Author's note: Oh, hallelujah; the semester's finally over! Now it should be no trouble getting this story posted in its entirety before next weekend.

Coolkidvh, now come on…don't go saying that. There is no such thing as a "new" idea; there's only repackaged ideas. Why, even Shakespeare borrowed from mythology and history to write his stuff.

And Tonyboy, hope you won't be too disappointed. I tried to throw a Larry cameo in this chapter just as a joke for you…but there just wasn't a good place for it.

Chapter 4-Right Now

Mr. Krabs had been returned to his room. He sat on the edge of his bed, haunted by the memories of what he's just seen. He sighed. "Maybe Sandy's right. Lookin' back, I ain't so proud of some things I've done." He started to stare off into space. "…I wonder if maybe…Nah!" he concluded, seemingly coming back to his senses.

Just then, the clock chimed 3 AM, and a light went on outside the bedroom door…accompanied by deep, jolly laughter.

Mr. Krabs stood up. "Argh…that'll be me next engagement." He walked to the bedroom door and opened it…only to be confronted by a big, scary pink belly button. "GASP! IT'S A GIANT, FUZZY NAVEL FROM THE AFTERLIFE!" he shrieked.

It turns out that this ghost was standing behind a big mirror to amplify his belly button. He moved the mirror aside to reveal a normal-sized likeness of Patrick Star, sporting festive candy cane shorts and illuminated in a yellow haze.

"SURPRISE! Merry Christmas, Mr. Krabs!" the ghost exclaimed with a typical, cute-stupid Patrick face. He threw the mirror off to the side, and it shattered.

Mr. Krabs didn't seem amused. "Arr. Who are you?"

"I'm the Ghost of the Present! You know…right now?" Patrick answered, sticking a candy cane in his mouth and sucking on it.

"I was afraid of that. But…why of all forms to take did you choose that one?" Mr. Krabs asked.

Patrick scratched his head with the half-eaten candy cane. "Uh…there was a reason, but I…uh…can't remember…"

"Okay then, what you want from me?"

"Uh…that's the problem with living in the present. You always forget things, and you never plan ahead." Patrick beamed. "But that's okay, because right now it's Christmas! And what more could a guy ask for?" He tossed the remainder of the candy cane into his mouth.

"Bah," Mr. Krabs scoffed, "more like 'What more could a guy be burdened with?' Christmas is a wasteful and pointless holiday."

"Aw, come on! You don't really believe that, do you?" Patrick asked jokingly.

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"Well then, that settles it! We're just gonna have to go out and find someone who can show you all the good that Christmas is bringing to the world right now, as we speak!"

"But, eh, aren't you the Ghost of the Present? I thought that was your job."

"Oh, yeah," Patrick remembered. "…Well, alright; that takes care of that! Let's go!"

"Aw, no. Not another death-defying shellboard through a vortex of peril." Mr. Krabs shivered.
"Nope, even better!"

Moments later, a Goofy Goober ice cream truck traveled down the road. Inside the truck Goofy Goober himself sat behind the wheel. Patrick sat happily in the passenger seat, and Mr. Krabs stewed between them.

"Goofy, Goofy, Goober, Goober, yeah!" Patrick sang at the top of his voice.

Mr. Krabs's left eye twitched. "Grr..."

Finally, the truck stopped in front of an unfamiliar house in the early daylight hours. Its two passengers disembarked and Patrick, holding an ice cream in one hand, waved after the departing truck with the other. "Thanks again, G.G.! Catch ya later, my good man!"

"Where are we, Patrick?" Mr. Krabs asked. "I don't recognize this house."

"Are you sure? I could have sworn this was where your daughter Pearl's best friend lived. Why don't we just pop in and take a look? Maybe they'll have fruitcake and pudding!" He walked through the wall into the house, and Mr. Krabs reluctantly followed.

Inside the house, Mr. Krabs and Patrick spotted Pearl and four of her friends—Jenny, Kali, Lauren, and Amy—sitting around in the living room, giggling and hanging out. There were presents and wrapping paper everywhere. Pearl's friends were all wearing the Anemone Boots from the magazine…while Pearl still wore her normal shoes.

Jenny handed a present to Pearl. "Go on, Pearl; it's your turn to open one! I picked this one out just for you!"

Pearl took the gift. "Thanks, Jenny."

Mr. Krabs smiled slightly from the warmth of this scene. "Heh, so that's what me Pearl is doing for Christmas. It sure looks like those youngsters are having a good time."

Patrick was busy helping himself to a nearby tiding of fruitcake and pudding. "That's what the holidays are all about, after all."

There was a squeal for joy as Pearl found the present she just opened to be a Prada bag. "Whee! A real Prada bag! Oh, thank you, Jenny! These are totally in this season!" She slung it on her shoulder.

