Eloise Emerald's Adventures In The Grass, Book 6
'Queasycome, queasygo!' Weeze punned to distract
nostrils from miasma distinct t'intestinal tract
of a miaower. Eloise's murgeon at cat-cacked
capital of the garden's flies partnered by mincey
tiptoe along streak of meconium khaki,
which she
had travelled as Dodo signposted, ever since he
departed to count the days till day he'd depart
more dearly. Future flyentists might mull icky ichnites
imprinted by the bipedally croc'd synoecete
girl, but she passed relatively unnoticed by
copropolitan Poochipoop-populace. Hectically,
they flywayed above scumber-umber highways
before touching down to boak up flygestive enzymes,
rendering the poovement esculent. Weeze felt chyme
within her own tum rise, as passerfly's labellum
osmosigolloped turdkerb & muscid acid mix.
Before Eloise(r) spew(g)ed that morning's Weetabix,
like jentacular Jacob Marley from her stomach's Styx,
she clapped celadon eyes upon cluster of flies
doing the jitterfly 'fore a scybalous stage, where
played
a muscid minstrel with a mane like Bryan May-
fly, gussied up in a zoot suit of electric violet,
who tooted his proboscis like a bombilant trumpet,
buzz bugle. His top set of flylimbs was a riot
of noodling on a homethrown pukelele, strung
with homegrown guitarsi-strings, plucked from the very shins
of the Moj', who rocked the flies' fort of pussy dung.
Also strutting, well, slithering their stuff
upon stage of clotted moggy bottybarf
was Mojo's backing band: a selcouth earth-
worm slapheading 1-stringed 'barp' - bass harp,
as opposed to an ovine belch - plus a dope
of a snail, striking pardigested grainy pips
of kitty kibble percussively with his eyestalks.
Like outboard kazoo with underthump afunk,
or generator hum & bagpipe burden more than sync'd,
the fly maestro vibratoed his trunkish horn,
drone kill's crescendo & then, oh, the band was done.
Weeze wasn't waiting till insectile intermission
had elapsed, nopesolutely! Once th'invious throng
of bopping bugs had thinned, young Emerald lunged
with foxhaired, firehearted grit, towards the stage
t'importune bandleader in the purpureal whistle,
whose postvertical & vertical bristles were brizzy fristles.
'Oi,'scuse,pardon, Mr.Mojo!' If his fristles had been
hubristles,
they might have stood on end at Eloise echoing
Ludo's unbecomingly brassnecked beseeching,
but Mojo's crinose sensors did no such thing.
Instead, the hip pied piper of Poochipoopopolis,
a dipteran dittysmith of adenoidal dirges,
t'Eloise's graminaceously-based mini misadventures,
including vaudeville time-out of Ludo by chequered
fankle, lent a hiply sympathetic antenna.
'To recap, Miss Copperdamselbeetlefly, grounded
chimera:
'tis an antidote you desire to the Shrinking Rap?
& to unsnare the lost Ludo from that stringy flytrap?
'Kay, well... ungroovio news 1st: Ludo's been
webnapped!
Scacchic gyve you've described is spinneretwork
of Flying King the Spider, his predacious silk.
Th'attercop's no muscid monarch, & like the old joke
about fly who cannot fly, he should be called the Duke
of Walk! But silken snare Flying King has snuck
in every corner of the garden, arachnid Bostik
adhesively boosts footnooses, wellprimed
to snag a blasé bug or some fly landing blind.
To his gossamer larder, spider spools in his lines.
Deet more groovio is that my beat combo & I
could compose you a Growing Song... Greasy Crawlies!'
Bandmates commando-oozed forth, the worm less laggardly
tho' neither of them were lightfooted, lacking feet.
All his somites' length, limbless instrumentalist
along his left had a generink snake tat - could be krait,
cascabel, vindscreen viper or edmundblack adder.
& on wriggler's dexter, in profile, an oddly anguine ladder.
The angletwitch introduced himself, 'Owight, I'm Snadders!'
'& I'm Eloise A. Emerald, Esquir...erm, -ess.'
'Eloise, eh?' Snadders ingeminated. 'Any relation to Alice?
She was freak peach quadruped too, no offense.
My philocapnic caterpillar cousin met her briefly,
before smober pupa unpacked a vaperfly.'
Her capernoity's contents ostranenied,
fat fantasy
& thin fact jammed reality's revolvingdoor.
As Weeze spiralled, membranophonist shelldwelller
reached conversational scrum. Thrash-panda'd,
purple-Polo'd his racoonish ocular tentacles,
evolved for vision not rhythm, hence the ommatophorical
shiners. Muzzy dodman seemed too concussed to tell
Weeze his handle, nicety left to the Flied Flyper, Mojo:
'This gauching gastropod goes by the name of Benzo,
& together Mojo & his Greasy Crawlies, we shall jam allegrow,
or adagigrow - whatevs, it's groovigrow - a track so large
it'll balloon dimensions, such that you may your vassalage
resume, as mammoth salmon ergate for He whose pelage
be jaffacake jamcolour, tigrish filling. Hail quaint
apricot mutt, His barker's egg birthed our citystate!'
'Oh, you mean Lucozade! Look, he's a... Yes, hail Him.
Make haste
please, Moj', mi new bezzie, restore my human height
with melody.' 'Barleysugarhead child, you can't hurry Art.
You just have to wait. Art don't come easy, it takes about
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