A SpongeBob Christmas Carol

Plankton was dead, to begin with. Tragically, he had met his fate under the fins of wildly hungry customers scrambling to get a Krabby Patty at Krabs's restaurant across the street from his own. Old Plankton was as dead as a doornail.

Mind! He and old Krabs hadn't always been enemies. In fact, only a decade before Plankton's death, the two were business partners. Together they served the finest fast food in all of Bikini Bottom, and were very successful.

However, Plankton believed that he wasn't receiving his fair share of the profits (and knowing Krabs that was most likely true), so he decided to leave the crustacean and create his own restaurant. After a fiery argument, they never spoke to each other again.

Now, seven years after old Plankton's death, Krabs sat busy in his office, counting his gold doubloons. It was Christmas Eve, and sea creatures from everywhere in Bikini Bottom were flocked in the dining room of Krabs's restaurant, fighting to get their fattening Christmas Eve dinner.

The poor cashier/fry cook, SpongeBob Cratchit, was struggling to jot down orders and cook the meals, all at the same time. Squidward, the former cashier, had quit his job a month earlier due to the small wages he'd earned for all his hard work. He, unlike SpongeBob, could afford to quit.

Krabs was completely oblivious to his surroundings until he heard an angry voice from the front:

"This place stinks!"

The crustacean gasped. He burst through his door and cried, "What the devil is going on out here?"

To his horror, many of the customers were leaving.

"No! Come back!" Krabs wailed, chasing after them. But the customers were gone.

Fuming, Krabs turned to his only employee. "SpongeBob!"

"Mr. Krabs, I'm trying, but—"

"No 'buts' from you, boy!" Krabs snarled. He leaned in dangerously close to the sponge. "If I ever catch ye messin' up again, that spatuler will become mine!"

"No!" SpongeBob cried, recoiling. His blue eyes shone with tears.

"Then get back to work!" And with that, the crustacean stormed back into his office.

"Ay-ay, captain!" SpongeBob said proudly. He turned to the fish who stood at the front of the waiting line and asked, "Now did you want that with or without onions?"

"Argh," Krabs grunted, shaking his head. He returned to his gold.

Unfortunately for him, the restaurant began to shake. That could only mean one thing: his daughter Pearl wanted to talk to him.

"Daaaaa-dy!" she called sweetly, appearing in her father's doorway.

Again, Krabs grunted. "What is it?"

"Could you please give me just a little money? I need to buy a new corset."

"Why should I give ye money?"

"Daddy!" the whale pleaded. "It's almost Christmas. You never get me anything!"

"And why should I? Christmas is a load of barnacles."

"Don't be so angry."

"What else can I be," returned the crab, "when I live in such a world of kelp-for-brains?"

Pearl gave a cry of frustration. "Please, Daddy! I need this corset!"

To which Krabs replied, "A corset your size would cost a fortune."

Pearl was severely hurt by this rash comment. Her lip quivered, then her face hardened. "Merry Christmas, Daddy," she said sourly.

As she exited the restaurant, Krabs could hear a sob escape her throat.

…

At long last it was closing time. As Krabs pulled on his coat, he noticed SpongeBob standing meekly in his doorway.

The crustacean gave a weary sigh, "What now, SpongeBob?"

The yellow sponge wrung his hat in his hands and looked around nervously. "Well, sir, I—uh—I was wondering if I could have the day off tomorrow…"

Krabs chuckled harshly. "Nobody's takin' a break here, especially not tomorrow! Besides, I thought you loved working here."

"I do, Mr. Krabs, but I've been working so hard, and—"

"Ah, quit yer bellyachin'. We've got customers to feed."

SpongeBob flung himself down to Krabs's feet. "Oh please, sir!" he begged. "Tomorrow's Christmas. It's the best day of the year! Please—oh please—can I have just this one day off? I'll do anything—Anything!" He clutched Krabs's foot and sobbed.

Krabs shook him off. "Alright, alright," he muttered. "Just get here earlier the next mornin'."

"Thank you, Mr. Krabs!" SpongeBob cried gleefully, jumping up. He gave his boss a grateful hug and skipped out the door. "Merry Christmas, Mr. K! I'm ready, I'm ready…for Christmas Day!"

"Argh," Mr. Krabs grumbled.

