Under the Sea (Revised)

by 999nomead

A novelization of the SpongeBob SquarePants TV show. This is the revised version of the story that had been written between 2016 and 2019. This story is incomplete and will permanently remain so.

15. Home Sweet Tiki

Chapter 15: Home Sweet Tiki

A few hours later…

S-S-S-S-S

The Krusty Krab's dining room was filled with debris. The chairs and tables had been tipped over and scattered around the room.

Squidward, holding a metal rod with a point at its end, was stabbing the debris and then putting them into the bag strapped to his shoulder. When he stumbled upon a broken trash bag that had its foul-smelling contents spread out, he grimaced.

"Do I really need to do this?"

Mr. Krabs was standing on a table, overlooking the work of his two employees. He was holding the cash register, which he had brought from his anchor.

"I already cleaned up some of th' mess. If you wanna keep yer job, you better keep goin'."

Squidward sighed, pinched his nose; and, in a minute that seemed to last for an hour, he shakily stabbed the contents and flung them into his bag.

SpongeBob, with the nimbleness of a dancer, was either tossing debris through the restaurant's entrance debris that was too large or scooping debris with a shovel into his bag.

Mr. Krabs hopped to the floor and kicked Squidward in the rear.

"C'mon, lad! Can't you move at Mr. Squarepants' pace?" He returned to the boat. "Not a single customer will come here until this place is squeaky clean."

The word 'clean' echoed in Squidward's thoughts. He looked through the windows at the barren landscape. The newly formed sand dunes made him visualize Poseidon's hand wiping all signs of urban sprawl from the seafloor.

"Clean," he whispered.

A pause.

Mr. Krabs placed the cash register on the tip of the boat's bow.

'Let's see if Mercury answered me prayers.' He opened the cash register and counted the money in each slot. "...five, ten, twenty-five, blue, applesauce. Everything looks to be in order…" He squinted. "Except… where is it?" He removed the tray from the register, looked into the tray's slot, but still could not find the coin. He slammed the tray back into the register. "Where is it?!"

"What?" said Squidward.

Mr. Krabs jumped out of the boat again. Sweat was beginning to gather in his claws.

"Me dime. Me special dime. The first dime I ever got." He glanced at the tables. "I always keep it in the back of th' register for luck."

"Well, I haven't seen it," droned Squidward. He stabbed a can so hard that the soda lingering in it squirted.

"Hmmm…." Mr. Krabs marched up to Squidward with his claws on his hips. "Are you prepared to say that while yer shirt pocket's full?" He poked Squidward's shirt pocket, which was filled crumpled notes that had financial numbers scribbled on them.

"Of course I'm-" Squidward took a step back. "What're you saying?"

"Me?" Mr. Krabs took a step forward. "I ain't sayin' nothin' that would matter to anyone who would be able to take a lie detector test!" He opened Squidward's bag.

"You're saying something!" Squidward stabbed his stick into the floor and crossed his arms.

"Heavens to Betsy, no!" Mr. Krabs widened his eyes and raised his claws towards the ceiling in feigned shock. "It's just that me lucky dime's gone missin', and you"—he poked Squidward's nose—"Were the last one to touch th' register before that gale came by."

"Are you accusing me of something?!"

"Well, th' way I see it, there are three possibilities. One, you stole it." Mr. Krabs grabbed Squidward's trash bag so hard that it unstrapped from Squidward's shoulder. He threw it to the floor. "Two, you stole it." He grabbed Squidward's employee hat and looked inside it. "Or three, you stole it!"

"I didn't take your precious dime!" Squidward snatched his employee hat and put it back on. He restrapped his bag.

Mr. Krabs grabbed Squidward's stick and threw it to the side.

"Show me your tentacles."

"What?"

Mr. Krabs grabbed Squidward's hands and made the palms face forward. "I wanna see every suction cup."

SpongeBob was wiping the cash register with a towel.

As SpongeBob looked at him, seemingly every foul word Squidward had spoken to him flashed through his mental noise. However, the memories vanished as soothing images of Tentacle Acres flowed into his mind. He then looked in the direction of his neighborhood.

'I can't stay here. I have to do it!' He caught a glimpse of SpongeBob's smile. 'If I stop living in this trash heap, maybe I'll stop being a good-for-nothing.' He loosened his arms, submitting to Mr. Krabs' examination. 'If I can live with people like me, my own kind, maybe Sponge'll forgive me.'

"You okay?" SpongeBob waved towards Squidward.

"Yeah," nearly whispered Squidward.

S-S-S-S-S

Two days later...

S-S-S-S-S

April 8, 2018.

6:30 AM.

Bikini Bottom had been cleared of the flood. Mounds of debris were scattered across the cityscape. Strange, wave-like patterns had been left on the sand.

S-S-S-S-S

Underground, the nematodes were still lying against the pineapple's perimeter. They had only eaten tiny chunks of the pineapple's external wall.

The stomach of one nematode grumbled.

"Still hungry!"

"Still hungry, still hungry, still hungry, still hungry!" The other nematodes stirred. They began to move in a circle around the perimeter.

The nematode who had first said "Still hungry!" took a small sip from the mark left behind from a past bite. A sweet juice filled his mouth.

"Thirsty!"

"Thirsty, thirsty, thirsty, thirsty!" The other nematodes bit off more chunks from the pineapple's wall and began drinking as well.

S-S-S-S-S

SpongeBob's bedroom began to shrink at the pace of the nematode's drinking.

SpongeBob's bed and Gary's food bowl became smaller.

rrrrumble

Gary opened his eyes.

"Meow?" His eyestalks tilted towards the floor.

The floor's particles were gathering into more clustered patterns.

SpongeBob opened his eyes and sat up. His arms and legs were over the bed's edge.

"Hooray, Gary!" He held out both fists towards the ceiling and hopped to the floor. "We're finally huge!"

"Meow."

"We aren't growing?" SpongeBob attempted to step to the floor but fell down the moment the floor shrunk again. "Wait a minute!" He sat on one knee and glanced around.

The wall's patterns were becoming thinner as the wall lost its dimensions.

SpongeBob gasped.

"Oh no!"

"Meow."

SpongeBob dashed to the window and flung it open. He looked below.

The ground was now only several feet below him.

"C'mon!" SpongeBob put Gary on top of his head and slid down the pineapple's exterior wall.

S-S-S-S-S

The nematodes were burrowing their way towards the surface.

One of them tilted its head upward and burped, spitting out a seed.

S-S-S-S-S

Plop

SpongeBob landed on his feet. He placed Gary on the ground.

Patrick had been sleeping on top of his rock. He slowly opened his flaky eyes.

