one may ignore the leitmotif but might not escape the sponge

there we would go again, said sponge, if we wanted to.
but we don’t want to, said breadroll. exactly, said sponge and a clock started to tick. i’ve got something in my ears, he said. silence. a ticking in sponge’s ears.
yes well, said breadroll, country doctor as i am i shall send you to a specialist.
you’re not a doctor, said sponge.
no, said breadroll, but you are not sick and therefore we just impersonated a joke. staged it for the not-onlookers.

meteorologically ignored episode

nice morn, sun shone, over crest of mountain; longish crest, like a crescent; sun shone, entry sponge.
there has to be an end to this, sponge said and continued, bloody soli, yea that’s how you’re meant to call them, soli. not solos or the likes, know what i am talking about. soli. we have a culture going on here.
now would you, said breadroll — who meanwhile had sneaked in to stick on the kettle — and grew almost silent. that’s me, i think, for today, he said, now would you believe?
no, said sponge, but i know man untied hasn’t been quite up to it recently and that shall shed a light.
certainly will, said breadroll, tea?
yes please, said sponge.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.