(AN: I'm baaaaaack!

(Readers: Who is she again?)

I'm just that nutcase who wrote Bigger Than That awhile ago, which has probably been long forgotten by now! :) I've decided to try writing another SpongeBob fanfic, but this one will be a 180 degree turn from the tone of BTT. I'd like to see if I can't actually write a fic in the style of a SpongeBob episode. And yet, knowing me, I'm going to be throwing in a healthy dose of angst, explore character development, take a look at things in a deeper way than what is seen on the show… but not to the degree of BTT. (Which is, incidentally, still the best thing I've ever written, IMHO.)

Okay… so I'll try to stop pimping BTT and talk more about what you can expect from this fic. Like I said, writing it in a silly style will be a bit of a challenge for me, but it's one I've put off long enough. I HEART this show so very much, and I feel that I must at least try to do it justice! And for once in my lifetime of starting fanfics, I actually know the plot, from beginning to end, BEFORE I write it down! (That's a first, let me assure you.)

So sit back, pull down on your lap bars, hold on tight, and enjoy the ride!)

O.o.O

Seven o'clock AM and all was well in Bikini Bottom…

WHOOOOOOOOP!

SpongeBob SquarePants jolted out of bed. "Today's going to be a great day, Gary, and do you know why?"

"Meow?" offered Gary tentatively.

"No, of course not!" laughed SpongeBob, pulling on some clothes, pressed to fit his square-shaped body. "Today's the day I'm going to get my driver's license!"

"Meow," reminded Gary, giving SpongeBob a slightly annoyed look.

"Oh, Gary, don't exaggerate!" said SpongeBob, frowning. "This will only be the eighty-fifth time, and you know it!"

"Meow," sighed the snail in defeat.

"You know what they say, eight-fifth time's the charm!" grinned SpongeBob.

"Meow…" Gary meowed sarcastically.

"Okay…" SpongeBob's smile began to fade. "Maybe you're right… yeah, it's supposed to be third time's the charm…"

The sponge walked down the stairs, much slower than he normally did each morning. "Gary," he said, as he reached the end of the stairs and turned into the kitchen, "do you… do you think eighty-five times is a bit more than most other people?"

Gary opened up a book to two pages in which the word YES was typed in obnoxiously huge letters.

SpongeBob gulped. "Well… who says I'm like most other people?" he suddenly asked defiantly. "I'm a sponge! And I'm square! And I'm… Bob! And besides, I'm a darn good cook! Want some blueberry pancakes, Gare-bear?"

"Meow!" cried Gary, licking his lips.

"I thought you would," said SpongeBob fondly. "Let's see… mix flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in a mixing bowl, add egg, milk, and cooking oil, and last but not least, the blueberries!" As he was saying aloud the directions, SpongeBob was adding every ingredient at lightning speed. "Now, stir well and pour onto the griddle!"

"Meow," said Gary, gratefully.

"No problem," said SpongeBob, scratching Gary behind the eye stalks. "See, Gary, although it would be nice to actually own a car and be able to conveniently drive myself all the places I need to go every day, those are just luxuries! I have everything I really need… my loyal pet, my wonderful friends, my jellyfishing, a house of my own, a job, and… and my cooking!"

He smiled, although it was the half-smile of one lost in thought. Yes, he always had his cooking—even as a youngster, SpongeBob had spent most of his free time in his mother's kitchen, learning how to cook everything under the underwater sun. Heck, his favorite class in high school was home economics—which explained his lack of popularity during his school days. Well, actually, it was one of the factors which explained his lack of popularity.

SpongeBob sighed as he recalled his awkward high school years—which truthfully didn't actually take him back very far—as he flipped the pancakes over, ready to fry the other side. Always eager to please, SpongeBob was torn between making new friends or pursuing his so-called "uncoral" interests. Luckily, around this time his parents had gently reminded him that true friends will like and accept you no matter who you are, a saying that easily slips off the tongue but that is just as easily forgotten. And out of high school now, things were easier. People didn't laugh at his love of culinary arts anymore—in fact, many of the customers at the Krusty Krab sang his praises; some made it a point to only eat there the days SpongeBob worked. Sticking to his love of cooking had definitely been a wise one.

Now… if only he could drive.

