Chapter 2: No more F-U-N

His eyes, flying open, take in where the knife really landed. In Patrick's chest. The rest fell from Spongebob's head as he is jolted back to the present as they arrive back at Spongebob's pineapple.

It was half past 2 in the morning and spongebob was still awake, drunk again. At least he was home drunk he thought, home drunk is better than public drunk. He was slouched in his chair as the TV provided the only source of light.

A fish danced on the screen. "And the winning numbers are-" The screen cut to a female fish in a skimpy bra, spongebob adjusted his pants just as the numbers flashed on the screen. "2… 1….2….4….3" Spongebob stood with his mouth agape, so far so good. A single bead of sweat pooled down his porous face. "7…. 7…. 6!" The femfish danced upon the screen and Spongebob fell to the floor.

Nope. Lost again. Spongebob reached for his booze but felt the overwhelming desire to sleep. Just as he shut his eyes he saw Gary sneak down the steps in provocative clothing. "Gary… the snail" Spongebob struggled to stand, but managed.

"Meow…" (Oh I thought you'd be drunk and passed out by now) Gary rolled his eyes and hurried down the steps.

"And where do you think you're going this late?" Spongebob muttered.

"Meow" (Out.) Gary opened the front door as honking blared through the pineapple.

"Oh no you *hic* don't you're underage" Spongebob tried to walk forward but his feet got all shuffled and he fell over. "Forgot to *hic* tie my shoelaces again" As he lay on the ground he attempted to tie his shoes, but to no avail.

Gary left in the middle of his charade, and got into the truck with a teenage fish with tattoos. Spongebob fell asleep shortly after.

Spongebob pulled out a cigarette and lit the end of it. He wore a cashmere robe, and sported an icepack on his head. He gathered his mail, retrieving an ample amount of letters and bill notices. He sorts through them, pulling out one labeled mom, and threw away the rest.

Spongebob opened the letter but didn't read it, he took a crisp $20 bill from the letter, and threw it in the trash with the rest of his bills.

Spongebob jogged to the Krusty Krab, his usual routine. Jogging is what kept Spongebob going, he wasn't going sweat not getting his licence when he has the opportunity to get some fresh air. Spongebob could feel the monday dread heavy on his shoulders, but he was trying to make the best of it. He wore sunglasses to work that day, hoping no one would notice his beat red eyes. Spongebob reached the busy intersection of The Krusty Krab. Time had ruined the town of Bikini Bottom.

The roads were paved with fast food restaurants and billboard ads. Bikini Bottom was no longer the quaint town it used to be, it was full of young kids and fast cars. The corner of The Krusty Krab was more of a historical setting, as it paved the way for future cheap food. Spongebob was no longer the sole employee, Krabs found it more economical to outsource help from outside the city for almost free. Instead of making the patties completely alone, he was assigned to only working the grill. He used to feel attached to this place, because he was able to put love in every patty, but now they're all processed and premade.

He opened the doors to the almost desolate place, and took his hat from the rack.

The scent and taste of the old world he knew was gone. The tables that weren't empty had people smoking and doing unspeakable things. Drugs were no stranger to the town that was Bikini Bottom. Mr Krabs' money addiction those years ago finally made sense after so long. He had been feeding a heroin addiction.

This same addiction was the thing that drove the Krusty Krab into the ground to start with. Five years ago, a child had sat on one of Mr. Krabs' needles and eventually died when he was rushed to the hospital. The restaurant was closed for a while by the board of health and reopened, but removing a taint like that from a restaurant was just not possible.

"You're late." Says a raspy voice that came from the carcass of Mr Krabs.

"Yeah, I know. Can't a guy live?" Demands Spongebob.

Before a reply can even be formulated, the doors open. Sandy Cheeks walks in. She still had the glass bowl over her head but her suit was now black instead of white. She wore a choker and had winged eyeliner. Further down, she had a pair of thick, gigantic boots that made a thud with every step she took. Spongebob had seen her use it as a weapon once. Once. She crushed the skull of another fish like it was nothing with those boots. No one really knows what facilitated this change in Sandy, but all she could say was that it was for the aesthetic.

The thuds of her boots scraped across the decaying wood floor, making the entire restaurant stare at her. Everyone always looked at her, and she loved it. She sly smirk on her face showed it.

Spongebob's lip quivered at the abusive words of Squidward. Squidward barked "Double Cheese Krabby Patty, extra mayo." Squidward paid no attention to Spongebob's subservient agreement. Spongebob and Squidward haven't spoken since the night before Christmas, last year. They drunkenly kissed, but Squidward made it very clear to Spongebob he was nothing more than a colleague.

Spongebob felt the grease pop on his unclothed forearm. He loved the pain. Ssssssss. He felt like a mindless drone, pumping out these little… turds. He glanced over at the giant mechanical machine to his right, which replaced his old condiment table. Smoke filled the upper half of the room, Krabs was too cheap to install ventilation. He heard a knock on the door just as another drop of grease sizzled on his hand. He walked over to the door, which is to be locked at all times, since… the incident.

No not Patrick's. Back before Patrick's death, there was a break in by the one and only Sheldon James Plankton stole the formula, and made a woman out of Pearl (consensually). Spongebob shook his head, he couldn't recap this now, someone was at the door.

Sandy peaked her head into Spongebob's kitchen. "Sorry to bother you uh- Spongebob. Do you mind if I come in? I want to talk to you in private" Uncharacteristically she glanced around nervously. Spongebob unhinged the many latches barricading the door. "Something's burning" Sandy said, as she shut the door behind her. Spongebob rushed to the stove and quickly flipped a series of patties, and deposited them into the machine's mouth.

Squidward barked another order in Spongebob's direction, they no longer had their orders written down, because the divider between them was 4" thick bulletproof glass. Spongebob got a few more patties ready and moved towards Sandy. "What do you need?" Spongebob looked at her quizzically

"I really need some money." She pleads quietly. Spongebob shifts his weight towards Sandy, frowning at her.

"Do I look like I have any fuckin' money?" He growls. Surely if he had any savings, he would have been long, long gone.

"Listen Spongebob, they're serious this time. They're gonna kill me if I don't do something! I sold everything. I lost everything. I don't have anything left to give!" Her voice broke at the last word.

"I told you, I don't have anything either. Now go away." Spongebob turns back to his grill, and continues to flip the patties. Sandy grimaced as she walked out of the Krusty Krab.

The rest of the day dragged on like usual. Flipping patties, annoying customers, it was like the same day was replayed over and over to Spongebob. No variations in the routine. It sickened him. What happened to the F-U-N?. There hasn't been any since Patrick was taken.

The nights were the worst. Spongebob would suffer dry heaves throughout the night until the sun would rise, causing him to get no sleep. Eventually his eyes sunk in further, and the bags under them became more pronounced. He looked truly sick.

3AM hit. It was usually when things got the worst for him. Straining his throat through the heaving, he heard the faintest sound of sirens, coming closer to him. The sirens eventually got closer, splitting his head in the noise.

"Wonder what could be going on…" Spongebob trails off as he puts his head back in the toilet.