terror has made its point once again

they stood for a moment only and then fell but for no glory.
the bomb the took offally.
only one toilet left and they all queued in shock and horror.
traumatised, unable to meet the consultants’ demands.

a house has a door

now look: brown, wooden, rectangular. a picture of it here.
red, wooden, rectangular. that’ll do. block of wood has finish his pathetic search for a door.
why he did that nobody knew and less cared. new attractions waited to be seen such as the outlook to new corners, pieces of gum on the tarmac, bits of skin on the tarmac. uneventful family outings. taxmen and train people holding rallies, funnies faces on the ground, the occasional fall of a lady from the 3rd floor of a building. ladies fell out of windows a lot in st.peterburg during the twenties but things seemed to have changed there since.

to be a bug one has to be a beetle first

now look at this, said bread, bloody hell. i woke up and the roll was gone, would you believe? should i call the priest or the therapist or the gp or the police, so many options for help i don’t know where people would get an idea of despair from. just a metamorphosis that’s all.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.