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.

novel

a novel it’s a novel. exitement there was and novelist behaviour. a novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel novel; funny how words start sounding weird when you keep repeating them for a while, said sponge.
novel. he’s got a point there.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.