we don’t like days and are at odds with nights

that they shouldn’t have gone out today and just stay put, sponge complained, nothing would have happened, that he knew full well that nothing is happening now, but that this nothingness was a different kind, emptier, bleaker, than the nothingness they normally faced with, the nothingness so familiar, so comforting, the old, the nothing-new nothingness. not the as-good-as-it-gets nothingness. that, he added, nothing was the absence of anything at all, although, colloquially, the concept was often used to indicate (or describe) the lack of anything relevant or significant, or to describe a particularly unimportant thing or event. or object, subject, as herr brekst would say. it is contrasted with something and everything.
but, sponge said, this might be a poor description.

short won’t last long

short, snappy sentences, said sponge, get you places.
do you think so, said breadroll.
yes, said sponge, anyway, they’ll shorten the wait for the end.
they’ll be through the report in no time and want another one.

if you don’t know what to say say something

distinction rather than extinction, said sponge, is what our company is after. i’ve chosen those words carefully yet there are weaknesses in detail. he looked around the everexpanding room. breadroll sat on a chair that once had been near the middle of the room. why does this room have to grow bigger every minute, he said, i can’t here you. can we not have ideas of our own? in russia rooms used to expand, it happened once, but here?
ah well, said sponge, people don’t know that bit about russia, not many people.

to do or not at any rate

there was a time when some things worked out better than others. that’s all changed now and other things have picked up, while some things don’t work the best. the child made rattling sounds with the collection box, please sir, it said, for a pair of helping hands for the community.
we have to focus on the bottom line, said sponge, where holes are punched into poor people’s arses. the workers get punched for free, said breadroll, and the others are paid for. still, said sponge, when things are not going well for them they do require a helping hand to scratch an itchy hole.
they can make do with just the one, said breadroll.
you’re heartless, said sponge.
heartless perhaps, but breadrolls are the soul of the country.

angst is not fear from but fear to

i’m afraid nothing will happen, sooner or later, said sponge and then said nothing. i couldn’t say why, but definitely, nothing will happen, we just don’t know when. so, there is this feeling, somewhat stuffy and dark, but definitely there. i told you know, you can quote me on that.

thankfully ability is not all

he was well able, said sponge, but he still failed.
you keep refering to the title straight away.
i’m not. anyway, it’s not about ability at all. the next one is good looking and seems to be reasonably happy, may he’ll sell us a ticket. if it’s within reason.

fate will not fail you

look, over there, said sponge and pointed. the innocent bystander. he’s going to get himself killed i bet. look, and he’s innocent.
not a baby though, said breadroll.
while being stared at and expecting to be asked for change or cigarettes the innocent bystander kept on going about his business in a clumsy, bystanderish way; eventually was killed during a possibly unrelated incident.

not quite so old and witty

o the fun we had, said sponge, that was really fun. we were different then. less grubby. more snappy celery. now we know the right queue from the wrong, as they say. i have never heard anyone saying that but it is important to remember to choose the right queue, one for hopeful things, worthy the disappointment. though it is hard to spot them, requires practice, which one doesn’t get from waiting in the wrong one. but we are hopeful.
a hungry lady wants a bite of me, said breadroll.
she should queue for bread, said sponge. where is an angry mob when you need it.

for criticism only will not do

we’ve got to go somewhere, said sponge.
pity we’re not celebrities, said breadroll, we could read in the papers how well we are doing.
pity, said sponge.
the station stretched from there to the very back, the platform that is, the actual station was spanning over platform and tracks, gun emplacements approved by the council. they would need if if a riotuos is introduced.

i will not sustain criticism

things got even more difficult, said sponge, you know, with us on the move, jolly moving as we are.
we are about to stop, said breadroll.
no we are not, said sponge, i will not err what’s the word …
sustain, said breadroll.
exactly.

they cannot do that

something about sorry and apologies, said sponge, but it that it was essential and for our own safety and security.
well then, said breadroll, at least they are not soing it for fun.
no, said sponge, they don’t seem to have fun. but they said shortly.

blowing wind not porridge in this context

we should take it to the streets again, said sponge, and not let fart jokes come our way. it is the day of labour after all a serious matter.
yep, said breadroll matter-of-factishly, the working class are the very group of people generally identified in marxist theory as the proletariat. you are right there, said sponge, i agree, but although they are in a struggle for power with the bourgeoisie, the members of the working class must, nonetheless, sell their labour to the bourgeoisie to produce the material needs for their society.
that make things difficult, said breadroll, you simply can’t have a revolution in a day.

tomorrow is a term that does not know itself

tomorrow another day, said breadroll, and was corrected by sponge. another day perhaps but a day where we did want to do something special.
tjae such days, said breadroll.
the meeting then faded and nobody knew really about tomorrow anymore. we could do more with this subject.

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.

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.

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.

nice as in friendly not fiendish

he always does that, he always does that wrong, said sponge. and if i was to say that again it would be more like ‘he always does that, he always does that fucking wrong, said sponge’.

very funny for that matter but i don’t think we should laugh at all

and on we went walking. on the trail less travelled. around corners where others never would think to take a snoop around. they walked, now view view from top. the three walking. heading towards another corner.
if anyone wants o take a leak, said sponge, it would be a chance now.
i took a leek from a garden back there but it was rather raw, said block of wood.
if you think british is about funny puns, said sponge, it is not. it is about puns, that’s it — (he gave the final ‘t’ a really sharp finish to make a point).

dada or not, this novel is in a rut

you call this dada, said brekst in a sudden burst of mirth, this doesn’t make any sense. hah. – uneasy looks of course, no-one knew what to say, where to look, what will he do next, a german at loose with a dose of joy to spread, a melancolic poem perhaps he’ll burst into, some sort of militerischer gruppenubunk or kinds, leitmotif opera probably, perhaps we aren’t sure.
so then, herr brekt said, we shall proceed. a useful setting, not novel but suitable for one. second pun.
some sort of, said sponge.
idea, said breadroll.
dada is when we do add some message, herr brekst said. like the environment. we could also hurt religious feelings.
global warming, said sponge. splendid, herr brekst said. we won’t go any further.

not for nothing

would you do it for anything, said sponge.
not for nothing at all, said breadroll.
cheap match on the headline, said sponge, high five on that.

brekst is not an easy man to go

i have another one, brekst said, and brekst read out:

feel embarrassment when joining her in bedroom?
forget the feeling, become her best partner ever!
we know what’s needed for your case.
natural hardness and boosted drive.

that’s so natural, one of the bystanders said.
o shut up, said sponge, what do you know?
the bystander, a mother of two, was disgusted and left. poetry does have o struggle in this country, brekst knew to add.

sponge is challenged on his conduct of the storyline but people whose puns involve swaps of letters ay and al are not really experienced in challenging people

that’s like: lame. can we not have a normal story, with a normal setting? no?
anormal?
no. a normal. as in norman, with an al instead.
i see what you mean. you have a point, and a leg to stand on. phrases. you’ve got to love them.

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. ———

© the Book of Sponge and Others.