"Huh?" He leaned on his elbow.

A circular depression now occupied where SpongeBob's pineapple used to be.

Patrick scratched his chin, slid to the ground, and walked up to the depression.

"Hey, Sponge, your house is gone."

SpongeBob turned towards the depression, saw it, and dropped his jaw. After staring at it for nearly half a minute, he spotted a group of nematodes emerging from the ground several feet away.

"Nematodes?" He scratched his head.

Patrick licked his lips.

"Nematodes? Where?" He rubbed his hands together as he glanced around. "I'm always down for an early morning snack."

"Meow meow meow."

"I can't eat them?" said Patrick.

SpongeBob walked to the circle's perimeter, crouched, and slid his thumb against the sand within the circle. He then held that thumb towards his face, contemplating the darker color of the sand on it.

"How could a few nematodes cause this?" He looked at the nematodes again, who were now seemingly green blinking dots on the horizon. "They'll leave bites on some houses and food, but I've never heard of them doing this." He shook the sand off his thumb and looked at his neighbors from the corner of his eye.

Gary and Patrick remained silent.

SpongeBob moved his gaze back to the circle. He spotted the seed jutting out from the depression's middle.

"A pebble..." he whispered. He slid down to the depression's center and took hold of the seed. As he gazed at it, his eyes became misty. "It's the only thing left..." He hiked his way back up. He put the seed into his pocket and stood before the other two. "I've got bad news, guys," he said quietly. "Look at what happened to my house." He gestured with both arms towards the depression. "It's gone... it's all gone."

Patrick swallowed his lips.

Squidward was watching his neighbors from the window of his tiki's bedroom, which was open. He lowered his gaze to the bedroom's floor and swallowed his lips.

"What am I going to do? Where am I going to live?" SpongeBob clasped Patrick's shoulder.

Patrick shrugged.

"What're you gonna do now?" he said.

SpongeBob took out a photo of his parents. He slowly brushed away the dust on its surface.

"Guess I'll have to move back with my mom and dad."

Patrick shook both of SpongeBob's arms.

"No, wait a minute, no you don't!" He stuffed the picture back into SpongeBob's pocket. "I can help you build you a new house." He stood on one leg and held out his limbs, showcasing his body's star shape.

"We can't build a house." SpongeBob shook his head. "We're not construction workers."

"Don't think like that." Patrick pulled open SpongeBob's eyelids. He straightened SpongeBob's posture. "Building a home is pretty easy." He pointed towards his rock. "I built mine all by myself."

The antenna on the top of Patrick's rock was teetering towards one side. A light breeze pushed it to the ground.

"Um… Okay…" SpongeBob's fingertips began to tap together.

Squidward sighed. He closed his bedroom's window.

S-S-S-S-S

An hour later…

S-S-S-S-S

SpongeBob and Patrick were standing in an area that was right next to the depression. The area had been patted down by Patrick's feet. Lying between them were several large bags filled with construction supplies, all of them hand-picked by Patrick.

SpongeBob's foot was circling the ground.

"Pat, you sure this is gonna work?"

Patrick slapped SpongeBob's back.

"Trust me." He put his hands on his hips. "My mom's been working in construction for years. I know the ins and the outs of building stuff." He took a bag of planks and spilled its contents onto the ground. "Alright, let's get to work!"

SpongeBob took a deep breath. He took out a few buckets of paint from a bag.

Patrick grabbed a hammer and a nail from a bag and placed one of the planks before his feet. He then leaned forward without crouching, put the nail on one side of the plank, and swung the hammer down.

DONK

The hammer hit the knuckle of the hand holding the nail.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Patrick waved that hand and hopped on one foot until the pain subsided.

SpongeBob was repeatedly switching his gaze between the bucket of red paint and the bucket of green paint.

"Pat, I think I got a better idea." He snatched the hammer from Patrick's hand and hopped to the pile of fallen planks.

Patrick scratched his head.

KLAK KLAK KLAK KLAK KLAK KLAK KLAK

KLIK KLIK KLIK

KLAK

SpongeBob rapidly built a fence around the pounded area. When he finished, he ran back to the buckets, and took off the buckets' lids. He then took two thick brushes from a bag, dipped a brush in the red bucket and the green bucket, and painted his face frontside with red and painted his back with green. He then jumped to the fence.

SPLAT

His face hit the fence, leaving behind a sponge-shaped mark of green paint.

SpongeBob pulled his face off the fence and turned his body towards his right.

SPLAT

SpongeBob's back hit the fence, leaving behind a sponge-shaped mark of red paint.

SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT

SpongeBob repeated the process, eventually covering the entire fence in alternating colors of red and green.

Patrick took another hammer, plank, and nail. He placed the nail on the plank's center and raised the hammer.

DONK

S-S-S-S-S

Sixteen minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

A house of wooden planks that was in a shape that vaguely resembled SpongeBob's pineapple was now standing before SpongeBob and Patrick. Its exterior wall had been painted with imprecise strokes of orange. Poorly cut windows and a front door made out of hardened clay had been awkwardly placed into the building's openings.

The building creaked against the breeze.

Patrick held out a thumbs-up. His thumb and a few other parts of his hand were covered heavily in bandages.

"We're done!"

"Yeah!" SpongeBob clapped. He then put his hands behind his back as he looked at each part of the house. "So what do you think?"

Patrick perceived the building to be one of the irregularly-shaped houses he imagined living in during a childhood dream.

"I wish I lived here."

"Really?"

Patrick closed his eyes. Upon a further search through his thoughts, the house he was imagining began to take on a different shape.

"No." He opened his eyes.

SpongeBob hopped over the fence and climbed the building's exterior wall until he reached the bedroom's window. He then scrutinized the bedroom through the window.

"One bedroom." He opened the window.

CRRRRRAAAAAAAAAASSH

The house collapsed into numerous pieces of broken wooden planks, nails, and shattered glass.

TAP

The fence fell to the ground like a stack of dominos.

SpongeBob had fallen back-first to the ground.

"Tartar sauce." Patrick threw away the hammer he had been holding and began to a stomp on a plank of the fallen fence.

Gary slithered up to SpongeBob. There was a sheen of moisture in his eyes.

"Meow meow meow," he said quietly.

SpongeBob slowly sat up. He sighed, allowed his rear to fall to the ground, and rested his chin on both hands. He imagined all of the pleasant memories he had of the neighborhood collapsing into nonexistence along with the pineapple replica.

"Well, looks like we've got to move back with Mom and Pop."

Patrick stared at the wooden plank he had broken. A lump grew in his throat.

