nothing to report. all quiet on the western front. all the other front are pretty easy, too. the train people certainly are on the edge. nobody else takes notice. the platform seems empty. people hide and take in platform camouflage. apologies. a determined young lady. a young one now but a train slap later. she’ll be trained in saying sorry sir and deadly with the ol’ nothing-i-can-do-about-its.
during the offally bombing nobody shot, said sponge.
that’s an old story, said breadroll.
that is the face of terror, said sponge, didn’t shot this time, will shot next time. that’s the snot in the nose. what it boils down to. the snot in the nose. it’s there, you don’t feel it, don’t know about it and bang, pops out and causes havoc.
sponge sulked a bit. he liked his imagery, which didn’t ring with the others. rainy day with gust of northerly wind. terror brings security, just as the train people work. a train will come. peace on earth, our pure essence.
the dead bird won’t look more like a turkey, said sponge, when you stomp it. it’s a dead bird.
almost the size of a turkey breast, said breadroll.
that’s because you stomped it, said sponge.
you said that, said breadroll.
they felt very silly. only one was saved, they say. only one, but one is not bad. saved. that means he’s alright. one. saved. imagine that.
when they had a leg of lamb, and joe said he didn’t like it and mary tried to make peace but it was too late joe had already left the place, had packed all his stuff, which wasn’t much, and left. just like that. mary followed, all the time trying to talk sense into joe. they wandered around, took it easy and did some music gigs on market places to get get some coins for food until the police came to beat the holy crap out of them and they always decided to move on, who wouldn’t, until they came in to this idyllic village, which they both liked, and that’s where they settled.
there was no mention of the leg of lamb or the lord.
or beef on the bone.
joe got friendly with the publican and helped out every now and then, got free drink for it. one night he didn’t pull out in time or so they think, anyway, it happened: baby jesus was underway. they were pissed off with each other and got pissed. that night they decided to stay together and have the baby despite the excellent reputation of the roman angelmaker as joe pointed out. mary rubbished him; some of mary’s friends pretty face an ugly makeover.
they decided to stay together and have the baby. you believe that. GETOGETHER everydays 10ish. weekends on appointment.
great story, said sponge, but too much text for an advertisement. that won’t work. people will hardly notice let alone go for it.
they are lashing us with sorries and slightlies and shortlies, said sponge. the merry fallout.
god love them but that’ll be it, said breadroll.
i could have a poem, said brekst, so sleak and sharp it shall impress.
SOMEBODY KNOWS SOMETHING!!! WATCH IT EXPLODE ON monday!!!
i had weight problems since a boy but this is not an issue anymore. i have no one to thank for. i am lonely as a kite.
brrrrr theee thy tree liner arts’do rather jolligood tssss fnnnn. i thank you for attention, i’m sorry i almost forgot the fullstop.
tkilli, said herr brekst, calling by. would you know about the dada opera that opened grandly just recently, lyly? would you know? of course you wouldn’t, couldn’t. it hadn’t been advertised and by chance hasn’t happened at all. dam thing. i say doggone it, the opera should have started. tkilii.
herr brekst was the man to approach when something unusual was needed, something to impress. so we called him. it was hilarious. not this time. the last time. the last time he called by was too hilarious. what a whoop. this time it wasn’t great, a few songs. victoria beckett stuff. about a man who just walked down the road and thought a lot, one leg got shorter, which help the walk as the road was rounded. with this trancy beat. the fat singer with the bread wasn’t in it.
her brekst left.
the train people take it easy, says sponge. easy, says breadroll. they sit while numbers change on the electronic dashboard. we didn’t really talk about train people before, did we?
no, said sponge, train people. something went wrong. he didn’t say much after that.
annabloom is alive, a spraying reads. hardly a mural, says sponge, but it is new. when did that happen. blink to breadroll, a breezelong missing block of wood. every now and then.
breadroll. walks. says nothing. the display is blank. apolises for inconvenience. shortly. wind. who is annabloom. a new mural, tiny.
to tell a joke in the way of train people:
t’pit and supplistrong caused their holy of thould of stong an ove t’yourn and then ream, thou haph, and arsht?
inass indeed, answeet heave clourned him. and the orf said, all on cubime: and arose me flees. no-ah; and with wet, too.
28 December, 2007 