Disclaimer: I don't own SpongeBob SqaurePants. He and the rest of the characters belong to their rightful owner, the genius: Stephen Hilenburg.
A/N: This one-shot can be called 'expanding my horizons' within the shipping realm but, please read on first then, see my panicked thoughts and feelings on this whole entire thing at the bottom.
Title: New Year's befriending
Perhaps it has now become a yearly tradition of some sort or perhaps Bikini Bottomites are really in love with the eggnog but once again, New Year's countdown is hosted by none other than Sandy Cheeks. This means that her bigger than life tree-dome is festive this year. It's decorated with a vast swirling wonderland of sparkly white pleasure (SNOW!) and complimentary refreshments (i.e. FREE FOOD!). The get-together is in full swing. No one is complaining, especially not about the eggnog.
Her bushy tail once moving to and fro stilled. Aggressively, it erected as hard as SpongeBuck's golden statue. Not messing around, her mouth was engraved more than set in a grim line. Also, her hands on her hips declared total authority that not even the Goofy Goobers could miss.
She wasn't happy.
Barnacles. Sandy's presence was out of this world. Unearthly! Solely her brown eyes (branded with intensity that made all and every guest on guard) accentuated the serious matter at hand. Frankly, how the heck could no one not notice the spooky, spooky, purplish aura that outlined her body momentarily? Even Larry the Lobster hurriedly backed away from her, not having enough guts to make a pass at her tonight.
Sandy repeated with paternal fierceness, "Do y'all understand what I'm saying?"
"Yes, Sandy." replied SpongeBob and Patrick in sync.
"What was that?"
"Yes, Sandy!" they answered and affirmed in a shout, accompanied with a salute. A pair of skinny and chubby legs quivered. "We shall not touch the fireworks under any circumstances."
When the squirrel began to walk around the two BFF's, the Goofy Goobers' pupils dilated in fear from her earlier threat, 'Listen to this: You'll both gonna be wearing iron lungs when I'm through with you.' which reminded (and traumatised) them of an hibernation incident left in cobwebs.
"Good." she patted their heads like they were her beloved pet worms. That being said, pink and yellow tails instantaneously formed and grew out from their backsides, eagerly wagging from left to right when Sandy threw them a treat. "Y'all have fun now! I'll be back soon."
. . . .
After having gotten her festive shopping needs from the BargN'Mart (since a certain dairy beverage never ceased in popularity), Sandy arrived at a mild conundrum which was: the quickest way to get back home. The bus was out of the question – the uplifted prices put had people in uproar. Taxis' were higher in price than buses. She didn't bring her boat mobile so by foot it was but which way? Fifteen minutes to her left where she had came from or, through the badly illuminated park to her right? It'd only take seven minutes.
Moreover, grapevines provided things about that specific park. Hair-rising, spine-chilling rumours. Sandy had of heard this. For SpongeBob told her this. SpongeBob fearfully warned her this; nevertheless, the thrill-seeker inside her possessed her feet to walk and mouth to say.
"Been a long while since I had anybody to challenge me."
If the lil' square dude had been besides her then and there, he would have searched for the panic button the moment an object trundled in front his feet.
Not even a minute passed but as soon as she took her first seven steps into the park, a bottle rolled out towards from her west. Her reflexes activated. Sandy re-acted, stopping, holding and cracking the glass bottle with her left foot. Her head turned to the particular direction, brown eyes squinting into the darkness. 'Something's rotten in the Alamo.' They remained alert and awake for the time being. Was this a warning? Was danger afoot? If so then was it wrong of her to smirk at the thought of kicking a potential thief's backside?
Alarmed and alert her tail flicked up.
She called out to the person hidden in the blackness of the night."All right, you got my attention. Your jig is up! Y'all better state your intentions or I'll find them one way or another."
"Duly noted. Also, thank you for noticing me. " greeted a stranger in monotone. "I was so sure my bubble of depression was impenetrable. Not to mention invisible."
Her eyes went wide open at that, 'I know that depressive why-did-I-get-out-of-bed-today tone.' she recognised it instantly. 'Squidward?!'
