Warning: This is a dull chapter. I only wrote this to set up the next major plot point in the story. :|


Chapter 8 – Return

The driver of the boatmobile could see a fat hitchhiker far away on the roadside, thanks to his headlights. As the driver carried further on, he also noted that the hitchhiker was a pink starfish who was giving the 'thumbs up' signal.

"Oh no," the driver panicked, while talking to himself. "The guy probably wants a ride." He was facing a dilemma; should he carry on driving and ignore him, or should he pick him up? What if he was an axe-murderer, like in those rubbish horror movies? Or at least someone who was just crazy?

The driver was still hesitant when he could see what the hitchhiker was wearing; only green pants with a flower pattern. The starfish didn't actually look like he had been travelling for weeks. In fact, the dirt on his body and clothes looked recent. But the fish was still uneasy.

The driver was all ready to zoom past him with no return, until he looked to his side window. As he glanced at the hitchhiker's face, he saw a haunting expression; the starfish's eyes were paralyzed, and his face looked frozen. His entire body was also shaking with fear. Something had obviously happened to that starfish. If the driver didn't pull over and help him, he would have a guilty conscience for the rest of his life. He pulled over and rolled his window down.

"You alright, buddy?" the driver asked the starfish with genuine concern. The hitchhiker took a short while to respond.

"I just need a ride to Bikini Bottom. Are you going there?"

"Why, yes I am," the driver replied. The hitchhiker didn't seem all that threatening, but he wasn't about to let his guard down yet. "Hop in at the side." The starfish walked to the side of the boatmobile and jumped into the front passenger seat.


Patrick thanked his lucky stars that he had managed to get a ride from a complete stranger. He was by now so tired that he could barely move in his seat. He also had trouble answering the questions that the driver asked him.

"Why exactly were you out there alone?" the stranger asked.

"If I told you the reason, you probably wouldn't believe me," Patrick replied. That sentence reminded the starfish of what he had just been through – in all honesty, he wanted to forget Plankton and his insanity for the rest of his life, but he couldn't. He had to go home to warn his friends.

"Why? Did something happen?" asked the stranger. Patrick took longer to reply this time.

"No..." he faltered. What was he going to say to this man he had just met? "I... saw something terrifying."

"What? Nematodes?" the driver joked, then laughed to himself. Patrick wasn't in the mood for laughing. He wasn't even sure if he could smile ever again, or at least for a long time. The driver noticed that the starfish wasn't laughing with him, so he stopped.

As the Bikini Bottom skyline rose higher over the horizon, Patrick became more excited inside – his face was still solemn. He was inching even closer to home; the place he thought he wouldn't see again.

"Where do you want me to drop you off?" asked the driver. Patrick had to remember which street he lived in; he certainly wasn't dumb enough to forget his place of residence, but the trauma of what had previously happened to him made him forget a lot of information.

"Do you know where Conch Street is?" the starfish asked him back.

"Only just vaguely," the fish replied. "Isn't that the street with the pineapple-house? Pretty weird place to live in if you ask me."

Patrick cheered up a little after the mentioning of his best friend's house. "Yeah, that's the one," he confirmed to the stranger.

"OK, I'll take you there now." The driver took a right turn into the suburbs, which was a dark place only illuminated by streetlamps. Of course, the driver hadn't planned on going to Conch Street, let alone at this time of night; but it was the thought of helping someone in trouble that mattered.


When the driver came near the pineapple house, Patrick told him to stop. The fish pulled over to the side and Patrick climbed out of the boatmobile. But before the driver pulled away, the starfish went to the driver's window. He rolled it down.

"Thanks for taking me home," Patrick said gratefully.

"You live 'round here?" the driver said, slightly surprised in tone.

Patrick nodded. "Yes. And my best friend lives in that pineapple," he stated while pointing to the fruit. The fish was puzzled, but he didn't want to offend the starfish now.

"Well," the man said, "I'll be off now. By the way, you never told me your name."

"Oh! My name's Patrick."

"Well, mine's Dennis," the driver told him. "I'll see you around, I suppose. Goodbye."

"Bye!" Patrick waved as Dennis drove off into the night. He wasn't actually sure if they would ever meet again; but the starfish would be glad if they did.

Patrick stared at the three houses on the street – his rock, Squidward's Easter Island Head, and SpongeBob's pineapple. Patrick just wanted to go home to his rock and sleep till way past noon, but he knew he had to let SpongeBob know he was safe; and warn him about Plankton's murder spree. Slowly, he walked up to the door of the pineapple, unsure if SpongeBob was in bed or not. It probably wouldn't matter anyway, since he was his best friend.

Patrick raised his arm and knocked on the door. Now he just needed to wait for SpongeBob to open it...


This is definitely not the best chapter in this fic. Really, it's a filler chapter, and I do apologize if it sucked. X(

Review if you want to.