"You can't move back in with your parents!" He grabbed SpongeBob's wrists and lifted him to his feet. "When I moved out of my parents' house, I never went back. You shouldn't either." He then fell silent as a brain fart erased the other words he had planned to say.

A pause.

"No, Pat." SpongeBob slipped his hands out of Patrick's grip. "There's nothing we can do." With his head tilted downward and his teary eyes half-closed, he slowly walked towards the tiki. 'I bet Squid wouldn't mind if I use his shell-phone. I gotta spread the news.'

A pebble getting blown by the wind touched Patrick's 'knee'.

A light bulb lit up in Patrick's head.

"Wait!" He grabbed the back of SpongeBob's shirt, lifted him, and turned his body to face him. "You and Gary can stay at my place."

SpongeBob's radiant smile slowly returned to his face. He swung against Patrick's grip.

"That'd be great!"

"Yeah!" Patrick dropped SpongeBob to the ground. "We'll be rockmates."

S-S-S-S-S

Many hours later…

S-S-S-S-S

6:45 PM.

Squidward was sitting on his bed with a nearby shell-phone held near his ear. He listened to each beep, waiting for the other end of the line to pick up

On his lap was his laptop, with the screen showing the official website for Tentacle Acres. His back was facing the window, which had been blocked with a a shutter.

The beeps ended.

"This is Patty from Bikini Realty. How may I help you?" A female electronic voice was heard.

Squidward took a deep breath and sat up. He glanced at the personal and financial information he had inputted into a certain section of Tentacle Acres' website.

"I would like to sell my home. I am planning on moving to another residence."

"What's your name?"

"Squidward Tentacles."

"Date of birth?"

"October 9, 1992."

"What's your address?"

"122 Conch Street."

S-S-S-S-S

Inside a small room with light yellow walls was a purple fish. She was sitting in a brown desk. Before her was a desktop computer.

"Hold on." She typed quickly with one hand while holding the shell-phone with the other. After a few seconds, an image of Squidward's tiki popped into the computer's screen. "Dear Neptune! Your home is lovely."

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward heard the faint noises of SpongeBob and Patrick playing with a frisbee outside. His heartbeat quickened.

"Will you be able to sell it?"

"I can sell it in a heartbeat!"

Squidward took another deep breath and wore a smile.

"Oh, that's great news. I wanna move out as soon as possible."

"No problem! As long as it's not infested with nematodes…"

Squidward swallowed his lips. The rest of what Patty said became gibberish until his thoughts cleared.

"Anyways, I'll be by tomorrow morning to check out the house. See you then!" Patty then put down the phone on her end.

Squidward tip-toed to the window and lifted one part of the shutter. He saw the depression and the pile of broken wooden planks. His flow of thoughts smoothened.

"That's right… Sponge's moving out."

S-S-S-S-S

Forty-three minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

SpongeBob and Patrick were inside the rock's living room. The lights had been turned off.

Patrick laid on the sofa. He tossed an empty chip bag to the floor.

"Good night, SpongeBob."

SpongeBob lied on the floor and slipped a sand rug over his lower body.

"Good night, rockmate."

"Meow." Gary was lying on a pile of flattened cereal boxes. He closed his eyes and retracted his eyestalks into his shell.

"Good night, Gary." SpongeBob closed his eyes. The noise of the air conditioner deafened his mental voice, gradually bringing him to sleep.

S-S-S-S-S

Twenty minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

SpongeBob was sitting on an invisible chair that was floating above an endlessly deep abyss. Inside the abyss were fireworks that had the colors of a rainbow.

What sounded like a mix of snorting and grunting shot up from the abyss, causing SpongeBob's chair to vibrate.

The vibrations spread throughout SpongeBob's body, easing the tension in his muscles.

"Ooh~" With eyes half-closed, he leaned against the seat and allowed his arms to hang.

The sound intensified.

SHATTER

The invisible chair broke into nothingness.

SpongeBob fell into the abyss, accompanied with the whistle of a dropping bomb.

SLAM

S-S-S-S-S

SpongeBob opened his eyes and sat up.

"What the…?" He glanced around until he heard another set of the same peculiar sound.

Patrick, with saliva bubbling his mouth, was snoring. The tip of one leg had slipped to the floor.

SpongeBob grabbed two nearby corks and squeezed them into his ears. He laid down again and closed his eyes.

A pause.

The snoring was loud enough to pierce through the corks.

A breeze slipped through the tiny slit between the ceiling and the walls. Combined with the air condition's air, it spread an acute coldness throughout the room.

SpongeBob and Patrick shivered.

Patrick moved his body closer to the space between the sofa's main body and the cushions. His snoring became so loud that Gary's eyestalks began to emerge from the shell.

SpongeBob, with his mouth leaning towards one side, stood up. He took hold from the floor a cork that was as large as a small bucket, tip-toed to Patrick, and stuffed the cork into Patrick's mouth.

Patrick's snoring became almost nonexistent. His breathing was unsteady.

SpongeBob returned to his spot and wrapped himself with the sand rug.

S-S-S-S-S

A few minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

SpongeBob's head was bloated. He was absorbing a trail of water-like liquid through a hole on the top of his head.

SpongeBob opened his eyes. He looked up.

Patrick's snoring had resumed. With each snore, the cork in his mouth pushed out a few drops of saliva in SpongeBob's direction.

So much saliva had spilled to the floor that a trail had formed.

SpongeBob exhaled through his nose and pulled the corks from his ears. He then squeezed his head with both hands.

SPLASH

All of Patrick's saliva he had stored spilled to the floor.

Patrick's breathing quickened. He grunted against the cork until he managed to spit it out.

"A spider!" With eyes still closed, he jumped to the floor. "Spiders!" He picked up the couch and commenced to repeatedly swing it against SpongeBob. "Get em' off me!"

SLAM

SpongeBob's body became as flat as a pancake.

"No!"

SLAM

"Patrick!"

SLAM

"No!"

SLAM

"Patrick!"

SLAM

"No!"

SLAM

"Patrick!"

SLAM

SpongeBob managed to wriggle his flattened body out of the sofa's range.

"Wake up! Wake up! It's me, SpongeBob!"

Patrick's eyes remained closed.

"Spiders! Spiders!" He took several quick steps towards SpongeBob.

SLAM

"No!" said SpongeBob.

SLAM

"No!"

SLAM

"No!"

SLAM

"No!"

SLAM

"No!"

SLAM

"No!"

SLAM

"No~!" SpongeBob shouted so loudly that Squidward could hear him from the tiki's bedroom.

Patrick held the sofa over SpongeBob for several seconds, seemingly stunned. He then tossed the sofa back to its original spot and laid back on the cushions. After a few seconds, his snoring resumed.

