All Washed Up
Summary- Spongebob doesn't appreciate Patrick trying to steal his job away, and he won't let him get away with it.
Rated: M for coarse language and violence.
Episode Relation: Bummer Vacation
A wild laugh of pure insanity escaped the poriferan's lips as he rubbed the flat side of the knife along his arms, the icy cold sending thrills along the hypersensitive nerve endings. You thought you could get away with it. Ha! You'll see! You'll all see just what happens when you mess with me and my livelihood.
The shadows the large boulder ahead cast darkened the underground area into a sinister lair. There was no sound except the wild laughter and the wind howling through the cracks. Then, there was the sound of creaking, as the rock lifted into the air on its large hinges, and then slammed back down.
"I gave them the best years of my life, and they think they can get rid of me like that, like trash? I don't think so."
"Hi Spongebob!" There was the unmistakable voice of the mentally challenged starfish. "What're you doin' in here?"
"I've been waiting for you, Patrick," Spongebob said, still grinning, eyes narrowed, pupils dilated in a crazed stare. He held the knife upside down, the sharp edge digging into tender yellow flesh, causing dark red blood to fall on the sandy floor quietly.
"Wha-What's wrong, buddy?" Something told the chubby star that he should play it cool, try to talk his way out. He had dealt with crazy people before, his own father was bipolar, and capable of being extremely violent. Sometimes words helped. But only sometimes.
"Oooh. Playing stupid, eh? You know exactly what's wrong, buddy." More blood. He felt no pain. Pain did not exist. Only a bright, blinding flame burning what was left of his sanity. "How long were you planning this? Hm?" When Patrick could offer nothing but a stammered sentence, Spongebob raised the knife to pink skin, just below his non-existent chin. "Answer me, damn it! Just how long were you planning this? Answer me, you fat fuck! You fucking waste of space! Answer the fucking question!"
Patrick whimpered as pressure was added, just enough to create a droplet of blood to appear on his throat. It dribbled down the chubby stomach, and dipped inside his belly button. "…I wasn't planning on it, Spongebob. It just happened. I had no idea it would hurt you so much." His voice was calm and stoic, the opposite of the desperate screaming in his mind. He was unsure of what the loofa was talking about, but if he kept it going on long enough, help may come. Only Squidward could help, now. Did I borrow something from him…? Yes! His vacuum! Please, Squidward! Come and get it!
"Ha! That's a good one! I never heard so much bullshit in my life! I know what you're thinking! I know what you're all thinking! Ol' Spongebob is all washed up! We don't need that played out thing anymore!" He drew a thin line down the throat, creating a thin cut down to his chest. "Admit it! You've had your eye on my job this whole fucking time!"
He's angry about that? "But Mr. Krabs only wanted to replace you while you were on vacation! I don't wanna take your job, Spongebob! I'm not even good at it!"
A hearty laugh, as if he had told the best damn joke in the world. "You're such a good liar, buddy. I almost believed that!" He drew the line closer down, applying more pressure, drawing more blood, nearly a river. "But it's okay. I don't have to worry about it anymore, Patrick. I will never have to fall victim to your backstabbing ways again! Say bye!" And the knife plunged into the fat gut, gliding in like butter, until it hit the gristle and bones. Then, the yellow hands had to carve into it, grinning, laughing wildly. "Come on, Patrick! Sing with me! 'We're the best friend forever, best friends forever!'"
All that could escape the starfish's lips now were gurgled words and blood. The same red liquid squirted out of the wound, spraying the yellow face, dribbling into an open mouth, the sweet metallic taste succulent on the pink tongue.
Then, as sunlight began to glow through the cracks of the boulder, golden hues of light spread on the bleeding corpse. Spongebob looked down at the mess, down at his hand gripping the gory knife, and began to cry, as he grasped what was left of his old friend.