and so long beards grow in the spirit of things

another week passed and time stood still in fastslow passing. sponge grew a beard and breadroll a fungus that looked like a beard. that’s how it goes. said sponge, we’ve been good and are being rewarded with growth. bit itchy though, said breadroll. that’s to keep us on our toes, said sponge. we must not become complacent.

some things happen before and others after

whenever sack wanted to be a bag he ended up looking like a satchel. there those who cannot, for whatever reason, tell a sachet from a satchel, but they tend not to frequent the places of sack’s bag impersonation. hence no-one ever said sack looked like a sachet when he wanted to be a bag. not that this matters much for our jolly wanderers on their way to the office, happily plodding along, never having met sack. yet still, some curious thoughts: did you ever try to impersonate a bag, said sponge. no, said breadroll, and you? no, said sponge, never thought of it. i was in one once, said breadroll. and, said sponge, how was it? don’t remember, said breadroll.
then not much happened. they went for a coffee, had lunch. what else? i can’t really remember. probably not much, as i said. sack got beaten up the other day, really badly, by some thugs who thought he was a wallet. they would have cut him if they had know that he was impersonating a bag, looking like a sachet or satchel or whatever. that’ll be the end of that.

things rise as well as fall

when brumblebee hit out to cool his mood he felt better than before afterwards. he was arrested and would have got 25 years of hard labour but the judge persihed before sentencing. his successor was not sure how to proceed and brumblebee was forgotten about until he was discovered during some spring clean operation one of the young prosecutors had launched. he was covered in fungus and was of giddy humour. hilarious. they threw him out of prison threatening to charge him as an imposter should he ever go near the building again; they clearly had an issue with him. the point was not that he was an imposter, they wouldn’t have had an issue with that, they’ve seen it all before, the problem was that he might pretend to be one. this they did not like a bit. brumblebee left and along he plodded, one foot, one leg, one foot, one leg again, off he went.
brumblebee had been lucky, alas, that does not go for his friend halleberry, who did not get to the shops in time, drank white spirit instead and kicked the bucket in a somehow disgusting manner. his common law partner is currently sueing the county council for damages and distress relief. she also makes cupcakes next saturday and is thinking of calling them traditional irish. they’ll be a bit small but for a good cause. residents are asked to support whoever calls by. but that’s doesn’t really belong here.
one day brumblebee hit the ground for no reason. the ground felt undisturbed. rugged but calm. silent. and calm. caaaalm. there will always be an england, brumblebee thought, they say ‘calm’ in england. ‘calm’. somebody has mentioned that before, no doubt. marvellous people, these englanders, just great, brimming with greatness, and calm. overall they’re calm, no matter what. they are very proud of that. i’ll be calm so. brumblebee was calm, on the ground, and hungry. thirsty, not so much, bearable, although a drink is never turned. all and all a rounded personality. he thought, i may have to go to bed. and what sense is there in that? the ground is calm and so am i. brumblebee finished his reasoning, got up and went to a cafe. tea and cognac, he said. the waitress brought him rhum. later coffee, which he didn’t want. brumblebee stormed out of the cafe in a huff. where did he go? we would care less. sponge and breadroll sat inside, having noticed nothing at all. we kept it that way. involving those two may cause confusion.

a lot of things

sponge shivered. he did this a lot. he listen to music. stared out the window. wished he had a phone to hold that never rings. waiting for the call, maybe a text, some message. music. soso there we go again, another day’s dawn and dance and dusk again.
i wasn’t really listening, he said. if we could repeat that please.

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.

spread your wings and learn to tick the right thing

fart. fart, what’s that but a highlighted pee or poo in waiting, not a pee perhaps. i can’t believe anyone wants to know that, said sponge.
the public, after all we are celebrities. says breadroll without meaning it nor clarifying which bit; which bit, said sponge, you know we all tire from time to time. maybe brekst doesn’t but he’s one of those arty types.
sulky silence. just tick yes, we don’t want to cause problems. after all.

make things history

so what’s up, said breadroll, and, nothing, said sponge. a pause.
that’s good, said sponge, tonight it will have rained all day and we will have spent another day; it is all nicely arranged for us.
yeah well, said breadroll, we are privileged, but what about the others.
we give something to charity, said sponge, so nothing’s up as i said.

good things come to a grinding halt too

nothing new nothing, the sun thought in her rare moments, i should go but i can’t. have to wait around until people are fed and go to bed again. even then some can’t keep still.
sponge hadn’t move much. breadroll a little bit more. they weren’t saying much. people passed by at normal speed and paid no attention.

sponge and breadroll do the british thing

ahh. and this is the second day, lasts a second or more, said sponge. that is some of the same i guess.
becoming famous was still part of the agenda although the agenda was part of the problem and part of the solution. famous. fame. being a celebrity. the second day around, harder to beat. more famous. if we don’t get these lines into the big picture we will become normal and cease to be famous. that sums it up tally-ho. i wish we were british; wouldn’t we be glad to be british? says sponge.
ahh well whatever, said breadroll who didn’t really care much about being british.
they watched a hedgehog being squashed by a british truck.

announcing more movement does not set things in motion

i’d really like to get there, the man said and pointed towards the toilet, badly, he said. he got up and ran.
we should get going, said sponge.
two unrelated statements, made at different locations, at or around the same time, followed by diverse implementation.

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.

next big thing on screen

i hate to say that ,said sponge, everybody who knows me now that i would not make a lame joke if i didn’t have to, but that’s what i call a big thing on screen. — he points at a squashed flesh fly on the screen. see, i had too.

thing is

and the thing with the thing is, herr brekst said to start where sponge had ended, the thing is a rotten one. here we are quoting lines, one after the other to make them all known, and people come up with new ones as we speak.
terrible, said sponge.
awful, said block of wood.
a shame, said breadroll, really a disgrace.
head fly around; one looks at breadroll.

thing with mirrors

the mirror was in shadow. she rubbed her handglass briskly on her woollen bric-a-brac container.
beautiful lines these are, herr brekst said, just like the ones i quoted before we started out.
a long pause broke out and savaged the mood.
i don’t seem to develop as a character at all, herr brekst said and sighed. it was this very deeply felt sigh that the sound engineer later used in a film on the assasination of jf kennedy.

a mount of things amounts to much

i can see we faint, said sponge, like all of us and all around us. wise words. great chords for exit.
there we go again, said breadroll, i was supposed to say that. things i was supposed to i may never say or never again. imagine.
you haven’t said that, said sponge. have you.
i don’t know, said breadroll. and who knows? it is too much of a muchness. we may as well end something somewhere somehow.

little something to say amongst other things

talked lots spake nods a mouthful of speech, that is that, the end otherwise. each of you, delighted now, shall rot further. the man turned and left. gone.
a bit brusk, said breadroll, people nowadays, no shame.

other things

alright, so we have a plan, said sponge, we won”t talk about it at all and that’s all there is to it.
not a word, daid breadroll.
we will not mention that we were late, said block of wood, not a fraction of a date or a time.
we talk about the weather instead.
which is not bad today if we may say so.
the three compagnions started walking in circles.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.