What follows is a document of my descent into madness. I know that it probably won't be considered legitimate madness to most of you, because of the fact that I'm aware of it, but whatever. There must be a testament to the moronic behaviour of most of my fellow bottom dwellers, and its disturbing effect on me. And so begins my tale of madness.
Day 1:
My morning
I wake up this morning, to the sound of shrill laughter. As if this isn't bad enough, I look over at my bedroom window to see that it is indeed another Happy Yellow Moron Day. And there, at my window, is the bearer of this news...at SEVEN O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING.
Goodmorning, Squidward!WILL YOU PLEASE GET AWAY FROM MY WINDOW! And put on some clothes! I don't get up in the morning to look at your undergarments!Why do you get up in the morning, Squidward?
I imagine myself in front of the cash register; it looms before me.
Go AWAY!But Squidward, I wanted to be the first to tell you that you've won!Won? What could I possibly have WON?Oh Squidward...my FRIENDSHIP, of course!
I grab my telephone from the bedside table and throw it as hard as I can at the open window. The thing seems to imbed itself in his stupid yellow body, before suddenly bouncing back out and straight into my face.
Fish paste.
Later on...during my morning
Here I am at the cash register -- pressing buttons, taking money, making change. This is my life. Oh, wait...my life gets more interesting by the second...there is Spongebob. He's delivering little flyers telling our customers that I've won his friendship. And his friendship isn't isn't easy to earn, he tells them. Unfortunately, I've been doing something right.
I am staring at my cash register. I suppose it's not really my cash register. But I've been standing at this thing for years and years. I will probably be standing here in front of it the day I die. They'll bury it with my body.
I picture my tombstone: Here lies Squidward, friend of Spongebob. You may not remember who he was, but he was grey and had big nose.
I look at the clock. I've been here only three and a half minutes. I have hours upon hours left. Hours of sheer misery. Why doesn't somebody just shoot me now and get it over with. I will buy the gun. I'll load it myself, and place it in your hand and massage your fingers to make the pulling of the trigger less stressful.
HEY, WINNER!
And here he is in front of me with his eager face.
Leave me alone.That's not the attitude of a winner, Squidward! But that's what makes you a special winner. You try to hide your fabulous, winning self behind a mask of disapproval. Let's sing the F.U.N. song, FRIEND! Sure, I made it up for Plankton, but just call me Elton! F is for Friends who do stuff together! You is for You and Me. N is for Anywhere and Anytime and Always, here in the deep blue sea!
As often happens in this stupid life of mine, Spongebob's song creates a bunch of colourful, swirly letters to float in the air around me. And they spell FUN. The F just landed on my head.
Look, Squidward, the F loves you too!
Just kill me. Kill me now.
The letter F on my head starts to melt. It runs down my face in annoying, purple, sticky dribbles. I can hear the sound of it landing on the floor by my tentacles. I have no idea where the U and the N went.
My afternoon
I'm in the stock room, taking inventory. I hate the fact that the stock room only appears when Mr. Krabbs wants me to take inventory. The rest of the time, there is only the restaurant and the kitchen. I haven't yet figured out how that works; it's just another meaningless hindrance to my happiness.
There are at least 50 boxes of Krabby Paties. They're not frozen. How does that work? Are they freeze-dried? Does Spongebob soak them in water and then fry them? And what about that time I went nuts for Krabby Patties, and there was a huge vault of pre-made ones? Is there no consistency in my life! How are these patties being made? Why does the process keep changing? And why does nobody inform me of the changes or of why they might be happening!
I scrawl down 50 in the little space beside Krabby Patty Boxes. I kick the box closest to me, kick it as hard as I can! That makes me feel a little better, until I realize that my tentacle is now wedged in the box. I can feel patties on my flesh, and it makes me sick. My tentacle begins to tingle, and then to itch. As if this wasn't irritating enough, Mr. Krabbs bursts through the door with an inquiry.
What in the name of Neptune is taking so long, Mr. Squidward!My tentacle is being swallowed by your product, Mr. Krabbs, and if you don't mind, I'd like to suffer in private!Nonsense, I'll send Spongebob back to help! But it's too late.
The next few seconds feel like hours, as I await the Big Yellow Entrance. Hmmmm...
actually, I think hours have passed by. What's going on? I can't hear anything.
Anybody out there!
Nothing.
My evening
I'm on the floor. My tentacle is still stuck in the Krabby Patty box. I think I may have fallen asleep. I can't remember. It's only the first day of my descent into madness, and already my reality is beginning to slip away from me.
I wish I had my clarinet with me.
