Chapter Fifty-seven: Shift
Haruka really didn't like this Flying Dutchman guy. She'd taunted him, not thinking of the consequences. Since Michiru wasn't around to hold her back, why not have fun? Might as well make the most of being in Bikini Bottom.
Fun hadn't included drowning in sludge with a starfish.
In the sludge, Haruka resisted the assailing images of she and Michiru breaking up because Haruka not wearing enough clothes at night and then complaining that she was too cold. Others of Michiru focusing so much on her music that her violin consumed her, growing a mouth and then swallowing her whole, chomping her with its bloody fangs and proclaiming that it had devoured all of its owners. Proclaiming that it couldn't have witnesses, the violin ate Haruka. As long as she was with Michiru, Haruka wouldn't mind growing old and dying in a violin's stomach. But Haruka had slid down the violin's throat and been dumped into a stomach full of Michiru's violin concertos, her better half nowhere in sight. Haruka would be continuously reminded of Michiru without being able to see her. A true nightmare.
Haruka managed to focus on Patrick flailing beside her, cackling about socks and krabby patties. Did food and socks matter more to the starfish than his friends? Based on what the other fish were crying about, their nightmares had been full of goofiness, too, like one fish who kept wailing about his underwear being used as a flag, with schoolchildren saluting it during their morning pledges; and a child, crying about monsters eating his biscuits without leaving a crumb for him, not even the glass of milk. Safe to assume that the fish wouldn't be scarred for life.
The world had grown less fun once Haruka and Setsuna gonged their heads against each other. Must've looked like a scene out of a gag anime that Usagi and Minako would trash their brains with.
Haruka had been saving Patrick. Thinking that the sludge had engulfed Haruka and Patrick, Setsuna pursued them. Haruka heard the Garnet Rod swiping through the sludge but couldn't pinpoint where Setsuna was. They'd clashed their heads, and the world fell away like a collapsing skyscraper. Haruka hadn't been able to hold onto reality. By his fading cries of, "I can't swim," she hadn't been able to hold onto Patrick, either.
Haruka's world blossomed open, except what it opened to wasn't beautiful but one of the worst places on the planet: the art gallery.
Fish roamed about, talking to friends, gazing upon row after row of paintings of cats playing poker, a half-frowning woman, and an American woman holding a pitchfork with her shorter husband beside her. How could anyone think paintings were exciting or "deep?"
Michiru loved painting. Haruka loved Michiru, so she accompanied her girlfriend on hours-long forays into art galleries. Haruka often pleaded for them not to go, saying that Michiru created more beautiful paintings than the chumps in the art galleries did. Michiru went anyhow, arguing that Haruka didn't have to come. Haruka wanted to spend as much time as possible with Michiru and keep others' grubby hands off the prodigy, well-known in the art circle.
Worse, the art gallery was filled with violin- and piano-playing. By the time her nightmare ended, Haruka's ears would be bleeding.
The only person who could brighten the nightmare was Michiru. She was nowhere in sight.
Scowling, Haruka pushed past others. Her manners didn't matter since she was interacting with fake people. Didn't need to find her friends, only the portal out of here.
Art galleries were filled with whiteness, blandness, and slowness. Too slow for a racecar driver like Haruka. Some paintings in the gallery weren't bland, depicting octopi twisting their expressions, smiling with big eyes and noses. Only Squidward would paint himself and then display those paintings in public, expecting layers of praise.
On one wall hung a disappointing depiction of Michiru. The painted Michiru held a mirror, gazing at herself. The godly glow from King Neptune didn't surround and make her eerily beautiful, nor did her eyes sharpen the way they did whenever she looked in her mirror, searching for visions of the future and their enemies.
Haruka walked toward the painting of Michiru. Other patrons surrounded the painting. Thanks to Haruka's height, and most of the patrons being short fish with a few humans in the mix, she could still gaze upon the painting.
"And here is my most famous painting."
Squidward stood several feet away, donning an artist's bennet to hide his baldness, gesturing grandly toward another self-portrait. Some patrons yawned. One stretched and lazily eyed the painting of Michiru.
The patron's eyes brightened at Michiru, and he rushed over. He put his fins onto the painting.
Snapping her fingers and marching closer to the patrons, Haruka said, "Hey, hey, hey, get your filthy paws off that painting. Even kids know not to touch paintings in an art gallery."
The fish and humans oohed and aahed at the painting. Maybe Michiru's powers had extended to wherever the hell Haruka was. Maybe Michiru was so captivating that the fish and humans could no longer hear what anyone said.
Squidward grabbed a lagging human's arm. "Don't you recognize genius when you see it?" He motioned toward his portrait of the octopus playing a clarinet, flowers blooming in the background, or attempting to bloom. The flowers looked like they were trying to sprout but dying at the same time. A feat. Either Squidward was a horrible artist or he was so great that he could show beauty and despair simultaneously in the same living creatures.
