Disclaimer: I don't own any copyrighted material included in this Fan Fiction.
Warning: Light Mature Content. A/N: A sketch on Deviant Art inspired this narrative and, likewise, everyone in this is in an Anime-Human form. Don't ask me how they breathe underwater. Please read, enjoy, and review.Chapter 1 The Hit
"Everyone's an idiot except for me."
"Well, it's true."
It is true. You don't want to believe it, but it is true and you've almost proved it.
I mean, really. What makes you think I wouldn't notice anything? I am an artist you know, (yes, an under appreciated one) but still an artist. I've dedicated my life to all the emotions that anyone could ever experience: love, sorrow, rage, joy, despair, hope, and so many more. I'm supposed to be able to distinguish all the sentiments that people show candidly…or keep hidden, as the case appears to be.
Can you guess another thing we artists are good at? Detail.
Painters, sculptors, dancers, and even musicians know that the details of any piece of work makes a piece of art what it is. The Mona Lisa probably wouldn't be the world famous painting that it is if her mouth wasn't just so that make people wonder for decades if it's a smile or a frown. Vincent van Gogh's Sunflowers serieswouldn't be hung up in galleries all over the world if it weren't for the vivid colors he used that make people feel the flowers actually wilting and blooming at the same time.
It's the details that make things what they are. It's the difference between a piece of art that's mediocre and one that's a masterpiece and the deciding factor that determines whether you get applause at the end of a performance or a standing ovation.
It's the same way in life. It's the details of your daily routine that make it your life and no one else's. It's the details, the little things in our selves that make us mortal and unique.
In the nature of all mortals, we show our emotions one way or another. Some of us wear it clearly on our faces or talk about it openly. Others will find an outlet of some kind and use it to vent all their stress. But even those who think they're keeping all their feeling perfectly hidden, no matter how well they think they do it, will find that their lives are still affected. Their routines, their habitual ways of life, will still be affected even if it's in the smallest, most unnoticeable details of their patterns.
Even our lives still fall into our own diminutive routine. Go to work, work until six p.m., go home, and sleep (in that order) with the exception of Sundays (Thank God) and, to repeat myself, we do that for years and then we die. This routine is our routine, the same week after week. Thinking it over or dwelling on it in this form may seem a little depressing, but like I said before, everything depends on details.
It is the little elements of our lives that make it ALMOST bearably for me.
Well…to be fair, it's more than almost. It is bearably. Your little misadventures make it even enjoyable…sometimes, but only when it's (very rarely) not annoying.
But the details of are lives (like any other person's life) can still be influenced even if it's in the most inconsequential, insignificant of ways.
But you what? I still noticed. I noticed the differences about you even though I sometimes think you have yourself fooled half the time.
There's a couple I could mention but I think the biggest difference is your laughter.
That aggravating laugh of yours used to be so lively. It was so deep and full. You would stand there with your eyes shut and just laugh with all the air in your lungs until I thought you were going to pass out. That's all that you would do. Try to enjoy one moment of pleasure (no matter how simple a moment it was) to the fullest possible extent.
Yeah, that's what changed the most.
First off, you don't laugh as nearly as often as you did and you do it with your eyes open instead of closed. Also, it's not as loud or as long as it used to be. Finally, it sounds different. I can't really put my finger on how exactly it sounds different but it just seems almost…like it was forced. Like your forcing yourself to laugh when you find nothing happy about the occasion.
And you still think you have everyone fooled? The saddest part is that you do, you do have everyone fooled. Except for me.
You try even hardest to put up an act around me. It's like you think that I can still be fooled or I might change my mind about you or something.
"Squidward, why are you looking at me like that?" you ask a little anxiously on our way to work.
Who are you trying to fool?
"No reason…" I reply.
"Okay…have you ever noticed how almost all jellyfish are that pinkish-purplish color? Well…"
I tune out right about now as you continue talking about something I wouldn't know about or bother finding out about in a million years. Was I really staring? I didn't notice. I guess it's good we're almost at the Krusty Krab.
Sometimes, I really hate walking to work with you. You just talk about the most irrelevant things that I've ever heard of. I think a five-year-old could think up more appropriate topics. Do you really think I care about the color of jellyfish or your new bottle of bubble soap? Who would care other than yourself?
I guess that's the thinking that probably got me in this position. I can admit that I may act a little cold toward you sometimes and I don't necessarily react to all of your actions with open arms, sparklers, and a hand full of confetti so I shouldn't be surprised that I'm not your first choice of someone to open your heart to.
We enter our deep fried excuse of a job together and I know that soon the real action will begin soon.
We take our positions and in a few hours it is clear that it's going to be a slow day. You really hate those slow days at the Krusty Krab, don't you? You hate the boredom and you really can't stand not having anything to do with yourself. Now, you'll probably mope the floor two or three times or wash the dishes five times over. That usually keeps you occupied for some time but even that gets old after a while, right?
That's when you start sighing. Yes, sighing. I don't think I've ever heard you sigh before.
"Squidward, you're starring at me again?"
Once again, your voice breaks me out of my mental trance. I can never think strait when I'm around you. I think it's your irritating voice.
"Really, I didn't notice."
This time I keep starring at you on purpose to see what you do. I think you know I know and you're starting to hate me for it.
The truly scary thing about this is I think I'm the only person who has noticed the changes in you.
"Well…I think I need to go to the bathroom," and you run away to the bathroom.
Okay, just run away from me.
I can't believe I'm the only one who notices the differences but, I like I said before, everyone around me is an idiot.