CHAPTER 3 – AFTER TEN YEARS

I fell asleep as soon as I started to ponder on how she is doing that when I opened my eye again, the rays of the sun are already shining brightly upon me. Bikini Bottom is still a long way ahead, and I have absolutely nothing at all so I can't afford to ride the bus. This is going to be a long walk. But wait, since I am just small and insignificant after all that I sometimes get trampled on and get peeled off from shoes like discarded chewing gum, perhaps they won't even notice that I've already hitched a free ride on the bus.

I walked for a few meters or so downhill until I saw a red bus a few minutes later by the bus stop. So far, nothing much has changed in how buses would look like in ten years' time. It was still the same standard issue bus that has roamed the streets of Bikini Bottom and its outskirts for more than two decades now. I went with the crowd that walked to the bus and I dodged a lot of steps that could possibly squish me. The very first thing I noticed in the bus was that even the interior has not changed much.

I stayed at the bottom of a vacant seat so that no one would notice me. I leaned onto the metal supports of the seats and did my best to relax after that tiring game of dodge-foot despite the dust that gathered in the bottom of the seat along with some chunks of discarded gum covered in spit. Suddenly, someone sat down on the chair above me and decided to put his stuff below it, almost squishing me. For the rest of the long journey back home, I did not enjoy the view from the bus because I couldn't even reach the windows. I could barely even move after being cornered by the bag the guy above me placed below the chair. It was pitch black in here, so I paid attention to the bus conductor who announces where the bus is already.

As soon as he announced that we are already in the Bikini Bottom bus stop, I crawled through a tiny hole between the bag and the bus wall. I went with the people who will go down this stop and I wasn't even noticed. Perhaps there are actually advantages to being almost microscopic after all, like getting free bus rides by following the crowds.

I alighted from the bus and saw the city for the first time in ten years. Everything is back to the way it was before I ruled for a short while. The very first thing I noticed was that Patrick already has a job as an ice cream vendor in a park. For a deadbeat who hates to work, he seems to be quite enjoying his job. Queues of kids, kids-at-heart, and ice cream aficionados were in front of the cart, ready to sample the one hundred more flavors that Patrick himself must have invented. I want an ice cream myself too, but I don't have money. Besides, I'm starting anew, so I don't want to make a bad impression on anyone yet.

There were posters everywhere of Pearl's upcoming concert. Mr. Krabs's crybaby teenage daughter from ten years ago is already a pop star with three albums that went platinum. Aside from that, there are also posters of a musical where Squidward and Squilliam are collaborating. A sudden, bitter reminiscence came through my mind as I saw that after all these years, Squidward and Squilliam, who were once rivals, are now best friends. I was sure about this because I just heard a couple talking about this musical on a park bench, and they were both surprised that those two have finally gotten along because the mere prospect of that seemed impossible.

I remembered that wretched crustacean, Mr. Eugene Krabs, who stole my life away from me. We were once friends that seemed inseparable. We stood by each other since our times in the nursery through the most difficult of times. We were both the school outcasts because Mr. Krabs was very poor and I was a nerd, but that was okay because we had each other. While he finished my battles for me, I finished his science homework for him and even shared my sandwich with him while enjoying the pungent aroma of the dumpster every recess time.

To make ends meet, Mr. Krabs and I started a food business, Plabs Burgers, after the former owner of a burger shack by the dumps earned his millionth dollar and quit his former job to enjoy the finer things in life when he drove off on a limo. Of course, our business was unsuccessful and was literally and figuratively in the dumps. No one tried our burgers except for Old Man Jenkins, who collapsed almost instantly after eating the burger. And that was when everything started to fall apart. The image of the fallout was still so vividly engrained in my memories. We blamed each other for staining the patty, which in turn, posed a health hazard as the news was published on a newspaper.

"No way, that recipe's mine!" Eugene said as he forcefully grabbed the paper containing the fixed patty recipe from my hands.

"Stop it, you're gonna...!" I adamantly replied as the paper finally tore. I got only a tiny piece of it that says 'and a pinch of chum.'

Mr. Krabs soon became the most popular kid in school while I stayed an outcast. But that will all change soon. I will get that recipe and rule the world!

I continued to cross the streets, averting my eye from all the posters of the two squids who have finally reconciled. I eventually passed by the street where Spongebob lives. The Easter Island tiki head is no longer there, which means that Squidward might have moved already. Patrick's house that was once a solitary brown rock is already a group of three big rocks- a pink one, the old brown one, and a white one- that resembled giant scoops of ice cream on a banana split.

The pineapple house Spongebob lives in already has a greenhouse that extends from it, which also has a tree inside. Outside, I could see Spongebob playing with a smaller sponge with brown fur, who seems to be his son with that squirrel Sandy. They were blowing bubbles of all different shapes and sizes.

"It's getting hot out here," the young sponge said to his father as he closed the container with the bubble-producing fluid. "I want an ice cream. Those bubbles were amazing, though."