No one gazed upon any of Squidward's self-portraits. Maybe if Squidward painted anyone other than himself, he'd garner more interest.
The human glanced at Squidward's self-portrait. At Squidward. At the painting of Michiru. His eyes lit up. "More beautiful than pancakes on a Saturday morning." He marched to the painting, batting his eyes.
Had Haruka's girlfriend been compared to pancakes?
Squidward sat on the floor in front of his painting, hunched over, watching the crowd swell around the painting of Michiru.
Haruka walked to the octopus, offered him a hand. "Y'know, if you focused on other people for a change, your paintings would be more successful."
Squidward glared, looking Haruka up and down. "What does someone like you know about paintings?"
Heat flashed through Haruka, the anger coursing through her like someone had ignited a fire inside of her and then, like the Olympic torch, ran the fire up and down. "Just because you're having a pity party doesn't mean it's all right for you to insult people. Damn, I was trying to help."
"You call that help?"
Maybe Haruka did need to change her approach. But too many weak, coddled people filled the world.
Squidward smiled at the crowd. He rushed to the painting. Cleared his throat. "I fudged the truth earlier." Another grand gesture. "Here is my most famous painting."
The crowd turned their sparkling eyes to him, oohing and aahing. Squidward glowed in their praises.
With people like Squidward in the world, the Earth may as well be burning.
Squidward spread his arms as the group clambered onto him, drowning him in human sweat and fishy smells. Despite the invasion of personal space, Squidward laughed, relishing in their attention.
Something crunched behind Haruka.
Cursing herself for not hearing the intruder sooner, she whipped around, grabbing the pink arm whose hand was halfway to his mouth. She threw him, upending him onto his pointy head, popcorn and soda windmilling around the gallery. Cola splattered onto the painting of Michiru.
The crowd fell silent. They clambered off Squidward, leaving him lying before the ruined painting, cola falling in rivulets down the painting.
The world rumbled. Haruka looked for the true intruder, but the group kept staring at the painting and then glared at the fallen Patrick, chanting that he ruined the painting.
"I'm sorry, Patrick," she said. "I thought you were part of Dead Moon for a moment."
Patrick croaked, "Absolutely delicious."
"Who destroyed me paintin'?"
The world's rumble intensified into a quake, jostling Haruka and the fish. They tumbled over one another as they tried to reach and pummel Patrick. A zipper popped into thin air and then ripped open, revealing the green ghostliness of the Flying Dutchman. All at once, the crowd froze. All at once, the crowd screamed and hollered, slapping their hands upon their cheeks and gawping as they screamed. How dramatic.
The ghost flew out of the torn air. Green wisps blew from his eyes. "I'll show you, claimin' me paintin' was your own." The green wisps shot forth like lasers, frying Squidward into a blackened crisp. "And for conspirin' together to destroy me own paintin'." Haruka readied herself, but the green wisps zapped Squidward once more, dissolving him into a pile of ash, save for his nose, which remained intact atop the ashes.
"Wh-why me?" Was Squidward speaking through his nose? He sounded more nasally than usual. "They were the ones…"
"For that, I invite you to take a trip into my Fly of Despair."
A nasally gasp. "No, anything but that."
The crowd growled at Squidward.
Squidward squawked at the crowd. "Well."
Haruka stepped before Squidward's ashes. "Don't worry, Squidward. I won't let him."
The Dutchman, the clichéd ghost that he was, snapped his fingers, and the ashes shaped themselves into Squidward. The zipper ripped open. The green wisps from the Dutchman's eyes expanded into green clouds, which wrapped around Haruka, Squidward, and Patrick and then tossed them into the Fly of Despair. Behind them, the Flying Dutchman waved, saying, "Bon voyage."
Patrick tucked his hands under his head and snored.
"You let him," Squidward cried.
"I know I did," Haruka barked, like it was his fault for her incompetence.
The three plummeted down the hole. Haruka peered past the floating, bald pink heads drooling green, viscous goo; snakes rearing toward them, baring their fangs; and plates piled high with spaghetti and meatballs to look at the bottomless pit stretching below.
They might be falling for a few hours.
Maybe Haruka should take a cue from Patrick and take the time to rest. The things they were falling past weren't out to hurt them.
On the other hand, Haruka had no idea if time was passing as quickly in the Fly of Despair as it was in the regular dimension. She had to return to the rest of her friends as soon as possible.
"You've been down here before, right?" Haruka shouted over yowling goblins.
Squidward kept screaming.
Haruka clamped her hands, like a pincer, onto his cheeks, turning his scream into a whistle. "You heard me? I'm trying to save your life here."
Eyes watering, Squidward nodded.
"How do we get out of here?" Haruka loosened her grip on his cheeks.
