tweed tweed. — corner corner. — tweed tweed.
what a lousy shop that. blokk brains the owner robs his lunch does give a hootin hell. the rather decent looking man on the train was the murderer after all we must say it like that the hootin hell attitude takes its toll. anyway, one shop less and the economy is still florishing. who would call doom?
what a lousy shop says sponge and breadroll and it should be set on fire ut that has been done already. tweed shop.
and what is this. crips packets, coke cans, gum; all moulded into the pavement, usual suspects.
that is a good sign, said sponge, a very good sign indeed. he made a little hop and a skip. there must be a shop somewhere at this corner. let’s hurry.
they hurried.
here we are, said breadroll. but was this. gimme an eff, what’s that spell?
we better come up with something, said sponge. something.
couldn’t we wait for some thing, said breadrool.
there isn’t much that hasn’t been waited for, said sponge.
i see, said breadroll, we wait then till.
until, said sponge.
we are moving. that is what counts. it is a stupid saying but nonetheless a saying and our activities will follow suit. said sponge. who else.
they passed corners. we shouldn’t, said breadroll, pass corners. why not — he did not specify further.
that is exactly the problem with this story: nobody cares to care —— story comes from storage and storage is empty without content.
today is a day is a day is day is a day is a day is a day is a day. today. is a day is a day is day is a day is a day is a day is a day. and so on. there is no stopping them.
it’s stuff like this, said sponge, that gives us all a bad reputation; and not only this, other stuff, too. other stuff indeed more than other things.
we always have tomorrow.
right.
sponge, breadroll and block of wood did not say much more, just this: if it wasn’t for tomorrow i would not not what and it doesn’t take the length of a sperm whale’s penis to fathom that.
the sperm whale reference was made to sex things up. it breaks the ice on party — splendid punch line.
sponge, breadroll and block of wood did not say much more, just this: if it wasn’t for tomorrow i would not not what to do or whom and it doesn’t take the length of a spit to fathom that. today is a good enough day to say or do things, you know what i mean? whati’m talking about; and where i’m coming from? —
so ahhh, the man said, being just the man, grey coat, nothing particular. ahh, i don’t know what to say now.
there was a silence. —— silence. ——- what more? a semicolon; follow by a colon. ahh phuoooui. ahhhh.
good, said sponge. pfffnn. — don’t you miss those sounds?
i’m fed up with things, too, said breadroll. i could have been you know. —— literary glamour and all. a recognisable figure in the books. ———
some stuff doesn’t do anything at all. but some stuff does, said sponge, a fact of life. there is no way denying it.
no attempt undertaken, said breadroll.
activity, said sponge, something done and more to do, create options, leave this depression and arrive at the top of the hill, bill.
dada di and dada do fnnnn, the presenter said, what was the answer then?
a: yes. (followed by heavy breathing). yes, my bones suffer mortal agony as my toes taunt me, saying to me all day long, where is your daddy?
i’m somewhat sick of people in tracksuits, said sponge.
that’s because you’re envious, said breadroll, because they are sporty and youi are in a rut.
we all are. that’s true.
31 July, 2006 