a crock of wine was there, so they soaked sponge in it, put him on a stalk of the hops plant, and lifted it, the stalk. they sang songs cheerfully and cheered otherwise as well, e.g. by revealing their posteriors. it is people like these that mandate stories to contain significant quantities of introspection with a depressed or otherwise emotionally distraught slant.
they weren’t soldiers, said sponge, or any other type of friendly combattants so i should be fine with regard to legal costs.