a close one is many words

a round man sat down, preparing himself for things to come with a bag of crisps and a diet coke. his movements were swift and efficient. the task to be done. we whistle songs, that’s all, quietly in the wind. not much has shown up so far. we wait. we whistle. no song in particular, songs that’s all, just that. the pidgeon shat on the man’s shoulder. he grabs for the coke and holds it safely.
shat is an awkward word. but words don’t really happen, so nothing happened really.

so close to offence but lucky to avoid it

with this nose attached to you one could say you look like moe hermit, said sponge who felt lucky not having to wear the funny nose. you’d think that’ll cause burning irish flags but no, it’s carneval and decent as we folks are we staged the tableau as a dark room scene and people can only see our genitals.
hoho, said block of wood who had wear a hat like hitler, we still would envy breadroll for his mao whiskers. he did a few gestures purely to kill time. risking that we’re stuck here forever i suggest we do a few funny games just to kill some time.

breadroll closes the drawer while block of wood watches

that’ll be, said breadroll, it. (sharply spoken t, like and explosion).
it, said block of wood, sucks. (spoken as x for an s).

© the Book of Sponge and Others.