2/1/20: Here's the fourth chapter. Understand that this story was supposed to be random from the start, and forgive me for having this story take a detour down rated M lane. Sorry to my friends who are not fans of the more risqué things in life, I can't help it. This is one wacky fanfic, and I'm planning a whole lot of random shit. Random shit that makes sense, though, if you find that comforting.

"P-Boy to Laptop. P-Boy to Laptop, do you read me?"

"What did I tell you about referring to me as such a device?"

"I know, I know. You think it's demeaning. I think it's hot, personally, but whatever, woman."

Plankton was in a corner of a wall inside SpongeBob's house, huddled by his bedroom door. It was quite easy to commit break-ins due to his size, made even easier by the fact that the front door of the pineapple abode had been left open by a certain foolish starfish. While lurking around Conch Street in hopes of an opportunity to carry out his plans, "P-Boy" had noticed the cracked door and used it as a means of entry. Perfect.

"Always kinkshaming me, Karen. All the time," he said, playfulness in his tone. "I'm over here conducting your dastardly plan, and you decide to ridicule what I find appealing. Shame on you."

"Shame on you, apparently."

"That was the joke."

The microorganism placed his invisible ear up to the door. "Ugh." He could hear SpongeBob stirring. Not that the sponge being awake would interfere with his plans, but he was curious. What was all that noise? He was planning to crawl beneath the door when he thought the boy was settled down or when he heard signs of weakness (e.g., crying, depressed noises), but so far, he heard no such noises. He had been inside the house for quite some time, maybe an hour or two. He'd listened to the sponge slam open the door, make himself lunch, cry, feed his snail, take a piss, and mumble something about needing some alone time, but after those events, SpongeBob had gone into his bedroom and he hadn't heard much since.

"Ugh, what?" the robotic voice crackled through the speaker of the walkie-talkie. "You still can't access our prime target?"

"I mean, I could if I really wanted to, but I'm not sure this is the best time. I don't wanna screw this up."

"You mean like how you screw up everything else?"

"Ah, shuddup," the word(s) came out in an irritated hiss.

"Oh, so I can't make jokes?"

"You are a joke."

"Okay, Sheldon. That's not right."

"I know, I know. Sorry. But I mean, it's true, though. 'Computer wife'. People think that's the funniest damn thing, and it boggles their mind that people even have them. I mean, sex robots exist, but a solid companion? They just don't get it."

"So I'm a solid companion now." To some, her words would sound like sarcasm, but to Plankton… well, it sounded like sarcasm. But he did detect a bit of genuine surprise in her voice, and he assumed she appreciated the words.

"Yeah, Karen. You may be a real bitch sometimes, but we've been together through thick and thin. You're the only one who could ever tolerate me, heh. I'm such a dick."

"What did I tell you about using phallic-related expletives?"

"And, there she goes again," he mumbled, pressing the off button on his "portable, two way-radio" [ , 2019]. (Guys, don't ask me why I put dictionary references here.) He pressed the side of his head more firmly against the door, but his hearing was not enhanced. A lightbulb appeared above his head. Being a derisory little scum actually works to my advantage. He lied down on the floor, stretching himself so that his eyeball could see inside the bedroom. Immediately, the reasons for all the grunting and groaning he had been hearing became very, very clear.

"Neptune above !" he cried. He slapped his hands over his mouth, scared he was too loud. Thankfully, the sponge didn't look up from the matters he was currently attending to.

SpongeBob was drenched in sweat and it glittered in the sunset, the warm glow flooding through his bedroom window. He was completely nude, his left arm outstretched towards his nethers, his face contorting in all sorts of abnormal ways. His breathing was shallow, and the name that fell from his lips was familiar. "Squidward," he moaned. "I need you." Vulgar language emanated from his throat like a waterfall.

Plankton gagged, his face turning an even darker shade of green than it already was. This had not been what he was expecting at all when he heard SpongeBob talk of alone time to his pet snail. Come to think of it, the thought had never even crossed his mind. To Plankton, SpongeBob was just a stupid kid. A kid that could squash him with merely the force of his fingertip, but a kid nonetheless. Nevermind how old he really was, SpongeBob was a juvenile creature that really should not (in Plankton's mind) be engaging in such wild acts of… whatever one might like to call the sight before him. It was just… wow. Wow was the only way to describe what lie before his eye. It was far from precious.

The more Plankton contemplated SpongeBob's actions, the more he found himself staring. He gawked at the way his fingers moved, the coltish digits circling without grace around his pores. He looks like a woman, he thought, immediately shooing the thoughts from his mind. That's detestable, Plankton. Don't think like that, he told himself. Though he couldn't help but ogle the boy's movements.