During the time Sandy wandered to the direction of the cephalopod's voice, she warily observed the glass bottles that stood in her way, being careful not to step on them. There seemed to be a dozen. 'Looks like someone belted a couple of drinks down faster than a barefoot jack rabbit on a hot greasy griddle in the middle of August.'
"Squidward, is that really you?" Sandy asked when she made out his silhouette. "Of all the times to be out at night, whatcha doin' out here?"
The mentioned male stretched his tentacles to the sky. "Oh, you know. I'm on a night stroll. Observing the barely seen stars our city smog covers. Drinking the hard stuff. And waiting for the New Year to ring in 365 more days of more misery."
...that was positive.
Methodically so, Sandy searched and scanned all data she had on the Bikini Bottomite slumped on a bench. Her thoughts and knowledge on him were from observation, experience and viva voce. She knew his species. She knew his occupation. She knew his interests fairly well. Sandy knew his name: Squidward, a lanky, skinny cephalopod who was unusually sane for one with a saturnine disposition. As long as one appreciated the arts and refrained from idiocy (or idiots which she could comprehend) like he did, then the sea critter was quite approachable.
But not this evening.
He had a serious case of the blues.
Sandy attempted conversation. "I do remember invitin' you to my get-together, Squidward. I'm fixin' my way there right now and I bet my acorns y'all'd prefer to be there and not lonesome like this."
A melancholic smile accompanied his words. "Gee, how sweet of you."
Briefly she pondered if his sarcastic attitude was why she had never truly be-friended this cephalopod in her eight years at Bikini Bottom (make that nine due to New Year's day).
"I'm just offering y'all a hand."
"A hand? Correct me if I'm wrong Sally but you're a squirrel. Shouldn't you be offering me your paw instead?"
At that Sandy right 'paw' curled into a tight fist just as the other clutched around her grocery bag with a grip stronger than a cobra. Squidward really should have been counting his blessing that they weren't on his neck. 'I'm wasting time 'ere.' her mind supplied along with a dozen of other thoughts as to why this sarcastic squid was beyond help. One: he hated everyone. Two: he refused help. And three: after eight years since she had settled here he STILL pretended not to know her NAME!
Was 'Sandy' that hard to remember?
Highly tempted to leave this sourpuss of a squid/octopus/hybrid (please select the right answer) she thought, 'I might could pretend I never saw him.' before sighing and double thinking. 'But that'd be wrong.'
The squirrel reluctantly crossed the distance between them, setting her groceries on the bench near to where he sat and where she'd be sitting in seconds.
Squidward frowned. "Do you not understand that I'd like to be left ALONE to contemplate my mundane, humdrum existence?" he questioned.
Sandy retorted just as hotly. "Do y'all not understand that I'm not gonna leave ya ALONE to contemplate your mundane, humdrum existence?"
"Are you just bored or a big-hearted goody two-shoes?"
"Right now I'm fixin' to answer that myself."
"You're hilarious." he offered her a fake smile.
"I try." she returned it back.
Rolling his eyes was tempting. So he refused it. He would not cry uncle. He would not easily yield to spilling the beans on his life for it wasn't any of the squirrel's business. Unfortunately for Squidward in spite of all his efforts, he wasn't getting rid of her.
Written in the lines around his mouth was the feeling of irritation while the narrowing his red pupil eyes was annoyance directed at her too. It figured that the most intelligence critter in the city could keep up a banter with him other than 'She-who-shall-not-be-named' who did.
"Lemme tell you the truth, Squidward." Sandy started off, making herself comfortable where she sat. "I've got a mind to leave you to your glum self but that's equivalent to giving up. Sorry but ain't no sea critter gonna change my integrity!"
He sighed at that. 'There's no winning for me today, is there?' Squidward thought rationally. He sighed again, exhaling the aroma of the beverage through his mouth in exasperation. 'I knew I shouldn't have gotten out of bed today.'
"Whaddaya want me to do: fess up?" Squidward asked. "Divulge you everything about me?"
