It's one in the morning and I'm still lying on my bed, awake. A few beams of moonlight from the outside shine through the shutters and streak across my tired face. The water shimmers from the heat, and every once in a while I hear a boat zoom down the street through the puddles of rain. On the night stand there's a pack of smokes, unopened. That won't last long, though. Damn this heat. Keeping me up this late after such a long, shitty day. The insomnia's back, and this time not even the milk helps. I can't drink away guilt. It just lingers there, stinking up my brain, like a Krabby patty left out in the sun. My eyes close for a while, and then they shoot open again, and that happens nearly ten times before I realize it ain't worth it and sit right back up again. Damn this heat.
Except it isn't the heat that keeps me awake. No, that's just what I keep trying to tell myself while I lay on this lousy mattress because I keep trying to avoid thinking about that incident. Why does it bother me so much? It wasn't the blood; no, that wasn't it. No, it was the fact that I could have saved that girl. But I didn't. I take another swig of the milk carton that sits on the floor, and after five more minutes I'm still not asleep. Neptune damnit, it ain't worth it.
My untied shoes sit at the foot of the bed, and with what seems like the last of my strength I sit up and tie them around my swollen achy feet. Grabbing the sealed pack of seags I tuck them into my pocket along with a lighter. I chuckle because I know that pack will be empty and at the bottom of a trash can by the end of the night. Neptune, I can't believe I'm still thinking about her. I'm a pathetic little sponge, just standing there enjoying a smoke while Krabs shot that gal down. She was a good one too, a real catch. She woulda made some joe real happy someday. Instead, she got killed because a lousy old crustacean can't forgive a debt. Maybe a walk will clear my mind. Who am I likely to find at this hour, I wonder? Probably just drunks, whores, and drunken whores, like usual. The wind is blowing, and a mild rain splatters against the window, so I grab my coat before I leave. Lighting up a smoke, I touch the cold metal of the door and swing it open. It's the kind of rain that sparkles beneath the midnight light, the kind that's weightless and falls so slowly as to catch your eye on every single drop. It's beautiful. Oh, and one more thing to grab before I leave: the pills, just in case. I've been trying to quit the pills, honest, but I just keep grabbing them every time I go out. It's a habit. Not an addiction. A habit, nothing more.
I step outside and unfold my collar to keep the rain off of my seagarette. It's hot as Davy Jones out here, but my coat makes me feel… safer, somehow. The seag rests between my two front teeth; it's already expired in this humid heat. I pull it out of my mouth and drop it on the ground.
Thud.
The smoke rises to the ceiling. I'm standing in a freezer locker, watching a young woman get the tartar beaten out of her by one of Krabs' goons. His name's Reg. I remember that name. He wears a green headband and he's got one of the goddamn ugliest tattoos I've ever seen in my life. It's a red heart with the word "MOM" inside it, and it's plastered right over his hairy chest. Reg. Here he is, beating up a gal strapped to a chair, defenseless. I watch in disgust, but I don't do nothing. She's Krabs' business, probably owes him something, what the hell do I care? I just want to get out of this freezer before shit gets real. I can't stand the sight of blood, and right now, there's a whole lot of it coming out of her.
An old crab sits in the corner, laughing in the dark. Krabs. My boss. By day, he runs a successful food business, the one we're standing in right now. But by night, he runs this town, no questions asked. People call him "The King Crab", and he lives up to that name too. Ex-Navy, came to BB penniless, ended up living a life of crime in the alleys. He earned the trust of a few key bosses, and then quickly disposed of said trust by cutting their goddamn gullets open while they slept. He's a bad dude, I'll tell you that. The way he grins at her with those squinty eyes, watching the dame get pounded like a slab of meat, I just know something's gonna happen soon. But I don't say nothing. I never say nothing.
"So, ya think you can cheat me, eh lass?" he says with a smile. He puffs on a Cuban seagar, walks right up to her and blows the smoke into her swollen face. She coughs. So do I. That's when I realize I lit another seag and started smoking it without even realizing it. "Think again. I know exactly what ye did, and ya aren't gettin' away with it, ya've got me word."
"Go to hell, you dusty old fuck," she says, and she spits blood into his wrinkled face. Ouch. Shouldn't have done that. He replies with a swift backhand to her pretty little face that sends a streak of blood splattering against some boxes of frozen patties. Those claws of his can really do some damage. When I started working for the old hoot, I was downright terrified of the guy. Not like I had a choice but to fall in with the crowd; I just wanted a fry cook job and ended up getting a hell of a lot more than I bargained for. But once you're in, you're in for good. Better to be friends with the stingy old Jew than to be his enemy. I've seen what he does to his enemies. This dame right here? She's his enemy. And I'd rather not be sitting where she's sitting. The smoke expires. I drop it to the ground like the last one. The freezer will do the rest. Reg delivers another blow, this time to the ribs.
Crunch.
I look down and see that I stepped on a tin can. The rain's coming down harder now. Better find a place to take shelter, preferably a bar. But first, I've gotta wipe these damn thoughts about that stupid girl out of my head. She probably got what she deserved. She probably screwed old man Krabs over real bad. So why do I still feel so guilty that I let him do what he did to her?
Because she was a knockout, that's why. You're letting your male instincts get the better of you, Spongebob, don't try to fool yourself. What happened in that freezer a week ago, it would have happened whether you tried to intervene or not. What, you think that you could have taken on Reg and Krabs with nothing but your bare cuffs? Get a grip. She didn't have a chance, and you know it.
It's pouring now. Maybe taking this little walk was a bad idea after all. How the hell am I supposed to get any sleep all soaking wet? The neon lights flood the streets of Bikini Bottom with luminescence, and yet everything still seems dark. Empty. A whore flashes her tits at me from across the street, saying something about how much she wants me inside her. I don't listen. They're a dime a dozen anyway. What I really want is a real dame, a dame like-
No, Neptune damnit. Stop. You're not going to think about that girl anymore. I squint my eyes and they make out a few colorful blurs that spell out "Salty Spitoon". Well, I wished upon a star for a bar, and this is what Neptune delivered. Maybe by the time I'm out of there, I'll be drunk off of my ass enough to walk home and finally get some sleep. Maybe the rain will have stopped, too.
As I get closer, I can see a shadowy figure step out from underneath the canopy out front of the bar. Burly, hairy. Probably the bouncer. I can just barely make out a green-
Aw, crap.
I walk up to Reg buried in my coat and halfway through what's probably my fourth seagarette on this walk. He looks down at me with those burning eyes of his.
"Welcome to the Salty Spitoon. How tough are ya?"
I stare up into the man's eyes and all of a sudden my vision goes red and I want to take a baseball bat to his skull for what he did to that girl.
But I don't.
But I can't.
"Tough enough for you, Reg. Let me in."
To be continued.