"Laptop to P-Boy, what's the news?"

"Shit!" he yelped and pulled himself out from underneath the door, back to where he originally sat in the corner behind it, his eye no longer fixed on the lewd image of SpongeBob in bed. The buzzing in his skin-pocket (You know how characters stuff things in their body and it's like a pocket?) caused him to freak out. "Ey, I thought I had this thing turned off," he hissed into the device. "What's the deal?"

"I turned it back on, Sheldon. It's not magic."

"Yeah, but how?"

"That's not important. Just tell me how far you've gotten. Have you entered the bedroom?"

Blah blah blah. "Somewhat. I peeked under the door. Not much is going on."

"Hmm. He's not in a state of self-pity?"

"Oh, just the opposite!" Plankton said, wanting so desperately to laugh out loud. How funny she should ask! Now, how was he going to explain this? "Well," he said, unaware of how hot his cheeks were, "I'd say he's in a state of self-pleasure."

"You're kidding," Karen said, hoping she'd heard wrong.

"Pardon my slang, but deadass, he's in there touching himself to thoughts of... oh gag me." He shuttered. " Squidward, of all people."

"Well, um… that's unsavory, but it's not unexpected. You suspected he was infatuated with the cashier. It should come as no surprise, honey."

"But it's SpongeBob," he practically screamed. "He's a kid!"

"He's a man. A man with needs, quite like your own. Who are you to judge?"

Plankton gripped tightly at the walkie-talkie, clenching his teeth. There was something absolutely irking about SpongeBob — SpongeBob, the stupid kid— conducting himself in such a way. He didn't really know how to explain his… anger? He wasn't even sure if it was anger. Maybe it sparked from wanting to always be the dominant one? Maybe it was driven by the desire to steal the formula? Whatever it was, Plankton couldn't stand it. He had never known SpongeBob to be this way. It was unnatural. It was… different. He knew about SpongeBob's obsession with Squidward, but to witness it so raw and so close, it was a site to behold.

As if reading his mind, Karen said, "You're having trouble accepting this, aren't you?"

Plankton sounded offended. "N-no, I- I don't care about the kid. He's none of my concern, I… I just like to keep the natural order of things, I guess."

"Sounds like you're having trouble accepting change. You're so used to the same routine, the same schemes. Change can be good, you know."

"But this?" he scoffed. "How is this good?"

"I can't say for sure. Maybe it doesn't seem good to you, Plankton, but change might be good for the frycook."

"He becomes a stuck-up pain in the ass and you think that's good?"

"Like I said, I can't say for sure. Just go talk to him."

"Now?" he questioned. "While he's in there doing his... thing?"

"This present predicament might seem like the worst time to do it, but based on some research and past experiences, I presume the SpongeBob will be vulnerable in this position. Go get 'im, champ!"

"Wish me luck," he said flatly.

Plankton clicked off the walkie-talkie and did a full-body shutter. Was he really going to barge in on this revolting performance? Just waltz in all casual-like on the exposed creature? He placed his ear to the door again, his breath catching in his throat. Let's just get this over with.

He crawled beneath the door, cringing at the sight again. Bracing himself for the reaction he would receive, he inhaled and screamed "SPONGEBOB!"

SpongeBob yelped out in surprise, and upon reflex, yeeted a pillow in Plankton's direction. He drew up the blankets to his nose and squinted at the spot where he had heard the voice. "Stay back. I'm warning you," he said, his eyebrows furrowed. (Okay, so he doesn't technically have eyebrows. Yay, new headcanon.)

Plankton grunted and gripped the carpet, pulling his bruised body out from under the large plush. He stumbled to his tiny feet and held his head, doubled over in pain. With a scowl on his face, he looked up at the sponge across the room, who was peering at him from beneath his floral covers. Inconveniently for the small creature, SpongeBob had a means of protection at his bedside, one he knew all too well: the spatula. Yellow fingers reached for the weapon. "Wait!" he hollered, putting out his own hand like a traffic cop. "Don't squash me."

"Why shouldn't I?" SpongeBob replied, slowly bringing the covers down so that his whole face could be seen. "You're trespassing on my property and intruding on my privacy. I think I have every right to use violent measures against you."

