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.

drinks are on the house

but there are no drinks, said breadroll.
of course not, said sponge, it’s early morning. they are hidden somewhere.
we would hate to share, said block of wood, shall we go?
we can’t, said breadroll, some reason. we wait for drinks shall we? and a shop.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.