"No." she simply said. "But I'd like it if ya told me what happened tonight, specifically."
He argued. "We're not even friends."
"Can't argue with that." Sandy shrugged her shoulders.
"We don't even talk!"
"Then start talkin'!" she countered with some heat. "Squidward, I've got all the time in the world. You might as well just shoot the breeze with me."
"Hmmph," Squidward grunted, taking note and glaring at the epitome of stubbornness before him. "I don't owe you anything."
Reminiscing rapidly, Sandy said. "As far as I'm concerned, y'all do. A heck a lot."
"For what, dare I ask?" the cephalopod folded his arms meanwhile rolling his eyes.
"Only your life. Boy, despite not being buddies the amount of misadventures we've shared are crazier'n a betsy bug. After all who was the gall that beat up those hungry seagulls when you and the other sea slickers went on dry land?" she let him mull it over. "And who listened to your pleas to invent a 'Molecular Separator Ray' on tight schedule to separate you and SpongeBob morphed together once? Also, don't cha remember how you came crawlin' to me to get that clarinet reed outta your throat?" Squidward winced in memory. "Need I mention who got us pass the guards at Atlantis-"
"Okay! Okay! I get it." opening his mouth to retort something else, he clamped it shut. He had nothing. Turning to her, he turned away. She beamed with brilliance. Oh, how he hated that 'smug smirk on her face.' Who did she think she was? His saviour? Oh, wait a minute. She had been. Various times. It'd be pretty ironic if that symbolised something.
"Your problem may be a piddlee'o thing."
. . . .
A piddlee'o thing his problem(s) was not.
"...Guess it's just a cruel reminder that I'm single, and will likely be that way forever." After he had finished acquainting her with the melancholy truth of his day, not only did Sandy's heart go out for him but it also sank into the depths of sympathy. Just the way in which she witnessed him grow more melancholy every minute was heart wrenching.
Anyway, long story short: He got dumped – rejected – humiliated. There "aren't enough word to describe my mortification." was as told by Squidward. Apparently his jet-black haired inamorata was the pretty squid he fell for at first sight. Squilvia was her name; She was such a dame; Dumping was her game; She returned back to her old flame. After having been traumatised with the reveal of Patricia, leaving a relationship before that incident and not having a girlfriend before that since his days at Make Out Reef, Squilvia seemed to be a breath of fresh air.
"Shoot! I guess that ain't a small thing." Sandy's hands itched to place themselves on his shoulder. "Aww, don't cha think you're the only person who gets dumped during a festive period. It happens. I mean, this thing'll make you stronger."
"Great, let the tired clichés cascade forward. That'll make me feel better." Squidward said flatly.
Sandy winced, knowing all too well what she was saying wasn't helping one bit. As far as she has lived in her twenty-year something life, she hadn't thrown herself in an amorous affair. She couldn't – she wouldn't – she shouldn't. That being said, her being single didn't mean she didn't have her first kiss, second...(the rest is classified information! Especially the base she's reached!). Honestly, how could Sandy ever keep in sync with a sweetheart from land while she was living in the sea?!
"Well, I gotta admit that clichés do make us feel better, Squidward. They've got some sort of truth, be it long or short term kind. I mean, just take a look around ya!" he did as she said. All inside his peripheral vision was his bought bottles and blackness. "Someone's been drownin' their sorrows. Trying to make their memory go fuzzy, forget their problems for a night BUT, when you wake up as sober as a judge it's still there."
Squidward smiled without no sign of mirth."I bet you were itching to point that one out"
"I dunno." one couldn't be sure if Sandy was teasing or not. "Sometimes I call 'em like I see 'em but, I still meant what I said."
"So let me get this straight. You're suggesting I face my problems head on without the aide of this," he mentioned, gesturing to the drinks he had unbelievably drank. "and just get stronger by just living my life without her?"
"Uh, that's ain't necessary." Sandy rushed out a bit suspiciously. "Like you said before, let's observe the stars this lil' city smog covers and throw away the hard stuff. Don't cha listen to public radio, recycling is in decline nowadays?
