even in the event that something ever might happen

brekst didn’t come in a while, said sponge, and not much happen since. a fly is a fly but for all i know it is an event. brekst with his cirpy voice, the voice that lingers on when he’s gone.
and even if something happened, said breadroll, what would we do?
about it? with it? for it? against it? i spin when i think about it, said sponge. you name it, said breadroll.

repetition as a reocurring event

do you think so, said sponge.
yes, said breadroll, we repeat things and thinks as well.
ideas should be available, said sponge, we could nick some.
tea, said block of wood.
we really try to make a point here, said breadroll but it was to late; his last three words were caught it a repeater and morphed in the background.
at the more pleasant side of life we would see mommies spoil kids rotten at the swings-and-slides. they would share the space with pensioners and unemployed people nonsensing time away, an advertisement would occasinally brighten their day. that would give enough to talk about when they would meet their accomplishing partner whose days where not brightened by advertisements. whatever happens to the persoiners and the unemployeds we don’t know.
tea, said block of wood, that was a bit dull.
always, said breadroll, and we get to repeat what the other has said.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.