another day to file as an incident

shall we start again, said sponge.
with a wet sponge, said, breadroll, that sits on your chair. a wet sponge. quite some incident.
the excitement it’ll cause. the utter joy.
unbearable. we better leave it, said sponge, the excitement could make us hopeful.

we don’t like days and are at odds with nights

that they shouldn’t have gone out today and just stay put, sponge complained, nothing would have happened, that he knew full well that nothing is happening now, but that this nothingness was a different kind, emptier, bleaker, than the nothingness they normally faced with, the nothingness so familiar, so comforting, the old, the nothing-new nothingness. not the as-good-as-it-gets nothingness. that, he added, nothing was the absence of anything at all, although, colloquially, the concept was often used to indicate (or describe) the lack of anything relevant or significant, or to describe a particularly unimportant thing or event. or object, subject, as herr brekst would say. it is contrasted with something and everything.
but, sponge said, this might be a poor description.

word for the day

just one word: embroidery. said sponge. he added that people should be too concern about an explanation as the morning soon would turn to evening and queues would dissolve and waiting lists would be folded up for the night. he went on to state that embroidery as such had little to no part in the foundation of the united states of america.

something gives nothing the end of the day

and we are sure, said sponge, that it came to nothing? Absolutely nothing?
breadroll said nothing.
i take that as a witty comment, said sponge. doesn’t really add to the topic. so nothing it is. that’s something. at least we are certain an outcome, a result, something to show with with a precise certainty. for i am going to stop talking right now and here and that’ll be the end.
you weren’t going to trust me, were you. that’s a silly ending, just like that. it has happened before though. nothing to show for it as we plod along, for certain. we could queue somewhere for a rest.
we could.
a lengthy dialog develops and fades out. they say nothing.

a new day lasts as long as the old one

if you think you’ve been here before, you’re right, said sponge, but it won’t help. the end of the platform is just its beginning. you’ll take it from there; you’ll move on.
the setting of the train station’s shopping mall provides an impressive backdrop for these words. it was an ordinary shopping mall. shops and drunks and security staff. time drawn to thin lines, ringing in the breath of the passer-by. lashings, beatings, joy and sadness. bitterness.
bitterness adds negativity to the setting, said breadroll, though people ought to be positive. about things and stuff.

a turnip a day keeps nothing at bay

they used to eat train people, said sponge.
that was before they had trains, said breadroll, and then only when there were no turnip. which happened rather often.
turnips are good for you, said sponge.
overrated as a superfood, said breadroll, i could have them anytime and still would suffer from all sorts of things.
me too, said sponge, but with train people it is a different matter.

thankfully a sunday one day

it cleared up. light grey. paling.
we could sit here, look around, left, right, center, back, the full around, or into our selves, or nowhere in particular. these are often the most pleasing sights, says the lady from across. we could see ourselves saying something like that on tv, we would say if we were involved (says sponge).

day to end all days

they are lashing us with sorries and slightlies and shortlies, said sponge. the merry fallout.
god love them but that’ll be it, said breadroll.
i could have a poem, said brekst, so sleak and sharp it shall impress.

i had weight problems since a boy but this is not an issue anymore. i have no one to thank for. i am lonely as a kite.
brrrrr theee thy tree liner arts’do rather jolligood tssss fnnnn. i thank you for attention, i’m sorry i almost forgot the fullstop.

day to so remember

so we are, entrenched, said sponge, he was, of course exaggerating. so there they sat, sat at least, not idly loiterish standing like the rest of all.
they spent time sitting, mostly, holding on to their seats, making sure stuff that may not have been sure before or may have become uncertain; inconsistent results. wet conditions. not set to improve.

what a day to make the effort

would never do it, said block of wood, wouldn’t do it. not a compromise, seems miserly, would. said block of wood. and stood there. i could have punched him, slapped him across the face, gouged his eyes, kicked his balls, slit his nose, pulled his ears, but of course that would have been his thing, wouldn’t it. along with odd pun. i’m sick of senses of humour.

