sponge said, i can see we’re getting there, but never told us where. if he had said, we’re getting somewhere, the nagging question wouldn’t be one, it wouldn’t be at all. we all need our targets set firmly. a man once went around the world, his target set firmly before him. when he came back to his village he was a much happier man but they didn’t really recognise him so he left again and nobody heard of him again. he was a plumber by trade.
we are a dew, a whiff, a shadow. and what are our meadows but a herbal angstish tree?
herr brekst said this beautifully and almost without an accent.
sponge applauded, so did breadroll. block of wood was using the facilities. they were still stuck in dun laoghaire.
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.
good, said sponge. pfffnn. — don’t you miss those sounds?
i’m fed up with things, too, said breadroll. i could have been you know. —— literary glamour and all. a recognisable figure in the books. ———
q: a rather grimm place they’ve come across, the city with corners without any shops at all. let’s see how they cope with it.
a: no, that is not fair questioning at all. we have been plunged into this with no warning whatsoever and ever since tried to cope as best we can.
q: you object fnn this statement rather vigourously — now there’s an ugly looking word — so what is the matter.
if they go left they would find a corner and to the right a street with another corner right after it. not to mention other corners in sight.
i suppose the usual witty comment, said breadroll, to follow; i for one would like to be buttered. he could easily say that for even though buttering him was a considerably nasty affair for all parties involved the lack of butter and shops to buy butter made buttering a faintly imaginable activity. i think i see a shop.
words like this won’t make it far.
a man came running, bolted around the corner and was gone in no time. the man had been naked, his pasty-white skin had left an impression.
you would not believe who that was, said breadroll.
no, said sponge, i wouldn’t.
q: and, i believe, the soldiers’ arrival was not helpful either for your attempts to leave this very corner?
a: noe, not at all.
q: i see. fnnnnn. —— i hate those breaks, too, you know. not very helpful you know.
a: i know. those breaks. nothing to say for yourself, you close your eyes and when you open those googles of yours again there is still nothing to say, not a spark.
lights on but seemingly nobody there, said breadroll.
herr brekst did not really care to get answers or attention, he did not really want all that, after all he was a chap to have a pint with, by fair and by square for all that matters or any other saying we could say to his defence on his behalf.
that — or so — was the general opinion, opionion was heard as well, some muttered an oponion, with a whiff of cheese and onion, any cheese in that context, for a crowd had gathered at the corner.
(this crowd then disappeared after herr brekst had paid the taxi driver who kept his mouth shut during the process. there had been some disturbance before which had gone unnoticed indeed by most of us bar that crowd that is currently being beaten up the lot of them. again open brutality prevailed over latent violence.)
breadroll and sponge thought it would be wise to take one corner at a time.
so, no chance for a shop here, said breadroll.
no, said sponge, sadly.
the process of changing from one form to another, from the larval stage to the pupal stage to the reproductive adult stage, said sponge, that’s what we are facing daily in our streets, on our trains and most obviously here in our own little midst.
i just feel a pain there, sad block of wood, which was a gross thing to say.
i know it’s needless to say but i say it anyway, said sponge, it’s a … that’s that.
we didn’t say much about the man in the café who didn’t want to pay immediately and stuff. never mind. nothing has happened so far. it is a slow café. we complained as well to no avail.
idiot, said block of wood, for revealing today’s big line already yesterday.
and you lied, said breadroll, as he’s not saying it after all.
not if he says it again, said sponge.
i won’t said block of would.
that’s that solved. they went about their business.
ti, sponge, that’s it backwards. much better — preferable; less offensive that way as there could be breasts all over the place. it’s, that swings tits in it, doesn’t it. [pause. in a perfectly clean breakfest scenario breadroll and block of wood are having breakfast. a healthy breakfast not a stealthy one as a man needs to do a man’s day work] —– it’s, you’d see them swinging, wouldn’t you. that would not be right.
what happened to the fat lady, said sponge, i wonder.
fat woman, said breadroll.
yes, what happened.
no idea, said breadroll and scratched his crust, block of wood was dealing with her.
i see, said sponge, we lost track of her, didn’t we?
she promised to ring, said block of wood, or email.
cc me in, said sponge, i love to be kept in the loop.
that was a fairly civil conversation, said breadroll.
it was, wasn’t it, said sponge.