Damn, he was right. Why hadn't he thought this through? Practice precision, Sheldon. This is why you always fail to win. Stupid computer wife always acting as his conscious. He coughed nervously. "I just want to talk to you, SpongeBob." He approached him steadily. "Besides, I have no way of defending myself. I didn't come with laser guns or robots. It wouldn't be fair."

"I'm not an idiot!" A fire was burning within him, an anger he had felt the last time Plankton intruded on private property (the Krusty Krab). He took his spatula in one hand and his trusty dictionary in the other. "Keeping thieves off my property does not require me to ensure that fairness is at play. That's ludicrous ."

"Ludicrous, huh. You seriously carry a dictionary with you?"

"When slash if I can, I do," he admitted, nodding. "Not that it should concern you."

"Well, I was just going to say that, well, I do the same. It's uh… not often I meet someone who's as enthused with… er, vocabulary as I am." He shrugged, sweat dripping down the side of his forehead.

SpongeBob's eyes widened, the issue at hand temporarily forgotten. After all, he was SpongeBob. Some things never change. "Oo, what volume do you own?" He sat up, the covers pooling at his waist.

Plankton turned, shielding his eyes. The less he saw of SpongeBob's naked body, the better. "Volume? I didn't think there were volumes when it came to dictionaries."

"Whatever, just tell me which one you own."

"I, uh… Bikini Talk 101 ?"

SpongeBob's smile immediately left him. "You've gotta be kidding. That's the worst attempt at a distraction I've ever heard. I mean, really. I'll admit, you had me for a minute or so but then that awful name just t-totally blew it!" He began snickering. " Bikini Talk ? The actual barnacles is that? Is that a book about the lower half of a swimsuit? C'mon, Plankton, that was garbage if I've ever heard it."

"It really wasn't that funny, SpongeBob."

"Oh, but it was."

"Nah, not really."

"You can't respect my privacy and now you can't respect my sense of humor? You are sooo out of place here," he dragged out the syllable. "I'm in here minding my own business, trying to relax on the weekend after a… grueling day of work—"

"Put the stupid dictionary away; you're not clever."

"Okay, get the barnacles out," SpongeBob said, slamming his spatula briskly upon the bed. This created a loud whooshing sound and a piercing clang of metal that made Plankton visibly weak. The small organism was trembling, the color draining out of him in a green puddle at his feet. He was stark white in the face, and his teeth were chattering embarrassingly. SpongeBob grinned at him. On his face was plastered a malevolent smile he bore each time he felt more powerful than a person. His large cheeks creased beneath his eyelids, his teeth protruding from his mouth in its typical goofy fashion. The sponge looked much too excited.

"S-SpongeBob, look, can't we talk this out?" Plankton stammered. He felt his face get hot. Am I… Am I f-cking blushing? He hated this. F-ck it, he'd admit it: he hated not being in control. SpongeBob should be the one with the red face, lip trembling, but here he was, a derisory little scum, on his knees and begging for the boy's mercy.

"Talk what out, Plankton? I think you've talked enough." His face was stern, his unwavering smile seemingly stuck in place.

"Could'ya quit grinning all psychotic and whatnot? You're giving me the creeps."

"See, this is the issue, Plankton. You're so demanding."

"Now you sound like my wife."

"Good. At least someone in the Plankton family has good common sense."

Damn, there he went with the wit again. Ferocious. Who knew a sponge, an animal commonly harvested for use as a goddamn kitchen utensil, a trashable, mistreatable thing could be so vicious? It's like he had this inner sealion that just came out when he got all prideful and stuff. (That, and his "alone time" had been interrupted, and the needy fella hardly got any time to himself, thus why he was peeved.) That is NOT what Plankton had wanted to encounter at all when he'd approached the sponge. Maybe Karen was right, SpongeBob really wasn't naive anymore. He didn't play games. He couldn't be tricked.

Or could he?

"Well, uh, fine then, kid, have it your way. You win, you got me good. I'll just be leaving. Heh, probably gonna go and pester some other fool. I'll, uh… just go deliver this… magic box."

Magic box. Magic box. Magic box. Where the hell have I heard that before? "Plankton, what the barnacles are you talking about?" he said, throwing up his hands in exasperation. He fashioned a towel from his blanket and wrapped it tightly around his waist out of modesty before hastily crawling out of bed. He approached the intruder and got down on his knees to look him in the eye. "Turn around and answer me, you sorry son of a bivalve."

A smile quite like the one that had since left SpongeBob's face appeared on Plankton's own. He had the high ground now. SpongeBob wanted to hear what he had to say.

"Oh, but you asked me to leave," Plankton turned around and said, shedding a fake tear and wiping it from beneath his large eye. "I'm nothing but a burden. I'm trespassing."

