Like gingerbread logroller upon Basil Brush's bugle,
Lucozade's inverted i-schnozzle-es triangle
of rose pompadour nose leather was by 'Kind Of Blue'-bottle

surfed centrestage: Mojo the cavalry, not just a cameo!
Regally waving to E. Dragonflea, E.Louise & Ludo,
like a ballerina on a cherrypicker balanced Mojo

atop the moggy's bunnypink rhinarium. Flying King
was rooted to spot 8x over, as if the chessweb began binding
th'abdomen t'which it owed its dominion, but the petrifying

stimulus was Weeze's pet's Olmec head giving the spider
the emerald evils like Medusa's deadlights, the captor
turned caitiff! Gathering buzz, huskid muscid murmurs  

of a neon tawny dawn to vanquish this vampire's stalag,
now that the living webbed saw Odd Orange God Dog's
other side, literally. Scumberjack o' Poochipoopopolis logs

prolly didn't have spidercide in mind, but being usurped
as th'apex predator had Flying King so unnerved, 
that cobbywebbles, I mean 'collywobbles', under a minerv-

a's bloombrella purpwhorled harried him into a redoubt of
shadowy sepals. Serves Ol' 8ache right, Eloise approved,
tho' such gratification at garden karma was soon shelved

At Growing Song's finale (phew!), Eloise
with pneumatic headrush juddered, till E.Dragonflea's
curly legs creaked in propinquitous sympathy

& chessweb tremored like th'earth beneath sumoobs
of E.Honda. Growing pains at Mach 1 ripped
thru her emmerdales & her figglers, & from her hips

to the these & those in her fuscia crocs, which
saw Weeze bodypopeye on whatever juju GM spinach
was HGHing her. Velocitously, her vantage-

point bodyrocketed to same as her view Air Dodo.
The scopey Dragonflea & the kvetchy Ludo,
& doyen of Spotifly arthropodcasts, Mojo,

all now pinheadheaded & piddly as pishamires,
wallowing in a web she effortlessly unmired
herself from, spurting vertiginously ever

more 11-year-old-sized, until the vertijo
went to her head, or where it was 10 seconds ago.
Then Miss Eloise Agatha Emerald went a second sparko.
  
She came to, finally 11-year-old-sized, by her book.
She sprung up, sprinting like a foxhaired track
'n' field star down garden's farend to look

at the chessweb in her father's purple rosepatch.
What she found were silver tatters, average arach-
knit of argent twine maybe some melee unstitched.

Dust the spider, & only a single dessicated
dipteran husk in the wreckage of threads,
with trace discolouration green, blue, yellow, red,