the carnival is over

and that is where it all ends, the man said and closed the book. he maintained the smile until the cameras were off and then resorted into his usual seeking-employment, starved of love and life type of look, a subspecies of grin albeit without the jolly aspects. overrated as lowrate he felt uncomfortable. people who feel uncomfortable sport a forced smile. it is that simple. they are good sports and spare us their pain.
sponge begged to pardon but no avail. the episode was over. over. not only a breadroll is saying that. sometimes we all agree.

another effort carny folk if you want to be republicans

still holding a cutlet and some sausages in one hand and a mixer in the other plus some added cocktail sauce, sponge says: splatter without blood is nothing at all fer sake; and pours a pint of stage blood on the stage. get this: stage blood on stage, as if it was made for it. mad action all together.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.