He sat on his golden floral throne and, as usual, got himself quite charmingly drunk on the intoxicating nectar.
Believe it or not, when I returned to check, some ten minutes later, he was still there! I imagine that eventually (when I had gone and he had had some more) he would fall asleep, roll accidentally over the edge of those lovely white petals and down into the flower pot, and wake up the next day with a throbbing headache.
And his friends used to scold him, with resentment in their voices; ‘You’re not a good team player’, they said, ‘you’re neglecting the hive’.
