レンタカー王子 VOL. 1 P. 2
春の前奏曲:鳥や蜂
Spring Prelude: The Birds and The Bees
A drone of wings...
"Woo! Awesome yield this year! The mother-ship will be pleased" hummed Sting.
"Do you think we'll have time to pull over for a honey takeout on the way back? I'm whizzing for one!" buzzed its partner.
"Oh come on, Frank," placing a foreleg on his partner's thorax.
"Bees are always busy. Always are, and always will be. You know the phrase, as busy as a bee, that's bee-cause humans think we are. Let's just...keep it that way," murmured Sting.
In their pollination quest, the faithful honey bees navigate hastily through the apertures of the towering canopy, in search for a bounty blossom. Without warning, their astute antennas begin to twitch, and the sensory hairs on their bodies jitter in irritation; alarmed of a familiar presence.
I smell... avian.
"Ah shit. The birds are here."
In an aerobatic swoop through a vine archway, a yellow flash ascends to an aerial altitude. Hovering above a bed of budding roses, it adjusts its body into an aerodynamic frame, fastening its wings, anchoring its head and then, cartwheels into a nose-dive. When it reached the critical time, it steadily spread its wings to the ultimate; air pressure spanning beneath, lifts the canary up once more to an effortless glide.
Piercing through the air, the beaming canary of auroral yellow twirls with delight, as if graciously thanking the sun for its golden deed.
Upon seeing the scintillating twinkle of the water's reflection, the canary propels its wings; streaming across a posy of daisies, and soars above. Overhead its landing platform, the sunlit bird flaps cushions of air downwards to alleviate its descend. Facilitating the release of its legs, and steering its talons, the canary gracefully perches on the rim of a fountain for the final finish. She cheeps
"Honey, you're slow! I'm going to start without you!"
Opposing an air current, a wobbly, pallid canary of pastel yellow races behind.
"I'm coming! BAH! I'm too old for this."
Tracking the trail of her melodious tune, he finally caught sight of her.
Under the spotlight of the sun, she kindles with an incandescent flare. Fluttering her slender wings, water trickled down her curvaceous contour; highlighting her convex tail and accentuating her luscious buxom. Recognizing the beat of his wings, she balletically pirouettes around.
"Jump in! The water feels fantastic!"
Unlike its spouse, the male bird teeters and totters as it alights on the rim.
"Forsythia, dear, can you please stop this morning race of yours? It's putting a strain on my back," chirruped the male bird; fluffing his feathers in agitation.
Unyielding to his protest, Forsythia flutters her wings furiously, splattering warm water at his face.
"Unless you become a nest-husband for a day! Then, I'll stop. I want to meet with Pansy at the park," trills Forsythia in defense; rubifying her cheeks rouge.
Unquestionably, Blancheflour knew, if he permits this whimsical excursion of hers, she will not return home till a shivering nightfall. He would be compelled to search impetuously for her; distressing his heart and disconcerting his thoughts, that she'll be engulfed by the ominous, nefarious night.
She will not like this...
Drenched, Blancheflour affectionately coos "Forsythia, dear, you may go. However, I must accompany you."
"B-Blanchy! Why do you love me so much!" A percuss in the water ensues.
Meanwhile, obscured in an assortment of tulips...
A bloom of imbued resplendent lemon, quivers awkwardly amidst the lustrous tranquility.
