Wow, nothing like continuing a Christmas story in February, huh? XD. Thanks so much for the support you've all given this story! It really warms my Holly Jolly heart *laugh track*. Man, I'm lame, lol. Also, I've decided to make this into eight chapters, with a small epilogue (I always end up making stories a lot longer than I planned, ha). And this chapter, by the way, is EXTREMELY long and just all over the place; I hope you'll be able to make it through, lol. Anyways, enough of my babbling. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters.
Holly Jolly Help
~French Narrator~
"The next evening – all holly and full of Christmas cheer! Oh, how I love this time of year. Heh, you know, I am not just a narrator. I am also a pretty good poet. AHEM, anyway, let us see what our undersea friends are up to on this festive night, shall we?"
6 o'clock on December 25th. The stunning beauty of nightfall in Bikini Bottom was something that could warm anybody's heart and lift their spirits just by quietly observing it.
Surrounding the Krusty Krab was a thin sheet of snow and shimmering ice; thanks to the light from the Moon, the gifts from the weather shined as brightly as ever. Accompanying such a marvelous sight were the multi-colored strings of lights that were wrapped around every inch of the outside of the restaurant, as well as the giant clam-shaped sign.
The sky was mostly clear, with its deep shades of blue brought out by the shining stars, and the water was still, making the scene calm, quiet and uplifting.
Things inside the house of the Krabby Patty had a similar vibe; the atmosphere was pleasant and warm, with brilliant lights strung around all corners of the restaurant.
Well, it may have been cheerful for the most part, but it certainly wasn't quiet – not with the conversation that was being had, as well as the subtle insults being thrown every couple of minutes.
SpongeBob, Mr. Krabs, and Squidward worked to finish decorating the new, artificial Christmas tree that Krabs had been forced to buy at the last minute since the first one had been stolen at the mall the day before. There went his vow to himself that he wasn't going to spend money on such a thing this year.
Squidward, of course, wasn't in the mood to work by placing those cheap-looking bulbs on the plastic branches, but Mr. Krabs had insisted – ordered him, actually – to participate, seeing as how it was his fault that the other tree was no longer in their hands.
The crustacean didn't care to take into account how Squidward had been chased down by devilish children, thus causing him to abandon the tree in the first place.
Over the years, Krabs had slowly lost his ability to be understanding and forgiving, except with himself, of course.
SpongeBob, after throwing his Fancy Pants Emporium outfit in the washer, luckily still had a set of clothing that just as cozy, comfortable and festive. But he didn't need to worry about a tag hanging off his sleeve this time, because it was a cliché, ugly Christmas sweater he was sporting this night, specially made by his sweet, old grandmother. Bright red like a fire truck, with a green criss-cross design of a tree on the front, and a yellow star on top, the sweater was definitely eye-catching, but it wasn't as loud as it could have been, as he paired it up with a black, open vest and trousers to match, which gave him flashbacks of those long pants he once wore that made him feel more like a man.
"Ahh, isn't this great, guys?" SpongeBob asked with a blissful sigh, leaning to his left to sprinkle loose, silver tinsel over a branch. "All of us together on Christmas night, sharing in the peace, love, and harmony of this joyous occasion? I'm having the time of my life!"
"Ohh, yeah. So am I," Squidward replied in a bland tone, his eyelids drooping. His next sentence was spoken with that heavy sigh that usually meant his annoyance levels were rising. "I'm having just tons of fun enjoying these lovely blisters on the bottoms on my tentacles that have been here since late yesterday." He lifted one of his tentacles to reveal unsightly, red bumps around its suction cups; all of them way too realistic looking.
Mr. Krabs glanced up at him just in time to catch a glare that was forming on his face.
"No thanks to a certain forgetful boss of ours, who left me at the mall with zero transportation!"
"Oh, quit your bellyachin', Mr. Squidward. I had the important business to attend to of making a gift for me Puffily-poo," he leaned forward in front of SpongeBob so that he could peer at Squidward. "And I didn't have time to wait around for a certain four-legged employee of mine to finish gettin' beaten up in the parkin' lot by a group of kids, arg arg arg arg arg arg!"
"Oh, puh-lease! I will have you know that they didn't beat me up!" Squidward argued, taking his angry eyes off Krabs and placing the last green bulb in his pile on an upper branch.
"Yeah, you're right. They only pelted ya with balls of chewed-up paper. Nothin' embarrassin' about that, right? Arg arg arg arg arg!"