That would be the final deciding factor in SpongeBob's inch to total, independent adulthood. What kind of adult couldn't drive? People still considered SpongeBob a kid! …Well, in a sense, he still was a kid. But getting a drivers license would change all that. Everyone would take him seriously then!

"Here you go, Gary, all finished!" said SpongeBob, scooping the pancakes off the griddle and onto a plate. Two pancakes were transferred to Gary's food bowl; the other two SpongeBob poured syrup over and began eating straight away. "Mmmm!" he said happily. "Nothing like a blueberry pancake a la SpongeBob!"

"Meow," agreed Gary between bites of pancake.

SpongeBob finished his pancakes in about five seconds. "Oh, I'd better go wash my hands now!" he exclaimed. "I can't drive a boat with sticky hands!"

"Meow," said Gary sarcastically.

SpongeBob turned a bit red with both anger and embarrassment, but said nothing. Gary's "meow" could be loosely translated as "Actually, maybe the syrup would help you hang onto the wheel for a change", and SpongeBob knew that, although Gary was being a bit difficult as he so often was, he was right. A good majority of SpongeBob's driving attempts had ended when the terrified sponge had abandoned the wheel and covered his eyes.

"But it's going to be different this time," SpongeBob said, more to himself than to Gary. "This time, I really know what I'm doing! This time I WON'T screw up!"

"Meow," sighed Gary doubtfully.

"You just wait and see!" cried SpongeBob defiantly, pointing an accusing finger at his pet snail. "I'll come back today with my driver's license, and then you'll see! You'll be eating your words! Here, let me get them for you!" SpongeBob pulled a "meow" out of the air and stuck it in the cupboard. "There. That's your dinner."

Gary sighed, but decided to say nothing this time.

"Well, so long, Gary! I'm off to take my driver's test—and PASS it this time! Don't chew the furniture!" SpongeBob gave Gary the quickest of pats behind the eyes and ran out the door—predictably chanting "I'm ready! I'm ready!" the entire way there.

O.o.O

"Alright, SpongeBob, let's get this over with… my insurance company refuses to cover this anymore," Mrs. Puff muttered under her breath.

"You won't have to worry about that anymore, Mrs. Puff," said SpongeBob, sounding perhaps a bit too sure of himself. "I am confident that this time I will not fail!"

"That's what you've said the last thirty times," sighed Mrs. Puff. "Just try not to crash it too badly this time…"

"But Mrs. Puff, I haven't crashed it the last fifteen times!" SpongeBob reminded his teacher.

"Oh… that's right…" Mrs. Puff tried to work down that small bit of hope—hope that would most likely be proven false—that SpongeBob was actually showing signs of improvement.

"Alright." SpongeBob took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He wasn't going to succeed if he was a nervous wreck like he normally was. He climbed into the driver's seat next to Mrs. Puff and, like he had earlier making pancakes, said the steps aloud to himself. "Put foot on brake… fasten seatbelt… put key in ignition… turn key… put it in drive…

"You're doing fine so far," said Mrs. Puff with a shaky smile.

"WHAT? OH NO! I'M SORRY MRS. PUFF!" SpongeBob screeched.

"No, no, you're doing fine!" Mrs. Puff cried in panic.

"Oh… yeah. I knew that," said SpongeBob abashedly.

Very slowly, SpongeBob let off on the brake. The boat inched forward.

"Very good, SpongeBob!"

"OH NO, I—I mean, yeah, thanks!" SpongeBob wiped a drop of sweat from his forehead. Focus, SpongeBob, you dummy! he silently berated himself. You're never going to pass this test if you're screaming in panic the entire time!

Throughout the entire test, SpongeBob had to remind himself of that fact about seventeen times. His mind, screaming at him that he was doing something wrong, often DID cause him to do something wrong.

As usual.

At the end of the course (for, as SpongeBob had reminded Mrs. Puff, he rarely crashed the boat anymore), SpongeBob wrung his sweaty hands together in nervous apprehension and shame. He knew that he had made quite a few errors… again, as usual. Gary was right. SpongeBob was never going to pass this test!

Mrs. Puff, tallying up his score on her checklist, suddenly grew wide-eyed. "Oh my… SpongeBob…"

"I failed," mumbled SpongeBob.

"You… passed."

"I failed. I'm never going to pass this what did you say?"