"I do listen to public radio and from what I've heard bottom feeders here don't know the meaning of recycling...She's at your tree-dome, isn't she?"
"I think? Now, look-"
"-Don't bother." he raised his hand to silence her,"Believe me or not I have in fact done some soul searching tonight." dramatically he coughed his throat like a teacher did to gain attention from unruly, bratty kids. "It has come to my attention that I am a Butt Monkey. For whatever reason, I the Butt Monkey have a "Ruin My Day/Life" sign attached to my back. Nothing ever goes right for me. Bottom line: it sucks to be me."
Picking one up, Sandy skimmed the label of the beverage, quickly checking how strong the stuff was. Flummoxed, she said,"Squidward, are you-"
"-Please, Sandy. Do me a favour and let me finish my depressing theory about myself. Where was I? Oh, yes. Sometimes I think this is all a joke. A pun. As if I'm on a show."
"A show?" asked the squirrel in incredulity. Her head titled quizzically.
"Yes, a show! An animated series. Probably declining in quality...yet still popular? Try to keep up, Sandy." he said. "Since my misfortune is a daily thing I think someone wrote this in a script. Storyboards. Somewhere in an alternate universe far, far away. I am indeed a character on this show. Misery is my sole purpose. It's funny. That's all my incompetent writers could think to do about me."
Sandy blinked at that, her sensitive ears hearing a wall crack. Maybe it was just her imagination. "No offence Squidward but I think you've shot all your wad on the wrong kind drink tonight."
"Pfft."
"All right then, how many fingers am I holding up?"
"That won't prove anything!"
"How many?"
"Why do I even bother? Five! Three...that's an eleven, right?"
'Oh, Boy.' she thought, not knowing whether to laugh or facepalm herself.
. . . .
The previous situation was put behind them.
When a light bulb appeared over her head, Sandy spoke. "Seeing that y'all think you're the Butt Monkey of this world, I think New Year's resolution is a way to change that. It's a tradition. It's-"
"-Heathenism." Squidward could help but add.
"As I was saying," reinforced Sandy. "they're promises we make for self-improvement all year round. Sure 88% are broken in the first week-"
"-which is so reassuring."
She tried not to mind his interruptive inputs. "It's meaning is clearer than blue sky back home during a family picnic at summer. It's time for a change. Live on the edge a little. Take a risk." she sensed his rebuttal before he said it. "Yes, it's cliché but it's gonna come right at ya and you ain't even grasping it!"
"But how, pray tell, do honestly think New Year is a catalyst to my hopes and aspirations? Will I get over her or get her back?"
"How do y'all feel about her?"
"I love her." voiced Squidward, barely audible. An emotion in his eyes wasn't decipherable for Sandy. "It's overrated to say it but I love her with my heart, soul and mind. Barnacles, she was such a dame! I have felt this way about someone in a long time."
"I see. Truth be told Squidward, I don't know nothin' about the raw passion one feels for another, but looky here. Close your eyes."
"Close my eyes?"
"Yes, Squidward. Close your eyes AND don't you dare ask why."
Due to her words he grumbled and listed the uselessness of her mental exercise, in lieu of asking "Why?".
"I read once that New Year is the beginning of an individual's new journey. Dramatic? I know. Truth? Heck yeah! At this juncture, y'all need to know who the heck you are by introspection."
"Introspection. Got it."
"So far I'd say you did a pretty job on that. Now there's a new beginning for you when you investigate somethin' pure in you. Ethereal. Somethin' you really, really want this year." rapt with attention Squidward was actually listening. "This'll be a vital motivation for y'all. It'll help ya get the life you want to live!"
Sandy warily observed the cephalopod beside her. Leaning up close she saw his tentacles stilled at his side and the veins that ran across his forehead. He looked to be deep in thought. 'It's working!' she refrained from smiling too soon.
"Open your eyes and tell me what you're gonna get this year."
"Love."
"Why?"
