Squidward's alarm clock woke him up at seven o'clock, as it always did on a Monday morning. He reluctantly lifted a tentacle and hit the snooze button. Five more minutes wouldn't hurt, would it? He had been in the middle of a wonderful dream as well, one where he was free of this boring, repetitive life and was pursuing the things that made him happy. Those things were music, painting, fine dining and living…the areas where success seemed to constantly elude him.
Yet again, his alarm went off, this time seemingly even louder than before. Groaning, he finally dragged himself out of bed and shut it off. His bedroom was large and empty, with a cold draft passing through every now and again, which was typical. He let out a yawn and walked over to one of his latest creations, a wood carving of himself that was unfinished. It would have to wait, of course, until he had some valuable free time to perfect it.
A few moments later, he was in the shower, turning on the water as hot as he could stand it and clearing his throat. This was as good a time as any to practice another one of his favorite pastimes, which was singing. He took in a deep breath of warm steam, and let out the opening note to one of his favorite operas. That is, until he was interrupted by someone who seemed to have mastered the art of interrupting him when he was enjoying himself.
Taking a peak through the nearest window, he scanned his front yard and the surrounding area. Sure enough, there was his endlessly annoying neighbor, Spongebob Squarepants, already making his way to work. Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice Squidward, and didn't even stop to offer his usual well wishes. Oh, of course. Since today was Monday, the yellow sponge was going to work even earlier than usual to scrub the tables, toilets, chairs, grill and cash register for free. He never once asked for overtime pay from their cheapskate boss, lest their jobs be in jeopardy. He probably assumed Squidward would be too busy to exchange pleasantries this early, though this had never stopped him before. Maybe that last time he yelled at the guy finally made a difference.
Soon Squidward would finish freshening up and would make his way downstairs to his kitchen. As he was preparing his oatmeal, the phone rang. In a complete and utter non-surprise, it was Spongebob, calling from a payphone to tell Squidward good morning, since he didn't want to bother him earlier. So instead, he decided to bother him later. Letting out a sigh, still too tired and groggy to get very angry, he hung up the phone without saying a word, and continued with his routine. He ate his usual oatmeal and toast, then put his dishes into the dishwasher. Looking at the clock, he saw that it was about time for him to step outside the door and walk to The Krusty Krab.
The walk to work was always pleasant, if unexceptional, which was more than he could say for other aspects of life. The park was always filled with children or old people playing chess, others flying kites or riding bikes. He quite enjoyed riding his bike, until got into an accident with it a year earlier. He tried crossing the street, but a car, thankfully not going very fast, ran into him. In typical Tentacles' fashion, he still suffered devastating injuries that he just very recently recovered from, but his bike somehow managed to be in even worse shape than him. It was one of the most painful moments of his life when he had to drop it off at the dump.
The weather was hot, as was to be expected in the middle of July. This time of the year meant more customers for the restaurant, with school being out, parents taking time off and families going on vacation. Why they would want to spend any of that time in a two-star establishment such as The Krusty Krab was something even his superior intellect could not comprehend, but that's how things worked. As for him, there was really no such thing as a vacation or time off usually, except for the usual major holidays (and even those weren't always guaranteed, depending on whether Mr. Krabs thought he had made enough money up to that point) and Sundays. Or whenever he accumulated so much leave that he had to be forced to take a day off for Krabs to avoid paying a penalty.
Fifteen minutes later, Squidward had finally arrived at The Krusty Krab. The place smelled clean, since Spongebob had already finished cleaning the place up. Correction: it smelled cleaner than usual, which was a step up from the usual stench of sweat and rotting meat. This place turned his stomach, but he would get used to it as the day wore on. Taking his usual place at the cash register, Squidward yawned and put on his hat from under the register. It was nearly time to open, and he could already see people lining up outside. It was still too early, why would anyone want a Krabby Patty this early in the morning? Who would want one? His question was answered when he saw Patrick pressing his face against the window to his right.
Suddenly, his boss came bursting out of his office, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. He was carrying a sack full of money, and had a huge grin on his face. This was not unexpected, since he had announced a few days earlier that he would be making a trip to the bank to deposit the larger than expected profits he – they – had earned in the past week. This meant he had to leave for a little while, and Squidward was going to be in charge for the time being. The idea wasn't very appealing to him, since it didn't include extra pay or anything of the sort. Just a mere, useless title for him to carry until the real boss showed up again. Krabs always did seem to have some sort of trust and respect for him, but that also meant very little to Squidward since he personally couldn't stand the guy. But he put up with him for the sake of keeping a semblance of peace and quiet.
The Krusty Krab finally opened its doors to the large crowd, and they came stampeding in as they usually did. Squidward kept up with the frantic pace, pressing buttons on the register and giving orders to the fry cook without breaking a sweat. After years of working here, things like this were all second nature to him. Whether that was a good thing was a matter of opinion, as he would much rather have spent that time being somewhere else, doing something much more fulfilling. However, the fact that he was so efficient made the time pass by a bit quicker and made things a little less painful for him to endure.