"Sure, JimJam, I'll drive you by the park where my best friend Patrick is selling ice cream, some of those flavors which he invented himself," Spongebob said jovially as he tapped his son's shoulder. "Then, you can also play with the kids there. Meanwhile, I have to go to the annual science competition and assist your mommy with showcasing her latest invention to the judges. She just decided to go ahead and set up already. I almost forgot that... Anyway, I'll pick you up at four in the afternoon."

"Yay! You're the coolest!" JimJam said as he frolicked happily to the sleek sports boat parked in front of the house and burst in happy song. "I'm ready to go to the park, I'm ready to play, I'm ready to meet new friends, I'm ready to try new ice cream flavors!"

"That's my boy!" Spongebob said as he started the engine. "You know son, it took me years to actually pass my driving test, but now I have a license. That just goes to show that if you work hard for something, you will eventually get it. When you grow up to be a young man, I will teach you how to drive these babies!"

A trail of dust almost suffocated me as the boat moved forward. I can't believe what I'm seeing. It seems that everyone is already a tremendous success without me. Even Spongebob, the boy who failed a driving test for over a million times, already owns a sleek sports boat that he can smoothly drive. Patrick, that deadbeat who seemed to not care about his future at all, is now a world-famous ice cream connoisseur who has already invented so many new flavors for every taste. His face was on the cover of every dessert magazine. Squidward and Squilliam, two squids who hated each other almost as much as Mr. Krabs and I hate each other, are now best friends working together to create the musical of the centuries. Heck, even that depressed teenager who wrote that nasty story about a girl with a seemingly dark personality was able to achieve something by winning that ridiculous writing contest. I feel like I'm in the dumps right now. My reborn hopes to rule the world seemed bleaker and bleaker with every step. I can't possibly rule a bunch of people who are actually more successful than me.

I soon noticed the literal dumps and a huge factory, Stanley's Scrap Shop, processing the garbage and converting them into usable objects that are sold for a cheaper price. Oh no, not that cousin of Spongebob who ruined my business back then when I've mistakenly hired him, thinking that he can cook just as well as his cousin. Even that underachieving barnacle head who ruins everything he touches now makes a living by, well, ruining things. At least he's worth something now.

I inevitably passed by the Krusty Krab and noticed that it already has a second floor, a more luxurious ambiance, and extra parking space beside its second building. Hm. Not bad for a cheapskate like Mr. Krabs. It was closed. It must be Sunday today.

I went back to see the home I used to live in, Chum Bucket. It was already in ruins. The dark blue paint has completely peeled through Nature's course, revealing the rusty metal foundations. No one has ever really bothered to renovate the building or bulldoze it in the ten years I have not been here. I entered the ruins and pushed the door that fell on the ground. Its hinges have already rusted away. I stepped into the rooms that have gathered molds on the derelict walls. The place that was once a cafeteria where I was supposed to serve my imaginary customers is more dilapidated than I ever thought it would be. In fact, even when I used to live here, it's already barren. I went into the room where Karen is supposed to be and instead, I saw a broken monitor that is lopsided on the wall, as if it will fall off in just a few more days' time. Tears filled my eye as I saw the sight of her completely ruined beyond repair.

Even if she is a computer, she is my wife after all, and I would still hate to see her like this. Even if she never really lived and is just a fancy machine who was there for me after I lost my erstwhile best friend, I still had that strange feeling of cloying sentimentality and mourning one feels after losing a loved one. I did my best to shrug off those cheesy thoughts from my head, but I fell down the ground and continued to weep, try as I might to hold back the tears. Oh, who am I kidding? This is not the attitude of someone who is bent on ruling the world! I searched amongst the debris for signs of hope that I could still repair her even at this state. I soon found a strange box that is still in perfect condition. It asked me to enter a security code so that I can access its contents. There was a note engraved at the bottom of the box which says that the contents of this box are from Karen to me and that the security code is the sum of the year when we first met and the year we got married. The box opened as soon as I finished entering the code. I found a piece of paper neatly folded inside the box.

[Author's Note: So I will begin replying to reviews here again, just like the old days, but no longer in the rude manner that I used to do. It's quite a breath of fresh air and a heartwarming feeling to see two reviews here so far which are both good. Yay! (does happy air guitar/dance)

Pyrze4132 - Thank you for your kind words and for encouraging me to carry on. Sorry for all the times I've been rude to you before, as with all the others who just want to help me out and clung to their faith in humanity. Thank you, also, for adding this story to your favorites. I'm glad you're enjoying so far.

Gokiburi Prince - Your commentary is hilarious and I agree with everything there. About SpongeNSpongeGirl, she's getting way too much hate for someone with some potential. She's been improving lately. Truth is, it's Monica Gilbey-Bieber who really deserves the hate had she been a real person.

On another note, I still make the mistake of writing eyes instead of eye when Plankton has only one eye. Please point out any of these errors if they still exist and I'll get to fixing them.]