AN - Fanfic pertama di akun ini aaaaaa /plak
One of my bad attempts at making fanfictions; this' about the cartoon Spongebob Squarepants, mainly focusing about Squidward and the terror his own mind creates. Not really serious of a plot, I can't see how I can make it so, and it's somewhat cliché too, but I'm writing this for my younger cousin to read since she loves Spongebob and it's near her birthday x)
Disclaimer: Spongebob Squarepants belongs to Nickelodeon, I fruit no credit whatsoever for the lovely franchise, except for this fic.
And sorry for grammatical errors, if any - I know I have to work on it somehow. Constructive criticisms? :) Thanks.
One surprisingly peaceful morning decides to dawn upon the quiet underwater residential in which the pineapple stood still, giving those passionate aquatic creatures fully advantage to enjoy their day break in summer. Under water's pretty clear in this time of day and fishes of all sorts began to fill in the main street in few bubbles with their baby trolleys, shopping bags, parasols, hats and boats. The Goo Lagoon, along with the other recreational facilities in Bikini Bottom, became far more crowded than typical work days, especially because this year's Coral Festival was about to start tomorrow, but hitting 7 A.M today doesn't mean anything much fancy outside for our four-legged squid. At least yet.
"Happy birthday Squidward! Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday!"
Party poppers popping about, trumpets blown aloud.. and two unmistakably can't-be-too-familiar voices he can't pass half a day without are exactly what he expected for this morning. For every morning. He didn't need to look at the calendar to know what day this is.
"It's four times," He raised his light teal colored face up close to them, eyes narrowed down lazily. "This is the fourth time. In one month. And my birthday is not even in this month!"
Patrick, who was holding a white box which seemed to contain either another half-eaten chocolate cake or flat-squashed strawberry tart in one hand and the party popper on the other, slid the lid of the box open with his teeth and looked up at his fellow bugger. "So does this mean it's mine again?"
"There's only half a quarter left, so I guess you can have it." Spongebob squeaked up and down and pulled up a huge balloon, hopping on the edge of the mattress. Squidward's curled expression didn't seem to indicate something to him, for he wrapped his one thin, yellow arm around the squid's shoulder. "Go die," He grumbled quietly which forces a 'huh?' from Spongebob.
"Come on Squidward, cheer up!" He then squealed happily. "It's daybreak in the middle of summer, what could be better?"
"I thought you hate a day you don't have a time to touch the spatula in," Squidward replied, slightly distancing his face from Spongebob's.
"No worries, I bought myself a stove at home! Well, it's Mr. Krab's old one, but he said he didn't need it anymore and if I take it he won't need to pay me wages for six full months – isn't that fascinating?"
He didn't need to think twice for that if it was him. "Very," He murmured to Spongebob and flopped out of bed, invited them downstairs to have a tea which requires for a good kick out of the front door without involving any cup at all.
Today's supposed to be a sanctuary for a squid, he thought. Day break in summer – he rarely got one before, seeing his materialistic boss at office who would even sell one of his employees for sixty two cents. Then as a broad grin spreads on his freckled face, he stomped upstairs heading to his drawing room in which he kept all sorts of ostentatious crafts and paintings of himself being handsome. He took a turn near a tall mud sculpture picturing himself with thick hair to the bathroom, bathed himself in deep tub of pink bubbles when Spongebob was seen right outside of his circular window, his body lifted high above the ground by the balloon he showed to him earlier, flying past a tall, beautiful purple coral plant with uneven surfaces Squidward had gardened carefully for the Coral Fest. He sure believes he has a high chance of winning, with such a towering height and prettiness of the coral skin. Hence if that Spongebob had any of his fingertips attached to it, he assured himself to make him pay. Then he got out of the bathroom after fifteen minutes of bathing, all fresh to resume his artistic activity of painting instead of going outside; not with those duo mess maker around.
But half not the day has passed and he was just caressing his clarinet under the roof, when he heard a loud 'wham' and 'thud' somewhere from outside. He clanked his window open and peered below. Spongebob's on the ground, lying flat, while Patrick is kneeling right beside him – for a second, he thought he was crying because he could hear faint moans and his round shoulders are shaking. In about quarter of minute later, Sandy came around and kneeled down too on the other side of him.
Finally curiosity won over the squid's desire for one day of peace and he went down to check what happened.
"Don't cry, Patrick, it's okay," Sandy looked somewhat dumbstruck and he was patting Patrick's shoulder. Spongebob's still on the ground, rather motionless with eyes closed. And upon noticing he's there, Sandy got up and said to Squidward, "Patrick said Spongebob fell from the balloon he drove upwards."