There was that same smug look on Krabs' face that he had when he had sat his boat in the mall parking lot for a minute and watched his employee get humiliated from a distance. In his opinion, what happened to Squidward might as well have been called a "beating", what with the way he was crying like an infant on the ground while the children stood over him.
SpongeBob stared up at Squidward's clenched face; his features shaking violently with rage.
"Aw, don't feel bad about it, Squidward! At least you're still alive."
"Gee, thanks, SpongeBob. That makes me feel so much better. Bonehead." Squidward released a puff of air from the side of his mouth and rolled his eyes, smirking at his own little dig. "Heh, bonehead," he snickered, "it's funny because you're stupid and an invertebrate."
SpongeBob stood there like the oblivious doofus that he often was, with a smile so bright it could've blinded someone. "You're welcome, Squidward!"
"Wha— I was being sarcastic, you dunce!"
"Sardonic is more like it," said Patrick from across the room, being lazy and sitting on a tabletop while chewing on those gingerbread cookies that SpongeBob had made with Sandy.
The other three men stared at him with expressions of troubled confusion. It was true that Patrick sometimes had a smart side, but it was still a wonder how he knew words, such as the one he had just uttered, but he had no clue about ones like "cannibal". And speaking of said word, Gary had shown it to him in the dictionary the day before, after he had gotten done rubbing his stubs.
Gary didn't care to explain the meaning to the starfish; he wanted to see if he could figure it out himself.
He would've done that had he been able to actually read the definition in the book. But since he couldn't, he had simply tossed it aside in SpongeBob's library, shrugged his flabby shoulders, kept waiting for SpongeBob to pick his shell phone out from the snow, and intended to eat the Christmas cookies anyways, whether some of them were star-shaped or not.
Now that the Christmas tree was all finished (except for a star to top it off with), SpongeBob headed over in the direction of his best friend, stopping once he reached the table. He inhaled a deep breath and let it go, staring out the glass doors at the dreamy night outside.
The serene ambience of this season made SpongeBob's heart feel as though it were being dipped in a river of warmth, hope, and nostalgia. He remembered the night that Sandy had treated him to hours of amazing information about Christmas; the way that she had jumped around and made all sorts of silly faces and poses to demonstrate the different traditions had made his pupils grow larger than the swarm of jellyfish in his gut at the time.
If it weren't for Sandy, Bikini Bottom would have been forever in the dark about this cheerful, heartwarming time of year.
SpongeBob was ever grateful to her for what she had done.
He knew it wouldn't be the same without her tonight.
Nevertheless, even though he was going to miss her presence this evening, he was still happy knowing that she would be with her beloved sister and three nieces; it would have been awfully selfish of him to want her to celebrate at the Krusty Krab instead of her cozy Treedome. Luckily, selfishness wasn't something that often had a place in SpongeBob's heart.
But sometimes life under the sea could bring about the best of surprises. Perhaps Sandy and her family would stop by for a visit at the end of the night.
He still held out hope for that.
"My, oh my. Isn't it just beautiful, Patrick?" SpongeBob said softly, placing his clasped hands against his chest as his eyes glistened with tears.
"Uh-huh, it sure is," Patrick replied in a distracted voice.
"All sparkly and soft, with a touch of magic."
"Oh, yeah, ha, ha. That's a good way to describe it."
In truth, they were talking about two very different things; SpongeBob referring to the glittery, fluffy snow on the ground outside, and Patrick talking about the tiny sugar crystals that twinkled on the pillow-like cookie in his hand.
Patrick surely knew how to appreciate true beauty.
"Doesn't it make you wanna go outside and play in it?" SpongeBob asked, biting his lip and grinning.
"Mm, mm, nope," Patrick said between chomps, "it makes me wanna stay inside and eat it."
"Huh? Patrick, what are you— "
When SpongeBob turned to the side, he was met with the sight of the empty plate that was borrowed from Sandy. His eyes then traveled up to his gluttonous best friend, whose mouth was covered in baked crumbs.
"Oh, tartar sauce, Patrick!" SpongeBob exclaimed, placing his hands on his hips. "Why didn't you save me one like I asked you to?"
"Well, I was going to," Patrick's blank face faded into a scowl. "But then I remembered how you left me hanging in the snow in Sandy's Treedome yesterday."
"Patrick, I have no clue what you're talking about," SpongeBob raised an eyebrow, his annoyed side taking hold of him.
"Pft, don't play innocent with me, mister," Patrick furrowed his eyebrows, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now I bet your phone's as frozen solid as I was all day yesterday."
