“Don’t come near, gadfly.” Somebody was talking to me.
It was a busy morning over in the meadow: A grasshopper hopped recklessly as it sensed an approaching earthquake. A butterfly flew restlessly as the nectar smelled sweaty and stinky. A bee hammered its head relentlessly against a weed flower; it stung itself after missing the target.
“Go away.” The protest came back. I then understood that I was not that hateful. There was some sort of gadfly nearby an ant.
I assumed the role of Superman to help fighting the villain away.
The ant was in turn busy in action, busy showing off under the flashlights.
Everybody was very busy, everybody was busy not for own self, and nothing seemed to ever get done in a busy morning.
Ah, Superman thought that he could rescue the world.