today or tomorrow or the day after tomorrow

so what are we at? the mother of five –of two– of two of course or is it the father of seven? of six, excuse me.
they hardly allow fathers or sevens on tv, or of six for that matter, that must be a hell of an accident before they get a mention.
now, shall we leave these lines, said sponge, or shall we comment?
comment, said breadroll.
and what’s it going to be then, said sponge, long or short?
short, said breadroll, they’re all shite.
poetic, said sponge, poetry is a nourish. any time. -ment, i meant nourishment. we keep correcting ourselves but that doesn’t make a great story, or explains the title. not funny at any time.

it is a day after all

we didn’t really prepare for a special for today, did we?
no we didn’t.
i though so, didn’t i, said sponge, feeling slightly happy having made the point. we just have cake then if we find some, he knew to add.

excellent day for a query

i would have a question, said sponge, and answer one if you like. as most lonely people he did not reach anyone.
breadroll relaxed, not to be asked. blokk likewise, brutal. lonely.
q: what did you do in those days?
a: hung out. whatever hanging out means these days. recreationals drugs, of course. what you do. so it goes.

in terms of fun a modest day

a man dressed as a santa walked by, followed by another santa and another one. block of wood counted them all.
it’s getting into season, said breadroll, always had, for a quite a while anyway.
the santas were mugging passers-by.
i wonder what their terms of employment might be, said sponge.
they usually use drug addicts for that job, said breadroll.
i wonder if their christmas party is any fun, said sponge, in their terms of fun.

same day different shit

same corner, said sponge i see. we just went around corners.
yes, said breadroll, but i reply just to have a conversation, not to hold it.
ok then, said sponge.

look back for the day

if we look back, said sponge, we wish we hadn’t done so.
too late now, said breadroll, it’s done now.

today is a day once more

today is a day is a day is day is a day is a day is a day is a day. today. is a day is a day is day is a day is a day is a day is a day. and so on. there is no stopping them.
it’s stuff like this, said sponge, that gives us all a bad reputation; and not only this, other stuff, too. other stuff indeed more than other things.

tomorrow is the day the lost one

we always have tomorrow.
sponge, breadroll and block of wood did not say much more, just this: if it wasn’t for tomorrow i would not not what and it doesn’t take the length of a sperm whale’s penis to fathom that.
the sperm whale reference was made to sex things up. it breaks the ice on party — splendid punch line.

today a day is a day

sponge, breadroll and block of wood did not say much more, just this: if it wasn’t for tomorrow i would not not what to do or whom and it doesn’t take the length of a spit to fathom that. today is a good enough day to say or do things, you know what i mean? whati’m talking about; and where i’m coming from? —

another day another corner

sponge tried to make it a day but no avail. we skip that, he says but of course nobody hears. we coukld go to the shop if there was one; and how much fun we would have in the mall.

day to night we go

what a day they will say when it will end tonight, said sponge, but there is some time until then.

a new day before you know it

a brief description of the scene’s static elements, followed a series of fnnnnnnns and …
q: but how do you do it? cohesive correlations of contra countercohesion seems to be a rather complex matter that you nonetheless master without problems at all.
a: that’s right.
q: our viewers certainly would be interested in that matter.
a: arent’t they always, the nosy buggers.
q: brown nosers.
a: curious cacs.
further description of the scene’s static elements as well as states of the dynamic ones.

wit is a rare reality these days

having to come up, said sponge, with something witty each and every day is quite a burden. —— it does not always work. sometimes. really. but it’s rare, ever so often. today i would say much, not if i was you.

such is the day

and today, said sponge.
today, said breadroll.
today is, said sponge and exhaled noisily.
is what, said block of wood.
a particularily tedious day, said sponge, repetitious.
is it the one, said breadroll.
it is, said block of wood. guessing.
the day that occurs every week, said sponge.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.