"Gosh darn it, this is my home, and I'm telling you right now to not walk out that door."

"But wouldn't that be defined as holding me hostage?"

"Plankton, you came here wanting to talk, and I'm giving you the opportunity right now. If you turn down this opportunity, I'm gonna… press charges or something. I'll let you go by," he glanced at his dictionary, "unscathed just this once if you tell me what I want to know. Now what was all this about the magic box?"

Two large fingers pinched the tiny man's antenna and brought him over to the bed to be set down. "Those better not be the same fingers I saw you using on yourself," he said, shaking his fist.

SpongeBob sat on the bed and glared down at Plankton, who was beside him. "You're in no place to be making demands, Mister." He patted him roughly on the head.

"Alright, I get it. So," he began, taking a deep breath. "The magic box. I was referring to my tape recorder as Patrick had called it."

"Y-y-your... tape recorder?" There was a slight shift in his demeanor. "What about it?"

"Oh, nothing much, I merely have audio of you masturbating in my possesion, is all."

"WHAT?" he choked, slamming his fist down on the bed, causing vibrations to ripple through the mattress and knock Plankton over. This could not be happening. After a rough ending to a tiring afternoon with his best friend, the sponge had hoped to rest and rejuvenate at home and engage in his "Squidward fantasies" in peace, like any normal person would. (Am I right? xD) He'd worked his butt off the night before, and he was cranky. He deserved some serenity, he thought. Holy kelp, SquarePants, he's gone too far. You can not let him go without a fight. He has your dignity!

SpongeBob inhaled deeply, rocking back and forth with his hands gripping his knees. This was not okay and he needed to handle this in the most logical way possible. Plankton was smart, smarter than he'd like to admit. The scum knew how to get to him; he'd done it many times in the past.

"Ahem," he coughed nervously, trying to control his hysteria. "Plankton, might I ask you why you have me on tape?"

"Simple. To give it to Squidward."

"Squidward?!" the name couldn't help but leave his lips in a scream. He pulled at his lower eyelids dramatically, the red and blue veins grotesquely visible on the inner skin. "No, no, no, you can't do that! What in Neptune's name makes you think you can do something like that?"

"I have my reasons."

"But what would Squidward want with those tapes? You don't even talk to him like that!"

"Like what, SpongeBob? Like you do, fawning over him and flirting with him at every chance you get? No, I don't talk to him like that," he spat. "But I do know that he would very much appreciate some good ol' revenge, something I specialize in, which should come as no surprise. Me and Squidward had a conversation together not long ago about your stuck-up behavior and we've decided we want you kicked off the night shift. It'll be good for you, anyway."

"Kicked off the night shift?!" His eyes went wide, furious, and the stretched flesh of his 'lids slapped back into place. "Why do you care? And what the hell does my private business have to do with this?" His vision became blurry and his heart began to beat faster. Don't cry, you freaking idiot! Don't cry! Keep your cool!

"How do you not already know the answers to these questions, SpongeBob? I thought you'd grown smarter, more mature. I guess maturity doesn't always mean increased intelligence. That explains your need for that stupid dictionary."

SpongeBob's eyes brimmed with tears, his face going dark red. "Oh my gosh, you're so insensitive. You never think about anybody but yourself!" He sniffed up the trickle of snot that was escaping from his left nostril.

Plankton, fearing that the boy might (physically) lash out in anger, scooted a few inches in the opposite direction. Shaking his head, he looked up at him to say, "SpongeBob, I'm afraid that's you. You're so busy trying to prove yourself all the time, to the point of exhaustion. You're not thinking properly. Us taking you off the night shift will be to your benefit, kiddo."

"No, you guys can't do this!"

"We can and we will. It's two against one, buddy. Look, like I said, you're only thinking about yourself. What about Squidward? You love 'im, right? Then respect the desire that he has to be rid of your presence." He paused. "Well, that didn't exactly come out as gently as hoped."

"Rid of my presence? I was just… flirting with him the last time. Like I usually do. What's the big deal? A-and Mr. Krabs, he needs someone to watch over the Krusty Krab!"

"No, you 'need' to have your picture on the wall. Mr. Tentacles is perfectly capable of running a late-night shift alone. What do you think they did before you started working there? Besides, I know that Eugene does NOT keep his restaurant open twenty-four seven. Not anymore, that is. I'm well aware of your askings to stay late; Squidward mentioned them. To be frank, SpongeBob, you are literally only doing these extra things to try and prove yourself! To who? Yourself?!" His eye caught a glint of light, the evening sun revealing tears to be streaking down the sponge's face. "Oh, you poor, emotionally disturbed life form."

