a new day lasts as long as the old one

if you think you’ve been here before, you’re right, said sponge, but it won’t help. the end of the platform is just its beginning. you’ll take it from there; you’ll move on.
the setting of the train station’s shopping mall provides an impressive backdrop for these words. it was an ordinary shopping mall. shops and drunks and security staff. time drawn to thin lines, ringing in the breath of the passer-by. lashings, beatings, joy and sadness. bitterness.
bitterness adds negativity to the setting, said breadroll, though people ought to be positive. about things and stuff.

one or the other morning

whatever the damage, it will be done, the man said and left the house. he strolled for a bit and came home again. he had a sandwich, plain, frugal. he drank coffee, water, fanta. in that order. he burped. very rude, he said to himself. cheer up, he said but he wouldn’t listen. he never does. pointless, he said. not worth the effort. he left the house. those very the highlights of the day.
another man had his hair cut, got injured, ill, died. but that is a different story.

thankfully a sunday one day

thankfully.
it cleared up. light grey. paling.
we could sit here, look around, left, right, center, back, the full around, or into our selves, or nowhere in particular. these are often the most pleasing sights, says the lady from across. we could see ourselves saying something like that on tv, we would say if we were involved (says sponge).
thankfully.

a close one is many words

a round man sat down, preparing himself for things to come with a bag of crisps and a diet coke. his movements were swift and efficient. the task to be done. we whistle songs, that’s all, quietly in the wind. not much has shown up so far. we wait. we whistle. no song in particular, songs that’s all, just that. the pidgeon shat on the man’s shoulder. he grabs for the coke and holds it safely.
shat is an awkward word. but words don’t really happen, so nothing happened really.

good things may happen with a decision of one or three

want 1 inch more or 3 more inches? you decide, all for six euro. special price. be honest.
to be honest, i wouldn’t know to be honest, said sponge, my day just isn’t long enough. even now when i don’t see the office that often anymore, the outside from time to time but you know how buildings look like after a while. no way i am going to decide on that, that for sure. i wonder if i’m the only one listening to that man.
the man was slight, tracksuited, and had his hair combed over. nice watch, new car. he left without without a trace. not certain that he ever was there.

one more song again

q: you once said you weren’t that type of celebrity.
a: i could make an exception, couldn’t i?
q: could you? would you?
a: i could.
q: so we leave it at that.
a: i could do it again.
a small moustache performed a lazy dance while he spoke. knowing the train man’s general way opinion sponge gave in to a feeling of confidence, which was only a memory the next morning.

there is always one or something for that matter

we witness a naked man running down the road. nothing else happens, pretty grim area. bleak area, nothing going bar the one guy running, that should have been mentioned in the title, not just the one. at least there was one at least.
there’s got to be something, said sponge.

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.

perhaps the obese one the fat woman

it won’t be much of a storyline or disorganised action to be going on, but, said breadroll, perhaps we could pick on the overweight again. they are far to sluggish to get out and burn stooges.
besides, said block of wood, stooges of skinnies wouldn’t make much of a fire.
we love the way a block of wood points out really crucial things. our friends feel the same way. they have the same sense of humour and are otherwise quite similiar, too. and now something almost completelt different:
it won’t be much of a storyline or disorganised action to be going on to, said breadroll.
sponge agreed. nothing to add.

one of the visions to follow

and what is this. crips packets, coke cans, gum; all moulded into the pavement, usual suspects.
that is a good sign, said sponge, a very good sign indeed. he made a little hop and a skip. there must be a shop somewhere at this corner. let’s hurry.
they hurried.
here we are, said breadroll. but was this. gimme an eff, what’s that spell?

tomorrow is the day the lost one

we always have tomorrow.
right.
sponge, breadroll and block of wood did not say much more, just this: if it wasn’t for tomorrow i would not not what and it doesn’t take the length of a sperm whale’s penis to fathom that.
the sperm whale reference was made to sex things up. it breaks the ice on party — splendid punch line.

one way of sorting out things

they bombed offally yesterday evening, said sponge, but none of the soldiers we’ve met recently was involved.
that’s nice, said breadroll, they seemed to be nice enough lads.
nice soldiers yes. they’ve got to be if they bomb offalky or kork or kack or killkunny for that matter; who knows how the county might be called.
kick perhaps. west kick.
whatever. they didn’t bomb that bit yet.

one of the classic jokes for us all to relax

breadroll on entering the room, lightly populated by sponge and more recently, block of wood:–
now, what am i doing here?
i don’t know, said block of wood, get out.

to be a bug one has to be a beetle first

now look at this, said bread, bloody hell. i woke up and the roll was gone, would you believe? should i call the priest or the therapist or the gp or the police, so many options for help i don’t know where people would get an idea of despair from. just a metamorphosis that’s all.

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.

terror of time at one’s hands

we broke his heart, said sponge and realised a lack of short term memory. who am i talking about, he said, is it the mysterious man in the café on the other end of town? is it?breadroll made a face. hope we didn’t cause any mess.
no no. no mess. all clean.
because if we had caused a mess, we would need to clean and could not sit and talk sociably.
no, we could not.
they had caused a considerable mess which, howerver, had been swept under the carpet and hence could be neglected.
we should come up with something for the day, said sponge.

one of those loops again

thiteradig agagadi ga g adigathe rararetita gagrtatatrgatgatha asadhith thi thit thit. thiteradig agagadi ga g adigathe rararetita gagrtatatrgatgatha asadhith thi thit thit.
is that?
yes. one of those …
loops again. when the cable’s fucked and the digital jammed.
neither nor was impressed. sponge even though of  doing some mad thing to protest.

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.

one more song

the presenter announces a further song and the following happens:
block of wood turns into his ultra-violent alter ego and the presenter will have his head smashed in (badly), his heart cut out (a marble), his liver removed (about time) and his bottom roasted by blokk.
.
q: fnnn fnnnn fnn fnnnn?
a: i know you want to provoke me to burst into a song but i’m not that type of celebrity at all.

is he the one

it was a pillow after all, said block of wood and took off the hat. —— i am back, he said. no answer. i am back.
yucca tree, two chair: the stage was empty.
in other words: he was alone
the world is a stage, said block of wood, we’ll talk to the audience.

a quiet one

i did not forget how you burst into me the other day said silence and nothing thereafter.
after a long while sponge told breadroll that he, sponge always knew that this would happen after all it was not proper order that he, breadroll, always bursts into silence with no warning. block of wood was left out of it.
shush, said silence and she had a point.

one two three

the day kick-started; speedy, sunny, utterly dynamic and with the power to innovate: the early bird teaches the worm.
a sunny morning. breadroll, sponge and block of wood had to think what to say to mark the occasion but could not come up with anything. aggregate, innovate, promulgate, said the voice on the radio in order to further the sales of a certain product.

one step at a time

i suppose, said sponge, we’ll have to see …
and that is about it for today.

two in one

we shall practice, as we were advised, said sponge, until our backsides come off.
ouh, said breadroll, that happened to me once. i felt quite unbalanced.
the same time:
herr brekst said, i came to speak to somebody.
two utterly unrelated events, only the form they were reported suggests a connection. only suggests.
three events, to be exact. one didn’t happen.
actually, none of this happened, all imagined. the title is incorrect.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.