Patrick Star burst through the front doors of the Krusty Krab, flailing his arms and waving a brightly colored flyer.
"Spongebob, Spongebob!" he yelled, falling on his face onto the green wood below.
"What do you want Patrick, I can't really talk during my shift!" Spongebob said, quickly slipping out of the kitchen.
"Check out this flyer I found!" Patrick said.
"What does it say?" Spongebob asked. Patrick looked at it puzzlingly.
"I don't know." He said. "I was hoping you could tell me. I just brought it because it shows a picture of a brown egg on it!" he said. Spongebob took the flyer from him. He cleared his throat and began his "TV announcer" voice.
"Hey You!" he began.
"Me?" Patrick asked.
"Yes you!" he continued.
"Ok." Patrick said.
"Have you ever wanted to be admired by thousands of people you don't know?" Spongebob read.
"Only every day of my life!" Patrick said.
"Well then tryout for the Bikini Bottom Torpedoes football team! Open tryouts all next week. Be there or be square!" Spongebob said, reverting back to his normal voice. "And Patrick, that's a football, not a brown egg." Patrick was standing in awe.
"Spongebob! We should totally try out for the football team!" he shrieked like a girl. Squidward walked over, his hands on his hips.
"Patrick, football is a game for civilized men, not 8-year old girls!" he said.
"Aww…." Said a little girl, walking away sadly.
"Squidward? You want to be on the football team?" Spongebob asked in shock.
"Well there has to be at least 1 intelligent person on the team!" Squidward said.
"Hey I'm very intelligement!" Patrick said.
"I mean, just think about it!" Squidward said. Squidward imagined thousands of girls chanting his name and going crazy for him. Spongebob imagined fish from everywhere envying him. Patrick imagined a fighter plane crashing into the ocean.
"Spongebob, we should start training right away!" Patrick said, whisking him away.
"But wait, there are still patties on the grill!" Spongebob shrieked, being pulled out the door. Squidward chuckled.
"Nincompoops! They're going to get hurt trying to "work out!" he said. "I'm going to call my very own personal trainer to help me train!" Squidward said, pulling a phone out of thin air and dialing a number.
"Wait!" came a call from Mr. Krabs' office. "Do I smell burning!?" At that, smoke poured out of the kitchen, and everyone in the Krusty Krab sprinted out of the restaurant.