CHAPTER TWO: Welcome to Bikini Bottom
"Is that...is that SpongeBob and Patrick?!" T said, astounded.
As the yellow square and starfish got closer, it was quite apparent that's who it was. If you couldn't tell. You fucking dumbass.
They skipped towards the trio, gallantly bouncing up and down, gleeful smiles on their faces plastered across their faces.
"Uh…" RobotDogGirl began, "We come in peace! We were accidently sent-"
Before anyone could blink, a loud crack rippled through the water, and RobotDogGirl fell over, dead. Blood pooled from the bullet hole in her forehead. SpongeBob stood over her dead body, Glock 43 in his hand. He fired one more shot for good measure. He smiled.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!" professionalwaterdrinker said. "What the actual FUCK?!"
"SILENCE!" Patrick barked. His voice was dark and menacing, resembling that of a galactic warlord or intimidating black man. "You will be held prisoner until further notice! Drop any weapons on your person."
T begrudgingly tossed his AR to the sandy floor. professionalwaterdrinker fished his switchblade from out his back pocket and set it down in front of him.
Patrick turned away from the trio-well, duo, and spoke into a supposed earpiece, "This is Patrick. Yes. We have them. Mmhmm. Mmhmm. Ok. But...ok, right away. Apologies."
He turned back, facing T and professionalwaterdrinker. "You are to come with us," He simply said. "And hurry. We don't have much time."
T and professionalwaterdrinker exchanged a glance.
The drive through Bikini Bottom-or what remained of it-was not a pleasant one. Skulls and skeletal remains littered the asphalt roads. Buildings were rotting, mostly destroyed, painted with the blood and innards of its inhabitants. Pieces of metal clung to the sand like a baby the breast of its mother. Breast. Heh. Funny.
Eventually, curiosity ate at professionalwaterdrinker more than his fear of dying, and he croaked up the bravery to ask: "So, uh...what happened here?"
Patrick grimaced.
"Our home was destroyed…" SpongeBob spoke softly, carrying a solemn tone in his voice. "Ravaged and Decimated by people. Your people."
"What? That ain't possible," T said. "We're the first ones to come down here...right?".
"I remember it like it was yesterday…" SpongeBob looked up towards the sky. A few seconds passed. He held his gaze.
"Uh...ok…" professionalwaterdrinker said.
"Are you...are you flashbacking?!" T said. Spongebob did not respond. "He's fucking flashbacking!"
Patrick sighed, "Yeah, he does this sometimes. He hasn't been the same lately. Listen, all that matters is that it is YOUR people's fault this has happened. You will speak for your crimes shortly."
T and professionalwaterdrinker exchanged a glance. Again.
Soon, they arrived. The Krusty Krab stood magnificently tall, it's pathetic wooden structure replaced with lumbering steel. A long wire fence encompassed the restaurant, with a sleek fresh layer of asphalt road that led from the building to the rest of society's leftovers.
The doors swung open as they approached, guards armed with machine guns cautiously eyeing their new prisoners. Inside, the Krusty Krab was no longer the fast food chain Bikini Bottom had come to know and love. The tables were replaced by workbenches, dismantled weapons, and other pieces of machinery. A stockpile of weapons sat in a wooden container nearby, with a crate of ammo not far from sight. professionalwaterdrinker gulped nervously.
"I wish RobotDogGirl was still alive..." T muttered. "So I could kill her for being such a fuck-up."
Patrick approached one of the two guards protecting the supposed throne room.
"Let us through," He began. "The boss would like to speak with us."
"Orders changed," The guard said. "He wants to speak with the humans. Alone."
"What?! Surely that is not a good idea! They were armed! You and I both know how crafty humans are!"
"Bosses orders," The guard simply replied.
Patrick sighed, then turned towards T and professionalwaterdrinker. "You must proceed. And don't try anything."
They entered the room. professionalwaterdrinker held his breath, as if being in the mere presence of someone so potentially intimidating would kill him.
"So...you're the two new humans...very good."
The figure stood from their orangish-yellow throne. As they walked down the steps of the glassy material, their dark red cape fluttered and danced in the wind. The figure lifted their hands to the hood of the cape, pulling it back and revealing their face.
Biggie Cheese stood before the two.
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Ryjak entered RobotDogGirl's quaint little home, stepping over a bullet casing. The air of the home was dense, an odd sense of dread lingered over him. Maybe it had something to do with the pool of blood by the doorway. He entered the kitchen, instantly making note of the half severed body of a cow wearing a princess dress on a small piece of scrap paper he had on his person.
The laboratory was even more of a sight for Ryjak's sore eyes. He glared at the piles of casings that littered the laboratory, the blood trail that was left, and most importantly the teleporter, used by our lovely protagonists no more than one chapter ago.
