come to mention it a melody sounds like the other

it is impossible to describe music, yet this is precisely what would be required now, as breadroll whistled, as sponge whistled, both whistled a song. whistling they plodded along, alas, the plodding is not the subject here. let’s focus on the whistling.
can we stop whistling, said breadroll between C-sharp and E.
wait a minute, said sponge. it was a short tune.

whatever it takes to get a word in for yourself

why are we talking about food so much, said sponge, is there something?
we are not, said breadroll, we mentioned the canteen recently.
a yes, the canteen. we didn’t mention it before. the perls.
perks.
yes.
says herr brekst, whenever i come i have a question and no answer ready for me. this is the state of thing and i will have to queue for an answer like anybody else here, if there are any left that is. is this queue for beetroot by chance? or chips? answers?
it is getting silly.

dada is cheese on breadroll for those who can afford it

it took a long time to be still not finished. we should have started to finish earlier. right after finishing preparations to discuss the next step or two. between meeting to form the committees and before the blustering speeches and long, long before the biting speeches, right after the initial throat clearing to, as a bare minimum, have the stage before the previous one finished but this way it’ll take some time to be at the planning stages.
i’m aiming to have tuna then, said sponge.

for all it is worth

they did ask me, said breadroll to make the first line and that is exactly what i did — right now i did it. not that i did not do exactly the same thing before but that is a second line now which i believe everyone has been waiting for. we should get something out of it.
what, train folks asked. he was a stout fella, red around the nose, eyes bloodshot, contained movements, a bull about to enter a china shop. what, he says. ticket, he says, points towards the clock. shortly, he finally snorts. lifts his shoulders. eats.

done with it the harking goes

here’s a station, said sponge, why not end right here, get in there board a train and be done with it.
why don’t we?

it is a day after all

we didn’t really prepare for a special for today, did we?
no we didn’t.
i though so, didn’t i, said sponge, feeling slightly happy having made the point. we just have cake then if we find some, he knew to add.

do it again moment

do you want me to hug you again, said breadroll.
you are yet to hug me, said sponge.
oh, said breadroll, when did that not happen? no joking, said sponge. no further comments and closed.

herr brekst does not call by today anyway as it seems

the occasional man was hovering around the corner. not your normal one this time; this one sticks.
i’m anto, he says. he leans over. he taps sponge’s knee. hey, he says.
sponge stares east-west, breadroll the other ways.
block of wood doesn’t show any reaction. we are fine, i think, he says to himself.

brutality must not be too courteous or it will fail to convince

and what’s the shop bit, said blokk. he whacked breadroll, he whacked sponge. they did not have teeth to be kicked out but butts to be smacked heavily. after the blood had dried up breadroll said, you know your asskicking is kinda gay, as in homosexual, you better beef that up a bit you know. whilst block of wood saw where breadroll was coming from he could not fathom what he was talking about.
sponge was unimpressed. a rather sleeky way of not getting my drift, he said.

to call the tart it needs no discussion

the spanish tart didn’t go down too well, said sponge (yet another episode started that way. it is a terrible.)
it was sensored, said breadroll, at the time it was ok talking about sex but doing it was a big no-no.
nobody wants to see you doing it now, said sponge, a tart and a breadroll is just too much carb.
you see, said breadroll, what i said. i might give her a call anyway.

dada does it too

what if cheese rained fom heaven and fed us all and squashed the oaf on impact, said sponge, somebody must believe in that and have a bashing for it. burn the usual suspects and all.
agreed, said breadroll, just don’t blow us up. rrrntt takk taa hhaata tihkili iii eeoaaa tti, to quote the poet.
ah that’s beatiful, said sponge, i didn’t know that, that’s just like the one with the shoes that hang around when the person who owned them is already dead and gone.
and what happens then?
nothing. they just hang around and then they go. just like normal people. just smaller.

british and what becomes of it

braddash braddash, said sponge.
that was about it, the highlight and climax of the day. breadroll did not do much, hardly anything, and neither did block of wood. all took a break. that did not ease the situation. herr brekst: zis doesn’t even call for a poem, does it. wohl, we could always burn a puppet. to express passion and anxiety.

