and what’s that all about? an egg running down the street? no egg is running down the street, only sponge and breadroll, no egg ever ran down the street unscathed. now we know. that’s it for now.
let’s sit and eat cake, said sponge.
we can’t, said breadroll.
yes, you’re right there, said sponge, no cake, not now.
wherever we are, said breadroll, we both are just buns from an oven. crumbling over time until sightly no more and then tossed in rain to be hacked by birds and then soil again.
have one, he said, or two you may take, too. won’t do you no harm nor will it anyone else. egg really makes me feel bloated, said sponge, i must decline, it’s not because of the colesterol. and it will harm others i’m afraid. children particularily will suffer. in trenches or not, no difference.
eggs fill and inflate, said sponge, but no one had mentioned eggs. to be sure, he said. it did not help.
lined up they sat on the kerbstone.
we should have done something with eggs, said block of wood, they are so symbolic.
i don’t know, said sponge, i am not too sure about the company’s stance in this respect. i shall find out for you once we get there.
are we going, said breadroll.
no, said the others.
maybe we should do something with eggs, said sponge.
eggs are valueable assets, said block of wood, and rather useful. they are more than a sex symbol for starters.
i take it that you don’t need the sheep then, the man said.
that was a swift ending, said block of wood.
bit abrupt, too, said breadroll.
we leave it then with the egg, said sponge, they were badly presented anyway.
and that he wanted an easter egg, breadroll said, and now and quick and that there were none, not today, sponge said and hence a big row started, a fierce fight during which blokk managed to whack sponge and breadroll at the same time.
all joy and happiness can be expected tomorrow, said sponge, when we proceed to list items.