rather than a dialogue we’ll have two monologues

no we can’t. really not? no. not a chance? no. you’ve heard it. nothing we can do. nothing to do with us.
the neighbour had left the house this morning. never arrived where he was expected. never returned to where no-one was waiting. never called. we couldn’t tell what happened.
so we’ll never hear the end of it, said sponge. no, we won’t.
the man had sat down of a metal chair outside the cafe. he waited. nobody came to take his orders, nobody joined his wait. the cafe was closed. the owner had declared himself bankrupt. why where the chairs still outside? why did everything look as if the cafe was still open for business? the man asked none of these questions, instead, after a brief glance at his watch, he got up and left and a while later somebody came to carried table and chairs inside as the owner had hung himself in the kitchen. no need to keep up appearances. the man walked for an hour or so until he came to a bridge.
symbolic that. indeed. will he cross it, said breadroll.
the man stood there and waited, crossing a bridge, he thought, very symbolic, who knows what’s to happen, let’s not get excited. he stood without moving and was forgotten about. there was no bridge anyway, but a river or a canal, or a fence. dust caught in his trouser legs and they blended in with the pavement. leaves gathered around him and he saw autumn turning to winter. people ceased running into him and paths showed around a heap of leaves.
that stuff happens only in poems, novels and films. true enough, said sponge. although i read a story once where a man had turned into a slug or a spider or something. some kind of creature. wasn’t a novel.
the man turned left. he walked until he came to a small square, lined with caf├ęs and shops, where waiters were serving people and a grocer spoke to a an old lady. i shall be off, the lady said, and left. she went to the butcher’s for pork chops and the butcher asked whether she could be interested in some lamb. no right now, she said, but later, perhaps. we’ll see how it goes. some customers showed more interest. the old lady left. she didn’t come back. she didn’t make pork chop. she fell on the way home. nothing that could be done. it was a beautiful funeral. most people said so. the priest said some improvements could have been made, some seemingly necessary changes in burial practices, long overdue but not yet implemented. not fully, a working group is currently reviewing the progress. said the priest, and he should know. after all he’s chairing the panel tasked with the supervision of the working group
so, no trace of the neighbour anymore. no. that’s a pity. it’s a shame.
we really can’t do anything. keep trying so.
i think it was a story, said sponge.

a person may have a task or another

train people have closed the shutters. they are having tea. train people have apologised for any inconvenience caused and the train was cancelled due to poor rail conditions. there won’t be another one for a while but it’ll arrive shortly.
the doing of any thing in accordance with an authorisation under the train people act shall not be treated, for any purpose, as a breach of any requirement or restriction imposed by any other enactment or rule of law. says the train man and the others nod in agreement. not much we can do, says sponge. we can wait a bit more, says breadroll and is right about that. spot on, says sponge.

i told you we have to wait

another repetitive day, breadroll asked.
no, said sponge, it must be a trick. you asked for it, said breadroll. i think we had exactly the same episode before, he said. feck off. piss off. swear words. dirty language. lead your outlets to propel you further. good british ways of telling some-one to bugger off.
let your droplets propel you further, very elegant.
outlets, they said, it’s outlets.
i know, code for droplets. trust me.
they waited.

terror has a face and a tendency

during the offally bombing nobody shot, said sponge.
that’s an old story, said breadroll.
that is the face of terror, said sponge, didn’t shot this time, will shot next time. that’s the snot in the nose. what it boils down to. the snot in the nose. it’s there, you don’t feel it, don’t know about it and bang, pops out and causes havoc.
sponge sulked a bit. he liked his imagery, which didn’t ring with the others. rainy day with gust of northerly wind. terror brings security, just as the train people work. a train will come. peace on earth, our pure essence.

so say just for the fun would you like to have sex with me

the next joke will be a fart joke and it will mention the war, children will be harmed and there will be great disaster. we may ask for your help and support. but we will be fine after all. that is a promise. you can take that as a pledge, of sorts. we just need some understanding. some excitement. we need your trust to the point where we need you to actually rely on us.
breadroll never had a thing for cheap beer but rarely found shops that had anything on offer but.

we and i have a particular view of the world in common

are we second to none you think, said sponge.
no, said breadroll, not we, third maybe or fourth.
even fifth, said sponge. breadroll approved. probably sixth, he said.
that’s not too bad, said sponge.

wanting to have brekst fast

and when he drawer is still locked, said breadroll.
jammed, said block of wppd, should be fine.
jammed then, said breadrool, you have been typoed.
so have you, said block of wood.
a draw, said breadroll.
today was not the first time they did not notice their porridge being reduced to cinder on the cooker.

they are good at having a big mouth

some people are not good at anything, said breadroll, at least they try, although it sometimes would be better they they wouldn’t.
he held a candle for no apparent reason and was very aware of that fact.
a candle to remember things, he said. fat woman or fat lady, for example, man or mouse, with regard to episode featuring the former, lions led by donkeys, in case we do something in that area. as you see our future plans are vision-packed. we ourselves are viewer-focussed, and all that should please the audience.

we will drop it before we have to pull out

sponge says: whatever, should i care. sausage digested, no need for details.
block of wood had spent the last few episodes rattling gold chains and howlings yeas occationally; wearing a rucksack as a hunch.

it would have been better we had put her in a spreadsheet

what happened to the fat lady, said sponge, i wonder.
fat woman, said breadroll.
yes, what happened.
no idea, said breadroll and scratched his crust, block of wood was dealing with her.
i see, said sponge, we lost track of her, didn’t we?
she promised to ring, said block of wood, or email.
cc me in, said sponge, i love to be kept in the loop.
that was a fairly civil conversation, said breadroll.
it was, wasn’t it, said sponge.

why elderly men wearing baseball caps sometimes have strong body odour

if there is one thing i love to do than it’ll be to reek like a rookie. there is nothing like it. the reasoning about reeking and rank and retirement makes the odour turn sour, the very substance that on the rookie’s mildly bulging body loiters and lingers as the bad news -for some- that it is, that substance or subs as insiders or ins as they call themselves usually call it that later will turn out to be the undercoat of your presence, that smell of butter gone sour and vapourising beer.
sponge was in a position to achieve this state and in that state he triumphantly glazed over his collegues. what a waste of words as none and not one were listening. he will have to repeat this shit.

i have an idea

at least i should make the effort, don’t care what they use it for, said sponge.
to make more efforts, said breadroll.
block of wood turn into a moment and lingered for a while.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.