"Oh, my shell phone!" SpongeBob slapped his hands against his cheeks, the memory of him throwing it out of the oak tree coming back to smack him upside the head. He wasn't even bothering to question how it was possible for Patrick to know that he had thrown it out of the tree in the first place. And he sure as heck wasn't about to question the other tale Patrick was telling about him being trapped beneath the snow.
"Oh, barnacles! I hope it's okay; I just added a new phone card to it last week," SpongeBob frowned, his shoulders slumping.
"What's this about your shell phone, boy?" asked Mr. Krabs, scuttling up to his yellow employee while holding an empty box that once held Christmas supplies.
"I left it at Sandy's place— "
"Left it? Pssh, more like buried it," Patrick remarked, rolling his eyes.
"What's he talkin' about, boy-o?"
"Well, sir, I threw it out of Sandy's tree before we got to decorating her Treehouse yesterday. But the thing is, I told her I'd call her tonight to see how she and her sister and nieces are doing. They're coming all the way from Texas for a visit."
"Oh, well, that ain't a problem, SpongeBob!" Mr. Krabs smiled, waving him off with his claw. "Ye can just use the phone here at the Krusty Krab!"
"Oh, yeah! Bahaha! Gee, why didn't I think of that? Thanks, cap'n!"
SpongeBob hadn't realized that his boss wasn't finished with his sentence.
"…for a small fee of twenty-five cents."
It was no wonder he had gotten a lump of coal in his stocking this morning; Santa Claus didn't just have a naughty list – he had a list of the greediest creatures in the sea, and Mr. Krabs was number one this year.
Well, he was number one every year, really.
"What?! That's preposterous!" Squidward shouted, standing near the pile of empty boxes in the far-left corner of the room. "We shouldn't have to pay to use the phone in the place that we work in!"
Squidward, though he hardly ever spoke reasonably to SpongeBob nowadays, and didn't think it was worth it, to begin with, decided there could be a chance that the porous weirdo might listen to him this time, much like he sometimes did in the past, such as when he convinced him to go on strike.
"You're not gonna take that, are you, SpongeBob?" he asked with determination, placing his tentacles on his hips.
Not surprisingly, SpongeBob's foolish and generous side won, and he reached into his back pocket, pulling out a shiny, new quarter and dropping it into Mr. Krabs' claw. "There you are, Mr. Krabs!" he looked up at the hour on the wall clock. "I think right now would be the perfect time to make that call," he zoomed over to the cash register where the push-button phone sat.
A sigh of defeat escaped the octopus, and his eyelids sagged lower than his enthusiasm. "I should've known. Once a ninny, always a ninny."
Meanwhile, since Patrick was finished indulging in the cookies (and had also eaten the plate that held them), he wanted to find something else to entertain himself with. Though sitting there all bored sounded relaxing, it was an activity he did on a regular basis as it was, so the idea of changing things up would be nice.
He turned his gaze up towards the tall, brilliantly lit Christmas tree. Anything shiny and pretty always managed to grab his attention, and this was no different. The longer he stared at it, the more his eyes widened with fascination. This reminded him of the time when he, SpongeBob, and many Bikini Bottom citizens were singing "The Very First Christmas," and he brought his line of the song to life by jumping on top of the tree outside Squidward's house.
Doing so had bruised the inside of his derriere for many weeks, but it was worth it with how much fun he had, being a decoration for a while.
The tree he was staring at right now looked naked without something on top to complete it.
"Hmmm…" he rubbed his chin as memories of their first Christmas continued to flash through his usually vacant headspace. "Hey, Mr. Krabs?"
"What is it, Patrick?" Krabs asked, a hint of frustration in his voice as he fumbled with a strand of lights that had come down from the wall, in the very back corner of the room.
"Do you have any plans to uh…" Patrick scratched the top of his pointy head. "Finish with the tree?"
"The tree is already finished, boy."
"But what about the star?"
"Ha! You should've seen what they charged at the store for those chintzy, little pieces of glass. There was no way I was about to waste any more of me money than I already had buyin' that hunk of plastic greenery." He turned his head slightly to glance at the curious sea star. "We're just gonna have to do without a star this year."
Or would they?
Patrick turned back to look at the tree.
A star on top will complete all the scenery…
The lyrics to that lively tune grew louder until a genius idea flew into his mind.
To him, it was genius. In reality, it was another buffoonish move that could potentially destroy all of the work that the three men had done earlier.
