How did your Festivale go on Monday? I'm going to take the high road and assumed you got all of Pavé's feathers for him. Got some pretty snazzy furniture under your belt, right? Great!
DimetriWarrior: All of the villagers are equally annoying, they're just annoying in radically different fields.
You know what you should give up for Lent this year? Give up not reviewing stories and start reviewing some, that way you'll be able to make my life a lot easier than it already is. In return, I promise to give up oatmeal. Fair exchange, right? Thanks in advance for your courtesy.
Word Count: 1154 words.
Req .26: Pavé's Canção
"Dança, dança, dança!"
"Come on, come on... Come on dammit!"
The mayor swings and swings his trusty net to the best of his limited abilities, but the blasted feather refuses to comply with his pleas.
"Shit, just get down here already!"
The dazzlingly elusive Rainbow Feather has managed to aggravate and peeve the mayor at last, adding its name onto a list of other things that happen to piss the political official off. Truly, only the darkest kind of serendipity could be responsible for such an exasperating turn of events.
"Come on, come the fuck on! Gah, agh!"
Try as he might, the mayor only continues to fail in his attempts to knock the feather down from its high perch. Each swing is a swing of vain that does nothing to free it of its natural prison
"Cantar, cantar, cantar!"
It's stuck in a tree.
Quintessentially, the ideal and most obvious thing to do in a situation like this would be to shake the tree off of its high-horse and proceed to ravish it of all its beneficial gifts, be it in the range of fruits, furniture, bells that have somehow made their way into a fucking tree, left behind by some retard, or a nice pair of sweater pants to go with a wearable blanket of some sort.
And that's something the mayor would have definitely done first hand rather than swing effortlessly at the tree's leaves, had it not been for one crucial detail that turns the situation from one-hit button sequence, to a nightmarish rash-festering cesspool that can only be described as hell incarnate.
The mayor's full potential and rage are utterly held back by a tiny, yet no less intimidating iota of torture.
Bees.
A honeycomb hive entirely bedaubed in layers of wasps, bees, hornets, and everything in-between rests ever so threateningly off one of the tree's many, many branches.
As if matters weren't already made worse by this revelation, the Rainbow Feather just happens to be only a few inches away from the hive.
'Fucking Festivale, I shouldn't have to break my ass over this kind of stuff, and my only reward for it is more crappy furniture I'll just shove into the museum. What a grand old dandy pyramid scheme!
"Amor, amor, amor! Hey baby! Over here, man!"
The eccentrically unbearable voice of a flamboyant peacock with the accent of a peppy Portuguese man rings through the mayor's worn-out ears. His concentration is sent on a roundabout trip, sparking the kind of discombobulating dizziness that almost causes him to swing at the hive.
A very, very narrow save.
"You got it mayor, do not feel intimidated! Reach out of the feather, touch it, touch it and pucker up like the most sourest lemon! Then once you get it, come, come over so that I may give you more furniture, then we may dance under this Balloon Arch! Of which I thank you kindly for funding!"
'Fucking bird, you made me build that!'
Pavé, the vivaciously (as far as a man could go, anyway.) exuberant partying bird calls out to the town official from his base in Dicktown's Plaza. A base adorned with Festivale decorations from all around the world, and a number of multi-colored bead necklaces and headdresses to boot.
Pavé poses for a snapshot despite the lack of a camera aiming at him, his feathers are resting on his avian hips, and his eyes are letting off a glistening gleam, a shower of sparkles that could only be emitted by the most lively of characters.
"Tremer, tremer, tremer!"
"Viva Festivale, viva!" he shouts in tune to some of the most obnoxious music the mayor has ever heard. Not to sound politically incorrect, (which would be ironic, given his title.) but it's the kind of annoying, dirty, backwater slum music that consists solely of jolly cheers, vibrant cries of feelings, and the ever dreadful accordion.
The mayor switches his gaze from the jovial peacock's carnival and the town's lively villager participants, to his current predicament.
The bees in the tree unknowingly guarding his precious feather, and how the loud music is slowly making them uncomfortable.
'Shit, shit, shit. I swear to god if you don't turn down that music, I'll give you a Festivale, I'll give you a fucking Festivale you'll never forget!'
Attentiveness dwindling to an all new low, the mayor takes a deep breath and squints at both the radiant quill and the cluster of sickeningly-sweet honeycombs shrouded in cloaks of deathly buzzers.
He gets an idea right then and there.
'I wonder... What if...?'
Approaching the situation from a backwards point of view, the mayor turns his equipment upside-down, so that the net is taking a backseat for the tip of the tool to be utilized. In this sense, the net basically turns into a wooden jabber.
"Pena pena, móveis!"
"Yeah... Yeah, that's it," the mayor mumbles, deluding himself into a false sense of security with the slow progress in the plume retrieval. Little does he know, thinking outside the box won't save him out of this one.
"-if I can't get the feather to get into the net, then I can just jab the little shit off the tree with the other end... Yeah, perfect."
Once again, the mayor peers his eyes at the psychedelic plumage. As he readies for a final stealthy rescue attempt, it's almost as if time stops all around him, with the only things running in real time being himself and the buzzing demons up above.
The loud accordion and Fuchsia's godawful half-naked dance routine all but fade away into the back of his mind.
He closes his eyes, and counts to three to further heighten the suspense of the stakes at risk, and potential bee penetration.
'One.'
'Two.'
'Thr-!'
"Arriba, arriba, arriba!"
The mayor promptly jumps the shark and jabs the hive square in the noggin with his net.
"Aww shit..."
On the bright side, the mayor does finally shake the Rainbow Feather off the tree. On the downside, he's also immediately awakened the maddening fury of the wasps.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
"Bzzt, bzzt, bzzt!"
Pavé continues to dance with the heart of a thousand suns on what may just be the final day of festivities for everyone's lives until April. That though and that thought alone entices the peacock and the rest of Dicktown's villagers to party their asses off with free furniture and the wacky scavenger hunt required to obtain them. The free refreshments and lively music are not to be ignored, either.
No one seems to pay any attention to the mayor running for his goddamn life in the background, except for Isabelle. Then again, she pays attention to anything he does, a bit too muchattention.
Perhaps the mayor would be better off giving up on being a douche until Bunny Day.
Pavé's Culturally Sensitive Balloon Arch (It makes the party more lively, baby!): Approved.