Yellow sits there reading the Morrissey autobiography.\n\nOnly £4.50 at WH Smith at the mo.\n\nYou're impressed it's been published for the chocolate community.\n\nEven though Morrissey only eats toast.\n\n[[Listen again|listen]]
tomatonana\n\nA word that pops into your head.\nYou've not heard it before.\nIt doesn't exist.\n\nWhy?\nYou're in a sweet shop.\n\n[[tomatonana|eyes]]\n\n\n\n
The smarties appear to be crying. \n\nIt could also be far too hot in the Newsagents.\n\nAll the other smarties, the ones not at the front, rush in and hug en-mass.\n\nThen seperate.\n\nA hush. \n\n[["But .. what will we do-be-do for a tourbus?"|double]]\n\n[["And heck, we need a name for the band|tomatonana]]
I am the guitarist\nMy real name is Bryan.\n\nI like crisps and running down the beach in moonlight.\n\nI am allergic to mice.\n\n[[Listen again|listen]]
You leave the shop and the world ends.\n\nYou are judged by a giant cat, rising an even bigger cockroach.\n\nLasers scream from the beasts eyes and you are dead.\n\nStop reading.\n\nYou are dead.\n\n[[Prey hard for the afterlife, hatemonger|TrueStart]]
You scarf down all the smarties, munching into them as if some kind of possessed Godzilla in a land of candy people.\n\nThe screams should be off-putting, but in all honesty they definitely make these the best smarties you've ever murdered.\n\nThe Newsagent is shaking.\n\n[[Leave the shop|end]]
The Lady behind the counter wonders why you've smeared chocolate across the small patch of space she loads cobs, drinks and other gubbins in the portal of time where the customer chucks her moolah.\n\nDoes she not see the wheels?\nCan she not see the windows?\n\nAn engine rumbles.\nLike a hamster sleeping in a back room.\n\nOr bin.\n\nYou are excite.\n\nYou hear chimes. Tiny chimes.\n\nYour other eye is bound for [[the dotty not-quite-cylinder of chocolate|smarties]]
The band play a song. the most amazing song. \n\nIt hurts to listen, but makes your heart go all sproink-a-boing.\n\n[[Afterwards they make a plea|plea]]
Schmup, dood.\n\nTangentally. Like an O-rang-U-tang, i have tang.\n\nU rang?\n\nNo. \n\nBecause you don't have my cell number.\n\n\nA massive drum solo ensues.\n\nIt's good. Even though Orange appears to be a bit of a dong.\n\n[[Listen again|listen]]
You tear open the box.\n\nA single tear falls remembering the old plastic lids with letters of the alphabet.\n\nA single sneer snarks the corner of your mouth at the hellish devilment of the new box design.\n \nYou feel like Cyril Sneer. \nThe bad guy wot is out of The Racoons.\n\nYou hear tiny, tiny words.\n\n[[Listen|listen]]
As you gawp, the smarties seperate.\n\n5 are lined up in front.\n\n[[Blue|blue]]\n[[Pink|pink]]\n[[Orange|orange]]\n[[Green|green]]\n[[Yellow|yellow]]\n\n[[Never mind the colours feel the funk|funk]]
The Pink smartie refuses to give you the time of day.\n\nShe is singing about something about pills\n\nWhich is quite funny, because smarties are just like pills.\nThat is the joke.\n\n[[Listen again|listen]]
Your eyes are drawn to two chocolate bars.\n\nOne bar per eye.\n\nYou feel each ball wobbling about like its own excitey marble, yet gurgling gently like a happy Mogwai.\n\nThe left vibrates over a tube .. hexagon .. thing .. of [[Smarties|smarties]]\n\nThe right is frisking smart trampolines over the choc-o-step of a [[Double Decker|double]]
The bar sits before you. All of its delicious deviance hidden betwixt the decadent onesie of chocolate.\n\nYou look deeper.\n\nLike, right up close.\n\nYou can smell the chocolate.\n\nYou probably have chocolate on your nose.\n\nBe a squirrel of examinining.\n[[Look|bus]]
Can you see tiny windows?\n\nAre those wheels?\n\nWhat the .. ?\n\n[[brum it across the counter|brum]]\n\n[[gawp at the smarties|smarties]]\n\n
tomatonana\n\nA word that pops into your head.\nYou've not heard it before.\nIt doesn't exist.\n\nWhy?\nYou're in a sweet shop.\n\n[[tomatonana|eyes]]
"Please, tall person ..\n\nWe have outgrown this venue. We wish to go on tour.\n\nNow you have roared through our cardboard box world, will you manage us?\n\n[[Ah yeeeh|yes]]\n\n[[Pfft. Balls to that|no]]\n
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The Double Decker sits before you.\n\nA slab of nougar. Whatever that is.\nLots of chocolate. \nSome kind of biscuit, smashed together into coherence.\n\nYou wonder if the biscuit is dead penguins.\nBy that I mean the chocolate bar, not .. OMG, UR sick.\n\n[[You rage into the wrapper|nekkid]]
Keyboards. Washes of keyboards.\n\nA smile. Teeth like minty keys.\n\nThings stop.\n\n"My name is formaldeehydra .. and I am from the Kia-Ora tundra. My skirt is made of cling film and parrots. My eyes can see the moon.\n\nYou catch my mood?\n\nYou catch her mood.\n\nShe dances as if expressing a life you've never lived, yet a familiarity makes you wonder if you're lost lovers from past lives.\n\nWhen you were a smartie.\n\n[[Listen again|listen]]
TOMATONANA\n\nTOMATONANA\n\nTOMATONANA\n\nTOMATONANA\n\nYou elevate to a sky-high super consciousness due to their songs, said chants, the sheer sugarlicious wonderment.\n\nBest life ever.\n\n[[If only you could do it again|TrueStart]]