As SpongeBob picked up the silvery-blue receiver and was readying his finger to dial Sandy's number, his pet snail rolled over to him on a light blue skateboard (or snail-board, to be more accurate). For once, Gary's eyes were filled with glee instead of bland annoyance.
"Oh, hey, Gare! Are you enjoying the new present you got from Santa this morning?" SpongeBob asked with a giddy smile, leaning against the boat.
Gary nodded his eyestalks and grinned. "Meow, meow! (Oh, yes! This thing absolutely rules! I think I'll ride it around some more.)"
"Okay," SpongeBob chuckled, watching as the mollusk smoothly turned the sports equipment to the left, rolling around a table. "Just be careful with that thing, m'kay? You never know what kind of dangerous, secret functions it might have, what with Santa's elves being full of surprises and all."
Oh, Papa-Bob and his silly imagination and fears.
That hint of irritation returned to Gary's eyes, only this time, it was mixed with amusement. "Meow (Pft, yeah, right. 'Dangerous, secret functions.')"
Coming to a slow stop on the snail-board, the things that his owner said had pushed their way through a small opening in Gary's thoughts and were now tearing into them, making the tiny hole a gigantic one so that they could invade his brain completely.
He looked down at his new toy with temptation and genuine interest. "Meow? (Hmm… 'secret functions', eh?)"
"Curiosity killed the snail" was a saying that might just apply to this situation.
With the devious mollusk now exploring the possibilities of what the object underneath his slimy undercarriage could do, and Patrick slowly approaching the Christmas tree with his "genius" idea, it was safe to say that things would turn chaotic.
Very soon.
"Hmm…" SpongeBob tapped his foot against the green, wooden floorboards and waited anxiously for Sandy to pick up on the other end. "I wonder why she isn't answering..."
"Maybe she isn't picking up because the caller ID on her phone says, 'incoming ding-a-ling'. Heh, heh, heh!" Squidward laughed, slapping his knee while his nose inflated and deflated.
SpongeBob shook his head, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. "No, that can't be it, Squidward. Sandy's house phone doesn't have caller ID."
Why did the cephalopod even bother with the insults at this point?
"Mayhaps she's just busy with her sister and the three little monsters— I-I mean, nieces," Patrick said with a shake of his head, remembering what tiny terrors Pistachio, Macadamia, and Hazelnut were to him the day he met them.
"Hm, I guess you're right, Patrick…" SpongeBob placed the receiver back on the hook, only to pick it up again seconds later. "Maybe I should keep trying." He showed a small smile and pushed the cold buttons with numbers printed on them. "I mean, I should've expected her to be busy with them anyway," he planted a hand on his hip. "That's the whole reason I'm calling her in the first place is to see how they're doing, like I mentioned earlier, bahaha!" he laughed in a way that allowed the others to see he was being a bit smug but was also hiding some nerves under that spongy exterior of his. He couldn't have been laughing at his own joke, because dear Neptune, it wasn't funny. It wasn't even a joke, at all.
"Are ya sure you're not calling her to talk about the K-I-S-S-I-N-G—ING you guys were doing in her tree yesterday?" Patrick asked matter-of-factly, loud enough to catch the attention of Krabs and Squidward, who would both just love to know that kind of information.
"Huh?! Wha—why, n-no, Patrick!" SpongeBob shook his head quickly, his smile dropping straight off his lips. If his face were a movie screen, it would be showing a film called, "Humiliation Central."
"Meow, meow! (Oooh! Papa-Bob and Sandy sharing a smooch, huh?)" Gary wiggled his eyebrows while still messing with his snail-board.
"Well now, ain't that somethin'? Arg arg arg arg arg arg!" Mr. Krabs teased with a playful smirk.
"Oh, no, Mr. Krabs! Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha! I-it isn't what you think," SpongeBob shook with weak laughter. "Y-ya see, w-we were just hanging Christmas bulbs and stringing up lights in there and we— "
"Were you stringing up hearts in there, too? Heh, heh, heh!"
The mortified look in SpongeBob's blue eyes was replaced with serious confusion. "Wouldn't that be done on Valentine's Day, Squidward?"
"Oh, I. Give. Up!" Squidward threw his tentacles in the air out of pure exasperation. Again, why did he bother with this fool?
