Hello! Gee, it's been quite a while since I published this, huh? Sorry about that, guys. I've been pretty busy lately, and also a bit stuck on where exactly to take this story (CURSE YOU, WRITER'S BLOCK!) Lol. But no worries, it's here now. Thank you for reading, favoriting, following, and for your awesome reviews! I appreciate it. I was inspired by Spades And Swords to write this chapter since she loves Plankton and Karen so much; I just had to add them in a little bit. I hope you like it, Spade!
Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters.
Holly Jolly Help
Like any frosty, wintery day, many people were out and about engaging in festive activities. Ice skating, enjoying hot cocoa at local cafés and coffee shops while chatting with friends, picking out the best Christmas trees they could find (whether it be from the Kelp Forest, or from some home improvement store), gathering around sidewalks and listening to street performers play classic holiday songs on their instrument of choice – Bikini Bottom was a wonderland of friendliness and joy this time around.
However, this year (like any other year), a good amount of the Bikini Bottomites had failed to do their Christmas shopping ahead of time, which left them with very little time and only one thing to spend their day doing.
The local mall was as crowded as could be, with fish-folks of all different sizes, wearing all kinds of cheesy Christmas sweaters, flocking to stores and blowing their money on gifts for their families and friends.
The giant building was pleasantly shaded a cool blue, with bright white snowflakes made from paper hanging from walls and ceilings, garland twisted around every staircase railing, silver bells jingling from wreaths that hung on entrances to shops, and a tall, brightly lit tree in the center of everything.
In front of said tree was a throne-like chair for "Santa Claus" to sit in, along with a small fish dressed in a green elf costume, and a long line of children waiting their turn to inform the Santa-fish of what they wanted the next day.
"Ho, ho, ho, little fellow! Merry Christmas!" said the bluefish in the red suit and synthetic beard, presenting the child in his lap with the deepest (and fakest) voice he could muster. If he wanted to get paid, he needed to be as convincing as possible, which seemed to be working so far until…
The little orange fish looked up at him suspiciously. "Hey, you don't sound like Santa Claus to me," he said, skeptically.
Santa chuckled jollily and smiled at him. "Nonsense, my boy! What makes you think I don't sound like myself?"
The child crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. "Well, your voice just cracked like three times, for one." His remark made all the other children in line giggle. "Besides, you're too lame to be the real Santa."
Santa peered at the floor, his face cringing in utter annoyance. The type of attitude from the child in his lap reminded him of the middle school bullies he dealt with when he was younger. Every generation, they never get any better. They just get brattier and brattier, he thought.
Brushing off his flustered nerves, Santa shook his head and played the part the best that he could. "Ho, ho, ho! Ho, ho… ho," he forced out, sounding like it was the most difficult and agitating task on Earth. Almost, he almost did his best. "Well, my dear boy, enough with the uh… small talk. It's time for you to tell Santa what you want for Christmas this year," he smiled.
The young fish smirked. "Hmm… let me think… ooh, I want there to be a holiday dedicated to losers! It could be called 'Santa's Day Off'!" he laughed along with the other children.
Santa shook with anger and growled, ripping off his white beard and slamming it onto the ground. "UGH! Fish-paste! I swear, all I wanted to do was make a little extra money, and I have to put up with little snot-nose barnacles like all of you!" he exclaimed, shaking his fist at everyone.
The line went silent. Every kid glanced at one another; each one forming the same diabolical plan to get revenge on poor ol' St. Nick for his brutally honest insult.
A good one-hundred feet away or so, stood Mr. Krabs and Squidward. The crustacean couldn't help but watch in grand curiosity and sympathy as the fish in a Santa Claus costume ran, got dragged, screamed, and had spitballs thrown at him by the obnoxious children.
Mr. Krabs, dressed in a navy blue sweater and green scarf, winced at the thought of the humiliation the fish was enduring. "Yeesh, I sure am glad I ain't in that guy's snow boots."
Squidward, however, couldn't focus very well on what his boss was speaking about. The octopus stood hunched over, with a large Christmas tree leaning against his back. "Oh, I'd rather be in anyone else's shoes or boots than where I am right now! Why couldn't we have just left this stupid thing in the boat?" he asked, clearly in pain and under immense physical pressure.
Mr. Krabs placed his claws on his hips and looked at his employee sternly. "Because I don't want some greedy barnacle lurkin' around in the parkin' lot and stealin' it. I didn't chop that thing down for nothin', ya know."
Squidward grunted as he lost some of his grip on the tree. He hadn't a clue that wearing his fuzzy, light brown sweater would be such a terrible idea on this day; his whole body was drenched in sweat due to how much he was being forced to use his muscles. "You didn't chop it down at all! I did all the work!"
"Well, I gave ya the orders, just like I'm doin' right now. Move your lazy tentacles! We need to find the perfect present for me sweet Puff."
The two walked -Mr. Krabs did, at least. Squidward was dragging along slowly, with the tree scraping against the ground- into a women's boutique. The store's walls were colored deep-rose, and racks of clothes, hats, and shoes were situated neatly in all areas.
Mr. Krabs shifted his eyestalks around in search of something that would capture his attention; or, rather, something that he thought would capture the essence of Mrs. Puff. He eyed a specific rack of hats, and the memory of her wearing that lovely sunhat from many years ago came to his mind.