The clock struck the hour, and it was now time for his lunch break. Squidward called out to Spongebob that he was going to eat in the new 'staff lounge' which was really the utility closet) to get a little bit of peace and quiet. He brought his lunch into the small, dark room and closed the door. There was only a small lightbulb on the ceiling, which he turned on by flicking the switch. He put his hands over his face, the monotony of the day was already starting to get to him. He had a few more hours after his lunch break before he could finally go home and relax, and yet time only seemed to move slower as the day wore on.
After finishing his sandwich and a few of his mother's famous cookies, he stood up and made his way back to his station. Unfortunately, he forgot to remind Spongebob for the millionth time how to run the register, so he shook his head as he watched the kid mashing buttons left and right, trying to ring up the orders. It was still lunch time for a lot of people, and the crowd was getting increasingly anxious. He shoved Spongebob to the side and barked at him to get back in the kitchen, while trying to make sense of the mess he had made with the register. It took a few moments, but things finally got back to normal and people were satisfied again.
Krabs showed up again, later than he usually did, mostly because his daughter was following him closely with an angry expression on her face. From what he could hear, the old man had "forgotten" to pay the electric bill again, and so an oh-so important conversation with her friend over the phone had been cut short. She had to run to the bank and pay the bill in person, using her father's money that he kept hidden under his mattress. Krabs had the audacity to get mad at his daughter, a mistake which he was still paying for and would likely continue to for the next couple of days.
A few feet away from him, Squidward heard a loud noise coming from his left. He turned around, and noticed that someone had accidently slipped and dropped their food onto the floor. Spongebob was busy in the kitchen, so it was up to him to go clean it up. The person who had fallen was perfectly fine, as he was a young man with a big smile even amid an embarrassing accident. Squidward found the mop in a small pantry in the back, and filled the bucket with soap and water. As he casually walked into the eating area, he could overhear a dozen conversations at once, all dreadfully uninteresting, ranging from what just happened to the latest hit song from their favorite singer.
Outside, the clouds began to form over Bikini Bottom, signaling that rain was coming soon. This bothered him slightly, since he had to walk to and from work every day, but it wasn't the first time this had happened recently. Since it was a relatively small town, a lot of folks took it upon themselves to walk to their destinations rather than drive a boat, so he wasn't alone in this case. The crowd that had filled the establishment was starting to thin out, with only a few patrons still sitting at their tables. As they finished up their meals, they pulled out their umbrellas and left.
After he was done closing the register and putting away his hat, Mr. Krabs called an impromptu meeting. Surprisingly, he offered great praise without once suggesting that they should work harder or more often. This was probably because he was so happy that business was booming, and had some extra stacks of cash he had yet to count at his house. Although, towards the end of his pep talk, the old man mentioned something about offering catering services to parties and other events, which did not meet well with Squidward. Spongebob was literally jumping for joy, and this was enough to force him to simply walk away before his boss could even finish speaking. Nobody noticed.
The walk home, you could say, was the opposite of this morning's. The once sunny sky was replaced by huge, gray clouds. The air was filled with a rather gentle rain that was occasionally made harsh by the constant gusts of wind. And there was not a soul to be seen on his way: the park was empty, with everything now dampened by the wet weather. Nobody would be silly enough to take a stroll through this storm. A person even pulled up next to Squidward in a boat, offering to give him a ride. He offered an unintelligible response, which the stranger took as a no, and went on his way.
Against the gray background, which was now occasionally illuminated by powerful lightning strikes, his house came into view. The rain was falling harder now, and it was beginning to bother him quite a bit. The sooner he got home and slipped into his pajamas, the better. He promptly ignored the pink starfish trying to fix the antenna on his rock, and went up to his front door. Stumbling a bit with his keys and grunting in frustration, he picked them up and unlocked it. Dripping wet, he glanced at the umbrella hanging from his coat rack that he neglected to take, believing that rain was an unlikely scenario for today. That's what he got for not watching the weather report on the nightly news yesterday.
He yawned and put on a pot of tea. He was a coffee person for a while, but the regular kind kept him up for most of the night, a job that was usually reserved for his depression. The decaf just didn't have the same strong taste he enjoyed so much. Early in his life tea was something his mother used to make quite often, and while he admittedly wasn't at making it, he loved buying all the different flavors the local stores had on their shelves. This one was jasmine, and when it was ready, he let the relaxing feeling flow throughout his body with each sip. After a couple of cups, he made himself a light dinner of salad and canned bread, and prepared for bed. He put on his pajamas and adjusted his skull cap, letting out a long yawn. The rain continued to fall outside as the night grew darker, hitting his windows with force, but he didn't mind. When he was inside, it didn't make much of a difference to him.
After setting his alarm, he got under the covers and fluffed his pillow. Laying his head against it, he turned off his lamp and closed his eyes. As he did, he could already see the same dreams forming against the darkness. The ones where everything was dynamic instead of monotonous, vibrant instead of aggressively dull. There visions of what could be were both a blessing and a curse. Seconds later, Squidward was asleep.