"Anyways, guys, you've got it all wrong; S-Sandy and I weren't kissing, ah, ha, ha!" SpongeBob placed the receiver back down on the hook again, picking it up shortly after to dial a third time. "That would be ridiculous, wouldn't it? After all, she's one of my best friends— "
"Hey, I thought I was your best friend!" Patrick said, sadness, anger, and fraudulent betrayal showing on his face.
"I-I said one of my best friends, Pat."
"Oh…" Patrick sniffled, wiping away a fake tear, "carry on."
"The point is, Sandy and I didn't kiss! W-we wouldn't kiss; we're just good friends. Good friends don't share kisses! I mean, just because we almost kissed under the mistletoe that was growing out of a branch in her Treehouse later on in the evening yesterday, doesn't make a hill of barnacles, right? Ha, ha!"
"A-ha!" exclaimed Mr. Krabs, pointing a claw towards him, after he and the others gasped dramatically.
"'A-ha' what, Mr. Krabs?" SpongeBob asked.
"Didn't you hear what just came out of your own mouth, you buffoon?!" said Squidward, stretching out his arms to demonstrate his frustration.
"Uhhh…" SpongeBob itched his chest where his ugly sweater was irritating his skin. "S-somethin' about… " he gulped, "hills and barnacles? Heh, heh…"
The thought of his little, innocent employee kissing someone who wasn't his mother, grandmother, or pet snail was as amusing to Mr. Krabs as Plankton trying to steal the formula. "Aye," he scuttled over to SpongeBob and wrapped a fatherly arm around him. "Just relax, boy-o," he said, noticing the sweaty look of worry on the sponge's face. "There ain't nothin' wrong with kissin' the lass of your dreams!"
"B-but Mr. Krabs, I— "
"In fact," Krabs said with a proud smile, scuttling over towards his open office. "I'd say this is a cause for celebration!"
"What is?"
"Havin' your first kiss!"
"But Sandy and I didn't kiss, sir…"
"Eh, yeah, you're right…" he rubbed the back of his shell, looking off to the side and trying to sort out his thoughts. "Well, then it's a celebration of money!"
"But what does money have to do with anything?"
"Nothin'; I just like celebratin' it, arg arg arg arg arg!" with that, Mr. Krabs scuttled away into his office, leaving SpongeBob to pay full attention to the phone.
After placing the phone back on the hook and picking it up yet again to dial the familiar number, SpongeBob's ear was suddenly filled with low, repeated sounds of beeping. A slight gasp came from him, and he snapped his fingers. "Oh, barnacles!"
"What's wrong, buddy?" asked Patrick, who was just about to start his climb up the tree; his right leg wrapped around part of the right side of it, and his left arm around the upper left portion.
"The line's busy now."
"Hm. Need some help?"
SpongeBob stared into space with a concerned and far-off look. "That's nice of you to offer, Patrick, but there's really nothing you could do to hel— "
Much like the way in which SpongeBob still had his 'Quickster' speed, Patrick was able to activate his 'Elastic Waistband' powers and stretch his right arm like a thick rubber band, reaching all the way over to grab the phone away from SpongeBob's hand and pull it back to his own ear. How the receiver could be stretched that far without snapping, or without the whole phone getting yanked out from the wall was quite a mystery.
"Hey, line!" Patrick yelled into the speaker, "stop being busy, so SpongeBob can talk to Sandy!"
In the office, Mr. Krabs made his way to the desk, where a short, dirty, jet-black kitchen appliance sat.
Tonight was the perfect time to use the brand-new coffeemaker that he had recently purchased from a garage sale, held by Old Man Jenkins.
Well, perhaps it wasn't brand-new; according to Jenkins, it had actually been sitting out in his garage for the last forty years or so. But anything that Krabs didn't have to pay big bucks for was good enough to be considered new in his eyes.
He had tested out the machine earlier in the day, and the beverage that it had produced, which was supposed to have been hot sea coffee, tasted like a sour, moldy Krabby Patty instead, and he refused to believe that until Squidward spat it in his face, and that allowed him to get a good taste of it.
It should've been thrown away ages ago, but Krabs still wanted to get his money's worth out it, even if it sent him to the bathroom to vomit, as had happened when he had tasted the coffee the first time.
He would never learn, would he?
"Do, dee, do, do, do, do," he sang with a smile as he stood in front of the desk, opening a blue, plastic jar full of cocoa powder and taking a silver tablespoon to scoop some into a white coffee filter.
Since the pot of plain sea coffee didn't go exactly as planned, he thought that perhaps the brown, finely ground substance was sweet enough not to be affected by the disgustingness of the appliance.