He approached it, running his hands along the smoking control panel. Looks like whatever was attempted, had failed. He stared at it for longer, trying to make sense of the intricate design.
"YAAAAARGH!" A war cry came from above as a densely bearded man pounced on Ryjak and began attacking him. They stumbled to the ground, with the bearded man beating into Ryjak's chest.
"Why are you here?! Why?!" He demanded. "It's to kill midgets, isn't it?!"
"Hurm...no. Here to-stop hitting me..." Ryjak swatted a despondent hand at the man's face, sending him flying through the adjacent wall.
He strolled into the kitchen the man had broken through, "Punches don't hurt. Have super strength. Nigh impossible to kill."
"Good to know," The man struggled to his feet, clinging a hand to his back. "Sorry about that...but I was sure you were the one murdering all of those midgets."
"What?" Ryjak asked. "Who are you?"
"You don't know?" The man triumphantly placed his hands on his hips as he striked a pose, forcing himself to overcome the stinging sensation in his side. "I'm MidgetMurdererMurderer! I'm surprised you haven't heard of me."
"Midget...Murderer...Murderer…" Ryjak repeated back.
"Yes, it's a...challenging occupation. With so many midgets getting murdered and all. I was given a flyer that marked you as a midget murderer...strange."
He looked up as if flashbacking for a few seconds, before regaining his focus.
"Anyways, my sincerest apologies. I'll be on my way now," MidgetMurdererMurderer said, slowly hovering off the ground.
"Can fly?" Ryjak asked.
"Yeah, it's...it's a long story," MidgetMurdererMurderer once again looked to the sky as if flashbacking. "Well, see ya!" He started to ascend.
"Wait," Ryjak said, formulating a plan in that massive brain of his. "You're a midget murderer murderer? How dedicated to murdering midget murderers are you?"
"Well, I've devoted my entire life to preparing and training for killing midget murderers. I've killed a few, but none on Earth. I don't really count Jupiter, cause you know, everyone there is a midget, so I had to execute every single murderer on that planet. Shit was exhausting. And then they had the gall to try-"
"Enough. Listen...pursuing bad person. VERY bad person. Murders midgets for fun."
"No FUCKING way!"
"Yes. Problem. Person used machine," Ryjak pointed to the telepad thingamajig. "Machine looks broken."
"Hm...I think I know a guy," MidgetMurdererMurderer said.
"Perfect…" Ryjak said, rubbing his hands together.
"What was that?"
"What?"
"Well, you just said 'perfect' menacingly whilst rubbing your hands together.'
"..."
"Like, was there a reason for that?"
"Call friend. Have places to be."
"Er, you're the boss, boss."
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"Gentlemen," Biggie Cheese said. "I'm glad you arrived."
"Biggie Cheese from Back at the Barnyard?!" professionalwaterdrinker gasped.
"I thought you were killed in a drive-by," T said. "At least that's what I read."
"Well, I was," Biggie explained. "But...I'm not Biggie Cheese. Well, not exactly, let me explain…"
Biggie Cheese looked up towards the ceiling.
"Oh, god, not this shit again," T lamented.
"Oh," Biggie suddenly looked back down, "You guys also have to look up solemnly in order to flashback with me."
"That makes sense, I guess," professionalwaterdrinker and T looked up solemnly.
Flashback...
A man clad in a lab coat, brown khakis, and a light blue collared shirt hastily steadied himself through the streets of 90s Los Angeles. He constantly threw glances over his shoulder, seemingly fearful of the thought of being attacked at any moment.
"I wasn't even supposed to be there," Biggie's disembodied voice said. "I was a scientist. Just a scientist. Sent to do a study on racism and report my findings back."
"Oh. One of those scientists, " T said.
"What happened?" professionalwaterdrinker asked.
"I made a fatal mistake."
"You said nigga?" T assumed.
"Erm...hard -er," Biggie was nowhere to be seen, but he probably lowered his head in shame.
"Damn, in LA?! In the 90s?! Wait, Biggie, or scientist, what race are you?"
"Uh, Asian."
"God fucking damn."
"Yes, I remember it like it was yesterday…I was attacked because of my skin color. I didn't even do anything."
The scientist approached a group of three black youths, covered in red, from head-to-toe.
"Fuck niggers, heil Hitler, White power!" The scientist Nazi saluted.
"Like I said," Biggie resumed. "Completely undeserved."
"I don't know man, you sound hella racist," professionalwaterdrinker said.
"Yeah, I mean, I don't know the context or shit, but...what the fuck were you expecting to happen?"
"Regardless…" Biggie continued his story.
