Only five hundred and fifty five more sacks of nectar to collect and I’m winner of the collector of the week, Horace thought as he paused for a break.
It was hot. Humid and hot, not two of his favorite words but work was work and families had mouths and they needed to be fed.
He paused and with a neat flick his straw-like tongue zipped outwards and got …nada… zilch…nothing.
Again, it can’t be happening again. Oh gosh, that’s the third time today. I’m overworked, I’m finished I won’t make the top of the pollen charts today or tomorrow. I must be ill. As he ranted and raved, he paused, the other insects around him were mostly bees or the odd horsefly, but he could have sworn he heard a giggle. He looked around no one appeared to be watching him.
“Oh god, its worse than I thought, I’m going cuckoo, mad, batty.” He shuddered – he hated bats.
Horace considered his options. To return home now would be to admit total and utter defeat. “I’m not a quitter, ” he muttered. “I’ll move on to the next plant and try once more.”
As he took off, he noticed that taking off was becoming harder and harder. I feel as though I am gaining weight. Must go back to Moving and Meditating Classes, they did me good the last time.
He landed with a thump and gave himself a minute. He closed his eyes and pictured a calm scene. Night time and his bed.
Meanwhile Lolita ladybug had unattached herself from him and was busy collecting nectar. She hummed as she worked. Moths were famous for being less than clever but today she had hit the jackpot. So far she had robbed him of six sacks of nectar and if she played her cards right he would even give her a ride back home.
The air fizzled. She looked up and noticed he had one eye open. Humming stopped and she became one with the stem of the plant. Hoping was all she had now unless he was exceptionally stupid….
Flash fiction piece inspired by this photo on Dragonfly Photography’s blog page.