another day to file as an incident

shall we start again, said sponge.
with a wet sponge, said, breadroll, that sits on your chair. a wet sponge. quite some incident.
the excitement it’ll cause. the utter joy.
unbearable. we better leave it, said sponge, the excitement could make us hopeful.

come to mention it a melody sounds like the other

it is impossible to describe music, yet this is precisely what would be required now, as breadroll whistled, as sponge whistled, both whistled a song. whistling they plodded along, alas, the plodding is not the subject here. let’s focus on the whistling.
can we stop whistling, said breadroll between C-sharp and E.
wait a minute, said sponge. it was a short tune.

if you don’t know what to say say something

distinction rather than extinction, said sponge, is what our company is after. i’ve chosen those words carefully yet there are weaknesses in detail. he looked around the everexpanding room. breadroll sat on a chair that once had been near the middle of the room. why does this room have to grow bigger every minute, he said, i can’t here you. can we not have ideas of our own? in russia rooms used to expand, it happened once, but here?
ah well, said sponge, people don’t know that bit about russia, not many people.

whatever it takes to get a word in for yourself

why are we talking about food so much, said sponge, is there something?
we are not, said breadroll, we mentioned the canteen recently.
a yes, the canteen. we didn’t mention it before. the perls.
perks.
yes.
says herr brekst, whenever i come i have a question and no answer ready for me. this is the state of thing and i will have to queue for an answer like anybody else here, if there are any left that is. is this queue for beetroot by chance? or chips? answers?
it is getting silly.

to do or not at any rate

there was a time when some things worked out better than others. that’s all changed now and other things have picked up, while some things don’t work the best. the child made rattling sounds with the collection box, please sir, it said, for a pair of helping hands for the community.
we have to focus on the bottom line, said sponge, where holes are punched into poor people’s arses. the workers get punched for free, said breadroll, and the others are paid for. still, said sponge, when things are not going well for them they do require a helping hand to scratch an itchy hole.
they can make do with just the one, said breadroll.
you’re heartless, said sponge.
heartless perhaps, but breadrolls are the soul of the country.

using hands to open a door

in the morning sponge put on his arms. he put on his legs then. last, the head. done. ready to go. i wonder what happens next, he said. usually something happens.something, such as a knock on the door. a knock. coming, said sponge. i’m coming. he looked around. the room looked as always. another knock. impatient. sponge when to open the door with his elbow. are these your hands, the man said. he was the janitor’s helper, surely he was, the janitor had mentioned something about taking somebody on and collected money as well. are the yours, the helper said, and presented a pair of hands. i could do with some, said sponge, they are always useful. the hands were passed on, they fitted. thanks you, said sponge and closed the door. he would be late now, he thought, had he had an appointment of sorts. he left. there is a door after all, he thought.
evening time he returned, took everything off and fell asleep.

i told you we have to wait

another repetitive day, breadroll asked.
no, said sponge, it must be a trick. you asked for it, said breadroll. i think we had exactly the same episode before, he said. feck off. piss off. swear words. dirty language. lead your outlets to propel you further. good british ways of telling some-one to bugger off.
let your droplets propel you further, very elegant.
outlets, they said, it’s outlets.
i know, code for droplets. trust me.
they waited.

something sometimes got to give

so there will be a meeting of sorts, sponge inquired. thank you for inquiring, the train person said, but i regret to say that we’d like to keep this confidential. it’s commercially sensitive. he emphasised commercially to stress the importance. it’s important so, said sponge. very, the train person said. i apologise for the inconvenience caused, if that helps, as a matter of policy.
the train person, a flimsy man with thick red brushy hair, got up from his chair and turned to go. you’d be better off getting a bus, if they was one, he said.

angst is not fear from but fear to

i’m afraid nothing will happen, sooner or later, said sponge and then said nothing. i couldn’t say why, but definitely, nothing will happen, we just don’t know when. so, there is this feeling, somewhat stuffy and dark, but definitely there. i told you know, you can quote me on that.

subject to conditions

conditions. what conditions? what did he say? sponge in want of answers and none to come. will he?
that line, as it stands, could be right out of a novel but it ain’t. not even a story. just a sentence, a line. zip. not a novel. will he? what? and who is ‘he’ anyway. sponge would owe us a few answers, whether we get them is another question. we should go for a drink, and leave that punk here, that fungus guy. i’ll buy you one.
these things keep happening. people break into a story and ruin it. the story is over by the time they are gone.

the ability to sleep

were you able to get some sleep, said sponge.
we had a presentation on counting sheep the other day but it did no good, said breadroll, sheep are just not convincing enough.
tomorrow will be better, said sponge, something is done on the presentation, too. they had other bits of conversation, which we couldn’t overhear properly. people just don’t articulate well anymore.