The scientist sprinted down the sidewalk, narrowly escaping the red lowrider that almost ran him over. He turned down an alleyway, using "parkour" to quickly climb over a metal chain fence.
He yanked into his pocket, fumbling to dial a number into his flip phone. The Bloods were on his tail, and they had begun to fire at him. Of course, their aim was shit, but it was still dangerous regardless.
"Who is this?" The person on the other line of the phone picked up. It wasn't a voice the scientist recognized. He must've entered the wrong number. Regardless, he needed help.
"It's John. John Blastkilla!"
"John...Blastkilla," A man spoke. "Son…?"
"Dad...?"
John stopped dead in his tracks, hiding behind a nearby dumpster.
"Son, I can't believe it," John's father cried into the phone. "After all these years…"
"I-I thought you abandoned us, Dad."
"No, I...I would never. I got involved in a massive conspiracy theory, and before I knew it...the Government kidnapped me. Listen, son, I don't have much time left, just know that I love you, your sister, and your mother very much. You've always made me proud son. Be good."
"-What?" T interjected. "That did not happen. What, your dad abandoned you when you were young or something?"
"...Yes."
"Pathetic."
"Moving on...I had almost shaken the Bloods that were after me...all until…"
WHAM!
John slammed into a giant furry rat. He slammed into...Biggie Cheese.
"Wait, wait, wait!" T interjected, yet again. "What the fuck, dude. How the HELL was Biggie Cheese in the REAL world?! That makes NO sense!"
"How am I supposed to know?!" Biggie said.
"What are we listening to you for then?! I thought that's what you were going to tell us!"
"Then you're a retard, man! Now back to my origin story!"
John and Biggie Cheese fell to the ground as the red lowrider slowed to a snail's pace. The occupants unloaded on both John and Biggie, driving off only once they were riddled with bullets.
"I remember the last thing I saw was blood oozing from Biggie's mouth, forming a tiny puddle of spit and blood. There were lights...sirens...then...nothing. I thought I was a goner. Well, I was. But...my sister saved me. She was a scientist, but a much more...professional one than me. I had called her, not my father," Biggie recounted.
"What a surprise," T said.
"She had taken both our corpses back to her laboratory, where she experimented. Because Biggie was a rat, his anatomy was much simpler, much easier to work with. She wasn't able to bring my body back to life, only able to preserve my brain...but Biggie on the other hand, Biggie's body was successfully resuscitated. As a result, she stuck my brain in his body, and thus...John Biggie Cheese Blastkilla was born."
"Wow…" professionalwaterdrinker said. "What a...incredibly fucking dogshit story."
"I know right?" T said. "You still haven't even explained how you ended up in Bikini Bottom."
"Oh. That's what you wanted to know?" Biggie asked. "That's easy. My sister made a machine that can take people to fictional worlds. Before you guys did it. And she actually did it successfully. Unless you guys intentionally came here. Then you're retarded.'
"Hm…" T pondered. "What reason would your sister need to travel to fictional worlds to?"
"Ah. That. Yeah, my sister is dating this guy right, and they are both really into some kinky shit. Basically she wants to watch as this guy fucks an underaged Wendy Corduroy. You know, from Gravity Falls? Really fucked up shit."
"What the HELL, man, that's EXACTLY what I wanted to do. Minus the having a girlfriend," T said.
"Well, sorry, man, but like I said, my sister was successful. She's probably done that shit by now. I would assume so. It's been a few months since I've seen her."
"Well, T, looks like we'll have to go home," professionalwaterdrinker said.
"No. I have a plan."
"Neither of those things you guys said will matter," Biggie interrupted. "Because you will not be leaving."
"And why is that?"
"Guards!" Biggie shouted. He waited expectantly as dozens of his guards entered, aiming their ARs and Rifles at the duo.
"What the fuck man, you're crossing me?!" T said.
"When were we ever on the same sides...T, was it?" Biggie reached into his coat pocket and produced a cigar. He lit it, inhaled, then puffed thoughtfully. "When I heard that two humans had entered Bikini Bottom, I had to have them."
"That's kinda gay," professionalwaterdrinker said.
"See...there's a lot that you two don't know. I'm in Bikini Bottom because I was exiled here, after my sister found out about the whole 'nigger' thing. But I've studied her work. I know her experiments like the back of my palm," He paused, as if waiting for a dramatic sound cue. Hearing none, he resumed, "So what's my masterplan, you're wondering? Simple: Biggie Cheese is dead. So I cannot return to Earth. Well...the REAL Earth. Biggie had, and still has too much of a reputation. Since you both are, unfortunately, out of shape fat FUCKS, you will be forced to train until you are physically apt. After that, I will choose one of your bodies and insert my brain in it. In my NEW body, I will arrive at Earth, where I'll execute a race war in order to get back at niggers for ruining my life."