Ah-ha, he thought, satisfied and intrigued. He scuttled over to the rack that was lined with a mix of feminine hats for every occasion, many decorated with flowers and feathers.
"Hmm…" he looked up at a plain, bright purple hat with a wide brim. "Well, somethin' tells me this would be most becoming on me Puffilly-poo," he smiled while picturing how well the color would complement her blonde locks. He reached up and gripped the top of the rough material, lifting it.
"AHH! Wait, I was just about to read the price tag– what the– Krabs?!" said a shocked Plankton, dangling from the inside of the hat.
Mr. Krabs' eyestalks widened in surprise, and his guard quickly went up at the sight of his nemesis. "Plankton?! What in Neptune's blue ocean are ye doin' here?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?" asked Plankton, sarcastic and already annoyed beyond words.
Mr. Krabs shrugged. "How should I know? Perhaps you're buyin' yourself this hat to use as a shield to protect yourself from your own failures, arg arg arg arg arg!"
Plankton rolled his eye and planted on hand on his hip. "Tee-hee-hee, you're so funny. No, for your information, I'm buying Karen a Christmas present," he smiled in a smug manner.
He knew he should have spent more time in the computer and gadget store before throwing up his hands and opting to buy something that he was unsure would be useful to his wife. After all, she was a piece of technology that had no need for any frilly items. But he was out of ideas at this point (and desperate), and seeing that Karen had become more interested in doing girly things, like being 'Gal Pals' with Sandy, Mrs. Puff, and occasionally Pearl, it gave him the idea that gifting her with something different might not be so bad after all.
Mr. Krabs huffed, scoffing at him. "Heh, you? Since when are you a thoughtful husband?"
Keeping the smile on his face, Plankton explained himself quickly. "Since Karen lasered me this morning after I told her she's just as foolish as everyone else for liking this moronic holiday, BUT it doesn't matter," he grinned. "Enough about me and what I'm doing, Krabsy. Just what are you and your worthless employee doing here?"
Mr. Krabs was rather offended. "Hey, Squidward ain't worthless!" he then smiled and placed his free claw behind his back. "He makes for an excellent shopping cart, don't ye, Mr. Squidward?" he looked all around, expecting to see said octopus. "Squidward?"
"Oh," he groaned, laying flat on the floor, his arms and legs spread out, with the tree on top of his back and covering most of his body.
The concerned woman at the register leaned forward and glanced down at him. "Is he okay?" she asked, looking at Mr. Krabs, who nervously nodded.
"Heh, oh, he's fine." He said, smiling widely at her until she began paying attention to something else. "Squidward," he whispered through the side of his mouth. "Get up, you're embarrassin' yourself."
"I'm in too much pain to be embarrassed right now," Squidward answered in a muffled voice, aching all over.
"Well, you're embarrassin' me!" said Mr. Krabs, glancing at a few women with confused looks on their faces. He chuckled and poked Squidward in the leg with his foot, causing another groan to erupt from him.
Plankton cleared his throat. "You still haven't answered my question, Krab-cake."
Mr. Krabs peered at the little booger attached to the hat. "I just so happen to be lookin' for a gift meself. Somethin' special for me Sweet Puff," he answered, lifting his head loftily.
"Ha! Good luck with that, Eugene. I can bet a million dollars that my gift to Karen is gonna be way better!" Plankton shouted with a large, evil smile.
"Oh, keep dreamin'! You don't even have a million dollars to bet in the first place," Mr. Krabs gave him a snooty nod with his eyestalks.
"Frankly, neither do you."
Mr. Krabs gasped loudly, suddenly oblivious to all the women staring at the strange scene. "What a filthy lie! I do too have a million dollars!" he stomped.
"How can you be sure when you've never spent a single penny of it?!" Plankton teased, swiveling his shoulders like a catty gossiping woman.
Mr. Krabs clenched his teeth and his claw. "Oh, why, I ought to– er, never mind. The point is me gift to Mrs. Puff is gonna blow yours out of the water!"
"Wrong! My gift to Karen is going to be so great, the whole town will have no choice but to grovel at my feet!"
From then on, the two men continuously shouted nonsense at each other. Luckily for their pride, they had no idea that the two women they were arguing over were just outside of the shop, both sipping on lattes.
Karen sighed, not surprised by her husband's actions. "Well, would you look at that, Gal Pal? Our men are childish enough to fight over who'll get the better gift," she said, looking over at Mrs. Puff.
The teacher shook her head and took a sip of the foamy drink in her mug. "I know. They're acting more immature than some of the teenagers at my boating school. It's really just ridiculous," she waved her fin through the air and smiled.
Karen nodded. "You said it. You know, this reminds me – I should finish my gift hunt for Sheldon."
"And I should finish mine for Eugene. Oh, wait till you see what I'm getting him," she said, her tone excited.
"Oh, no. Just wait and see what I'm getting for Sheldon. It's really quite something," said Karen. In truth, neither one had a single clue what they were going to be getting, but why admit to that, when they could just play pretend and make themselves feel better about it?
They stared back into the shop window, both sighing.
"Mine will be better," they said simultaneously, then looked at each other.
Mrs. Puff blinked, while Karen kept her screen blank. After an awkward silence, they shared in some light chuckling.
Who knew Christmas time could be such a competitive time?