SpongeBob could do nothing but cry. What was he trying to prove? To who ? He wanted to work to the best of his ability, to put record-breaking effort into the job he'd trained his whole life for. What's so wrong with being the hardest-working person I can be? This is my whole life's purpose. He was overcome with sobs, his body convulsing all over. He unscrewed his eyeballs like light bulbs and from the sockets shot a fountain of tears. The tears spilled onto his bed, they spilled onto Plankton, and they spilled onto himself. His body absorbed the salty liquid until he had engorged himself to half the size of the bed. Gargling, he said, "Leave!"

"With the tape?" Plankton, who was wading through a river a tears, asked, somewhat stunned. "A-are you serious?"

"Just get out. You shouldn't be here." He shot a blast of water at the small creature, and it swept him under the door.

"Well, Karen, I didn't convince him to join us —I doubt he'd be swayed that easily, anyway— but I did manage to bring him to a state of sheer vulnerability. I even managed to record audio of him moaning Squidward's name. 'Operation Kick SpongeBob Off The Night Shift' is NOT a failure!"

"Yet."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, just HOW, exactly, is him saying the cashier's name going to get him removed from a late hours schedule? If anything, you'll get in trouble for stalking, doofus."

Plankton crossed his arms, turning to look at his computer wife. They were in their cozy bedroom, lying in their separate beds, a nightstand dividing them. He had come home from the pineapple not long ago, feeling as accomplished as ever, and he was not going to have his wife nag him during his moment of triumph. "Karen, honey, just leave it to the genius. I know what I'm doing. Look, Squidward wants proof of SpongeBob's harassment. This is evidence that will help to back up his claim that SpongeBob is constantly making googoo eyes at him."

"Okay, that's interesting, I'll give you that, but Eugene loves that boy. He'll be more offended at the recording's existence than at SpongeBob's actions. He'll ask Squidward whom he received the tape from. Why would he believe you?"

"Oh, Karen, you're looking too deep into this; must be your faulty processor. It's not like Krabs doesn't trust Squidward… right? He'll believe him, wouldn't you think?"

"I don't, Plankton. You hardly know Squidward. You don't know how close he and Krabs are. And despite that, based on what we know about his many employee of the month awards, Krabs favors the frycook."

He sighed. "For once in our lives can you stop picking apart my plans and just encourage me, woman? Look on the bright side or some cheesy shit like that. Search through your unit. I know I implanted you with some 'encouraging wife' feature in there somewhere. Or is that only for when we're having sex?"

"Don't bring sex into this, Sheldon! This isn't about me, this isn't about our intimacy, this is about you and the formula. That's all. As your wife, I am programmed to love and support you, but I am also very much allowed to criticize you. Maybe if you listened to me more often, you'd get farther in life. I know you don't like to hear it, but it's true."

"Ah, what do you know?" he huffed. "You're just a computer."

"I thought I was a 'solid companion'. And you do know that the root word in the word computer means 'seem reasonable', right? Maybe only in certain contexts, but the point still stands."

Plankton reached over for a small glass of water and brought it to his lips. The cool water poured down his throat and he gulped greedily, a grunt leaving as he swallowed. (Ha, water under water.) The silence in the room lead him to contemplate, and he reveled in the thought of the tape. That tape is gonna be my ticket to victory! I can practically taste those Krabby Patties, he mused, licking his lips. I can't wait to see the look on Karen's monitor when I bring home that blessed glass bottle. She's gonna be so stunned. And this will all be because of SpongeBob' sick fantasies! Who'da thunk it?

The memories from earlier began to infiltrate to the front of his mind, the visions of SpongeBob's circling fingers dancing through his head like sugar plums. Something about the way he'd been moving had captivated him, to the point where he had nearly forgotten to record his findings. That hadn't been the initial plan, to catch SpongeBob in the act. The idea was to take advantage of his emotions and manipulate him to quit his job at the Krusty Krab (and begin work at the Chum Bucket). Of course, it was bold to think that SpongeBob would give up so easily what he had worked so hard for, but it was worth the try. Ultimately, Plankton instead found himself using SpongeBob's own sex drive against him, and it managed to line up with the deal he and Squidward had made regarding kicking the boy off the night shift. It's all coming together. Karen worries too much.