SpongeBob's eyes grew twice as large as Mrs. Puff's were, as his teacher frantically re-added everything.

"I think… SpongeBob… it's true, it's really true! I didn't have to cheat or anything!" Mrs. Puff laughed, almost insanely. "You have the minimum amount of points to pass, but you've passed!"

SpongeBob, paralyzed with shock, fell out of the car, as immobile as a cardboard box.

Unfortunately, the car was still in drive… and a brick wall was two feet ahead of them.

The impact was not fast at all… but it still caused Mrs. Puff to blow up like a balloon.

"We'll overlook that," she muttered in her huge, blown-up voice.

O.o.O

Minutes later, SpongeBob had regained his mobility. With force.

"I'M HERE FOR MY DRIVER'S LICENSE!" he shouted at the top of his spongy lungs, causing everyone at the courthouse to turn around and stare.

"Come over here, young man," said a kindly fish at the driver's department. "Do you have your paperwork?"

"Right here right here right here right here right here!" SpongeBob babbled, bouncing up and down as if his knees were made of springs.

The fish flipped through the papers. "Good, everything seems to be here—"

"My license my license my license my license my license!"

"Hold your seahorses, kid," laughed the fish good-naturedly. "You've still got to take your eye exam—"

With a zip and a shot of bubbles, SpongeBob was staring into the eye device and firing off the letters at rapid speed. "B V D L K E I E I O Pi R squared…" He began to hesitate. "Uh… G… M… C?"

The fish gave SpongeBob a sad look. "I'm sorry… if you can't read that line, then I'm afraid we can't get you your license."

"O… H… N… O…" SpongeBob squeaked out.

"It's not the end of the world," said the fish. "Just go and get some glasses, then you can—"

"But I have glasses!" cried SpongeBob. "Except I only wear them for jellyfishing and sometimes for reading—"

"It seems to me that you might need to wear them for driving, too," said the fish. "Why don't you go home and get your glasses, and then come back here and—"

He stopped. In the time he had said that half of a thought, SpongeBob had zipped out of the room and suddenly reappeared, wearing his glasses.

The fish laughed. "You certainly are a determined little hunk of cheese! Go on, start at line three, where you had troubles."

"W P M F L A E I O U sometimes Y I'd like to buy a vowel!" cried SpongeBob, reading the rest of the letters with ease in about a second.

"Perfect, perfect!" smiled the fish. "Now fill this paper out, and we'll get your picture taken and get you your license."

"Done!" cried SpongeBob, handing the fish the form.

"How did you fill that out so fast?" asked the fish in shock.

"Fast writer," said SpongeBob, looking down at his writing hand—which was on fire.

"Alright. Go stand over there by that blue background and smile on the count of three… oh, never mind. You've got a perpetual smile on your face."

CLICK! The camera shot a picture of SpongeBob, still with a smile that took the corners of his mouth nearly to the top of his head.

"Wonderful, wonderful. Now just give me a minute and I'll have your license all printed out for you!"

"A minute?" SpongeBob marveled to himself as the fish went into a back room to print off SpongeBob's license. "After all these years of waiting and hoping, it would seem that waiting for just one more minute would be nothing… and yet… the anticipation!" he shouted out, again gaining the attention of everyone in the building (those who had not looked away at first, of course—SpongeBob's performance was so eccentric that many people had observed the entire scene with interest). "I don't know if I can stand it… that in less than one minute, I will finally own… MY DRIVER'S LICENSE!"

The fish poked his head out the doorway. "Hey, kid, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but it looks like our printer is down. Would it be any trouble for you to come back tomorrow?"

SpongeBob's eyes fell out of his head. Then his nose. Then his mouth.

The fish laughed. "Just joking!" He whipped out a freshly-printed driver's license.

"Oh Neptune!" cried SpongeBob in awe, his face still on the floor.

O.o.O

(AN: Oh boy. Writing that chapter was a bit of a run though my own memories. Memories of MY driver's ed! Man, it was not fun. I hated driving—still do, in fact. But I've gotta agree with SpongeBob—it's convenient for getting you where you need to go!

Anyway, there's chapter one. Like it? Hate it? Want to give me money? Please review! (Especially if you fit in the third category!) Chapter two will be coming your way soon, I hope!)