As SpongeBob stood up, his flattened body returned to its normal shape. He sighed. He picked up Gary, who had fully awakened.

"We're gonna have to move out, Gar-bear."

"Meow meow."

"We just can't stay here. I don't think Pat's used to living with others."

"Meow meow meow meow."

"I can't afford that. I don't think my parents can afford it either. We're gonna have to start over from 'square one', so to speak." SpongeBob put Gary on top of his head. He climbed to the ceiling, gently opened the rock, and slipped through.

S-S-S-S-S

As SpongeBob slowly walked towards the tiki; he looked at the rock, the tiki, and the environs in the neighborhood; savoring them. A faint moistness began to shroud his eyes as he imagined living outside of the neighborhood's comforting visuals, returning to the chaos of the downtown area.

He unsteadily knocked on the tiki's door.

S-S-S-S-S

A minute later...

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward opened the door. He swallowed his lips.

"Can I stay for the night?" SpongeBob gulped down the lump in his throat. He brushed off the dust and food particles on his squarepants. "I'll be out by tomorrow morning."

An energy from an unknown source filled Squidward's body, breaking off the wrinkles of torpor on his face.

"Absolutely." He folded his hands together, stepped out of the way, bowed slightly as SpongeBob stepped inside.

"Thanks, buddy."

S-S-S-S-S

A few minutes later...

S-S-S-S-S

SpongeBob was holding the living room's shell-phone with both hands. As he carefully placed together the words he was going to tell his parents, he began to feel a dryness in his throat.

"Could you get me a glass of water?"

Squidward nodded and, within several seconds, brought back a cup of water from the kitchen.

SpongeBob drank down the water in a few gulps. He dialed his parents' phone number and held the phone near his ear.

Squidward sat at the table as he watched SpongeBob converse with his parents. He observed how SpongeBob gestured with his hands; how SpongeBob's eyes were absorbing the tiki's walls as if he was still at the museum; and how SpongeBob circled his foot on the floor whenever he mentioned how his pineapple shrunk. When SpongeBob's conversation finished, he walked to the stairs while keeping his eyes away from SpongeBob's longing gaze.

S-S-S-S-S

Several minutes later...

S-S-S-S-S

SpongeBob and Squidward were lying on the bed side-to-side with the blanket over them.

Gary was lying on a pile of dirty brown shirts. His eyestalks had retracted into the shell.

SpongeBob was feeling tension in his arms. His heartbeat was quickening as he planned how he was going to adjust to a longer commute to work. He imagined Mr. Krabs frowning and the various words of abuse he could say.

"Squid, could you scoot over a little?"

Squidward was still avoiding eye contact. He had been staring at the ceiling for so long that its countless colored particles began to seemingly form into shapes.

"Uh... oh yeah, sure." He moved to his left and turned his body to the left, hugging his pillow.

SpongeBob put his hands behind his head. The aesthetic combination of the colors of the bedroom's furniture pushed away the anxiety brewing in his heart.

"Yeah, this is a real swell place you got here."

"You're welcome," blurted Squidward.

"I like sleepovers." SpongeBob adjusted his pillow and turned his body in Squidward's direction.

"Me..." Squidward closed his eyes. He adjusted the position of his legs upon feeling SpongeBob's limbs touching his back. "Too..." His hands fidgeted as he felt SpongeBob moving towards him.

"Yep, this is great." SpongeBob was hugging Squidward's back. His eyes were closed. "Good night, Squidward."

As Squidward felt SpongeBob's warmness, his eyes began to moisten.

"G-Good night."

S-S-S-S-S

The next day...

S-S-S-S-S

April 9, 2008.

Patrick was sobbing on the ground, with both hands clasping SpongeBob's knees.

"Well, this is goodbye... for now." SpongeBob put a hand on Squidward's shoulder. With Gary by his side, he was standing before the tiki's front door. "I can still see you at work." He attempted to move his knees out of Patrick's grasp, but only caused Patrick to tighten his grip.

Squidward sighed.

"Don't try to cheer me up, Sponge." He began to inch the door to a close.

HONNNK HONNNK

A green boatmobile emerged from the horizon.

SpongeBob dragged himself to the beginning of the pathway to the tiki, leaned towards the incoming boatmobile, and put a hand over his eyes.

"Here comes my parents."

Patrick's sobbing became louder. A puddle of tears was forming on the ground.

The boatmobile screeched to a halt before SpongeBob.

SpongeBob's mother was sitting in the driver's seat.

"Hi~!" She waved towards SpongeBob. "We're here!"

SpongeBob's father was sitting next to her.

"C'mon, Sponge, hurry, hurry, son, your mother has breakfast waiting." He patted the seat behind him.

SpongeBob blushed. He waved back.

"Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad." He glanced behind his shoulder. "Just give me a minute." While standing on tip-toe, he slipped his feet out of Patrick's reach. He then walked towards the depression and stepped into it.

Upon standing on the depression's epicenter, SpongeBob took out the seed from his pocket. Moisture began to cover his eyes so much that his vision blurred.

"I cannot hold onto you any longer, little pebble." He crouched, unearthed the depression's center a bit with two fingers, and placed the seed into the tiny hole. "You hold too many memories." He wiped the tears from his eyes with a forearm. He then buried the hole and walked back to the boatmobile.

SpongeBob crouched next to Patrick, petting the back of his head.

"Goodbye, Pat." He wrapped an arm around Gary, stepped over the car's door, stood on the seat behind his father's seat, and waved towards Squidward and Patrick.

"Goodbye, guys!"

VRRRRRROOOOOOOOMMMM

The boatmobile sped down the road. Within several seconds, the car disappeared from the horizon.

Patrick continued to bawl. He occasionally choked on the mucus running down his throat.

The tiki's front door remained ajar.

Squidward was contemplating the boatmobile's direction.

S-S-S-S-S

A few minutes later...

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward, in the music room, was standing before the window with clarinet in hand. However, he had not begun to play. He constantly switched his gaze between the road outside and his watch.

'She should be coming any minute now.'

A pause.

As he absorbed the silence, his mind wandered to the thought of Tentacle Acres being just as silent as the music room. A heaviness grew in his throat. He dropped the clarinet to the sheet holder and gulped. He glanced at his self-portraits, but perceived all of them to be scowling back at him.

S-S-S-S-S

Twenty minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

The tiki's pathway was clear.

Patrick had returned to his rock.

Another boatmobile quietly came to a stop before the pathway.

Patty was behind the wheel. She moved the shift stick to 'PARK', turned off the car, and stepped out of the vehicle.

"Oh my!" She put her hands on her hips. "The house is even more beautiful in person." She gazed at the tiki's perfectly symmetrical nose as she walked up to the front door.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

A pause.

