one day we should go to russia, said sponge, the wide there and the long, plains and landscape. we could do a lot of waiting there. until someone comes and boots us away. we move on a bit, report to somebody. so we get to wait more. the wait is the goal.
a british truck is bound to carry british crips, said sponge, and has them delivered to a shop.
some fried liver as well perhaps for the deli counter, said breadroll.
that was the extend of their conversation. sponge and breadroll at times took great pride in saying just the essential things.
two chairs, yucca tree; radio on
so, when is everybody coming?
we are not waiting for anyone.
we made good progress, said breadroll, if i remember correctly.
excellent progress, said block of wood.
but how do we proceed, said sponge. is there a plan?
a memo, said breadroll.
o, said block of wood, only a memo, is it?
yes, said sponge, budget is tight.
that’s a shame, said breadroll.
i know, said sponge, but what can you do? my heads are tied in this respect.
breadroll suggested to go and find somebody with an even tighter budget and make fun at his (or her) expense to make things worse fro him (or her), however, such person was nowhere to be seen.
tight pants, would they do? no, they would not.