breadroll blues

i usually get depressed, said breadroll, usually, not always though. commercials just get to me.
and now? is it the case now?
no, not too bad, said breadroll, then again … but no, there were definitely deeper depressions in the past. fully featured, tears, hysterical outbursts, letters to the editor.
what shall we do with him?
who, said breadroll.
no idea, said breadroll.
who is he anyway?
vaguely i seem to remember, said breadroll, he appears to be just a man who had brought us a sheep. we didn’t order a sheep.
the others?
sponge did not, said breadroll, certainly, and block of wood definitely didn’t.
what is he doing?
he’s petting the sheep, said breadroll, but personally i think it is not a proper sheep at all.
we will get to the bottom of that, the man said.


i am humming a jolly blues and whistle as i leave the house. block of wood and sponge are locked away in drawers, and i go cotton picking.
breadroll, come back, you have no butter on.
always the same story.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.