PING PING PING PING

The ball bearing rammed between two bumpers over and over before falling to the right through a hole, up a ramp, soaring in the air, landing on a winding railing, until creeping up to the right flipper, ready to be flung back into the foray once more.

The multicolored lights danced around the machine, reflecting off Squidward's glazed eyes. He paid no attention to the ball bearing as it rolled passed the flipper, dropping into the machine, and rattling around a few times before reloading itself in the plunging barrel.

Squidward's gaze remained empty and lifeless as he lazily reached and pulled at the plunger. The metal ball slid forward a bit before landing back at the plunger's head.

"Why Krabs? Why SpongeBob? Why Patrick? Why did I come down here? Why did I let those two imbeciles in my house? Why did I go in that tent?"

That tent. That place that lead to an unspeakable act that Squidward promised to himself he'd never forget. As horrifying as it was, that wasn't the only reason why Squidward had suggested he and Krabs split up to find SpongeBob. He thought it a bit selfish of him, but one of the main reasons Squidward sent Krabs away was due to his ravings about a time when he, armed only with a half-empty ketchup bottle and a bag of stale complimentary crackers, took down ten German Luftwaffe's. Squidward knew Krabs was just trying to cheer him up after what happened, but nothing could make him feel better after seeing what he'd seen.

A tear ran down Squidward's right cheek, landing on the muddied glass pane of the machine.

"Why, Neptune? Why would you do this to me? I'm not a bad squid... I'm a little mean to SpongeBob sometimes... but can you blame me? I mean... have you met the guy?"

Squidward slumped to the floor, his tentacles limply held at his sides.

"What did I do to deserve this?" he whispered.

"CONTINUE OR STAY A LOSER?" a muffled electronic voice teased. It sounded a lot like SpongeBob's voice.

Squidward peered over the top of the glass pane to see the LED screen displaying the text of the voice.

"C'MON, DON'T BE A SQUIDWARD! KEEP PLAYING! IF YOU STOP, YOU'LL BE JUST LIKE HIM! A DEPRESSED LOSER... FOREVER..."

Squidward tightened his tentacles. His suckers began to whiten as he grinded is teeth down to meal.

"WELL? ARE YOU JUST GOING TO SIT THERE? OR ARE YOU GUNNA-"

"SHUT UP, SPONGEBOB!" Squidward screamed as he reeled back his tentacle balled into a fist. He leaned back as if in a stance to cast a fishing rod until suddenly throwing all of his weight onto his right foot and smashing the plunger into the machine.

The ball bearing flew out of the barrel and into the LED screen. The screen's text began to jumble and the card stock score cards began to count down from Squidward's original place at 362,000 to 330,000, then 300,000, and 270,000. The score cards flapped like a cascading deck of cards until the score finally pinged at zero.

Squidward stood there. His tentacle stilled balled into a fist—a quite terribly bruised fist to be exact. His heart, pumped on adrenaline, continued to pound against his chest.

"Screw this machine, I don't even like pinball anyway... YOU HEAR THAT SPONGEBOB?! I DON'T LIKE PINBALL AND I DON'T LIKE THIS NEPTUNE-FORSAKEN WASTELAND! YOU HEAR ME, YOU POROUS SPONGE?! I WANT OUT OF HERE!"

The bumpers, flippers, and ball bearings all jingled in response to Squidward's forceful kick. And, as if having been repaired by such blunt trauma, the machine rumbled and shook. The lights suddenly turned back on and the score cards started to slowly flip: 1 , 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 ,7 , 8 , 9, 10, 20, 30...

"What the?"

The cards picked up speed accelerating faster and faster, generating a small yet violent force of wind. 1,000, 10,000, 20,000...

"W-what's going on?"

100,000, 200,000, 300,000... 600, 000... 900,000, 999,996. The cards slowed to a crawl. 999,997, 999,998.

THUNK

The machine turned itself off again.

"Figures... everything in this place is absolutely worthless." Squidward stared at the lonely eight "I wonder"

He reached for the card and manually flipped it to 9. The machine turned itself on once more in an uproarious fashion. A siren on the top of the machine lit up and whirred, sparklers rose from the edges of the machine and burst into sparks, and an ancient brass record speaker lifted from behind the machine to shower the area in a 10 foot radius with confetti.

As the last bits of multicolored paper fell to the ground, the machine came into view once more but this time a curious lacquered oak jewelry box lay atop the glass pane.

Squidward cautiously reached out to inspect the box before immediately retracting his tentacle as the box's lid threw itself open.

A crude model of SpongeBob in a contorted ballerina pose, complete with a torn, frilly pink tutu, spun in circles. As Squidward watched this disconcerting scene, a melodious tune played and SpongBob's voice could be heard.

A treasure to be found

A treasure to be sought

A treasure far greater than whatever can be bought

A treasure to free you

A treasure that will take three of you

Don't give up, you have the key with you!

"Ok..."

A compartment in front of the box then popped forward a bit. Squidward reached for the lip of the drawer and slowly pulled it open in case any other explosions, fireworks, or other such dreadful surprises were to pop out.

Inside the drawer was a worn metal pin, rusted and bent in every which way, in the shape of a pentagram.

"Great... more junk" Squidward moaned as he took the pin and fastened it to his shirt.

"Maybe I'll get tetanus and be free from this dump. Or..." Squidward laughed to himself "Maybe someone will think I'm in some kind of cult and throw me out of here for free"