"Hmm, that bag sure looks expensive," Mr. Krabs said skeptically.

"Oh, Pearl, that bag is so you!" cried Kali.

"Way coral!" added Lauren.

"Thanks, guys," said Pearl. "I hope Daddy will let me keep it, though. He says that Christmas is a waste of money."

Amy scoffed. "Pshaw, that sounds like your dad alright. But it's his loss, really; just look at all the fun he's missing out on!"

"Yeah!" the other girls said in unison.

Mr. Krabs had a humbled expression from hearing this. Patrick looked at him matter-of-factly, the remnants of fruitcake and pudding on his face. "They're right, you know."

"But if he knew I came here to open presents, he'd probably be mad. Can you guys keep a secret, and not let him know where I was?" Pearl asked.

"Sure, Pearl. After all, they say 'silence is golden.' Knowing your Dad, he'd probably want us to stay silent forever!" Jenny joked. The other girls all laughed, and Mr. Krabs looked mildly offended by this joke at his expense.

"Well, silence may be golden, but at least talk is cheap!" Lauren continued.

"Just like Pearl's dad!" Kali finished. The girls laughed some more.

Mr. Krabs looked at Patrick despondently. "Argh. Can we go now, Patrick? I don't want to hear any more of this."

"Huh? Oh. Well…okay. There was one more thing I was supposed to show you, though." He disappeared through the wall again, and Mr. Krabs followed.

They reappeared right outside the ChumBucket. "Huh, that was weird," Patrick commented.

Mr. Krabs recognized their surroundings right away. The ChumBucket was seemingly abandoned, all boarded up and a "CLOSED" sign in the window. "Hold on, why did you bring me here?" he asked. "This was me arch-rival Plankton's restaurant, but he was sent to the Institute for the Criminally Tiny months ago."

"Just look inside," Patrick instructed. "I think you'll be surprised."

They both peered through the window. Sure enough, there was Plankton sitting on one of the dusty, deserted tables. His color was a sick, pale green and his eye was redder than usual. He just sat there, antennae down in a defeated sort of way, absorbed in his own thoughts.

"Karen, any chance of something to eat today?" he asked his computer-wife stoically.

Karen wheeled up to him. "You're in luck. It just so happens I was going through the old storage, and I found this pack of mayonnaise." She extended the mayo to Plankton with her claw-hand.

His antennae perked up. "An entire pack of mayonnaise?"

"And some decaf coffee grounds," she added, giving him an instant coffee bag.

Plankton affectionately held his wife's "hand" with both his little hands. "Oh Karen, my sweet…you're a blessing." He hugged her hand and choked up. "I don't know what I did to deserve you…"

"I don't know what I did, either," she said with a digital eye-roll.

Plankton sobbed. "Is this the fate of all creatures who dare to dream? It's not fair! I—" He was cut off in mid-sentence by violent coughing.

"Easy, Plankton," Karen cautioned. "Don't get too upset; you'll just make yourself more sick."

"Right." Plankton tried to compose himself.

"Mr. Krabs pried away from the window and looked at Patrick. "I don't get it. How did he get out of the institute?"

"Uh, I don't know. Maybe you should have asked the Ghost of the Past," Patrick shrugged.

"Well…do you at least know what's the matter with him?"

Patrick crossed his arms and nodded smartly. "Of course I do; I'm not stupid. He caught some kind of ultra-microscopic spore in the institute, and he has no money to live on since his restaurant was closed down after the bucket helmet incident."

"Ha! The little twerp had it coming to him!" Mr. Krabs scoffed.

"But even he hasn't been forgotten this Christmas." Patrick pointed off to the left.

"Whoa, Gary!" said a familiar, chipper voice.

Mr. Krabs looked in the direction of the voice. "SpongeBob?"

SpongeBob approached, apparently unaware of Mr. Krabs's presence. He wore a festive Santa Claus hat, and beside him his pet snail Gary wore fake reindeer antlers and pulled a sled stacked with gifts.

"Meow?" went Gary.

"I'm not sure, pal. Let me check the list," SpongeBob responded, checking over a long list of people to give presents to. "Ok, so we've delivered Sandy's gift, and Patrick's. What about those flowers to bring to the cemetery for Squidward?"

Gary went inside his shell, reemerging with some shriveled-looking poinsettias.

"Good! Then I guess that just leaves Plankton. You can wait outside if you want to, Gary."

"Meow."

Mr. Krabs narrowed his eyes. "What's he doing, Patrick?"

"Well, what's it look like? He's giving gifts…to spread the Christmas spirit!" Patrick exclaimed.

