herr brekst does not call by today anyway as it seems

the occasional man was hovering around the corner. not your normal one this time; this one sticks.
i’m anto, he says. he leans over. he taps sponge’s knee. hey, he says.
sponge stares east-west, breadroll the other ways.
block of wood doesn’t show any reaction. we are fine, i think, he says to himself.

to call the tart it needs no discussion

the spanish tart didn’t go down too well, said sponge (yet another episode started that way. it is a terrible.)
it was sensored, said breadroll, at the time it was ok talking about sex but doing it was a big no-no.
nobody wants to see you doing it now, said sponge, a tart and a breadroll is just too much carb.
you see, said breadroll, what i said. i might give her a call anyway.

call for what yes innovation

it came to them like the child to our madonna; they’ve been secretly fucking around with somebody but now could not tell the truth.
well it might have been a vanilla bun, said breadroll.
beside the point. it was there now. immobile. non-negotiable. the call for innovation. it better be a good one for a laugh.

the call

i don’t know what to say, said breadroll, really, i could sit here for hours, well minutes and talk but when i pick up my ear starts to sweat and that’s that. silence. —- the phone keep ringing. some people have all the time in the world. i’ve seen a cartoon once where a man says that.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.