fishburger please

fishburger please, said sponge.
would that be him, the man said with a very fictional smile, making a cheerful face.
not the question, said sponge. i’m only out for a second i couldn’t waste time if i wanted to. me, too, the man said.
would you like fries with that?
will you use the bathroom?
no, yes, said sponge.
for your safety, the man said as he handed over the bag.

would you believe a fishburger

a man came running, bolted around the corner and was gone in no time. the man had been naked, his pasty-white skin had left an impression.
you would not believe who that was, said breadroll.
no, said sponge, i wouldn’t.

fishburger the mystery

YOU’VE BEEN FISHBURGERED (a note said that).
you don’t find capital letters too often these days, said sponge.
that brings me back actually, said breadroll, wonder what fishburger is doing.
how he is doing, said block of wood, how is he doing?
what’s this fishburger lark all about, said sponge.
nothing, said breadroll.
special, said block of wood and a silence bubble burst.
just a lust to ridicule religious symbols, said breadroll.

a man named fishburger

a man named fishburger came and stayed only briefly. he left before lunch without notice.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.