The alarm was ringing. He had gotten out. The cops weren't smart enough to see the nail file in his mouth. He had sawed his way through and knocked out a cop. He stole the cops 12 caliber and moved on. And then the cops let it out. It almost looked like a miniature schnauzer. Except 20 times as big. Spongebob ran for his life. Tasers. Nasty cells. Giant….miniature schnauzers. What's next? Alcapurrias, that's what's next. Now Spongebob didn't know this was a very good tasting Puerto Rican food that looks like a turd, so he shot it. And it died. So he jumped out the window of the 23,415,238,125,656,468th floor and landed roughly. He ran and was met by swat teams. Lots of swat teams. With lots of guns. And ammo. And excruciating pain. So he took out a mini RPG he had picked up on the way down on the 455th floor right before he landed. And he shot it under the swat van instantly sending anyone within a 10 ft. radius of the van flying back to the 23,415,238,125,656,468th floor. So he kept running and eventually got to his destination. The Krusty Krab.