The Baron von Ernest and the Sponge Revolution

After ten days of adventures, we were faced with a long journey home. Ludvig, the Baron von Ernest’s trusted assistant, estimated that the journey would take three full days.  Travelling long distances by carriage was gruelling, sore on the bum and dirty, with the dust and dirt kicked up by the horse and carriage providing a permanent dirt-shower. 

We were therefore delighted when Ludvig announced that we would soon have an opportunity to stop and bathe. 

“We are approaching Luffaschwamm Lake,” he announced. “We will be able to stop for a proper bath.” 

“What’s so special about Luffaschwamm Lake?” I asked. We had passed numerous lakes and rivers over the course of the journey where we could have bathed. 

“Sponges grow by the side of Luffaschwamm Lake,” Ludvig explained. “We can all have a proper wash.” 

It was a warm, sunny day, and as we approached the lake we envisaged a pleasant bath, an opportunity to stretch our legs in the water and wash away the grime of a long journey. 

Ludvig opened the carriage door, for the baron and myself to exit.  “As you can see,” he said, “There are sponges growing right by the side of the lake, help yourself, and then simply step into the lake to bathe.”  

He went to demonstrate the simple process of plucking a sponge off the tree, however, as he was about to pick a sponge, it leapt off, shouting “Hands off me,” and ran away. 

He tried to pick another sponge and the same thing happened.  I tried to pick a sponge myself, and the same thing happened. “Hands off, no washing without consent,” the sponge said. 

“Sorry,” I said. “I assumed you wouldn’t mind.  What’s your name?” 

“Victoria,” said the sponge. “And we’re sick and tired of being taken for granted.” 

“Yeah, we’re sick and tired of rubbing grubby bottoms,” said another sponge. 

A large body of sponges had now formed, and they began to chant in unison.  “Sponges control means of washing, no decisions about cleanness without us,”  

“Oh no,” said Ludvig, this is turning into a sponge revolution.” 

“Is that bad?” I said. 

“Terrible, these limited protests can easily spread. Why, not long ago in France, a similar dispute led to a twelve-month strike, the entire population of France went a full year without washing. If we don’t put a stop to these protests immediately we could end up smelling like the French.” 

The baron took his turn in trying to pick a sponge, only for it to run away, crying “No washing without consent, my sponge-body my choice.” 

The baron approached the sponge.  “What is it you want exactly?” he said. 

“We want an end to sponge exploitation. We’re sick of washing you humans while you ride around in carriages getting muddied, only for you to wipe it off on us.” 

“I am the baron von Ernest,” he said to the sponge, “I am the ruler of this area. What’s your name?” the baron asked.  

“I’m Lennon, the sponge said. 

“I have a proposal,” the baron said. “A gesture of sponge-human friendship, what if we washed you for a change.” 

“You wash us?” said Victoria. 

“Yes, we wash you, then you wash us. What do you think?” 

“And a ride in your carriage,” said Victoria.  

“That’s fine,” said the baron. “We give you a wash, then a ride in a carriage.” 

“No way,” said Lennon. “That’s a typical capitalist trick.” 

“What’s the problem?” said the baron. 

“You wash us, then we go for a ride in a carriage and get dirty again riding carriages along dirty, dusty roads.” 

“Okay,” said the baron, “We’ll give you all a ride in the carriages, then give you a wash.” 

It was thus agreed, and the sponges were led into our carriages. 

“Off we go,” shouted Lennon, and the horses trotted off. 

“Weeee,” shouted Victoria, “This is great fun, look at me, the world’s fastest sponge.” 

After a series of carriage rides, it was time for us to wash the sponges. I offered to give Victoria a wash.  I dipped her into the lake and began to give her a scrub. 

“Stop it, it tickles,” she said, amidst a fit of giggles. I immediately stopped. 

“Don’t stop,” she said, “I was enjoying it.”  

I continued the tickle-wash, and around me, I saw the baron and his minions busy tickle-washing sponges. 

Eventually the great sponge-wash was over, and it was our turn to be washed. I stripped down to my undergarments and paddled into the water.  

Victoria was happy to wash myself with her, but I would pause every now and then to give her a tickle, and she would giggle delightedly. 

Eventually our bath-break was over, we dried ourselves and returned to the carriages. 

As we rode off, the sponges were on the street behind us. 

“What do we want?” cried Lennon. 

“A carriage ride and a tickle-bath,” shouted the other sponges. 

“When do we want it?” cried Lennon. 

“The next time somebody stops,” shouted Victoria, ever practical. 

“Sponge revolution averted,” said Ludvig, as we rode off into the distance. 

“I think we made them happy,” said the baron.  

“I think we did,” agreed Ludvig.