Crrreeaaaaak

Squidward slowly opened the front door.

"Hi." He wore a smile and held out his hand.

"Hello, Mr. Tentacles."

Patty and Squidward shook hands for an awkwardly long time.

"Please, come in." Squidward pulled his hand out of Patty's grasp.

Patty stepped through the doorway.

SLAM

Squidward closed the door.

S-S-S-S-S

A few hours later…

S-S-S-S-S

A yellow sign that had the words 'FOR SALE' had been placed before Squidward's tiki.

S-S-S-S-S

All of the food and drinks in the rooms below the rock had been consumed.

Patrick was sitting on a chair in the kitchen. His belly was bloated. No matter how much he had tried to stifle the flood of memories of his two neighbors with pizza, ice cream, and soda; the images only became even more vivid.

'Squid's gone too…'

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward dropped his employee hat to Mr. Krabs' claw.

SpongeBob was sitting in the boat with his face resting on his hands. He was bawling.

Mr. Krabs shook his head. He dropped an incomplete paychek into Squidward's hand.

"Yer only foolin' yerself. That's all I'll tell you." His back faced Squidward as he entered his office.

Squidward walked towards the double door. Financial numbers in the thousands and the new locations of his furniture were floating around in his consciousness.

SpongeBob sniffed. He hopped to the floor, ran to Squidward, and tugged the back of Squidward's shirt.

"D-Don't go!"

Squidward halted. He could no longer visualize his mental calculations. While biting his lip, he gently pulled SpongeBob's hands off his shirt.

SpongeBob began another bout of crying.

"Goodbye," said Squidward in the most dreary voice he could think of. However, his heavy throat prevented him from fully doing so. He then constrained his face back to its neutral expression, pushed the double door open with an elbow, entered his boatmobile, and VROOMed down the road.

SpongeBob, limbs hanging, returned to the boat. His body lied so loosely on the boat's seat that he looked like he had nearly melted.

Mr. Krabs looked at SpongeBob by leaning his eyestalks through the ordering window.

"Don't be so downcast, me boy." He took SpongeBob's employee hat, which had fallen into the boat; wiped the dust off it, and placed it in the middle of SpongeBob's forehead.

"When Squid's coming back?" SpongeBob sat up and put the hat on top of his head.

Mr. Krabs laughed to the point where he lost his breath.

SpongeBob raised a brow.

"That was a good one." Mr. Krabs wiped the tears from his eyestalks. He exited the kitchen, took one of the nearby seats, put it near the boat, and sat on it. "He will come back one way or another. There's no doubt about it."

"You sure? SpongeBob drummed on the boat's rim. "Judging by what he was saying just before he left, I think his part-time job is gonna expand into a full-time one."

"I'm not jokin'." Mr. Krabs leaned against the wall and put his claws behind his head. "This whole thing reminded me of th' other time he quit his job."

SpongeBob sat on the boat's rim, facing Mr. Krabs.

"He quitted before?"

"Yep. It happened a few years before you started workin' here."

S-S-S-S-S

Mr. Krabs was shuffling past thick clusters of pedestrians. The noise of boatmobile horns and chatter began to shift the pace of his thoughts. His heartbeat was quickening.

'Can't miss this game o' poker.' He swallowed his lips while glancing at each street sign. The heat trapped in his shell was causing a few drops of sweat to run down his neck. 'If I lose those twenty dollars, how am I gonna pay fer Pearly's new shoes?' Upon spotting a certain tavern, he grinned and jogged towards it.

Squidward was sitting in a cardboard box near the tavern's entrance. He was wearing a tattered blue coat and a dark green wool hat.

"Spare change?" He was holding out a cup towards the people passing by. Upon seeing a woman with an eye-catching purse exiting the tavern, he held out the cup towards her. "Spare change, ma'am?"

Mr. Krabs halted before Squidward anc put his claws on his hips.

"Mr. Squidward, is that you?"

Squidward hugged his knees.

"Uh, I, uh..." He pushed himself into the box and pulled back its lids.

"You don't remember yer ol' captain?" Mr. Krabs crouched. Upon seeing, through the slit in the box, Squidward's trembling legs, he laughed.

Squidward pushed opened the box. He folded his arms.

"I've left your stupid 'ship' a long time ago."

"So, what you've been up to these days?" Mr. Krabs stood up. Upon perceiving the grime on Squidward's face, he covered his nose-holes and took a few steps back. "You found some other place to live?"

A green fish wearing an orange shirt and orange hat, indicating that he was an employee of a nearby fast-food restaurant, walked up to Squidward.

"Squidward Tentacles?" he said.

"Yes?" Squidward stopped hugging his knees.

"We want the box back." The employee took hold of the box.

Squidward sighed, closed his eyes, and lifted his rear from the box's interior. When the rest of the box slipped out of his touch, he sat back down. His butt now felt the cold pavement. He swallowed his lips.

Mr. Krabs glanced at the nearby buildings.

"Where's yer house?"

"Nowhere," muttered Squidward.

"What d'you mean nowhere? You have to live

somewhere."

"I don't have a house." Squidward zipped up his coat as he felt a breeze brushing against his skinny limbs. "My parents kicked me out after I gotten into a fight with them."

"And what job you took?" Mr. Krabs put a claw on his chin and nodded. "Judgin' by those clothes yer wearin', I say yer preparing to work as a pirate."

"No," nearly whispered Squidward.

"A buccaneer?"

"N-No." Squidward leaned his chin against his fists. Tears began to form in his eyes.

"A naval officer?"

"Don't you get it?" Squidward covered his face with both hands. "I'm a loser~!" He began to weep. "I lost my job, my home, everything!" He turned to face the tavern's wall.

Mr. Krabs suppressed the urge to laugh again.

"Not even those doo-hickeys you paint?"

Squidward sniffed shakily.

"Nobody would take them, s-so I had to eat them."

A chuckle escaped Mr. Krabs' lips. He covered his mouth with a claw.

Squidward cried again.

S-S-S-S-S

Mr. Krabs chucked.

"And he came back the followin' mornin'. He learned his lesson."

SpongeBob was fiddling his thumbs.

"Wasn't it kinda mean to laugh at him?" He swallowed his saliva. "I would've let him stay at my house until he was ready to work again."

Mr. Krabs shook his head.

"Yer only feeding his problems." He was counting the money in his wallet. "Youngsters like him haven't learned th' rewards o' hard work. His father should've stepped in before I had to."

"But it wouldn't hurt to help others, right?" SpongeBob clasped his hands together near his heart. "Isn't that what Jupiter wants?"

