(on stage; a summary (query: why is the title not ‘a summary’? answer: it refers only to the first few lines); stage bare, 3 chairs.)
innovation, said sponge.
excitement, said breadroll.
outlook, said block of wood, tco and btl.
without having progressed towards the ultimate target, said sponge, i shall say we have made impressive progress so far. i don’t know about you but i am very proud. (they all are).
(they place the chairs in a row and sit down, facing the audience.)
wasn’t there supposed to be a curtain at some stage, now after we’ve said final words, said breadroll.
not yet, said sponge.
so we had tea and there was this bloke who had a piece of cake but i didn’t tell the others about it, i went and smashed his nose and took the cake all for myself. i don’t like cake. that not the problem. i don’t know what the problem might be. block of wood had finished the cake and looked around. where is everybody, he said. i should write a book about that. i have to wait and see. that could be a book, too.
terms and conditions, said sponge, as and-slash-or if applicable, apply. naturally. comply.
that is usually the case, said breadroll, or at least almost always. most of the time.
something gave sponge the impression that a productive conversation would not take place today. he told the others about his impression. anything special on the agenda, he said, going forward?
only tomorrow, said block of wood, but we should be able to postpone that until the next day.
they had tea.
novelty or not, said sponge, we’ve got to make sure that consistence is persistent at all times, 24/7, 52/365, 60/1, at all cost.
that’s new, said breadroll.
no it is not said block of wood.
it is so, said breadroll.
nothing less than that, said sponge. he yawned. the yawn was designed to illustrate the fatigue i feel, he said, when discussing the novelty of innovations, and i reckon i did a pretty good job.
painfully obvious. he had a stern and driven expression in his face.
obviously we need to discuss the terms. said breadroll.
(voice still looping:new day new day new day new day new day new day)
can somebody stop the voice, said breadroll.
i wouldn’t know what to do, said block of wood. they looked at sponge who poured himself a cup of tea. they watched him pour milk into his tea.
once you’re finished with your cuppa, said breadroll, would you mind to stop this voice?
once i’m finished i’ve got to have another one, said sponge, do you like the new calendar? an innovation.
breadroll gazed into the void.
the void, he said.
close the fridge, said block of wood, so he’s gone for a walk, isn’t he. is that corporate policy or just some private enterprise?
policy rocks, said breadroll, it should be a policy, alas i reckon it is just a process.
process yes, said block of wood.
all in a sudden sponge entered the room, brushed and otherwise also neatly cleaned.
how was the walk, said breadroll.
which walk, said sponge.
the walk, said block of wood.
breadroll and block of wood stared at sponge while sponge stared at breadroll and block of wood. between staring and counterstaring the void bore a new day.
so this is it then, said breadroll, that’s a little bit disappointing, i was sort of hoping there will be more, you know what i mean.
i can see what you mean, said block of wood. they positioned themselves around the table which was not round but had rounded corners (isn’t that a contradiction in terms, breadroll will remark at some point in the near future, however, in a different context but nevertheless we thought it would be worth mentioning it.)
there should have been a review, said breadroll.
a review of some sort of shape, said block of wood.
exactly, said breadroll, we better inform sponge.
where is he anyways, said block of wood.
gone for a walk, said breadroll.
now. that’s really it then, is it, said sponge and smirked.
that’s really it for now, said sponge.
he was all set and so were breadroll and block of wood. can you say less in less words?
that seems to be the shortest episode ever, said sponge, nothing happening.
approved, said breadroll.
agreed, said block of wood.
gosh, said sponge, i didn’t expect you guys around that hour of the day.
this episode is even shorther, said sponge, all i want to say is that we, that is breadroll, block of wood and yours truly are not in a position … but you know that shit anyway.
here we are, said sponge, back on track, coming on strong, like a bull in the china shop.
indeed, said breadroll, an exciting something.
we should poke eachother in the eye, said blokk, to celebrate the event.
we do that then, said sponge.
is that it? goodgod, that’s a very short episode, said breadroll.
another morning had dawned: bright, blued, however, partially clouded sky: world keeps on turning.
i wish it was a short week, said sponge.
short short short short short short short, said breadroll.
i repeat thus i am, said sponge, i shall repeat this some time. where is block of wood? still on the loo loo loo?
rather than marching the frogs, said blokk, we should pump them full of air and step of them.
effectively burst them, said breadroll.
and what about the mess, said sponge, who’s going to clean that up?
that’s right, said block of wood, didn’t think of that. brutality; not violence.
that’s why i get to write the minutes of the meeting, said sponge, and you don’t.
3 hopeless hopalongs — as usual in a rush, despite the rashers rush spicy pork products cause to sensitive posterior openings — frogmarched down the road.
we’ve been here before, said block of wood.
and as before, said sponge, we should make a new start.
headstart, said breadroll.
whole body, said sponge, whatever. i think it is exciting and i’d like to thank you for sharing this exciting time with me and us. it is so exciting.
it certainly is, said breadroll, and it places us in a good position.
strong position, said block of wood.
strong position, said breadroll.
3 hopeless hopalongs frogmarched down the road, frog frog marchmarch.
the first day of a month is always, almost always, a pleasant or rather exciting event that brings to cheers all joes and does and irishmen, plainly uplifting that day, puss willow said, the count is reset, it starts anew. i personnally find it amazing how they manage every month to get the day right.
that’s 3.90 for the pint, said the waitress.
puss willow paid and left. he returned later during the day when he had fully learned that the pint had been immaculate — im-ma-cu-late pint.
27 August, 2004 