His thoughts drifted to other matters. One thing I'll never understand is why the kid is so passionate for Squidward. The guy's an ol' killjoy, the complete opposite of everything that SpongeBob is about. Or was about, at least. And even before SpongeBob started acting like him, he was infatuated with the guy. It's no secret that he loves him. But why? I just don't get it. He was CRAVING his touch! Oh lord, his fingers. Huh, it's a wonder why sponges even have fingers. He chuckled. The noise caught Karen's attention.

"What are you laughing about, Planky?" she asked monotonously. After the conversation they'd just had, hearing a sound of joy come from her husband was peculiar. Plankton laughed all the time, but it was that typical villainous laughter, that classical muahaha . This laugh was different. It was lighter. It was genuine, completely unforced.

Plankton sat up and chuckled again. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, mumbling something under his breath. "N-nothing," he finally said. "I, uh… was just… laughing at the absurdity of it all." His voice was low.

"Absurdity?" Karen sat up, too, intrigued. "Hm, has Mr. Know-It-All finally come to his senses?"

"It's not about that, Karen. I'm not worried about the plan, I'm just… I-I'm thinking about earlier a-and I— I dunno," he faltered. He shook his head, his delicate antennae twitching as they floated side to side with the movement. If he didn't tell Karen what was on his mind, he'd be dwelling on it all night. Inhaling, he began, "Karen, I don't know w-what it was about the way SpongeBob was c-conducting himself in his bedroom, but I was… I was fascinated by it, to put it simply. The way his porous flesh twinkled, and the look on his face! Oh, mama…"

Karen just listened attentively, taking in her husband's lascivious words. "I-It had me gawking," Plankton continued. "And he was so exposed. And he was b-begging for Squidward. Begging . He writhed with such vehemence. Karen, it did something to me. I know it sounds perverted, but it… turned me on, I guess. I didn't act on the arousal, though, I just made a few tweaks to the plan, the next thing you know the room's flooded, and now I'm here. Oh! I-I'm ranting, I'm spieling now, I'm sorry." The tiny fella grabbed a fistful of blanket and bunched it up in his stubby hands. He felt sick to his stomach. " F-ck , this isn't right."

"No, it's not, but I'm not angry, if that's what you're worried about. You're an adult male with s-xual inclinations. Need I say more?" She let out a light chuckle of her own. "I won't kinkshame you over this one."

Plankton smiled. "Aw, how sweet," he replied, tone full of sarcasm the couple was all too familiar with. That's just how their relationship was: always teasing and arguing and sarcasm. It was slightly dysfunctional, they had their ups and downs, but ultimately they'd been together for very many years, and had no plans of going their separate ways anytime soon.

He thought about his wife's words. She said she wasn't angry. His shoulders sank to his sides and he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "A-and don't be thinking I'm attracted to that yellow menace or anything. I, uh, it was just what he was doing that I liked." He gripped the sheets tighter when his wife's robotic laughter met his ears. "Karen, I swear to god. Stop laughing at me!" He silently thanked Neptune for concealing his blush in the darkness.

Karen observed her husband. She could make out his features in the darkness, his tiny bean-like figure huddled into his bedsheets and long antennae drooped over. Plankton would display to her a side of him that others seldom saw. Others saw him angry, determined, upset, crazy, all sorts of wacky emotions, but Karen got to see his neediness, the vulnerable side of him that was compelled to cling to her when he was distraught. As Karen thought about this, she was reminded of SpongeBob's recent demeanor. There was not an emotion that SpongeBob had that he concealed. He'd opened himself up to the world and never saved a certain emotion to share with a particular person. Maybe the SpongeBob is ashamed of himself, and is hiding it behind a facade of prideful accomplishments. Maybe he feels as though he has allowed himself to be too vulnerable in the public eye. As, she processed these thoughts, she noticed her husband shift to look at her. She turned on her night vision and was met with his hot, sweaty face, a shaky smile on it.

"Karen, babe," he said almost reluctantly. "I'm uh… feeling pretty needy ." He gave her that look that she just couldn't resist, with his one red iris expanding to an absurdly adorable size. His lip trembled like a pouting toddler, but he looked like no child. He looked like a man. A hungry man. It was a pathetic display, but one only for the bedroom. This was his safe place.

A small pang of guilt hit Karen. This is what SpongeBob wanted, he wanted an intimate and fulfilling relationship. The poor boy, deprived, had tried to self-satisfy in the privacy of his own bedroom but was rudely interrupted. Something about that just didn't seem right. (That's because it wasn't!) She'd dwell on it later, however, as she had a horny hubby to attend to.