"Heck if I know. I kept falling until I ended up crashing through my roof."
Haruka shook her head. "I have to get back to the Flying Dutchman's ship, and who knows what'll have happened to everyone else by the time I get back there?"
"That dusty place?" The octopus gagged. "Yuck. Who would want to go back there?"
"I wasn't including you, you bald, selfish bastard." Whoops. Needed Michiru more than she thought.
Squidward grasped his head. "Bald. How rude."
Wasn't rude if it was a fact, but Haruka bit her tongue.
Patrick smacked his lips. "Is it three A.M. yet?"
No one could tell time in the Fly of Despair, but Haruka said, "Yes," anyhow to wake the starfish. They could use what little smarts he had.
Patrick opened his eyes. "Oh, boy." He reached under him, patting the air. "Where's my krabby patty?" His hand plopped into a bowl of tapioca, turning and causing it to fall alongside them.
His pupils dilated. "It's tapioca."
"How can you think of food at a time like this?" Squidward said.
"Not to eat." Patrick stroked the tapioca. "To use."
Might as well go with whatever else this universe had in store for them. "For what?" Haruka said.
"The time has come." He sucked in a breath. "We are in the right situation for this to work."
"For what to work?"
Squidward blinked. His eyebrows arched, and the octopus raised his hands. "W-wait. Don't do anything stupid. I mean, you usually do stupid things, but don't do anything more stupid than usual. Not that you'd know the difference."
"This is the key." Patrick raised the tapioca. Maybe it was the way for them to escape the Fly of Despair.
He held the tapioca straight in front of him and then blew on his hands. "Open Sesame."
The creatures kept cackling. The three kept falling.
Squidward opened his mouth in a wordless cry and then shouted, "You barnacle—"
The air tore open. Like a black hole, the creatures were sucked inside the rift, their cackles turning into screams. The spaghetti and meatballs slapped Squidward, Haruka, and Patrick, the starfish opening his mouth and sucking in the spaghetti. His mouth was more powerful than a rift in an alternate dimension.
Squidward, Haruka, and Patrick were sucked inside the hole. The group flew through blackness. Squidward hollered. Patrick laughed. Haruka glared at the darkness, watching for sudden movements.
"What have you done?" Squidward said.
Patrick grinned. "You'll see."
"That's not a reassuring answer."
Time for Haruka to work her persuasive magic. "Patrick, tell us where we're going. I'll give you your three A.M. krabby patty if you do."
The starfish bowed his head. "No. This is a sacred moment, not to be defiled."
Not as much of an idiot as she thought.
Nope. He was. Or else he wouldn't have done what he had.
A roar boomed below, and a glint sparked.
Squidward screamed louder. Haruka readied herself to beat whatever was coming.
Patrick's grin broadened. "Finally, I'll get my award."
"What?" Squidward said. "This is all for an award?"
The creatures returned, roaring alongside the first roar, the first roar permeating above the rest. The spaghetti and meatballs, floated in fragments below, some noodles there, some meatballs there. The world opened like a beast's maw. Fire blasted below, and brimstone glowed red with life-threatening heat.
Patrick had brought them to hell.
He might have killed them all.
Haruka had to sound as calm as possible. "Patrick, where are we exactly?"
"We're going to the ruined ninth dimension. Not even Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy were able to reach the ninth dimension and save it."
"From what?" Haruka said as Squidward said, "I don't care about impressing those washed-up heroes. Just get me outta here."
Haruka directed her mind to her sword, commanded it to come, and her Space Sword materialized in her hand, the sword resembling a scimitar but longer. She needed it at its full length to slash as many creatures at once as possible.
Her sword glowed with an ephemeral blue light reflected on Haruka's face. "This dimension needs saving, so let's save it. But what exactly are we saving it from?"
Patrick pointed. "That."
Lava cascaded and surged below. The lava burst open. A monkey that looked to be fifty feet tall hurled forth, bounding up and stomping onto the brimstone, undeterred by the brimstone's heat or the fire raging around it. The creatures from the Fly of Despair flailed in the fire. The fire that Squidward, Haruka, and Patrick would be buried in if they didn't stop. Haruka was strong, but she couldn't carry both Squidward and Patrick while fighting.
The monkey beat its chest and howled at the three. Focused on them instead of the dying creatures around it.
Patrick snorted. "SpongeBob was wrong. It doesn't look hard to beat."
"Are you kidding me?" Squidward had paled, his skin appearing pastier.
"You know how to beat it?" Haruka said. Could use a glimmer of hope.
"Nope."
Squidward reached toward Patrick's neck, wringing his hands. Haruka snatched the octopus' arm. "Oh, no. Too many weird things are trying to kill us for us to try to kill each other."
Patrick's tongue hung out in anticipation. He was excited about fighting a monster in hell. The monkey might be Bikini Bottom's version of the devil. "There's gotta be a simple way to defeat it and save this dimension."
