"We're finally done!" Squidward grumbled, wiping off sweat (even though he was in the ocean).
"Now we have to put all this stuff up in the museum!" Spongebob cried happily. It's gonna be fun! Should we arrange the artifacts by size? Color? Texture? Age? Or how about by oldest color? Or most colorful texture?"
"That makes no sense, Spongeboob."
"You make no sense, Squidbored!" Spongebob joked good-naturedly, then laughed. 'Ehhht! Ehht! Ehht! Ehht! Ehhht! Ehht! Ehht! Ehht! Ehhht! Ehht! Ehht! Ehht…"
Squidward clamped Spongebob's lips shut. "Don't…laugh…another laugh!" he growled fiercely, and for once, Spongebob was a bit angry with the octopus. "Stop it, Squid!" he shouted. "It's not like you're laugh is anything special, either!" Then he blinked.
"Oh, Neptune, Squiddy! I'm so sorry!" he wailed, blinking again. "I didn't mean to be rude!"
Squidward muttered to himself, "That sponge could stand to be a little more defensive and serious."
The two headed to catch some Z's—but they'd be at the Krusty Krab early the next morning, so, it being late in the evening, they didn't get much sleep. When Spongebob's big foghorn alarm went off, he leapt out of bed. It was a beautiful day, the oysters were singing, and the sky above the water was blue. A stingray—birds to the undersea world—flew by his window. Spongebob leapt into his square pants, fed Gary, and ate a hasty breakfast of sea-nut brittle and juice. Then he hurried out. He looked around. No Squidward. He waited a minute. No Squidward.
Smiling, he said, "Squidward must be at work already."
No, my good sponge. Squidward is not at work already. Nor will he be at work for a few minutes.
"I don't want…to…get up!" groaned Squidward, who'd had a dream that his art was successful. He groaned, pulled on his old, brown shirt and put on his Krusty Krab hat. He ate a breakfast of coral bits, but ate it slowly. He read the daily paper, sipped his coffee, took his time. He suddenly didn't care anymore. What's that? He never really cared? I know! slaps forehead
At any rate—he cared less than he ever had. He walked into work ten minutes late. Mr. Krabs was manning the cash register. When he saw Squidward, he exploded.
"You oversleepin' land lubber!" cried the distraught crab. "You're late! I'm taking 10 off your paycheck!"
"Oh, goody." Squidward sighed. He took up his place at the cash register just as a green fish with big eyes and a purple shirt walked up. He was a frequent customer, Squidward didn't smile or greet him.
"Can I take your order?" Squiddy said morosely.
"I'll have a double Krabby Patty and an orange soda!"
"Spongebob! A d—"
"Got it, Squid!" Spongebob grinned, passing the tray over. The green fish grinned. "Thanks, SB! Thanks Squid!"
"No problem, Frank," the cashier snapped in sarcasm. "It's my pleasure to slave away as you fill your gullets with crap!"
Before long, the Krusty Krab closed, but work wasn't over. Spongebob and Squidward walked over to the stable and unlocked a shed stuffed with Mr. Krab's antiques and knickknacks. Grunting, each of them carried a huge load to each huge stall. They began to arrange stuff in each stall, in the carriage shed, the tack room, and put some of the more weatherproof stuff on the walls of the covered mounting area. There were no seahorses anymore, of course, but one could still see it was a stable. They arranged the items by age.
At last it was ready. Squidward, with what artistic talent he could summon up, painted a big sign. It read:
THE BIKINI BOTTOM MUESEUM
PRESENTED BY EUGENE KRABS
BUY A KRABBY PATTY, THEN BROWSE
"Everyone" flocked to the museum! Mr. Krabs was estatic. He was making twenty dollars per visit, and the people seemed to think it was worth it. They came again and again, and invited friends. Those friends invited friends. A big newspaper ran an article about it, and people came from all over, even from Sandy Eggo, a big city with steep streets and flashy museums. It was all so interesting, people told the overjoyed Mr. Krabs. The anchors, the ropes, old fishing lures, glass eyes, books, old food cans, and lots more things—it was all so fascinating, people said.
Then one day two male fish in dark glasses, white shirts, black ties, and black slacks came over to the museum office.
"Mr. Krabs, you are in trouble again!" said one fish.
"Why?" Mr. Krabs demanded.
"You have items that belong to the City of Bikini Bottom's Historic Relics Archive!"
"CRAZY TALK!" hollered the crustacean.
"Here's our badges." The men flashed badges quickly before Mr. Krabs' eyes. "Let me see those again," Mr. Krabs said.
"No," the men said. "You've been hoarding items of value! You know under the Relic Law of '88 that all relics must be registered with the Archive and not used to generate a profit, and stored in such and such a way, and let seen when the public demands but not for a profit—except for when the Archive needs funding, or city funds are needed. Because of your dishonesty we must seize the relics, and set up a new museum. We must take 10 of your current profit, and we will show the relics."
"No!" Mr. Krabs cried. "Nooo!"
"There's something fishy here," whispered a new employee at the museum. "Don't say anything now, but get them to delay taking the relics. We've got a mystery on our hands. The Relic Law was in '85! And it was cancelled do to the fact that people have worked hard collecting artifacts and only give to the Archives on a voluntary basis…"
So there was a mystery. But how to delay the precious artifacts from being taken? Violence wouldn't work. By the time the lie of the 'officials' was exposed, any violence would land Mr. Krabs in jail…