from passion to passion people go on posters

when they had a leg of lamb, and joe said he didn’t like it and mary tried to make peace but it was too late joe had already left the place, had packed all his stuff, which wasn’t much, and left. just like that. mary followed, all the time trying to talk sense into joe. they wandered around, took it easy and did some music gigs on market places to get get some coins for food until the police came to beat the holy crap out of them and they always decided to move on, who wouldn’t, until they came in to this idyllic village, which they both liked, and that’s where they settled.
there was no mention of the leg of lamb or the lord.
or beef on the bone.
joe got friendly with the publican and helped out every now and then, got free drink for it. one night he didn’t pull out in time or so they think, anyway, it happened: baby jesus was underway. they were pissed off with each other and got pissed. that night they decided to stay together and have the baby despite the excellent reputation of the roman angelmaker as joe pointed out. mary rubbished him; some of mary’s friends pretty face an ugly makeover.
they decided to stay together and have the baby. you believe that. GETOGETHER everydays 10ish. weekends on appointment.
great story, said sponge, but too much text for an advertisement. that won’t work. people will hardly notice let alone go for it.

day to end all days

they are lashing us with sorries and slightlies and shortlies, said sponge. the merry fallout.
god love them but that’ll be it, said breadroll.
i could have a poem, said brekst, so sleak and sharp it shall impress.

SOMEBODY KNOWS SOMETHING!!! WATCH IT EXPLODE ON monday!!!
i had weight problems since a boy but this is not an issue anymore. i have no one to thank for. i am lonely as a kite.
brrrrr theee thy tree liner arts’do rather jolligood tssss fnnnn. i thank you for attention, i’m sorry i almost forgot the fullstop.

day to so remember

so we are, entrenched, said sponge, he was, of course exaggerating. so there they sat, sat at least, not idly loiterish standing like the rest of all.
they spent time sitting, mostly, holding on to their seats, making sure stuff that may not have been sure before or may have become uncertain; inconsistent results. wet conditions. not set to improve.

to fuck as a pastime

the tart wasn’t that bad, said breadroll, bit juicy.
not bad no, said sponge, but i could do with a burger to bugger. a cheap sexual allegation.
sex you all, so there. the tart, now remembered. burgers. starve. starving. to starve. no way you put it will it make sound any more feeding. nothing. they had rations, stuff bought by passers-by, bars, triangular sandwich containers, bars, bags of crips. on the other side of the barrier, the vending machine operated by train people. they fuck. they think about it. discuss the option.

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.

to meet the train people

to ask, to dare. who wouldn’t. and who would? the train man would look at the ticket, would nod and out? he would look at the ticket, and again, and compare with what, and look at the ticket once more, just to make sure, would say no, no return, no can’t get back in, cunt, he wouldn’t use those words. off you go the train man says.
sounds easy enough, said sponge. who wouldn’t try.
hang on, the train man says, wait a second, let me see again.
not necessarily, said breadroll. there could be complications.
freedom is just another word for a day spent outside a train company’s detention cell. and i shall protect your freedom by locking you in the bogs. the man seems satisfied with his decision.

what does rain mean to us

rain. more rain. so it goes.
not a satisfactory answer, said sponge, then again, the question was somehow cryptic. brekst does not really ask any questions.
yet it is his big entry, said breadroll, i came to ask a question. it is terrible. the train is late. statistically it is on time though. if two trains are due at 17.30 and one arrives at 17.25 and the other at 17.35 both are on time statistically.
that is how success is made, said sponge. they do apologise for any convenience caused.

what a day to make the effort

would never do it, said block of wood, wouldn’t do it. not a compromise, seems miserly, would. said block of wood. and stood there. i could have punched him, slapped him across the face, gouged his eyes, kicked his balls, slit his nose, pulled his ears, but of course that would have been his thing, wouldn’t it. along with odd pun. i’m sick of senses of humour.

apologies for that is what to say when attempting to apologise

what was that?
an apology, to apologise, apologies, i apologise. in general means apologize: defend, explain, clear away, or make excuses for by reasoning; “rationalise the child’s seemingly crazy behaviour but coming to the conclusion that it was just crazy behaviour”; “he rationalised his or hers”; but also: acknowledge faults or shortcomings or failings or blunders; “i apologised for being late”; “he apologised for the many lesser things in life”. that’s me, said sponge, any second now. but if we were to provide them with a detailed account of inconveniences caused, would they feel worse? the same? better?

yet to arrive the train is

well i don’t see much, said sponge, but that doesn’t mean much and certainly not that it certainly isn’t there. it may well be arriving any second.
any second, said breadroll, that’s why they have churches beside train station; when people are desparate they would be driven to religion.
prayer, said sponge, the last resort for the commuter.
the time display announcing the train’s delay was adjusted. some-one apologised on behalf of others.

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.

so say just for the fun would you like to have sex with me

the next joke will be a fart joke and it will mention the war, children will be harmed and there will be great disaster. we may ask for your help and support. but we will be fine after all. that is a promise. you can take that as a pledge, of sorts. we just need some understanding. some excitement. we need your trust to the point where we need you to actually rely on us.
breadroll never had a thing for cheap beer but rarely found shops that had anything on offer but.

someday somehow the same must happen again to someone

is that the day we’ve waited for? hardly is. never, not this one.
these were the comments received to the question; we could have other comments but are content with these ones. they are better than none at all.
thus spoke sponge.
certainly there was no need for him to say that.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.