Bikini Bottom was anything but simple. "I doubt it," Haruka said.
Frothing at the mouth, the monkey man ground its fangs. For such a goofy place, Bikini Bottom had its share of savage beasts.
Apparently, the group was falling too slowly for the monkey man's liking. He catapulted toward them, pulling back a meaty fist, muscles bulging in his arm. His fist blurred, and Haruka flew backward, pain erupting all over, the red lava melding with the brimstone and the creatures in a red and blue mess.
So this is what getting hit by 500 trains feels like.
Crunches echoed below. Haruka parted open her burning eyes. Squidward and Patrick flew in the same direction as Haruka.
They flew past dome-shaped buildings and square skyscrapers. Past two red suns suspended at the corner of a skyscraper, like the building was holding up the two suns. According to Setsuna, a red star was about to die in a planet-destroying explosion. Hopefully, what was true in the real world was false in the ninth dimension.
Haruka slammed onto dirt, breaking the wind out of her. Blood sprayed from her mouth. Seconds later, Patrick and then Squidward slammed on their backs beside her, sliding to stops. Squidward coughed out red dust. The two suns bloodied the sky.
Haruka bounded onto her feet. Had to go after the monkey man.
Transparent fish walked about, slouching. Defeated.
Haruka tried to grip one female fish, but her hands passed through. The fish were ghosts. No wonder they were transparent.
"Excuse me." Haruka jogged to the woman, falling into step beside her.
Behind her, Squidward said, "Sure, don't ask if we're all right."
"You're all right enough to complain." Haruka returned her attention to the female fish. "Miss."
Stopping, the young blonde fish regarded Haruka through half-lidded eyes. Like she'd given up. "What?" No inflection to her voice.
Haruka remembered her manners, if only to get information. "I'm Haruka." She gestured toward Squidward, the octopus standing and brushing himself off; and Patrick, rolling in the dirt. Why was she about to admit that they were her friends, specifically Patrick? "My…friends and I fell into this dimension because of the Flying Dutchman. Do you know him?"
"He's nothing compared to the monkey man."
"What do you know about him?"
The woman's pupils contracted. She raised her arms and screamed, running away.
The world shook, and its red hue deepened into crimson. The monkey man clawed his way past buildings and skyscrapers, wrecking them as he tore toward Haruka, Squidward, and Patrick. Patrick jumped onto his feet, smiling at the monkey man. Squidward ran behind Haruka. Hated her one moment but wanted her to protect him the next. As long as it was convenient for him, she was his best friend.
No need to argue when a giant monkey was cleaving its way after them.
The monkey man catapulted into the air and then shot toward Haruka and Squidward like a rocket. Squidward and the woman hollered. Other screams joined theirs, threatening to rupture Haruka's eardrums.
Haruka leaped toward the monkey, extending her sword toward his heart. One swift end to save this dimension. "Space Sword Blaster!" A beam shot from the tip of her sword. The monkey man batted it aside like the beam was no greater than a fly. He snatched Squidward quicker than Haruka could react.
The monkey man dangled Squidward. The octopus thrashed. "Why didn't you save me?" The Guardian could've let the monkey man eat Squidward for his ignorance.
The monkey man spat out a brown bag. Stuffed Squidward inside and then pulled the bag's opening taut. Squidward pounded against the bag, begging for anyone to let him out, even Haruka, the nincompoop.
The monkey man jabbed two fingers into its mouth and whistled. From the sky flew a horse with wings—Helios?
No. This horse was black and white. A flying zebra.
The zebra whinnied and neighed and wheesnawed.
"Let's go, George." The monkey man spoke a human language.
He flipped backward, landing his five-thousand-pound self on the horse's—George's—back, without George faltering from the monkey man's weight. What would a monkey man be without his trusty steed?
The horse flapped its wings and flew into the sunset.
What monstrosity had Haruka witnessed?
Patrick jumped onto Haruka's back, and Haruka coughed, nearly collapsing. The starfish weighed a ton to be so small. "Onward." The starfish pointed in the direction in which the monkey man and George had gone.
"No," the female fish said. "He'll make you like us, too. He does this to everyone who comes here."
Haruka raised an eyebrow. "What did he do?"
"The Flying Dutchman brings us down here to enslave us for all of eternity, making do horrible things, like swabbing poop decks over and over and singing the siren's songs."
"How do we reverse what he's done?"
"Defeat him, of course." Patrick nodded twice. "That's what people who wanna win awards do."
Heck, they were saving the normal dimension. Why not two?
Haruka was living in the most bizarre situation in her life. Something she didn't think she'd see unless she was high.
Regardless, the starfish was right. They had to find the monkey man, his steed, and Squidward.
Haruka flew. Now she knew what being on drugs was like.