Mr. Krabs put the wallet back into his pocket. He glanced at the pedestrians passing by his restaurant.

"Th' gods don't like slackers either." He stood up and returned the seat to its original spot. "I'm more of a follower o' Mecury than Jupiter."

"So you're Mysterian?"

"Since the day I was born." Mr. Krabs walked towards his office. He glanced at SpongeBob. "Numan?"

SpongeBob nodded.

"I can tell." Before Mr. Krabs stepped into the office, a light bulb lit up in his head. "I forgot to tell you..." He took out Squidward's employee hat and put it on SpongeBob's head. "Yer gettin' a promotion."

"Ah-h!" SpongeBob covered his cheeks with both hands. He gazed up at his two employee hats with sparkling eyes. "Really~?"

Mr. Krabs patted the top of the cash register.

"Yer gonna be helpin' out Cashy."

"Wow!" The sunlight coming from the windows caused SpongeBob to perceive that the cash register's buttons were sparkling. "Who's gonna work the grill?"

"You are." Mr. Krabs tapped SpongeBob's original hat. "It's part o' th' promotion. Yer gonna take th' orders and then make 'em."

SpongeBob did a military salute.

"Aye, aye, sir!" Upon seeing a woman walking towards the restaurant, his mind moved into another flow of thoughts. "What if Squid comes back?"

"Then you and Mr. Tentacles would do th' same things you've done before." Mr. Krabs closed the office's door.

S-S-S-S-S

Thirty-three minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

A golden double door was glittering in the sunlight of the late morning. It was the entrance through a gate that consisted of hardened dark yellow scales. Unignited torches were on the gate's rims. Rectangular-shaped bushes were on both sides of the road leading to the door.

A purple sign surrounded by a pink frill and hung above the door had the pink words 'Tentacle Acres'.

Squidward slowed his boatmobile to a stop. He leaned towards the intercom, which was on a stick near the door.

"Hello?"

"Yes. Can I help you?" said a male voice.

"I-I'm here to move in," said Squidward.

The environment before the gate was filled with silence.

"Are you alone?"

Squidward tightened his grip on the wheel.

"No… I mean, yes. There's nobody with me." He took a deep breath and stretched his shoulders. "Yes, peace and quiet."

"Are you now, or have you ever been a bad neighbor?"

A few tumbleweeds and small creatures rustled behind Squidward's boatmobile.

"No."

"What about a-"

Squidward's hand covered the intercom.

"No, no loud music at night. Just a regular, normal, peace-loving-"

rrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRUUMMMMMMMMBLE

The golden double door slowly slid open, revealing a street with sidewalks so clean that they were reflecting sunlight. Tikis identical to Squidward's were on both sides of the street.

A rainbow was hanging above, giving each tiki a slightly different hue.

Squidward's lips slowly curved. Lightly pressing the gas pedal, he drove down the street. He glanced at the various pedestrians, who were mostly octopi. He eventually stopped at an intersection.

A familiar chime came from the street to Squidward's right.

An ice cream truck had been parked before a single-file line of octopus children.

Squidward reclined into his chair until it felt like a couch. The sweet air of freshly-cut grass and morning dew filled his nostrils.

"Elysium at last." He slackened his grip on the steering wheel.

BEEEEEEEEEP

The driver behind Squidward's boatmobile honked his horn. He was an octopus wearing a purple vest. He leaned out of his car's left window and shook his fist.

"I've seen more alert people in a retirement home!"

The blissful images floating in Squidward's mind shattered. He looked behind his left shoulder.

"Oh, which way to the living-without-a-brain seminar? Don't be late!" He bit down on the gas pedal.

The purple-vested octopus shook his head.

"I've heard better comebacks from a turkey sandwich!" His nose honked as he laughed.

S-S-S-S-S

Several minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward parked his boatmobile before a tiki that had a mailbox with the number '304'. He glanced at the document on his lap.

"This is the place." He hopped out of his car and jogged down the stony path to the tiki's entrance.

The sun was shining directly at the tiki, giving it what looked like a halo.

Squidward put his hands on his hips.

"It's even better than I expected." He swung the door open and stepped inside.

S-S-S-S-S

The living room had been arranged exactly like the living room in his original tiki. His self-portraits and other artwork hung on the walls in the same places.

"Beautiful."

S-S-S-S-S

Several hours later…

S-S-S-S-S

Patrick was lying on the couch. His feet were on the sofa's top and his head was against the cushions. He had been watching Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy re-runs non-stop without eating at all. Drool was falling to the tip of his head and then dripping to the floor.

His foot moved by an inch.

SLAM

He fell to the floor face-first.

A pause.

The episode segment on the TV changed to a commercial of the latest video game. Bright explosions could be heard and seen.

Patrick peeled his upper body from the floor, sighed, and pressed the TV remote's 'OFF' button. After standing up, his body wobbled to one side, causing him to face the phone.

A light bulb lit up in his head.

He repeatedly knocked his head with his fist as he ran to the phone.

"Why didn't I think of that before?" He dialed SpongeBob's phone number.

BeEeEep… beEeEep…

"The nematodes must've eaten the phone too." Patrick threw the phone to the floor. "Tartar sauce!" He ran to the light switch and flicked it to 'OFF'.

The living room became dark.

He closed his eyes.

"I gotta think." He commenced to turn his body. When he became too dizzy, he tipped over.

BIN

The back of his head hit the rim of a desk.

Patrick stood up again and opened his eyes.

A desktop computer lying on a sand desk was before him. The faint rays of its screen were on Patrick's face.

Patrick leaned forward as he attempted to decipher the fuzzy words and symbols on its screen. After squinting for several seconds, another light bulb lit up in his head. He clapped his hands together, crouched, turned up the screen's brightness through a button on the keyboard, and then did a slow sequence of keystrokes and mouse clicks.

A website for emails appeared on the screen.

Patrick clicked 'CREATE MAIL', typed a few sentences rife with poor spelling, typed SpongeBob's email address in the 'To' portion, and clicked 'SEND'. He drummed his belly as he waited for a response.

S-S-S-S-S

A few minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

DING

A new email popped into Patrick's inbox.

Patrick clicked on it. His chin rested on his hands.

The mail had these words:

'My new address is at 241 Freshwater Ave. It's where my parents live. If u wanna come on over, go ahead!' Next to the exclamation mark was a yellow mini-fish holding a thumbs-up.

Patrick scribbled the address with a nearby pencil and piece of paper.

"Oh boy!" He leaped, sticking his back to the ceiling. "I better get him a gift."

S-S-S-S-S

Twenty minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

DING DONG

Patrick was standing before the front door of a house that looked like a cupcake. He was holding a gift box.