"I thought such realistic accident won't happen in cartoons. I mean, they would usually make him bounce around when he hit the ground,"
"Well unfortunately, the rest of the audience begs to differ," Sandy said in disappointment.
"Aren't you two bringing him inside the house or something?" Squidward stepped closer to the lying sponge, a bit of worry can be seen on his expression. Patrick, whose tears seemed to merge with sweat over the heat, helped carried (or more likely dragged) Spongebob into the nearest house, which is Squidward's. "I meant his own house." Sandy could hear him mutter angrily. They both entered the house after Patrick and Spongebob and laid him down upstairs in Squidward's bed, covering him up with a purple thick blanket.
"Oh, stop it, he isn't dead," Squidward bellowed to Patrick who's still sobbing near the edge of his bed, wetting his floor but then added quickly to Sandy after glancing upon the unconscious Spongebob, "or is he?"
A slight uncertainty could be seen on her face at that moment. She leaned, and began checking Spongebob's heartbeat and body temperature sternly, though Squidward thought technically a sponge shouldn't have any of those despite he's a living being. "His body's a bit cold," She said, and began checking his pupils, which strangely dilate as she flashed it with flashlight that came from nowhere. She then concluded, "He might be in sudden cold from the fall."
"Figures. Only nutters could catch cold in summer." Squidward snorted.
"Guess we'll have to let him rest. Crashing onto the ground isn't as funny as the old times now, I suppose." Sandy got up and now patted her gloved hand on Squidward's shoulder. Patrick is still sobbing, muttering Spongebob's names in every nose blowing.
"Shouldn't we bring him inside the house?"
"Well, he's already in one, isn't he?" Sandy's mascara fluttered.
"I meant his own house," Squidward frowned. But apparently Sandy didn't hear him. She turned her head back upon reaching the bamboo door of his bedroom and said, "I'll leave him in your care, Squidward. If tomorrow he isn't feeling any better, give me a call. I'll try and see what medicine I can concoct for sick underwater beings. Come on, Patrick."
Patrick got up to the door, his face covered in tissues which Squidward realized were taken from his tissue box, now leaving it empty and the floor beneath it soaked in tears and wet tissues. He looked up at Spongebob. He was lying, still inanimate, and his hand still clutching a short part of the balloon's string.
It was quiet, he came to sudden realization. As if it was his dream, with Spongebob being around, but completely mute and immobile. He can't help the thought that being with him will always cause chaos around, all the nagging and such, but this time it's different. He secretly thanked the audience for this, and sprinted outside the bedroom silently, careful not to wake him up and went downstairs to fetch some smoothie and make his favorite mocha pudding. The afternoon he spent with hours of bathing in the sunlight just outside his front door without taking Sandy's order of taking care of Spongebob, sunglasses on and three mocha puddings he gulped down in delight. He could still hear in between every minute though, the muffled sobs of the pink star from under his rock house. But he decided not to interfere with the mental tragedy Patrick's currently having. An ideal summer day break for a Squidward – a happy day without having to battle two of his only neighbors to achieve daily serenity and mocha puddings with iced smoothies. And when the sun had glided off sight, he wrapped up his collapsible beach seat and went inside to his room upstairs to see Spongebob.
He's still sleeping, which couldn't be better for him. He walked straight past the bed to reach the bathroom, humming, but quite suddenly, he heard a mumble coming from his unconscious neighbor under the blanket,
"Happy birthday.. Squidward.."
He repeated it several times in his sleep. Squidward stood there still, looking at him from afar, then closes in with brows raising. He could hear it clearer by then, as Spongebob continued to murmur, "Squidward.. birthday.. we are happy.."
Then rather distinctly, he heard him say 'best friends'. Of course, that word has been rather often said by Spongebob, everytime he's around.. but this time however, it didn't make Squidward flinch in disgust, nor it made him walk away in irk. The sight of Spongebob laying ill and sad on his bed seemed to throw off his nasty thoughts of Spongebob all this while. Then he wheeled around, feeling uncertain, walking towards the bathroom, but just as he came around the threshold, he turned his head again towards the mattress to look at the yellow creature.
Something made him feel uneasy. Seconds of observing what's the cause of him feeling so without actually knowing what he's doing, he retrieved his towel from the towel hanger under the circular window inside the bathroom, but then finally realized what was making him so uncomfortable.