Or he could just clean the whole pot and system so that there wasn't a chance of it tasting nasty at all, but that would require more work than he was willing to put in.
"Ah," he sighed with happiness, putting the lid back onto the jar. "Nothin' quite like the warmth of a steamin' cup of processed sugar and crushed beans to celebrate what makes the world go 'round, arg arg arg arg arg arg arg!"
With the cocoa ready, and a clear measuring cup of water nearby, it was time to start the "celebration". He lifted the black lid on the coffee maker, allowing him to see into the reservoir and the basket in the center to place the filter in.
"Oh," he glowered, "scallops! Looks like I forgot to clean this contraption out from this mornin'." He stared down at the moist, black pile of crumbs sitting in a wet filter and intended to dump it into the trash.
"What the barnacles?" he jumped a bit, raising one eyebrow as something dark green and jellybean-shaped popped up from inside the coffee grounds.
"Heh," his eyes darted around the room, "geez, and here I was believin' the lie that coffee grounds are supposed to ward off insects. This thing must be dirtier and more filled with bacteria than I thought."
Coming up with a quick solution to this problem, he pulled a wooden toothpick out from his shirt pocket and poked the 'insect'."
"YOWWW!"
"AHHHHHH! MOTHER OF PEARL!"
Mr. Krabs nearly toppled over when the creature burst out of the old grounds and screamed at the top of its lungs, holding its backside.
"Hey, what's the big idea?!" Plankton angrily said, glaring up at him and rubbing his rear end.
"Wha— you just— " Mr. Krabs shook his head and gritted his teeth. "' What's the big idea'?! Just what do ye think you're doin' inside my new coffee maker?!"
"Not looking for the secret formula, that's what! And ya call this thing 'new'? Heh! Yeah, right. Maybe it's new to a homeless person living at the dump," Plankton's voice trailed off as he looked to the side, avoiding Krabs' scolding gaze.
"What— the secret formula?! Why would I be hidin' me precious sandwich recipe inside an old coffee maker?!"
"I thought you just said it was 'new'?" Plankton snidely spat, squinting.
"Never mind what I said! Just… get the barnacles out of me utensil before I poke ya again – and if ye don't get out, this time, it's goin' in deep."
Plankton couldn't help the pool of saliva from filling in his mouth as his fear grew upon seeing the threatening look in Krabs' eye, while he held the toothpick like a miniature barbecue skewer.
Being squashed every day was one thing, but not being able to use the toilet for a long time was a whole other thing.
Plankton pulled himself out from the filth and jumped onto the desk, looking at himself with pure disgust while trying to brush off the wet crumbs. "Alright, Krabsy, I'm out. Yeesh, are you forgetful or what? Don't you clean things before you go to use them again?"
"Forgetful? Ha! Says the man who told me he'd give me a call to finish his pathetic little insult yesterday," Mr. Krabs crossed his arms over his chest, peering down at him.
"I couldn't think of a phrase clever enough to finish destroying you with, okay?! I got caught up in making Karen's gift after I got home anyway." He hopped down from the dark surface, landing on the floor and slowly approaching the exit.
Deciding that their bet over who made their woman the better gift was more interesting than drinking cocoa drained through a moldy appliance, Mr. Krabs set everything down and followed the tiny schemer. He should have known that he would pull something like this sooner or later, considering how he had previously mentioned something about sneaking off to the Krusty Krab and "getting his hands on that formula."
"Oh, yeah? And just what is it that ye made for her, Mr. 'I built the Chum Bucket with my own two hands'?" Mr. Krabs sneered.
Plankton was no bigger than a grain of rice, so he could've easily just walked straight between Krabs' legs to go out into the restaurant, but something about that mocking smile and laugh infuriated him and urged him to reply, even though the crab didn't deserve his attention.
"Ugh," Plankton growled, "I already told you, I'm not tellin' you a thing about what I made." He closed his eye, giving a smug smile and clasping his hands behind his back. "You'll just have to wait for Karen to open it so that you can be knocked right off your pointy crab legs like a sailor being tossed about at sea, and then you can wallow in jealousy and misery." His smile flipped like a dime and turned into a rageful frown. "Which is exactly what I'm always left to do every time you kick me out of here!"
Mr. Krabs wanted to cackle at him jumping up and down like a spoiled toddler. "Argh, argh, argh!" he laughed, "I wouldn't have to kick ye out if you would just stay out." He bent over to give Plankton another glare, and to the evil genius, this crusty moron bending down to his level reminded him of the giant, red monster that always attacked him in his nightmares.
