that is no more an option than the other option

it was good, said sponge, even i find the thought revolting now when i come to think of it.
although it did happen all a bit of a sudden, said breadroll. no build up to it really. normally there is a hint of some sort. something at least. and we could have found other ways of entertainment.
i don’t think people liked it much, said sponge.
probably not, said breadroll. we do tend to labour on about things.
yea well, but are you going to do. ring in some cabaret?
phone would be outside.

the rain falls like there was no tomorrow

it is raining, said sponge.
it is raining, said breadroll, isn’t it.
bloody rain, said sponge.
it raining the entire day.

an egg he said won’t do you no harm

have one, he said, or two you may take, too. won’t do you no harm nor will it anyone else. egg really makes me feel bloated, said sponge, i must decline, it’s not because of the colesterol. and it will harm others i’m afraid. children particularily will suffer. in trenches or not, no difference.

no to loiter

we should make a move, really. and tuck our shirts in before we do anything. that’ll be the spirit for today. heads up, said sponge. and socks up. all up, and go. they got up and left. in single file, slowly at first. they walked faster after a while. they made space, they complained. it went on for a while. a funny incident after some walking. it is good that we made a move, got going, were proactive. any management likes to see that, not just ours.

some incident of lament and no escape

how do you feel about circles, dimensions and circles and seemingly same sensations? not good. dotcom. it rained. lightly but steadily, a constant spray.
we could all start with a narrative, said sponge, that’s quite something.
i think we’ve been here before. i must admit i feel so-so without a compass. and then with this whole book thing, that puts some pressure on all of us.

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 in this context was wrongly referred to for no reason

dada, as is work related, as in labour relevant, does fnothing for people and has no significance in industrial relationships other than being signifcantly present, in presence, past and future tensions.
bravo, said sponge, well done. the others say the same.
bravo, said breadroll, -(and so on).

no surprise

this does not come as a surprise, said sponge. i saw the corner coming. knew there would not be a shop. sometimes i feel it does not really matter. i might spell it maater but it would not change a lot.

no spreadsheet today

a birthday? sponge hopped with exitement. a funny move but to no avail. do i get to sit wet on a chair like in the old days?
no, he could not do that.
we get to spread a sheet? right, a proper spreadsheet?
no. no spreadsheet.
who’s birthday is it?
someone special, said breadroll.
we cannot tell, said block of wood, it’s confidential; a shame but true.
someone famous, sponge ought to know.
no, a celebrity, said block of wood, tea?
yes. tea, said sponge. we won’t move too much today i reckon.
all in moderation as the english say, said breadroll.
fabulous people, said sponge.

one stick is better than no stick at all

we won’t get far with only one stick.
no?
never.
bummer. i was hoping to.
what?
nothing. i suppose one can’t be witty all the time.
no. one cannot.

brutality yes and no to violence

the man did not wipe the grin off his face. on the kisser, thought blokk but even he had to admit: people who feel uncomfortable sport a forced smile, it is that simple, and brutality won’t do the trick. it’s all about money. brutality yes, violence no, that’s the important thing; it is that simple i’ve been saying it all along. but that’s me.
the man did not move until his appointment arrived. he then got up. speedily as we observed, kissed hello, waved goodbye and left. ceased grinning as we just talk to each other, that simple. next thing to do. brutal.

no doubt about it

this was supposed to be my interview, said sponge, my little space in time but alas — it was not meant to be. did not happen.
empty street, grey day, wind blows a plastic bag across street, plastic bag gets caught, struggles in wind; tough being, no doubt.

a first line for there is no better one

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.
he loiters for a while.

no title but torture

lights on, gradually. chairs, table, yucca tree, white men.
sponge, breadroll and block of wood seated on the chairs, hands tied to the back, gagged.
first white man: now.
second white man: you do it.
third white man: you. it’s your show.
first white man: do what?
second white man: the talking. it’s your show.
third white man: exactly.
first white man: it’s their show.
second white man: i forgot. we’re out.
third white man: we should ungag them then.
first white man: that would help.

clearly no

no. i am not going to say that. sponge was serious, stern and committed.
breadroll and block of wood said, they liked his commitment and loved his determination but the line was there in the script, a fact they — unfortunately — could not change.
to whisper it maybe?
no.

no temper

what a rage yesterday, said block of wood.
yeah, when you battered me, pretty impressive, said breadroll.
the world stood still in glo and rwy, said sponge, we should draft a report on that.
they agreed to have a meeting asap.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.