computer viruses are like obnoxious party guests, the support guy said and frowned, they show up to your pc attitude unannounced, wreck the joint, and then move the party to our friends, colleagues and important clients’ systems.
bearing this in mind i shall read the incoming mail and spot the innovation in it, said sponge. sort of thing you say. complete feedback form.
yucca tree. morn, two chairs and jar. what the jars were for, block of wood inquired, al;as, the responsible person, the-1-2-tell, was having breakfast, so no avail of a conclusive answer until her brekst arrived, surprinsingly for all of us.
they are for later, he said.
still holding a cutlet and some sausages in one hand and a mixer in the other plus some added cocktail sauce, sponge says: splatter without blood is nothing at all fer sake; and pours a pint of stage blood on the stage. get this: stage blood on stage, as if it was made for it. mad action all together.
sponge, holding a cutlet and some sausages in one hand, a mixer in the other, says: if we are serious about the splatter we should start somewhere. it won’t go anywhere if we are not serious about it and go the extra mile. that’s what i say.
he waits. no more action.
i would not worry about breadroll if i was you, said sponge, it would be atypical.
you think so, said block of wood, because if you wrong i could do with some slaughter; some horrorshow if that’s more your style, just to be blokk again, and if i had sung this with a guitar to cool my armpit i would gone down as a folkstar.
fine, said sponge, we consider the splatter then.
point is, said sponge, you lost her.
where is breadroll by the way, said block of wood, he hasn’t been around for a while.
you actually got a point there but that is not the problem, said sponge. where is he anyway?
stark or stork, said sponge, does it really matter? with the middleweight growing stronger? in a reely sense perhaps; marginally.
it is never so hard once you got over it, said block of wood. i am more concerned, he said, about a breadroll taking my credits. i know the head was tiny and i live to testify.
most fat women have tiny heads, said sponge.
something, said breadroll, something. something in her reminded me of something, made me think not only of but ooof her and was not her well-stuffed purse for she was naked.
naked, said sponge, as in stark?
as in buck. yes.
how could you loose her anyway, said sponge, that seems quite odd.
tiny head, said block of wood.
of course, said sponge, i forgot.
what happened to the fat lady, said sponge, i wonder.
fat woman, said breadroll.
yes, what happened.
no idea, said breadroll and scratched his crust, block of wood was dealing with her.
i see, said sponge, we lost track of her, didn’t we?
she promised to ring, said block of wood, or email.
cc me in, said sponge, i love to be kept in the loop.
that was a fairly civil conversation, said breadroll.
it was, wasn’t it, said sponge.
we should, said sponge, have one day at least to be serious. one day a week.
one day a week at least, said breadroll, we should be consistent.
a great idea, said block of wood.
what, said breadroll.
what do you mean, said block of wood.
great idea, said breadroll, what is.
the serious day, said block of wood.
we should make a plan, said sponge.
flapp: the clock changed. breadroll and block of wood waited for, full of expectations, for an explanation in more detail, some project plan of sorts; alas, the story is over. flapp.
somehow — as herr brekst revealed — it had not been as as hard as one might believe. the trick is, herr brekst said, to let a sound be followed by another, appropriate sound that accompanies and complements the previous word and is itself followed, accompanied and complemented by another sound; and so on.
amazing, said sponge, innovative, exciting.
what is there for us to say, said breadroll and block of wood almost unisono.
herr brekst broke the silence by saying: that’s the day that’s in it tandaradei.
silence howled, which was unusual, and disappeared, which was expected.
now, said sponge, i think we should be grateful and moving on the agenda.
the plan was accepted. tihio tukk, said breadroll, we can voice ourselves again. what a delightful day is dawning out there and what a nice table is set for us. shall we proceed?
proceeeeed? block of wood thought for a while and agreed. yes proceeeed.
they proceeded with their business and poured tea.
silence had the episode and its inhabitants in her iron grip.
pheeeew eew eeeee ewwww pheeeeeeeew toktok knok nokk pheeeeeeeeoooow ooooow tokrok tokk togg
(all they could manage …).
calls to the international community had been fruitless; nobody seemed to be at home or otherwise contactable, things would probably less desparate if creationism or islam or scientology had taken hold of this entertainment crew and their regular show. all by smart design.
i did not forget how you burst into me the other day said silence and nothing thereafter.
after a long while sponge told breadroll that he, sponge always knew that this would happen after all it was not proper order that he, breadroll, always bursts into silence with no warning. block of wood was left out of it.
shush, said silence and she had a point.
the last few episodes, said sponge, were of an appaling quality. not at all “extremely spohisticated” as the introduction reads.
doesn’t it read “sophisticated excellence”?
no?
no.
really not?
not at all.
that’s not what you said before; nonetheless we’re finished.
magnolia, said sponge, who would have thought? no white screen has ever been magnolia. that’s a different setup altogether.
somewhere else maybe, said breadroll.
where, said sponge and looked over.
nowhere, said breadroll.
good, said sponge, that doesn’t make sense. i wasn’t finished actually. — magnolia, as i tried to point out earlier on this morning is an amazing variant of white maybe but too much an innovation to be a mere shade of white to be honest; and to stick to the title and the underlying title-text-match policy you should replace appearances of magnolia with something from the grey area.
sponge tried to look jolly and thus marked the end of the episode.
staring at a white screen, said breadroll, is not funny.
blank screen, said sponge, antracite.
no, said breadroll, white. white screen, sort of greyish or pale magnolia.
you should always switch it off ,said block of wood, before you start staring at it. that’s much healthier.
i heard that too, said sponge but the conversation was over.
you know, said sponge, one single word of disgust would have been quite sufficient. we’re talking too much anyway. too much; you see, i should not have said this. should not have spoken these words, not unauthorised.
change subject: the weather here is just amazing. wednesday the 3rd august 2005 had a reasonable amount of sunny spells, at least in dublin.
and the thing with the thing is, herr brekst said to start where sponge had ended, the thing is a rotten one. here we are quoting lines, one after the other to make them all known, and people come up with new ones as we speak.
terrible, said sponge.
awful, said block of wood.
a shame, said breadroll, really a disgrace.
head fly around; one looks at breadroll.
the sun shone.
the receptionist answered the phone when the salesman stepped to her counter.
hiya, she said.
hiya, he said.
now these are clean american youngsters, herr brekst said, actively fighting terrorism by displaying a proper exterior appearance and agree on good terms and in a largely polite fashion.
don’t mind them, said sponge, they’ll join us when they’re older.
we rush then i suppose, herr brekst said and felt witty.
[the breakfast tv lumpenproletariat crowd stays as they have no place to go.]
the mirror was in shadow. she rubbed her handglass briskly on her woollen bric-a-brac container.
beautiful lines these are, herr brekst said, just like the ones i quoted before we started out.
a long pause broke out and savaged the mood.
i don’t seem to develop as a character at all, herr brekst said and sighed. it was this very deeply felt sigh that the sound engineer later used in a film on the assasination of jf kennedy.
if there is one thing i love to do than it’ll be to reek like a rookie. there is nothing like it. the reasoning about reeking and rank and retirement makes the odour turn sour, the very substance that on the rookie’s mildly bulging body loiters and lingers as the bad news -for some- that it is, that substance or subs as insiders or ins as they call themselves usually call it that later will turn out to be the undercoat of your presence, that smell of butter gone sour and vapourising beer.
sponge was in a position to achieve this state and in that state he triumphantly glazed over his collegues. what a waste of words as none and not one were listening. he will have to repeat this shit.
31 August, 2005 