Standing up on the bench, Squidward shouted for the entire universe to hear. His incompetent writers needed to hear this."Because I NEED it! Firstly, I'm working for the next forty years at a fast-food joint serving heart attacks on a bun. Secondly, I'm unrecognised talent. Thirdly, my neighbours are barnacle-heads. Fourthly, I've lost my luscious, silky blonde hair and lastly everyone's an idiot except for me."
He paused taking a breather not all realising his previous comment, 'That Squidward, who does he think he is?' had irked his acquaintance. "And if I have someone to care for me the way she did then I'll be...I'll be...I'll be satisfied with the state of my life till I take my last breath!"
She trailed off intentionally. "So this New Year you'll..."
"Get her back. Win her back. Show her I'm the man."
"Sure as shootin' you will!" because Sandy had a plan in spite of it being conditional and highly hypothetical. "And that's because?"
"I'm blessed with looks, talent and personality, baby."
She thought irritably, 'And just when I thought he had at least one redeemin' quality in that bigger than Dallas nose of his,' "Thanks, Sandy." 'He's actually got one.'
. . . .
"That was...inspiring."
"See!" gingerly she knocked his forehead with her fist. "There are lights on. I knew the someone was home in there. Wait a minute!" Sandy scrutinised him. "You mean that? Cause your reputation precedes you, Squidward. Y'all can be the mighty Deadpan snarker without warning."
"Believe me when I say you have single-handedly gotten me out of my mood."
Allowing a genuine smile to grace her face, Sandy thought back to what she had formulated earlier. Referring back to her highly hypothetical plan, it was a big NO NO; nevertheless, she'll tell him when he's sober. Being realistic, Sandy knew that 'things could blow out of proportions'. She knew that 'things could get uglier than home made soup' and honest to Neptune she knew that 'he could lose that woman he loved' yet, life was full of risks! Some situations were life-threatening whilst some life-changing. Some where calculated while some were uncalculated.
Despite that, notorious Bikini Bottomites reached crossroads in risk on a day-to-day basis, whether it be: buying a nuclear weapon to steal the Krabby Patty formula; how to slack off work meanwhile feign concern for the customer's incinerated meal; the most effective smile to placate a customer due to their incinerated meal; how to kill time while his best friend is at work; deciding health insurance plans in regards to boating sessions with an 'unteachable' student and even choosing between Tickle me pink or Razzmatazz pink Glitter Gloss for prom (either lipstick would make or break her prom queen chances).
Plus, who to know better about risks than Bikini Bottom's local resident: Sandy Cheeks. A.K.A: dare-devil. The absolute paragon of an action-packed, thrilling-seeking squirrel extraordinaire.
What can possibly go wrong?
. . . .
"So, er...I guess you're heading back to your party." he said aloud uneasily.
"You bet. My tree-dome is just over yonder the other park entrance." gestured Sandy with an arm. "But cause I'm a big-hearted goody two-shoes, I'll let ya sling a shoulder around me, Squidward. I'll walk you home."
Now that the substance within the beverage had time to travel leisurely around Squidward. His words were slightly slurred as he answered,"I don't...I don't...help need you. I'm able to-" unintelligibly as he stood on his feet, slightly wobbling. 'Oh, my aching head.' he groaned inwardly.
Gifted with unsurpassed reflexes, she steadied him.
"Squidward, whatever y'all drank is starting to dull your mind." Sandy noted. "Would y'all care for me to carry you like a blushing bride or a sack of home grown potatoes?"
"Neither." he answered sharply. "It won't be necessary." Exercising his common sense, Squidward slung an arm around Sandy's shoulder while allowing her to steady him around his back.
"I'm only m-m-mildly inebriated."
"That's puttin' it lightly, partner."
"Huh? Whatever do you mean by-aghh!"
Squidward fell to the floor. His skinny legs unable to withhold the tremors that shook the ground. He may have been shaken and stirred but, luckily his big droopy nose broke his fall.
Sandy fell along with him. Landing on her but, hence her but broke her fall.
