beat your nose until it looks like a box

this is the day when we are all fed up with each other, said breadroll, and beat each other up and down the road.
this tradition was founded by a geezer called stephen who was a dubious character who loved beers with the word crown in the name: king’s crown, crown castle, crown & down, etc-rown. he also loved other things but he never spoke about it. once or twice perhaps but not often.

philosophy until we understand

twinkle, twinkle little star, see me stumbling to the bar. this and other songs had been prepared for the grand celebration. block of wood and breadroll quivered with exitement.
i don’t know where i’m going, i don’t know where i am, the rowers that are rowing are mighty motion men.
sponge closed the windows, emptied the cans and bottles and jars into the flower pot and told the bunch to go to work. i repeat, he said. repetion is the salt of life.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.