we start again. said sponge and breadroll, too. this time we move (yeah). proactively.
we won’t crack jokes because we feel we have to but because we want to, said block of wood, because we, too, would laugh if we were told these jokes, heartily. we won’t break wind though.
what was that?
an apology, to apologise, apologies, i apologise. in general means apologize: defend, explain, clear away, or make excuses for by reasoning; “rationalise the child’s seemingly crazy behaviour but coming to the conclusion that it was just crazy behaviour”; “he rationalised his or hers”; but also: acknowledge faults or shortcomings or failings or blunders; “i apologised for being late”; “he apologised for the many lesser things in life”. that’s me, said sponge, any second now. but if we were to provide them with a detailed account of inconveniences caused, would they feel worse? the same? better?
well i don’t see much, said sponge, but that doesn’t mean much and certainly not that it certainly isn’t there. it may well be arriving any second.
any second, said breadroll, that’s why they have churches beside train station; when people are desparate they would be driven to religion.
prayer, said sponge, the last resort for the commuter.
the time display announcing the train’s delay was adjusted. some-one apologised on behalf of others.
any news yet? they were sorry to announce.
good. at least some development.
trouble at pearse. the usual.
it would be any different.
bridge strike. a polo.
yes.
q: you once said you weren’t that type of celebrity.
a: i could make an exception, couldn’t i?
q: could you? would you?
a: i could.
q: so we leave it at that.
a: i could do it again.
a small moustache performed a lazy dance while he spoke. knowing the train man’s general way opinion sponge gave in to a feeling of confidence, which was only a memory the next morning.
here’s a station, said sponge, why not end right here, get in there board a train and be done with it.
why don’t we?
but we have to do something, said breadroll, look, it seems to be so important that nobody makes good jokes about it anymore.
which seems to imply that good jokes are made only about less important matters of course, said sponge, of course, is not necessairly correct, but a discussion would distract us too much.
a street opened to the left and another one to the right and there was this station straight ahead, caesar’s point, the one as they say that is not far from saltnuts and venushill, which is said to the one before done leary, which is the the harbour and point for connecting bus fares. if anything fails they go to done leary, they say.
c’s point is a tawdry place, no toilet, just a wall to pee on; but hardly ever anybody does.
we didn’t really prepare for a special for today, did we?
no we didn’t.
i though so, didn’t i, said sponge, feeling slightly happy having made the point. we just have cake then if we find some, he knew to add.
tomorrow another day, said breadroll, and was corrected by sponge. another day perhaps but a day where we did want to do something special.
tjae such days, said breadroll.
the meeting then faded and nobody knew really about tomorrow anymore. we could do more with this subject.
nothing new nothing, the sun thought in her rare moments, i should go but i can’t. have to wait around until people are fed and go to bed again. even then some can’t keep still.
sponge hadn’t move much. breadroll a little bit more. they weren’t saying much. people passed by at normal speed and paid no attention.
i thought the interview days were over, said breadroll.
so fnnnn, the interviewer said, did i. i’m really here to make a point for inflatables in public. not very consistent mind you, i do ask questions, unpleasant ones, biting ones, drill down you, that sort of stuff. fnnnnnn.
i don’t know what i said without my lawyer, said sponge, not with this lad around. he’ll phase out eventually.
i would have a question, said sponge, and answer one if you like. as most lonely people he did not reach anyone.
breadroll relaxed, not to be asked. blokk likewise, brutal. lonely.
q: what did you do in those days?
a: hung out. whatever hanging out means these days. recreationals drugs, of course. what you do. so it goes.
have one, he said, or two you may take, too. won’t do you no harm nor will it anyone else. egg really makes me feel bloated, said sponge, i must decline, it’s not because of the colesterol. and it will harm others i’m afraid. children particularily will suffer. in trenches or not, no difference.
eggman. who is the eggman? what is the eggman? where is the eggman, we could ask but it would be a waste of time. it is the man who brings the eggs one might think and it is probably right. sponge was delighted about a little bit of joy this reassuring thought had brought. one shold relish these moments.
new, harrowing details of the crime have emerged. the bun, stolen from a shop yesterday by a breadroll has been identified as mother of two liza duggan from naas, county kildare. the relatives say they are devastated, they defo stated.
that wasn’t necessary, said sponge, was it?
no, wasn’t.
breadroll explained at length the whys and whats and that if it hadn’t been for that terrible reflection in the window it would not have happened. it was an overall acceptable excuse.
26 April, 2007 