The cephalopod, squirrel and and immoral bystanders (remember the park rumours?) alike felt the earth beneath them quake. Despite not seeing the ground in ripples, they experienced at first hand the forceful rumbles and vibrations.
To boot, Sandy's bag of ingredient droppdd to the ground with a resounded, "SPLAT!". The eggs and milk and sugar and special ingredient all merged as one to form a milky substance on the back on her newly imported, underwater suit.
There goes her $85.95 designed suit.
But that's the least of her worried
Squidward coughed before speaking. "Er, Sandy. Perhaps I'm becoming deaf due to two barnacle-mouth brothers hosting early karaoke morning every single Monday but that sounded a lot like an explosion."
"I know."
"It happens to be near where you said you lived."
"I know."
"So, you can imagine what probably occurred over there...instead of what I think was meant to be fireworks?
"You bet."
He shook his head sideways in not sympathy but empathy. "Why do I get the feeling this has happened to you before."
"Cause it has." she replied in monotone. Still partly in the state of disbelief, Sandy shuts her eyes. Briefly her mind selected, sorted and fileed this similar, unfortunate event with the 'instants wherein my tree-dome is obliterated' folder. 'Note to self: do not let my tree-dome be destroyed again...plus kick 'their' buts to the moon later too.'
Feeling wholly sympathetic because he faced her particular problems every single minute and hour of his miserable life. Hesitantly so, Squidward placed a tentacle on Sandy's shoulder. "It's SpongeBob." he said utterly deadpan and not smart-alecky (because it's totally obvious).
"Probably, Patrick."
"Does it make any difference?"
To her pure surprise, Sandy in her air helmet huffed a laugh at that. Arguably a little hysterical it did sound but that's okay. Squidward understood. So would Ms. Puff (but don't ask her why otherwise she'll end up in the criminally insane again)!
"I-if it makes you feel any better, I do empathise." Squidward tried to offer her consolation. Not being his forte, it proved to be a difficulty. It's a start. "Sandy, I can count on the tentacles of my feet and hands the number of times my house has been personally obliterated."
When he began the tale of the fourth incident, Sandy lost it there. Looking at her, he drank in the way Sandy's cheeks flushed ruby red as she snickered and tittered before him. Squidward arched a confused brow. "Do the destructive recounts of my house cause you this much joy?"
"Oh, Squidward." she said near apologetically. Her words not extremely decipherable. "I just...sorry I just can't believe that...again...you too?"
In the end, her laugh was contagious. It symbolised more of like a pandemic illness than an expression of amusement. Having been affected Squidward joined along too, unable to suppress the bubbling frenziedness he felt often. The price of knowing SpongeBob SquarePants and his pink blob he called friend was high. Sky high. It leads you to become hysterical sometimes.
Furthermore, passer-bys known as 'dangerous people' like: TattleTale Strangler, curiosly searched for the source of loud bursts of laughter. They clearly heard hysterical guffaws echoed all over the park. The moment when they saw them in their fits, the sight was enough for them to amscray.
The cephalopod and squirrel looked crazy.
They don't understand. Shame they don't understand. A darn, fortunate shame don't understand that once in a while one laughs between tales (in fact realities) of your house destroyed by porous yellow sponge and pink star.
A/N: The end...Have a happy New Year! XD
As much as I love SpongeBob and Patrick. A lot...even I can admit whole-heartedly that they are a handful. Still, I believe the celebration National-NO SpongeBob and Patrick day should be banned. Strangely, I don't really hate any character on the show.
Also, Squandy is not a ship I'm on. Not a ship I support support (yet?); however, I am curious as a cat about it. There isn't enough fics on them but there are a few to open your eyes a little as to how a relationship (non-existent or indifferent as of late) could possibly work. So I decided to do this one-shot to see how they could possibly form a beginning of a friendship in my point of view. So...tell if I managed to keep the characters IN character?
Was there a bit that made you smile?
Should there be a sequel?
Did you laugh?
Did you vomit?
Did you cry? (which was totally not my intention)
Until next time...because there will be one. I think.