clearly the wrong title

i thought the interview days were over, said breadroll.
so fnnnn, the interviewer said, did i. i’m really here to make a point for inflatables in public. not very consistent mind you, i do ask questions, unpleasant ones, biting ones, drill down you, that sort of stuff. fnnnnnn.
i don’t know what i said without my lawyer, said sponge, not with this lad around. he’ll phase out eventually.

why shall we bother with a title

on second thought, said brekst and grew silent again.
he wanted to tell about his depression which was not accompanied by insomnia and feeding frenzy but he did not. a slim and slender man in his best years, well rested and depressed. it goes without saying that he could not continue the episode for the moment.

no title but torture

lights on, gradually. chairs, table, yucca tree, white men.
sponge, breadroll and block of wood seated on the chairs, hands tied to the back, gagged.
first white man: now.
second white man: you do it.
third white man: you. it’s your show.
first white man: do what?
second white man: the talking. it’s your show.
third white man: exactly.
first white man: it’s their show.
second white man: i forgot. we’re out.
third white man: we should ungag them then.
first white man: that would help.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.