Ch.3: The Final Countdown
As the sun set and nightfall rose over the Bikini Bottom, Squidward went home for some well-needed rest. He spent the rest of the evening doing his two favorite things, clarinet practice and painting. By the time it was 11:00, Squidward called it a night.
"What a day." Squidward thought to himself as he crawled into bed. Working at the Krusty Towers was a different experience after all. He was no longer a cashier at a humble restaurant, instead he was now a receptionist at a five-star hotel. The pay was better, but the job was much more demanding, requiring him to be at his top performance.
As Squidward closed his eyes, he waited for his mind to subside so he could drift off to sleep. However, one particular thought tickled the back of his mind. It was Spongebob's laughter.
"Dammit, Squidward!" he thought to himself. "Remember what your therapist said. If Spongebob's not in your presence, there's no reason for him to bother you!".
Typically this statement calmed him. Spongebob wasn't there, so why worry? In more severe cases, a few shots of whiskey subdued his anxiety. However this time it was different. He wasn't thinking of the laughter Spongebob would make while blowing bubbles, or when he was hanging with Patrick. It was that same creepy laughter that he had made when Squidward carried his luggage upstairs.
"What exactly was he laughing about?" Squidward thought to himself. Maybe it was a party trick Spongebob had in mind, or maybe he was reminded again of how much Squidward's nose looked like a dick. Either way, it made him uncomfortable. Not only that, the way the sponge had acted in his hotel room was even more unsettling.
Too confused by the days events, Squidward decided to let it go and tried to sleep. "Who knows, maybe Spongebob's been experimenting with drugs or something." Squidward said to himself as he turned over. Content with his resolution, Squidward was about to fall asleep until...
"SQUIDWARD! SQUIIIDWAAARD!" Patrick hollored as he pounded on the front door.
"What the FUCK!" shouted Squidward, infuriated. He jumped out of bed and stomped towards the front door. He ripped the door open.
"WHAT IN NEPTUNE'S NAME DO YOU WANT?" Squidward yelled at the pink starfish.
"Have you seen Spongebob?" Patrick asked in a tearful, meek voice.
"NO I HAVEN'T!" Squidward shouted. He slammed the door shut and walked back into his house. However, the oddness of what Patrick had asked suddenly settled in. He opened the door again, and saw that Patrick still stood there, grimly.
"Wait, hasn't Spongebob told you where he is?" asked Squidward, rather brashly.
"Nope!" Patrick said, rubbing tears from his eyes. "I used the key he keeps under his doormat to see if he was home... and... and..." Patrick began to sob.
The episode that was taking place outside of his house at midnight was all too confusing for Squidward. Wouldn't Spongebob have told Patrick where he was going? After all, they still were best friends. He tried to get the crying starfish under control.
"Well quit your whining and spit it out, I want to go to bed!" growled Squidward.
"HIS SNAIL, Squidward!" Patrick cried. "Gary is DEAD!"
This baffled Squidward at first. Considering Patrick's stupidity, he took it with a grain of sea salt. "You're sure he wasn't just sleeping this time?" he asked.
"Come see for yourself!" Patrick wailed as he continued to cry. Typically Squidward wouldn't give a rat's ass about the welfare of Spongebob's pet snail, however the events that had ensued that day made it all too peculiar for him.
"You're crab-shitting me! Let me see." said Squidward. Together he and Patrick walked over to Spongebob's house.
As they entered the kitchen, Squidward flipped the light switch, only to see that Patrick's convictions were true. He found Gary's lifeless body bobbing against the ceiling, as dead as a goldfish in a chinese pet store. Vomit was smeared all across the kitchen floor. Too shocked to come up with a cynical remark, Squidward gasped for words.
"Oh shit." he muttered.
"What are we going to do!" whined Patrick, looking away with his hands covering his eyes.
Squidward felt uneasy, and did his best to preserve his unwelcoming demeanor. "I'll tell Spongebob tomorrow. By the way, if you want to know what your idiotic friend is up to, he's at the Krusty Towers."
Both of them called it a night and decided to head their separate ways. Once Squidward was back in his bed, he pulled the covers up to his nose, gazing out his bedroom window. He got no sleep that night.
As for Spongebob however, he couldn't have gotten a better night's rest. Probably because of the large amounts of kelp-ale that had made him pass out. He layed spread-eagle on the hotel room floor, in a pool of his own vomit. Disgusted by the spew that was all over him, he jumped into the shower.
Clean and refreshed (except for the fact he had a splitting headache), Spongebob wrapped himself in a towel and walked over to the penthouse window. He couldn't believe his eyes! A city of tents stretched out far and wide, and some fish were already filing into the stage area, eager to claim their front-row spots. It hadn't even reached noon, and there was already a crowd of fish that rivaled the population of the Bikini Bottom itself.
"This. Is so. AMAZING!" Spongebob exclaimed through gritted teeth. He could hardly contain his excitement. The showdown that he planned to commence that night would be big for sure. With his stomach empty from last night's barfing, he made his way down to the Krusty Towers restaurant for breakfast. As we walked through the lobby, he saw an exhausted Squidward, doing his best to keep the hotel's check-in line moving.
"Hey Squiddy!" Spongebob exclaimed. Squidward glanced at him for only a brief second, and quickly turned back to the register uncomfortably.
"He knows I'm up to something!" Spongebob thought to himself. "That FUCKING WHORE!"
The day had passed rather slowly for Spongebob, but soon enough it was only a matter of hours before his show would begin. He sat on the edge of his hotel bed, polishing the stock of an AR-15. "My time to strike is coming fast" he thought to himself. He couldn't wait to see how his plan would commence that night.
The only person in the Krusty Towers that was as anxious as Spongebob was Squidward. "I have to find out what's in those suitcases!" he thought to himself. As evening began over the horizon, he went to Spongebob's penthouse suite and knocked on the door.
"Barnacles, someone's coming!" Spongebob thought to himself. In a fit of paranoia, he grabbed his rifle and hid in the closet.
Using the Krusty Tower's hotel key, Squidward opened the door and peeked inside. There was no one there. "R-room service?" He stuttered. There was no reply.
Squidward made his way over to the king sized bed, where lay the numerous suitcases and duffle bags he had helped Spongebob carry the day before. Unzipping the luggage, what he had found froze him with shock. In one bag was over a dozen magazines, presumably for an assault rifle. In another bag lay a light machine gun, lying on top of a bed of ammo belts.
"Holy. Fucking. SHIT!" Exclaimed Squidward, quickly covering mouth afterwards.
"You weren't supposed to see that, Squidward". A voice said behind him.
Squidward turned around, and his melon head split open as he was struck with the butt of Spongebob's rifle. Spongebob dragged his unconscious body into the bathtub. "Poor Squiddy." Spongebob said to himself. "Maybe he won't have to live with any guilt after all."
Spongebob walked back to his bed and unloaded the rest of his equipment. Outside, he could hear the booming microphone of the announcer. "HELLO EVERYONE, WELCOME TO THE BIKINI BOTTOM'S THIRD ANNUAL SEA-SLAM MUSIC FESTIVAL!"
Thunderous cheers and applause rallied outside. "This is it." Spongebob said to himself. "My big moment is about to begin."
Soon enough, the announcements ended and the music began. Spongebob picked up his AR-15 and pressed its barrel against the glass window. Aiming towards the crowd, he took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger.
TO BE CONTINUED