"I'm...I'm starting to think you're actually racist," T said.
"Why do you think Bikini Bottom is in shambles?" Biggie asked. "I've been using them as a test run. I've been trying different militaristic and political strategies, testing anything that will give me the upper hand."
"Can you like...not start a race war in America? Like, is it too much for you to just let me fuck a drawing?"
"Take them," Biggie said to his guards. "Toss them in the dungeon. I'll deal with them later."
"I should've just raped that blind girl," T muttered to himself.
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"Welp! I fixed this machine!" Memesdaddy said.
"Ok, leave and never speak to me again," MidgetMurdererMurderer said, shutting the door in Memesdaddy's face. "That guy's a dick. Long story. I won't bore you with the details."
"Good," Ryjak grumbled. "Let's go."
Ryjak and MidgetMurdererMurderer walked over to the telepad. MidgetMurdererMurderer entered something into the control panel. "Ok...let's hope this works," He pressed a button on the control panel. A green sphere of energy surrounded them, and before they knew it...they were gone.
Ryjak surveyed the area around him, while MidgetMurdererMurderer struggled to rise to his feet.
"Ugh...I think it worked? These were what the coordinates read on the telepad."
"Hurm..."
"Maybe not? I thought I entered it right-Jesus Christ!" MidgetMurdererMurderer directed Ryjak's attention to RobotDogGirl's corpse. He crouched by the body, studying it for a moment.
"In right place. Ped-Midget murderer is here. Must move fast. Not sure for how much longer he will stay. May be too late."
"Could you possibly not talk like a stroke victim?"
Ryjak glared daggers at him.
"Right. Shutting up now. Is that...Patrick Star? And does he have a gun?!"
Ryjak stared down Patrick and SpongeBob as they approached.
"More humans, huh? You two will be held prisoner until further notice," Patrick said.
"Hurm..." Ryjak said. "No. Running out of time."
"No?! What do you mean 'no'?! That was an order-"
Ryjak sprinted over to Patrick, grabbing him by the neck with one hand. He hoisted into the air, then slammed his head into the sand with the force of a thousand suns. Patrick's head exploded, with a frenzy of brains and skull fragments launching into the sky.
"Patrick!" SpongeBob yelled.
He raised his Glock, aiming at Ryjak, but not nearly quick enough. Ryjak grabbed his flimsy hand, crushing it with ease. SpongeBob screams were quickly quelled by Ryjak repeatedly slamming his forehead into SpongeBob's head, soon reducing the yellow sponge into nothing more than a bloody paste.
"Jesus, man. Those guys were midget murderers...right?"
"Hurm...Sponge stepped on tiny green plankton. Pink starfish was midget murder sympathizer. Everyone here is."
"Well that's good news," MidgetMurdererMurderer said. "Because we got more company."
A battalion of armed fish marched towards the duo, weapons drawn.
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"Well this sucks," professionalwaterdrinker said.
He and T were seated inside a rotted dungeon, very apparently present before Biggie's arrival. Hopefully Mr. Krabs was just into kinky shit, and not a murderer.
"We're gonna get out of here. I have a plan," T said.
"You always do."
"What is that supposed to mean?!"
"Nothing...just forget it."
"Hey, you could make yourself useful, professionalwaterdrinker. Think about it. We're IN water. If you DRINK it, we could kill ALL of Biggie Cheese's soldiers!"
"But...ALL of this water?! I would fucking overdose and die!"
"Ok, but it's not about dying, dude! It's about chasing that high!"
"...Good point."
Professionalwaterdrinker began...drinking the water. Just try your best to imagine what that would look like.
Thirty minutes later...
Professionalwaterdrinker was spazzing out on the floor.
"Wush hapennnNNNIIiiinnggG?" He managed to squeeze out between spazzes.
"Uh...well you're overdosing. Like you said would happen," T said.
"Did, I...did I do it?"
"Absolutely not. I mean, not even close. You didn't even make a dent. I don't know how either of us could've been so retarded to think that would work. And now you're gonna die."
"Gahhhdd...dammittt" professionalwaterdrinker died.
"Welp. It's just me..." T said. "But they were only holding me back...my plan will be set into motion soon."
A crash was heard from above. Then another. Then another. Then a volley of gunshots, screams, and decapitations.
"Hm..." T spoke to himself. "Now that wasn't a part of my plan."
And through the roof of the dungeon, Ryjak and MidgetMurdererMurderer crashed through.
"Finally..." Ryjak said. "Found you."
To Be Continued...