…

The icy water swirled around Krabs as he made his way home. The street was completely motionless, sans the old crustacean stepping up to his front door.

A note was taped onto the wood. "Went to Darlene's house for the night, won't be back for a long time—Pearl".

"Doesn't even want to spend time with her papa on Christmas Eve," Krabs muttered.

Suddenly he caught sight of his door knocker. No—it wasn't a door knocker. It was a tiny green spot with one yellow eye and long antennae protruding from the top. It was the face of Sheldon Plankton!

Krabs gasped and stumbled backward. It couldn't be! But when he looked at the face once more, it had returned to its former door-knocker self.

"Barnacles."

Krabs entered his anchor of a home and retrieved a half-eaten Krabby Patty from his icebox. He trudged upstairs to his worn chair by the fireplace, which was cold and fire-less, and sat down. Around him hung portraits of famous pirates, and their eyes seemed to follow him wherever he went.

All was quiet, although there seemed to be a sense of uneasiness. Krabs cast nervous glances toward the staircase as he slowly chewed his sandwich.

Then, without warning, an old ship's bell that hung on the wall began to swing and ring noisily. Nothing was touching it, or even blowing on it. It was just ringing on its own.

"Ohhhh," Krabs whimpered.

He became aware of a heavy clanking sound that came from downstairs. Gradually, the sound grew louder as its source made its way upstairs, and Krabs could hear faint groans, as if someone was straining to move something.

Suddenly, a bunch of chains slid into the room. No—there was someone dragging them, someone so miniscule they could barely be seen. As Krabs looked closer, he saw it was a transparent green speck. Groaning, it labored to drag the chains and the numerous cash-boxes and padlocks that were attached to them.

Yet Krabs never dared to get up and help this odd little figure. He simply watched in shock as it came closer and closer to him.

"Ah, forget it!" the spirit cried out, giving up. "A whole lot of help you were, Krabs…not that I expected much help from you anyway."

"How now!" said Krabs. "What do you want with me?"

"Much."

"Who are you?"

"Ask me who I was."

"Who was you, then?" said Krabs, raising his voice.

"Wonderful grammar there, Krabs," the spirit muttered. "In life I was your partner, Sheldon Plankton."

Krabs's face twisted, then he burst out laughing. "Oh, Sheldon! Ar-ar-ar! Sheldon! What a name! I forgot all about ol' Sheldon! Ar-ar-ar!"

"ENOUGH!" Plankton snapped.

Krabs cleared his throat. "Okay," he whispered, "…Sheldon."

"You don't believe in me, do you?"

"Mmm, no."

"It's gonna be a long night," Plankton mumbled. Then he said, "You see, Krabs, you have to believe in me at some point. Otherwise this entire mission will be a failure, and you know how tired I am of failing. I'm warning you, Krabs, if you don't listen to me, you'll be doomed to—"

Krabs had not been listening at all, for he was furiously trying to pry open one of the cash-boxes attached to Plankton's chains.

At this the spirit raised a frightful cry. He tried to shake his chains, but he could not lift them. So he resorted to jumping up and down, which somehow marred the dramatic effect.

Yet this still frightened Krabs in the most. "Dear Neptune!" he cried. "Dreadful apparition, why do ye trouble me?"

"I wear the chain I forged in life," replied the little ghost. "I made it link by link, and yard by yard. But this…this is nothing compared to your chain. Yours is twice as long as mine."

"Oh, Sh-Sheldon Plankton!" Krabs said imploringly. "Speak comfort to me, Sheldon!"

"I have none to give. Eugene Krabs, I have been doomed to wander around miserably like this forever. I was a condemned man!"

"But you were always a good man of business. Well, before ye went off by yerself."

"Business!" cried the ghost. "Fishkind was my business. The common seafare was my business. Charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence were all my business!"

"You were always a good friend to me. Well, most of the time. Thank ye!"

"You will be haunted," resumed Plankton, "by three ghosts."

"Couldn't I take 'em all at once and get it over with?"

"Expect the first when the bell tolls one!" Plankton cried, walking backward downstairs. This time, he let the chains drag him down. After much noisy clanking and a cry of "Ouch!", the spirit was gone.

Krabs raced to his hammock of a bed and threw the covers over his body, trembling. He fell asleep on the instant, dreading the visit of the next spirit.