like a bull in a chinese shop

i feel dry, said breadroll with a sweet’n’sour smile.(wipe that grin, thought blokk off the record).
yes, all dry and dreary (lacking in liveliness or charm or surprise) but well sorted otherwise.
like puked milk, said blockk and jabbed a knife laden with lard into breadroll, a roar from tape to besound the lot.
we now cover up the orgy of brutality that we were glad to mention.

chinese pope

i am the emperor of rome.
right. and i am the pope of china.
sponge was a little bit envious as the pills his two colleagues had to swallow due to the most recent poetry incident seemed to be a rather pleasureful pieces of medication.
they’re bitter though, breadroll whispered through a straw.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.