Now that he thought about it, Mr. Krabs was that giant, red monster in his nightmares!
"And fine. If you're so sure about your wife's present knockin' me off me sailor's legs and makin' me wallow in all the self-pity that you're always wallowin' in, then I suggest ye prepare to get blown all over like there's no tomorrow, 'cause the gift I made for me Sweet Puff is gonna suck you up and spin you around like a big, deadly, ragin' whirlpool." He stood back up after breathing his rotten breath in Plankton's face. "And then ye can send me that dollar by bottle after that whirlpool spits you out and leaves ye stranded on 'Loser Island', sucker!"
"Ha! I would love to be stranded anywhere, so I wouldn't have to see your face!"
"That makes two of us, ya one-eyed parasite!"
"Large, greedy coin sniffer!"
"Tiny, thievin' bilge rat!"
"Hard shell jerk-face with boxing gloves!"
Mr. Krabs stared at him blankly, confused by such an insult until he lifted his shiny, red claws and examined them.
"Well, they do kind of look like boxing gloves," Plankton shrugged, looking at him nonchalantly.
"Hey, you're right." Krabs gave a crooked smile, which Plankton returned to him for a few moments until they started spitting out more ridiculous names, talking over each other.
"I gotta say, Puff, going to that fancy Mann's Manliest Man Gifts store near your place was the best idea ever. I really think Sheldon's gonna love his little surprise," said Karen, pulling out a light green gift box, wrapped in a purple ribbon. The package was rectangular and the size of Plankton himself; whatever was inside of it was sure to please him, as long as it wasn't a tiny fruitcake, which he typically hated but had gotten plenty of from Mr. Krabs the year before.
"I'm glad you think so, Karen," said Mrs. Puff, walking alongside the computer while wearing her long, blue coat and matching scarf. "That place always has the best deals, which I'm sure would make Eugene very happy," she chuckled and pulled out a square box that was concealed inside of a bronze-colored mesh bag, with a shiny, brown ribbon tied around it. "Speaking of deals, I think he's going to love this heavenly new musk I got him; it was on sale for a dirt-cheap steal, but you would never know because it smells so expensive and just— "
"Heavenly?" Karen finished, her tone knowing and jokingly annoyed. "Hm, so you've said… thirty-eight times."
"You mean you've been counting?"
"Yes. I also counted how many times you used the tester for that cologne at the store – twelve. Ya know, something tells me you don't buy Mr. Krabs those fragrances every year just for him to enjoy."
"Oh? What makes you say that, Karen?"
As they approached the outskirts of the Krusty Krab, Karen looked to her left at her Gal Pal as she took out the bag again, opened it up, and pulled it out the bottle to sniff the atomizer deeply until her nostrils looked like small caves.
"I may have a screen instead of eyes, but I can still see the obvious."
The two laughed joyously as they entered the glass doors of the restaurant, Mrs. Puff placing Krabs' gift back in her pocket just in time before he could see it.
But even if she were spraying it all over the place, right out in the open, he wouldn't have noticed because he was too busy arguing with Plankton in the doorway of his office.
Karen and Puff shared a bored glance, both knowing that they should've expected something like this. "Hah," they sighed together, "Men." This wasn't the first time that that short word had been uttered; this reminded them of the time when they had shrunk down as amoebas in Sandy's treehouse, and those two barnacle heads, along with SpongeBob, had somehow infiltrated their space, interrupting their Gal Pal time.
"You know, I think they're somehow still unaware of the fact that we saw and participated in their shenanigans yesterday," Karen leaned in toward her, speaking quietly while looking away from the argument and scanning the strangeness that was taking place: SpongeBob tugging on the phone cord that was being stretched across the room, Patrick yelling into the receiver as he clung to the tree, Squidward laying on top of a table with a pillow under his head while he read a magazine, which really wasn't all that strange for him to do, and finally, Gary flipping over a skateboard and staring at it as if he was searching for specks of dust.
"I think you may be right, Karen," Mrs. Puff said, placing a fin against her lip and observing the scene. "Do you think we should tell them about all that, and that we know about the bet, too?"
"Mm, no. I think we should wait to tell them everything after we've seen what they've got in store for us in their tiny pockets, which especially applies in Sheldon's case, ha, ha!"
The two women shared a small giggle as they got closer to the office door.
