Squidward, prepared to go to work on a Sunday.
Apparently, the Krusty Krab was busier than usual, and Mr. Krabs rang him up to get him in before the lunch rush.
Squidward hated going to work on his day off.
After he had tea, and jellyfish jam on toast, Squidward went to his living room side table to retrieve his Krusty Krab hat.
He didn't see the point of working today.
Why couldn't his boss just get that yellow, porous freak to operate a cash register? It's not that hard. After all, it seemed like he liked spending all of his time at the Krusty Krab. Wasn't he just clinging onto the grill after closing time, with Mr. Krabs yanking him by the ankles yesterday?
Squidward sighed. He did a little pep talk in his head. Just get through today, Squiddy, he told himself. Think about the hours. Think about the paycheck. For however little it is, at least you do in fact get paid.
It wasn't much help, but it was something. A fragment. A particle of hope, to live and feed off of for the rest of the day.
He wasn't sure where that short bit of optimism came from. Hope was... never something that came easily to him. Since his life wasn't the merriest or brightest, he had to tell himself whatever he had to make it through the day. Anything, really, to get his mind off work. A sort of light at the end of the tunnel. He had to keep his head screwed on straight. He had to. Otherwise, he was almost sure he'd go insane.
Come to think of it, Squidward wasn't sure when he started adapting this habit. This looking at life from different angles and focusing on the not-so-bad parts. Sometimes it surprised him where he found the resilience to keep doing it. If only he knew where it came from half the time.
Squidward then came over to his side table. He put on his Krusty Krab hat, and was about to head out the door.
Another day, another migraine.
Come on, Squiddy, he thought. Pain is temporary. No matter how bad of a day work gives you, all days eventually come to an end. Then you can go home, go to bed, and...
And then Squidward stopped. It hit him. Like a ton of bricks.
Squidward then made a face, one of shock, and disproportionate horror.
He knew why he was overlooking negativity.
Oh no.
He was becoming more like... him.
Some kind of optimistic infiltration had taken over. Some kind of candy-coated idea, called optimism, breached his thinking, where someone always told him it can, and will get better, was in the water, and he had been breathing it in for too long.
Squidward stood there, mouth agape, letting that sink in for a moment.
His tentacle froze in place, as it reached out for his hat.
This whole time, had he been getting endurance... from the cause?
Squidward then suddenly gave way to a laugh. It was a small one, but it was much needed.
Squidward wasn't sure if he found it funny he might be adapting to the philosophy of the very curse of his existence... or if it was just that the thought was so utterly ridiculous. It was easily dismissed.
He blamed living here for too long.
Squidward then slammed the door, and headed off to work.
