost,

Weeze thought, tho' traveling by fly is hardly the Bifrost.

'May I cadge a wingy to Poochipoop-o-place, please,

Dodo, dudio?' schmoozed enterprising Eloise.

'In the absence of aerial apparatus, I guess

you'd best clamber aboard - say, you postive

you're no Celtic beetle?' His interest shortlived

re pterygotan taxonomy so speculative,

once unwet wings whirred into flymode,

levitating Dodo as they purred zedfirst l/ a Flymo.

4 forelimbs for faecally speckled seatbelt as Elo-

ise flew

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