what would we say to make it not look like a

good, said sponge. pfffnn. — don’t you miss those sounds?
i’m fed up with things, too, said breadroll. i could have been you know. —— literary glamour and all. a recognisable figure in the books. ———

somehow it is not him in shorts

there’s isn’t much left, said sponge, but the man is there.
not him, said breadroll, the man himself.
no, said sponge, not him.

breadroll makes a point to which sponge agrees but block of wood misses the point but cannot be blamed for it

i once meet a man, said breadroll, who did a walk as in a few paces every single morning. or should we wait?
good point, said sponge, we are in win-win here. or lose-lose, for that matter. that just be discussed.
tea everyone, said block of wood. he didn’t say it. he expressed it. there was no tea.

meaning as in meaning it

q: as in fnnnn.
a: what? you didn’t ask me that, if i interpret you correctly that is.
q: i didn’t, you do, isn’t it? always the matter. did it come as a surprise.
a: no, not really. it was pretty predictable. we knew they would react like this and were prepared.
q: that is always something, to be prepared i mean. i really mean it.
a: it is.
there was some pushing and shoving going on which we missed, sadly enough. we didn’t understand the answer. either. but there it was.

just another definition will not change it

pronounced change of form and change of structure taking place within a comparatively short period of time otherwise known as a whiff, add of time as needed, as the changes undergone by an everyman in passing from the larval to the adult stage where he or she makes him- or indeed herself seen without warning. thus spoke sponge and he added that the roll should back indeed shortly.

or is it

exactly, said sponge, the free channel, that’s what we stanf dor.
thought we would notice? thought we think everyone has a spellcheck these days so i must be meant to? nah, no such thought. that what we stand for. unpaired goals. you must have an email about it.
i have developed a thing with it but i love to be cc-ed in, certainly.
and if i bcc-ed you in?
not now you see but let’s txt.

so close to offence but lucky to avoid it

with this nose attached to you one could say you look like moe hermit, said sponge who felt lucky not having to wear the funny nose. you’d think that’ll cause burning irish flags but no, it’s carneval and decent as we folks are we staged the tableau as a dark room scene and people can only see our genitals.
hoho, said block of wood who had wear a hat like hitler, we still would envy breadroll for his mao whiskers. he did a few gestures purely to kill time. risking that we’re stuck here forever i suggest we do a few funny games just to kill some time.

as it is as it tits

can we roll back on those tits, said sponge. we seem to be obsessed with it.
breadroll: wrroooah.
exactly this reaction, said sponge. how did we get so far?
well, said breadroll, from me having objects and inserted, me split open and spreads applied to the word tits is a way as short as toe to heel.
anyway, said sponge, we should stop. kind of. woffle woffle. kapoow kapoow. blokk has a weapon and know how to use it. he suspects sponge and breadroll to be but that’s really silly zwosh zwoing.

sponge points it out

ah well, same shit different day i suppose, said sponge. sometimes life is just it. he did something. not much. it exhausted him. life sometimes is just a thing of its own.
all this was duly taken on board and subsequently approved

tits as it can

by way of repetition a yucca tree came into display, a sadly lanky one, and a chair. no-one on it. no-one had bothered to appear. that’s what the man thought as well who had had coffee on his own now for his nineth year in a row. pretty sad bastard he was and had developed a few habits that would ensure that he’ll stay lonely for another while. no-one had botherd to appear.
breadroll with wild salmon, lime, spring onion, that’ll be a treat instead of a silly and sad story.

almost at the end of it

this will be quick, said sponge. he pointed at the sparse interior. no politics, he said, or breaking news. no father of two slaughtering a mother of three with a sixty year old grandmother of eight from donegal. no cabaret. this will be over when i’m finished with my tea. which is now, almost.

beat your nose until it looks like a box

this is the day when we are all fed up with each other, said breadroll, and beat each other up and down the road.
this tradition was founded by a geezer called stephen who was a dubious character who loved beers with the word crown in the name: king’s crown, crown castle, crown & down, etc-rown. he also loved other things but he never spoke about it. once or twice perhaps but not often.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.