you might want to think about,
think about think about
did you did you did you
think about
think think think think think
think about
said sponge, and please don’t burst out in a song again…
i’d know a good one though, said breadroll, brekst told me, it has some verve.
so i believe, said sponge, anyway, not to worry. we missed the chance for a great dialog, something centennial; we should think about it.
would you do it for anything, said sponge.
not for nothing at all, said breadroll.
cheap match on the headline, said sponge, high five on that.
i have another one, brekst said, and brekst read out:
feel embarrassment when joining her in bedroom?
forget the feeling, become her best partner ever!
we know what’s needed for your case.
natural hardness and boosted drive.
that’s so natural, one of the bystanders said.
o shut up, said sponge, what do you know?
the bystander, a mother of two, was disgusted and left. poetry does have o struggle in this country, brekst knew to add.
just a break here, said sponge. fnnnnnn. the interviewer. so far not much. sponge.
q: didn’t think we would get the chance really, fnnnnnn. the deflation gets me al the time, i know it’s not funny. should i swear. bloody feck feckin. fnnnnn. i’m being comical. what about you? (block of wood quite appropriately declines to do anything anal or analogue with or to the interviewer.)
a: nice morning to be enjoyed and off to new boundary, warp or not, mankind will get to places but this isn’t really about sponge, is it?
Q: not quite no. not here on my script anyway.
we got it wrong this time, vile, if you ask me, said sponge, ah well, shall i do the honours? sponge sponge sponge, hooray. sponge, yeah. sponge. we support sponge. (fans go mad.)
we start again:
i shall leave, herr brekst said, now, as he had only made an appearance, the meter is running.
sponge asked to be taken to the next corner but his request was turn down. he tried to prolong his (herrn brekst’s) stay otherwise to no avail. herr brekst was gone again. that was quick.
i shall leave, said herr brekst, who had only called by to see how things were, now, and got into the waiting taxi. the meter is running.
sponge asked for a lift to the next corner but his request was turn down.
now you apologise or not, said sponge and agreed was the demand by breadroll and block of wood in a way the offender could not be identified. touh shit and luck.
that was a close one, said block of of wood.
i wish, said breadroll. sponge said nothing.
q: that is the question to dig that really is it. does she?
a: what?
q: it? maybe?
a: uhhm. sixties over? must use condoms now?
q: a fairly negative answer you should be shot for. iwould shot you if the kids weren’t watching. but that’s a different matter.
q: who is sallytokk?
a: with regard to given heading i’d like to utter that a swallow, at least in europa, is a badly chosen image fullstop. if one sucks the poison of balance sheets the fangs of an adder will kill him. touch spreadsheets and you shall expand.
will angst, said sponge, be an archetype for us, on our travel to a corner shop and the drivel that comes with it?
a descriptive term, but not in itself a category; angst should be considered a subgenre of other categories (narrative, character study, episodic, etc.). a shop may be filled with angst-ridden employees and patrons, but there’s usually a story behind it.
go nowhere, must not be going nowhere. the light had shed some clare on the three, but the morning largely went on without them. a shame as it was an interesting morning.
whoaw, said sponge, this time they’ll do it, britain for the cup. four times actually, in a row but not a queue
people do get that sense of humour, said breadroll.
couldn’t be bovver’d, said block of wood. now that we pinch a gag we drop it. this story goes nowhere mostly anyway actually.
for suck’s sake, let’s find a nibble that isn’t an alcopop, said sponge. a shop a shop, an empire for a shop.
lingering won’t help and loitering is frowned upon. burning puppets though is a valid expression of concern only in areas without running water and population enough to sustain the edition of a newspaper. so burning a puppet is out of question, they’d be done by by-laws.
braddash braddash, said sponge.
that was about it, the highlight and climax of the day. breadroll did not do much, hardly anything, and neither did block of wood. all took a break. that did not ease the situation. herr brekst: zis doesn’t even call for a poem, does it. wohl, we could always burn a puppet. to express passion and anxiety.
feck off. piss off. lead your outlets to propel you further. good british ways of telling some-one to farworse.
be it a truck or a trunk or a drunk, it’ll be the same. as in same. said sponge.
but having had a british meal, right in the traditional manner, he felt somewhat honoured. but still missed the shop. and not being famous.
lord’s british, you’re british, we’re all british, said sponge. not necessarily would this be commentend on as block of wood had headlocked sponge at this stage and until further update it would have to be so.
o my ohh my, said sponge. i did not say that.
a british truck is bound to carry british crips, said sponge, and has them delivered to a shop.
some fried liver as well perhaps for the deli counter, said breadroll.
that was the extend of their conversation. sponge and breadroll at times took great pride in saying just the essential things.
ahh. and this is the second day, lasts a second or more, said sponge. that is some of the same i guess.
becoming famous was still part of the agenda although the agenda was part of the problem and part of the solution. famous. fame. being a celebrity. the second day around, harder to beat. more famous. if we don’t get these lines into the big picture we will become normal and cease to be famous. that sums it up tally-ho. i wish we were british; wouldn’t we be glad to be british? says sponge.
ahh well whatever, said breadroll who didn’t really care much about being british.
they watched a hedgehog being squashed by a british truck.
ahh. a new day. a new week. hard to beat.
there was a long pause when sponge realised that he and his crowd, all of them, were stuck at the same corner. it was the same, wasn’t it. that was not certain.
we see, sponge’s optimism was somewhat inappropriate. —— they loitered. nothing happened. not much fun in loitering. loi loi loiloi loi loi loi chuck boom. they would not get famous this way-ay.
that’s like: lame. can we not have a normal story, with a normal setting? no?
anormal?
no. a normal. as in norman, with an al instead.
i see what you mean.
at all at all at all at all. what or who is sponge anyway or anyhows to think that we are or not? we all are that is a fact of life and that is all there is to it.
the voice that had uttered these words that not that of a priest, not of antone who gets paid for it, the voice block of wood’s who had been asked whether or not he wanted something from the tweed shop, tweed of all things.
he had not been asked actually he just had thought he would be and sponge had not questioned whether or not we or anyone are or is. something nice he wanted to say and not upset minorities.
why anyway are these people here why a shop that has no crisps but tweed in an area that cannot stomach anything heavier than a burger? a frozen pizza maybe to be extravagant in the summer know what i mean. sausage rolls. pyjamas, yes. but tweed? — english, the englishman said but he was not to appear for a while and neither did anyone else. having that settled we remain with:-
NOTHING.
but the plight of sponge in a grey tracksuit as it goes without saying.
not much use with these people, quite useless as a population, barely suited for genocide, we might get a decent mass murder out of them though.
says sponge in reply to breadroll’s remark one should knock down a corner or two and commit a few atrocities after all this would draw crowds, just look how popular everything is with hitler and the nazis in it —and ends the discussion.
31 August, 2006 