Perched and waiting for my chance to cut in. I have the patience of a saint when I’m eyeing a potential dance partner, angling for a chance to appear on the scene. Ah, I love to see their limbs glide and circle. They glide and circle so easily, almost weightless, like they’re in rhythm with the prompting of the fluttering breezes. Their bodies sway back and forth, and they tempt me. How they tempt me! Oh, the pleasures of the flesh –
That sumptuous promise of skin that’s so revealing; then the head-first slide into delight; that tingling moreishness… It still makes the creaky bones of this old buzzard sing out!
True, when I was younger I chased after it more. But then it’s also true that we had more of these dances back then than we do today. They went a bit out of fashion, I can’t say why. Luckily, they never disappear entirely. Oh, no. They go on at random, here and there, dotted about. New dancers still get the chance to go and haul themselves up into the limelight, demanding attention. And I always still give them my best.
What else would I do? The constant whirr of the buzzing music, ah, I love it! This is what life’s all about! You’ll never convince me otherwise. No, sir. So, I perch and I carefully weigh-up this latest spinning dancer I’ve had my eye on for a while. It’s so grand a spectacle to watch that same old dance happen, again and again. Maybe it’s not strictly elegant, true. And it’s not as if there’s a long queue of eager partners all rushing to get an invite. But it’s what makes the world go round. And so I gather up my energies, my appetites and instincts. I feel my heart race about and I’m even drooling, I don’t deny it. All this waiting’s made me frantic, I want to have it done and dusted. So, I preen myself a bit and I’m all set to start making my move.
On the hilltop yonder there’s another black branch where I could just as easily perch. And underneath that black branch I see there’s another lynch mob getting busy. Bless their little hearts, they’re arranging another dance! And the specimen they’re stringing up, who’s soon to go cavorting about in mid-air, looks altogether plumper than this other dancing partner I’ve earmarked here.
So, should I flap over in that direction and stake my claim to cutting in? Or should I start tucking in where I am? Slurp up the burst eyes before the buzzing flies spoil the juiciest bits completely?
This story was written in response to the yeah write challenge #172 – This week’s optional prompt is: Should I Stay or Should I Go? The Clash reference brought to mind the band’s record covers, particularly Give Em Enough Rope, which directed the story. The other stories in the link-up can be read by clicking on the image below.