Eloise 4 < Chirpy Dirges

Eloise Emerald's Adventures In The Grass, Book 4

By ambience of kazooey proboscidean pants,
Eloise guesstimated 10 minutes had elapsed,
then accorded group's decamp kudos of congrats.

'Top banana, boys, a double tonguelashing
was eluded with cowardice canny & dashing.'
Ludo's recap of course was 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 our spherical Shreddies, latticed compound-
eyes' panic buttons pressed, peeled on surround
mode - gardens are minefields so close to the ground!

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

with blindspots stereoscopic, low-fi orbs.

But,er,

cheers for yoincking me from fulvous-fuscous mer!'

Internecine bunnies from a book by Brexit Potter

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

next to such dunnybudgies so crazy & acrasial.

Weeze began to rue her entomological ordeal

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

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

a misogingerist zinger that zung, soz, stung our ginge

heroinge, Miss. E. Emerald. Contumelious

commentary of ingrate coprophages

chagrined her. '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 two muscid motormouths who find faeces edible

& th'11-year-old micronaut their rudeness had rankled.

But whilst Weeze was cranky, Ludo snarky & Dodo

wished himself dead,

a familiar pulse thru chequered fankle vibrated,

flybrating thru Ludo. He counterpoised against the dread

thread's drag, heeldragging à cloche-pied,

before beating assurgent wings th'opposite way.

The monochrome-gridded fetter a more lateral sway

sought over Ludo this time. Like perfervid fans

of a punkawallah monster quaffer of caffeinade cans

did lippy fly's diaphanous flight organs

flap against toppling tug, then as if a divot

before tenacious pulvilli of the now prostrate

Ludo was skosh of turf a fly could uproot,

he clung on for dear flyfe. From fit of fantods
Eloise roused herself, gathered her gapeseed
up & 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 numbering 5
a testament of parallel lines to his brave,
kicking 'n' screaming renitency 'gainst tractive

taskmaster/mistress, whatever faceless force majeure
was reeling Ludo in like '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 succumbed to doldrums repressed since
Dodo 1st bobbed past her leaf raft, resilience
having then returned 'til this attack of the singults.

As for Dodo, deathcult doommonger dipteran,
at th'ensulcating scramble of Ludo's 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 compound eyes crystalised by a 100-odd tears.

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

with hers, but after epimeletic minute or 3,

fly with flightless namesake stood up abruptly.

'Nothing beats a good cry. Adios now, friend femme-fly!'

Such 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'm itchin' to get airbourne,

hitch a gust to the flyscrapers o' Poochipoopopolis.'

Elsewhere would be an option trumping yomping lost,

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

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

Dodo,my dudio?' schmoozed enterprising Eloise.

'In the absence of aerial apparatus, I guess

you'd best clamber aboard - say, you climb so quick,

you sure you're no Celtic beetle?' His interest a blip

(best not call his coleopteran question shortlived),

forgetten once unwet wings whirred into flymode,

levitating Dodo as they purred zedfirst like a Flymo.

4 forearms for faecally speckled seatbelt as Elo-

ise flew

SHARE SO THAT I'M FAMOUS BEFORE I'M DEAD ; -)