Crrrreeeaak

SpongeBob opened the front door. He was holding a rectangular object double the size of his own body wrapped in patterned gift wrapping.

"Pat, look, I got my…"

Patrick dropped his box to the ground, tossed away the box's lid, and took out a vase that was filled with goo and had a flower with pink pedals.

"How did you read my mind?" SpongeBob giggled. "It's just for a second I thought…" His arms began to tremble under the wrapped object's weight.

CLUNK

SpongeBob dropped the object to the ground, tore off the wrapping with both hands, and held up a reef blower.

"Ta-da~!"

Patrick gasped.

"Is it the same model as yours?" He stroked the reef blower's sides and sniffed them. "It has that new car smell."

SpongeBob nodded and tapped the reef blower's top.

"Got it from the same place my uncle got mine."

"Can I test it?" Patrick squeezed the tube connected to the reef blower's main body.

"Yup." SpongeBob pointed at the lawn. Several pieces of garbage and a few worm and scallop droppings were littered scattered the lawn. "This whole place'll need a good cleaning."

Patrick turned on the reef blower, strapped it on, and aimed the tube forward.

The tube sucked in all of the bushes, coral pieces, droppings, and other things in its direction.

SpongeBob dashed back inside.

Patrick aimed the tube at the house's front.

The tube sucked up all of the dust on the house's surface and two of the windows, leaving behind ripped holes.

SpongeBob stepped through the door. He had strapped on his parents' reef blower. He glanced at Patrick's handiwork.

"Woww! You made the house and lawn sparkling clean."

"Sure did."

SpongeBob stuck out his tongue slightly and aimed his tube at Patrick.

BBBEEEEWWWW

A gust bursted from the tube, pushing back Patrick's eyelids and lips.

"Tag! You're it!" said SpongeBob.

The two then proceeded to chase each other while blowing their reef blowers at each other, forming lines of blown-away sand throughout the lawn.

SpongeBob's father stepped to the entrance. He held out both hands.

"Boys, settle down."

SpongeBob and Patrick turned off their reef blowers.

"C'mon in. Dinner's already made." SpongeBob's father gestured towards the kitchen.

S-S-S-S-S

Twenty-six minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

SpongeBob and Patrick were in SpongeBob's old bedroom. Its purple walls had patterns similar to those that the pineapple's bedroom had. The bed had only one mattress. The alarm clock lying on a mini-table next to the bed was in the shape of a mini-foghorn.

The bedroom's window had been sucked in by Patrick's reef blower. The hole left behind was brining in warm air.

Patrick was lying on the bed. He gazed at the poink ceiling with his hands behind his head.

"You heard the news about Squid?"

SpongeBob was sitting on the rug. He paused the Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy movie he had been watching.

"Hm?"

"Squid moved out." Patrick blinked away the lingering moisture in his eyes. "He went to that place we saw on TV during the storm."

SpongeBob's jaw dropped.

"Tentacle Acres?!" He proceeded to lean back and forth. "Whydidhemoveout? HowamIgonnaseehim?"

"His new place is kinda far away." Patrick shrugged.

"I don't care." SpongeBob stood up, grabbed Patrick's shoulders, and forced him to look at him in the eye. "Even if it takes a buncha hours to get there and back, I'll do it." He sat on the hole's edge. His legs proceeded to quickly move back and forth.

As the sun inched towards the horizon, the sky gained an orange color.

Patrick scratched his head. He slipped his body off the bed and sat next to SpongeBob.

"Just look it up." He wiped his eyes. "That's how I found your place."

"You think Squid'll send me his address?"

"Y'know his email?" said Patrick.

"Nope." SpongeBob bit his lip.

Patrick shrugged.

"Then it can't be helped." He moved his gaze to the wide and shallow holes of blown-away sand the reef blowers had left behind. After glancing at each hole, he perceived the whole mess as the footprints of a large beast. He pointed below. "Doesn't it look like tracks?"

SpongeBob looked at the holes.

"They kinda do." He put a finger on his chin.

Patrick perceived that there was not a single pebble in the lawn. He imagined how they would all fit inside the reef blowers.

"You think a pebble would leave a mark on there?"

"What're you getting at, Pat?" SpongeBob rubbed his forehead.

Patrick shrugged again.

"I dunno what to do, so I'm just freestyling."

"You mean brainstorming?"

"Yep."

The dying sunlight was illuminating the root-shaped marks left by the plants that the reef blowers had sucked away.

SpongeBob put his fist on his chin as he combined Patrick's questions with his previous experiences and the wild images emerging from his imagination. A light bulb gradually lit up in his head.

"You think the nematodes left any footprints?"

"I don't know." Patrick scratched the tip of his head.

The skyscrapers began to block the sun's last rays.

SpongeBob glanced at all of the buildings he could see, focusing on their shapes.

"Maybe it wouldn't hurt if we check." He spotted a swirling chimney stack on the roof of the building across the street. "The nematodes could still be out there." His body was leaning from side-to-side. "What do we do if we find 'em?"

"What do you wanna do?"

SpongeBob leaned back with his arms on the bedroom's floor. After staring into space for several more seconds, he stood up.

"Shoo them away." He put his hands on his hips. "We shouldn't let anybody else suffer what I had to go through. If we find the nematodes, it's our responsibility to get them out of the city."

"Sounds like a plan." Patrick stood up. "We're gonna do it now?"

SpongeBob nodded. He opened the door to the hallway and stepped out of the way.

Patrick entered the hallway.

S-S-S-S-S

Twenty-four minutes later...

S-S-S-S-S

SpongeBob and Patrick were standing around the holes left by the nematodes after their emergence from the pineapple's bottom.

SpongeBob crouched and squinted at the ground as he attempted to find the nematodes' footprints. After a few seconds, he saw countless tiny indentations that were lined up in a certain path.

"Aha!" He pointed at them. "That's where they were heading."

Patrick spotted the tracks and then began to follow them.

"Let's go."

"Right." SpongeBob stood up and moved ahead of Patrick.

S-S-S-S-S

Fifteen minutes later...

S-S-S-S-S

Nematodes numbering in the thousands were gathering from all directions to around a wide coral piece.

"Sour, sour, sour, sour, sour, sour," said all of the nematodes.

They proceeded to climb the coral piece as they searched for an opening.

SpongeBob and Patrick stopped before the nematodes.

"They're tryna eat it?" Patrick scratched his head. "I thought they were full. Wasn't the pineapp;e enough-"

"Shh!" SpongeBob held an index finger to his mouth. "Don't make 'em notice us!" he whispered. He gestured towards a nearby rock and then hopped to it.