"Patrick, can you give the phone back now, please?" SpongeBob asked, his voice nagging as he became more and more annoyed with his friend. "I really don't think Sandy's going to get off the line with whoever it is she's talking to any time soon. Oh, hi, Karen! Hi, Mrs. Puff! Merry Christmas!" he waved to the ladies, his sweet and childish smile returning, which, to Mrs. Puff, was just creepy. Even when he was just being his usual kind self, he was still a menace to her.
"Merry Christmas, SpongeBob. Are you having some phone trouble?" asked Karen, nodding to Patrick as he continued yelling nonsense into the receiver.
SpongeBob glanced in the direction she was looking in and chuckled shyly. "Heh, heh, yeah, you could say that. Patrick's just trying to help me get ahold of Sandy."
"Hey, who are you callin' a jerk, line?!" Patrick demanded, staring angrily at the phone as if it were a real person. "You're the one being a jerk; you won't let my friend talk to Sandy!" he waited three seconds and then released an irritated breath, as though he had gotten a response. "Don't you back-sass me!"
"You no good, pointy-legged money-grubber!" Plankton spat at Krabs, stealing Karen and Puff's attention away again.
"Slimy, green chunk of snot!" Krabs retorted.
"HA! So, that's the best you can do, eh? I win!"
"What?! You most certainly do not!"
"Do too!"
"Do not!"
"We say you're both losers."
"Huh?"
Karen and Mrs. Puff couldn't help but laugh again at their men looking at them like they were lost drivers asking for directions on the highway.
"Eh, heh, heh…" Mr. Krabs nervously laughed, rubbing the back of his head with his claw. "Good evenin', ladies!"
Plankton's expression was no less diffident. "W-we were just— "
"Having an insult contest?" Karen asked, looking at Mrs. Puff, who nodded with a smile.
"We know," said Mrs. Puff.
Now finding something more meaningful to wrap their egos around, Mr. Krabs and Plankton jumped to the sides of their women, displaying what they thought were smooth, suave smirks. But really, they looked dopier than Patrick whenever he got free ice cream.
"Heh-hay, Karen, babe, what's shakin'?" Plankton chuckled as he stood at the bottom of her stand, twirling his finger around her metal pole.
"Ahoy, me sweet Pullily-poo! How's that new blue coat I bought keepin' ye tonight, eh? Feelin' warm, I suppose?" asked Mr. Krabs, wrapping his arm around the boating teacher.
The women looked at each other; Karen rolling her green, digital eyes, while Mrs. Puff did the same with her real ones.
"Well, if anything on me was 'shaking', I think it'd be safe to say I'd be malfunctioning."
"Oh, yes. It certainly is warm, Eugene. It's been keeping me warm for quite a long time…" Mrs. Puff chuckled, her smile then fading into an unamused scowl. "After all, I bought it over ten years ago."
Instantly, the two egos were popped and began to deflate faster than a pair of blown tires.
Ten minutes later…
The group of Bikini Bottomites was still being entertained by the sight of Patrick yelling his head off into the phone.
"Come on, don't be such a coward, line! If you think you're so tough, why don't you come out of this phone and show me what you got, huh? I'M NOT AFRAID OF YOU!" Patrick's voice thundered.
"Oh, what's the use, Patrick?" SpongeBob sighed sadly, bags forming underneath his eyes. "Let's just forget about it."
"Okay."
"OOH!"
SpongeBob flinched in pain when the receiver came flying back and hit him in the face. He rubbed his cheek with one hand while picking up the object and setting it back down on the hook with the other.
Mr. Krabs scuttled over to him, placing a comforting claw on his shoulder. "Don't be disappointed, boy-o. Sandy's probably just busy talkin' with her furry relatives, heh."
"I don't know, Mr. Krabs. She wouldn't pick up all those times I called her, and then the line was busy for so long…" he frowned. "What if something's gone wrong?"
"Well, we can't know that for sure, lad. Not unless she finally decides to— "
RING, RING, RING!
SpongeBob's eyes shot towards the phone like it had caught on fire. His yellow hand raced to pick up the receiver, and he slammed it against his earhole. "Hello, is that you, Sandy?" he frantically spoke.
"Howdy, SpongeBob. Yeah, it's me."
"Phew! Thank goodness!" he smiled. "What a relief. I was so worried something terrible happened to you guys. I thought maybe one of your nieces kicked a hole through your dome and you had to call for help. Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha!"
Sandy's small smile turned into a frown upon hearing him refer to her family, who were nowhere to be seen in her treehouse.
"Yeah, about that, SpongeBob…"