to sit beside stem and stone in the meeting, breadroll had asked for after he had replied to the meeting request.
to give them a good whack in the balls while shaking their hand had been blokk’s desire since 14th december 1999 and he occacionally and casually reminded his compagnions of that desire of his.
that he would meet them in the car where he was waiting, sponge said, and that they should not make a habit of it.
take the beard off, breadroll, you’re supposed to be an angel.
an angel? are you serious?
yes, dead serious. an angel or something else with wings.
oh. alright. i take the beard off so, will i?
yes. please.
block of wood, breadroll and sponge sat on the couch holding candles. now you know.
blokk had breadroll and sponge chained to the table. he smacked them with the wooden spoon, curled their tongues with the mixer and made them sit on the toaster. that is educational, he said, we could sell the film over the internet.
breadroll and sponge did not answer as they both had a potato in their mouth.
block of wood rolled itself up the hill and sponge splashed down.
breadroll informed people on their early post-sunday walk to work about the purposes, intentions, targets and visions of enterprise.
after going around in circles for a while breadroll, sponge and block of wood felt that it was time to follow the border of a square. a challenge, a welcome change of scenery. no more rounding things but calling a spade rectangular.
twinkle, twinkle little star, see me humbling to the bar. this and other songs had been prepared for the grand celebration. block of wood and breadroll quivered with exitement.
i don’t know where i’m going, i don’t know where i am, the rowers that are rowing are mighty motion men.
sponge closed the windows, spilt the beer in the flower pot and told the bunch to go to work. i repeat, he said. repetion is the salt of life.
we are running late, said block of wood.
breadroll had finished his butter bath. i am finished, he said.
yes you are. still we are running late. very late.
extremely late?
gargantuously late.
ridiculously late? breadroll was getting excited for reasons nobody understood or wanted to understand.
enough now. sponge, are you coming?
i’m finished, i’m waiting, said sponge.
sponge was stirring his tea. it is an a art and a source of inspiration, he said, to stir the tea in the right way. not any auld way of stirring would do, tell you that for nothing.
no reply.
sponge stirred his tea in a very concentrated and organised manner. there is no point rushing it, he said, you may as well leave it fullstop if you want to rush it.
block of wood sat down at the table with a cup of coffee.
now that is a completely different matter, he said. you may want to be very careful when stirring it. a delicate thing to do.
why don’t we have cake for breakfast, said block of wood.
don’t you dare, said breadroll.
sponge cleaned the plates of the love nest.
so, was that the spanish vanilla tart, i saw there recently, said sponge and, thankyou, as he placed his cup of tea on block of wood.
silence.
so, was that the spanish vanilla tart, i saw there recently, said sponge and, thankyou, as he took his cup of tea which was placed on block of wood.
silence.
do i have to ask again, said sponge. no, said block of wood, he’s with a strawberry cheese cake, i saw them.
oh really.
breadroll slapped sponge and sponge slapped block of wood. then they changed seats. the entire procedure in silence. solely the sound of bread against sponge and sponge against wood and noises of chairs being moved. almost silence.
blood, sweat and guts, said breadroll, get the staplers out.
i’d be quite happy with some toast, said block of wood.
sponge quietly went to the fridge to get jam and cheese.
breadroll told sponge that he was lonely and thus wanted to marry. a french stick would be great, he said, or a delicious danish pastry, all soft and juicy.
danish pastry goes stale very quickly said sponge and continued to soak up tea and make funny noises. could you pass me a drop of milk, please.
i recommend the spanish tart, said block of wood and kindly volunteered to carve a cruzifix should any festive occasion occur sometime in the near future.
secula seculorum. lorem ipsum dolor sit amet.
block of wood, are you nearly finished?
consectetuer adipiscing elit, sed diam… nearly, yes. the communion still.
don’t forget to shave, d’you hear me. the bowl of holy water there…
yes?
well, that bowl is actually a shaving bowl.
oh is it.
yes. and don’t feast on breadroll too much, i don’t want people to stare when we go to work.
ut wisi enim ad minoris veniam, quis nostrorum exercii statunt.
sponge felt dry and unfunny and went into the kitchen to boil the kettle.
breadroll, sponge and block of wood idled in the hallway, no place to go, no thing to do, lingering like the bleak sun in the pale sky, the sun that does not care to appear.
all three exhaled noisily. all three took a deep breath.
i shall impersonate a marble statue today, said breadroll.
with butter, said block of wood.
breadroll made a face. i thought to impersonate some goddess or at least some poxy poet or pathetique politician. or a pornstar. they don’t wear butter.
but breadrolls do.
i am impersonating a goddess, at least a goddesslet. what are you anyway.
why don’t we finish the report first, said sponge.
31 December, 2003 