dada is cheese on breadroll for those who can afford it

it took a long time to be still not finished. we should have started to finish earlier. right after finishing preparations to discuss the next step or two. between meeting to form the committees and before the blustering speeches and long, long before the biting speeches, right after the initial throat clearing to, as a bare minimum, have the stage before the previous one finished but this way it’ll take some time to be at the planning stages.
i’m aiming to have tuna then, said sponge.

dada does songs

tkilli, said herr brekst, calling by. would you know about the dada opera that opened grandly just recently, lyly? would you know? of course you wouldn’t, couldn’t. it hadn’t been advertised and by chance hasn’t happened at all. dam thing. i say doggone it, the opera should have started. tkilii.
herr brekst was the man to approach when something unusual was needed, something to impress. so we called him. it was hilarious. not this time. the last time. the last time he called by was too hilarious. what a whoop. this time it wasn’t great, a few songs. victoria beckett stuff. about a man who just walked down the road and thought a lot, one leg got shorter, which help the walk as the road was rounded. with this trancy beat. the fat singer with the bread wasn’t in it.
her brekst left.

yet another dada reference

dada as an art form is not really relevant anymore these days, it’ll make too much sense, said sponge. i know this is out of context but nonetheless relevant and needed to be said. if not today then one of those days otherwise.

dada in this context was wrongly referred to for no reason

dada, as is work related, as in labour relevant, does fnothing for people and has no significance in industrial relationships other than being signifcantly present, in presence, past and future tensions.
bravo, said sponge, well done. the others say the same.
bravo, said breadroll, -(and so on).

dada does it too

what if cheese rained fom heaven and fed us all and squashed the oaf on impact, said sponge, somebody must believe in that and have a bashing for it. burn the usual suspects and all.
agreed, said breadroll, just don’t blow us up. rrrntt takk taa hhaata tihkili iii eeoaaa tti, to quote the poet.
ah that’s beatiful, said sponge, i didn’t know that, that’s just like the one with the shoes that hang around when the person who owned them is already dead and gone.
and what happens then?
nothing. they just hang around and then they go. just like normal people. just smaller.

dada or not, this novel is in a rut

you call this dada, said brekst in a sudden burst of mirth, this doesn’t make any sense. hah. – uneasy looks of course, no-one knew what to say, where to look, what will he do next, a german at loose with a dose of joy to spread, a melancolic poem perhaps he’ll burst into, some sort of militerischer gruppenubunk or kinds, leitmotif opera probably, perhaps we aren’t sure.
so then, herr brekt said, we shall proceed. a useful setting, not novel but suitable for one. second pun.
some sort of, said sponge.
idea, said breadroll.
dada is when we do add some message, herr brekst said. like the environment. we could also hurt religious feelings.
global warming, said sponge. splendid, herr brekst said. we won’t go any further.

what is dada anyway in modern industrial relationships

what, said sponge, just what. what can you say, can.
breadroll, said breadroll.
yes, said sponge, but not on target. will have to review the data going forward, he backed out.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.