The coral plant outside across the road, even though he couldn't see it now because it's already dark, was what made Spongebob fell. The sharp skin of coral, he assumed, must have been in contact with the surface of his balloon when he's flying it, and made the balloon pop, forcing him to fall to the ground. He gawped upon the realization. Thunderstruck, he rushed out again of the bathroom and kneeled before one side of the bed near Spongebob. He's not sure what he's going to do now. Just when he thought it should be Spongebob that could do any harm to it, it turned to be the other way around.
Panicking, he started to sob in great guilt, remembering what he had uttered to Spongebob earlier this morning even though he couldn't hear it: "Go die".
"Oh, what have I done, the horror – Spongebob, I, I couldn't – I, I'm so sorry!"
Nothing came out as a response to his apology and cry, obviously. For about hours he kneeled there, doing nothing but sobbing, immediately reminiscing the days when he was still healthy as ever, as cheerful as ever, pulling things together with Patrick to annoy him. How he was so upsetting, but still very nice to him, a rude squid whom he always call his friend despite all the cruel things he had done to the poor sponge. Then hours later, he got up by making hot chocolate for Spongebob, in futile attempt of making him drink it, and treating him as an old friend right beside his bed, talking to him as though he's already dead. Never once in his life he felt as guilty and desperate, even though it was silly when you look at the big picture.
But as the clock announced midnight, he got up with his eyes teary, changed to his pajamas, pulled a thin blanket out of his closet and decided to sleep on the floor. That same night he dreamt about various things that include the same person, which is Spongebob.
Squidward.. Squidward, why did you do this to me? Why did you plant the coral so high, what did I do wrong to you, why do you despise me so? The high-pitched voice he never failed to mistake was ringing in his head the entire time during his distressing sleep, every syllable said in tone of accusing. "It was unintended!" He tried to reply in his dream, but as soon as everything went even scarier, what with Spongebob's grave exposed in his drawing room and his skeleton strutting around the house, he woke up abruptly over a loud noise somewhere in his bedroom. He blinked, scanned the room furiously with red eyes, and upon knowing the source of the noise, choked heavily.
"Happy Birthday, Squidward!"
"Happy Birthday!"
He could see much clearer, after rubbing his eyes; Patrick and Sandy, standing tall, both looking at him airily, and Patrick with his usual white box which he assumed as usual, must be light.
And then after closer inspection, he dropped his jaw. There's Spongebob kneeling nearest to him, hands outstretched and another huge balloon on his hand.
"Spongebob? But, but abba-wibbe-hobba-how?" His lips quivered in surprise as he stared at the pair of clear blue eyes near him. He waggled his hands happily, looking healthier than ever if must, as though he never had any health issues last night.
"We arranged a birthday prank on you, Squidward!" He giggled in extreme happiness as he jumped about. The others grins are widening. Apparently though, that only makes Squidward's jaw drop even lower.
"Birthday-..? Wait, birthday prank?"
"We figured out you might love it for your birthday this time!" A goofy smile was plastered on Patrick's face as he talked. "The last four birthdays have been bummer anyway. And we bought another cake for you here. This time I managed to only lick all the cream, too!"
"Spongebob called me yesterday," Sandy then stepped up, looking at the amazed but not seemingly too pleased Squidward on the floor, "he told me he wanted to pull off a prank on you on your birthday, so we thought of this!"
Squidward fought to lower his voice, but trembled as he sat up from the floor, eyes wildly looking at them three. He then managed to say after what seemed to be hard attempt of contemplating what's happening, "But, the coral – the balloon, I thought he fell off it! That sound of falling – and, and Patrick's cry?"
"Oh, if you're talking about that loud 'wham' sound," Spongebob widened his eyes excitedly. "It was your coral plant, I crashed into it when I was floating about yesterday and it, uh," He slowly came to a halt, and covered his lips a bit with his free hand, "..it split into two and fell." He finally said.
If anything had ever made a squid so disappointed and humiliated of itself, then this could be it. Terrified by how the scene would look like if he got up and look past the window, he clapped his right tentacle to his forehead, nearly slapping it, and decided to stay where he sat. For a moment there, he thought he could've lost such a neighbor, but then almost instantly, everything went back to normal. No – everything had been normal from the start, and the thing that turned out to be the one he lost in the end was his precious coral, which he had lovingly cared for nearly a year for the Coral festival this morning. Great pang of regret dwelled inside him as he looked at Sandy, whose cheeky smile had grown rather annoying too now.
"This is my fifth birthday in a month that's not even my birth month," He glowered in frustration. "You'd reckon I'm sixty seven already. And birthday pranks are just cliché..!"
"Unfortunately, you'll find the rest of the audience begs to be the same." Sandy said as she chuckled.
INOITSBADPLEASEDONTKILLME.