"Yeah, but…to Plankton! I don't know whether or not he's forgotten, but Plankton is the bane of the Krusty Krab's very existence!"

"So? I dunno whether or not you've forgotten, but SpongeBob doesn't work for you anymore. You fired him, remember?"

"Well…yeah, but I don't—" Mr. Krabs looked uncomfortably at SpongeBob standing at the ChumBucket door. "Okay, maybe I was a bit too hard on him, but he still wouldn't—"

SpongeBob knocked on the door, ignoring the fact that it was boarded up. Mr. Krabs and Patrick came through the wall into the dilapidated restaurant to see Plankton's reaction.

Plankton coughed as he heard the door knock. "Who could that be?"

"I don't know, Plankton. Maybe…a visitor?" suggested Karen.

"Well, what could they possibly want? And why couldn't they have shown up when we were still in business!"

There was another knock on the door. "IT'S OPEN!" Plankton shouted.

SpongeBob opened the door…boards, nails and all.

Plankton looked dumbfounded. "SpongeBob?"

"Hi, Plankton!" SpongeBob greeted, entering the room. He held Karen's claw-hand. "And Mrs. Plankton, you're looking lovely as usual," he complimented, kissing her hand.

Her screen blushed an embarrassed red shade. "Oh! Um…well, gosh I…uh…"

Plankton jumped to his feet angrily. "What do you think you're doing here, you great yellow oaf!"

"I just wanted to stop by to wish you a Merry Christmas…and give you this gift." The yellow sponge held up a wrapped parcel. "It's that booster seat you've always wanted!"

"SpongeBob, how ignorant are you!" Plankton demanded. "I don't know whether or not you've forgotten, but I've been aspiring to put your tightwad boss out of business for years! I've manipulated you, taken advantage of you for my own personal gain, even tried to have you eliminated!"

"That's right!" Mr. Krabs concurred in the background.

SpongeBob looked down solemnly. "I know, Plankton. But this is Christmas. Sure, we've had our differences in the past. Some of them were bad, some were really bad, some were not so bad, some were kind of in between bad and not so bad…and even some were really bad with an ironic twist of not so bad. But Christmas means more than just Santa Claus, or expensive gifts…or fruitcakes and pudding. Christmas is when we're supposed to forget about all the bad things, and remember the good things. But more importantly, it's a time of forgiving."

All the spectators appeared to be humbled by SpongeBob's earnest soliloquy. …Except Plankton, who scoffed. "Anyone who tells you that is selling something. But I have always wanted that booster seat, so I guess I should say…thanks," he conceded.

"You're welcome!" SpongeBob grinned.

Mr. Krabs watched this whole scene, somewhat touched. "Ahh. I don't know what to say, Patrick. I'm not sure if I'll ever understand this Christmas forgiveness stuff. But I had no idea it was like this."

"Y'see?" said Patrick. "I told you we'd show you all the good Christmas is bringing to the world!"

At that moment, Plankton broke into a coughing fit again. Karen patted him on the back. "Um, I think Plankton needs some time to rest now. But thanks for stopping by, SpongeBob," she said.

"You bet. Hope you get to feeling better, Plankton. And Merry Christmas!" With that, he was gone.

Mr. Krabs looked on with some semblance of sympathy at Plankton and Karen. "Um…Patrick? Is, eh, Plankton gonna be okay?" he asked uneasily.

Patrick shrugged. "I dunno. It's like I said, that's the problem with living in the present; you never know what's gonna happen next. But he doesn't look so good now, does he?"

Mr. Krabs looked one last time at Plankton as the little invertebrate got on the booster seat SpongeBob gave him.

Patrick pulled him away from his thoughts. "C'mon. I gotta be going soon." They both proceeded out of the ChumBucket through the wall.

"What do you mean? Going where?" Mr. Krabs asked.

"My time in this world is almost up," Patrick responded with an unusually somber tone.

"Already? But you've taught me so much. Because of you, I'm starting to understand things like never before."

"Glad I could help! I am the Ghost of the Present, after all!"

The Goofy Goober Ice Cream Truck that they rode in earlier now came around the corner and stopped in front of the ChumBucket. "Oh, boy! My ride's here!" grinned Patrick. He started to sing the Goofy Goober theme song to himself as he boarded the truck.

"Wait, Patrick! Are you just gonna leave me here, to walk all the way back to my house in me nightgown?" Mr. Krabs asked in dismay.

Patrick looked out from the passenger window. "Don't worry; the Ghost of the Future will come and meet you here!"

Mr. Krabs seemed a bit afraid. "The future? But Patrick, you—"

He was cut off by the sound of the ice cream truck driving away…and of the Goofy Goober theme song. There he was, left standing on the vacant street.