Patrick hopped to the rock but landed behind it belly-first, kicking up a sand cloud.

The nematodes stopped climbing and turned towards the sand cloud. They gradually fell quiet.

A pause.

"Watching," said one of the nematodes.

"Watching, watching, watching, watching, watching," said all of the other nematodes.

All of the nematodes lowered themselves from the coral piece and moved into a rectangular formation.

SpongeBob pulled up Patrick to a sitting position.

"They're on alert now," he whispered. "If we're gonna scare them so badly that they're gonna leave the city, we have to catch them by surprise."

"How do we outsmart them?" Patrick tried to lift his head above the rock but SpongeBob kept pushed himt back down. "If they can eat your pineapple without getting noticed, they must know alotta stuff. For all we know, they're probably thinking we're gonna ambush them."

SpongeBob slowly nodded, turned around, and kept his eyes to the ground as he attempted to extract another idea from his mind. He began to tap his shins like a bongo.

Patrick, feeling a certain pressure on his butt as he sat against the rock, adjusted the bag in his pants.

The 'wrapper' slightly escaped the bag.

One of the nematodes stood on the tip of its tail and leaned its head in the 'wrapper's direction.

"Paper!"

"Paper, paper, paper, paper, paper!" The nematodes condensed their formation.

"Paper?" SpongeBob stopped drumming his shins. He was leaning his body so much towards the ground that he had seemingly flattened himself. "Are they looking for something?"

Patrick's eyes were half-closed.

"Why would they want a paper?" He lied on the ground back-first. "They can't draw."

"Well, if they could eat whole houses, they could certainly eat paper too."

"But we don't have any paper on us." Patrick adjusted his bag to his left leg. He rubbed his butt against the ground until the soreness was gone.

SpongeBob's wallet was sticking out of his right pocket.

"Pat, I think we got the thing they want." SpongeBob held the wallet towards Patrick.

Patrick giggled.

"Why would they need money? They can get food for free."

SpongeBob smiled awkwardly.

"Right." He put the wallet back into his pocket.

By that point, the nematodes had formed a single-file line and were marching towards the rock SpongeBob and Patrick were hiding at. Upon moving past the rock's left side, the foremost nematode poked Patrick's thigh with his head.

"Huh?" Patrick lifted his leg and saw the nematode. His lips quivered.

"Em ffo teg!" he blurted as he jumped to his feet.

The nematode and the few others behind it stopped moving.

SpongBob's heart skipped a beat.

"I guess they're not gonna eat us." He took a few steps away from the nematodes.

The line of nematodes reminded Patrick of a thin drop of mucus.

"Sregoub!" He pointed at the nematodes. "Sregoub!"

"You okay?" SpongeBob's head leaned towards one side.

More of the nematodes near the line's front stopped moving.

All of the nematodes that had stopped began to giggle.

SpongeBob scratched his head.

"What's… going on?"

"Yawa yats!" Patrick shoved SpongeBob in a random direction.

SpongeBob, due to the force of Patrick's push, walked backwards for several seconds. Upon hearing the nematodes' louder giggling, a light bulb lit up in his head.

"I see where you're going with this." He licked his lips, stood on one foot, turned to the nematodes, and blurted incomprehensible combinations of syllables.

The nematodes stopped giggling. They resumed their march towards Patrick.

Patrick glanced at his left leg.

"T'nod uoy on ho!" He took out the bag, stuffed the 'wrapper' back into it, and did a swatting gesture as if the nematodes were flies. "Ylno enim s'ti! S'ruoy ton enim!"

A gentle breeze came by.

The bag opened. The 'wrapper' shook out slightly.

The nematodes resumed their movement.

"Paper! Paper! Paper! Paper! Paper!"

SpongeBob's gaze was now on the bag.

"Pat, what's in there?" He pointed at the bag.

Patrick pointed in the direction he and SpongeBob had come from.

"Gniog peek!"

SpongeBob ran to the bag, opened it, and saw the 'wrapper'. He recognized the faint glow. He gasped.

"It's a magic paper! No wonder they've been been chasing us."

"Repap cigam? Tahw?"

The nematodes giggled again. All of them stopped moving.

"Hmmm…" SpongeBob repeatedly switched his gaze between Patrick and the nematodes. He then shut Patrick's mouth with his hand and closed the bag.

The nematodes stopped giggling but remained motionless.

SpongeBob opened the bag with his other hand.

"Paper! Paper! Paper! Paper! Paer! Paper!" The nematodes hopped towards the bag.

SpongeBob uncovered Patricks mouth.

Patrick's brow was raised.

"Yhw?"

All of the nematodes laughed. Their formations began to break.

SpongeBob allowed Patrick's hand to close the bag.

'So if the bag is closed, which prevents them from detecting the magic paper; or Patrick talks in that weird way, which they find funny; or if both of those things happen at the same time, they'll stop chasing us.' He stood behind Patrick, took hold of Patick's wrists, and pulled Patrick as he walked backwards in the direction of his parents' house.

As the nematodes shrunk further and further from his vision, Patrick's strange words echoed in his mind.

'Yhw… yhw… yhww.. Yhw…' The mental sound then shifted. 'Why…' His eyes widened. "Pat, you're speaking in opposite," he whispered loudly.

"I am?" said Patrick.

The nematodes resumed their hopping. They assembled into a circular formation.

SpongeBob hopped to Patrick's front. He paced in circles while scratching his chin.

"Opposites… opposites…" A light bulb lit up in his head. He curtsied towards Patrick. "Goodbye, Patrick! I never want to see you again!"

The nematodes guffawed. They fell to the ground.

"Wh-wh-wh-wh…" Patrick's eyes gained a sheen of moisture. "You don't like me anymore?"

SpongeBob swallowed his lips.

"You're not really not my friend." He wore a smile. "I'm just not speaking in opposites."

"Speaking in opposites?" Patrick's lips stopped quivering upon receiving a brain fart. "Hey, I've heard of that!"

"You have?"

"No," said Patrick. "What is it?"

The nematodes released another bout of laughter. They were struggling to breathe.

"Well, whatever you normally say or do, you do the opposite."

"Ooh!" Patrick clapped. "Let me try! Let me try!" He then held his breath. As less and less oxygen reached his lungs, his face turned purple.

"Patrick, breathe!" SpongeBob pressed Patrick's belly with his thumb.

Patrick exhaled. He then took some deep breaths.

SpongeBob chuckled. "Not that opposite!" He got on all fours. "Let me show you how to do it… the wrong way."

The nematodes were laughing so hard that the only sounds they could make were quiet gasps.

SpongeBob chewed on a mouthful of sand.

"Meow."

Patrick sat on a rock and curled into a facsimile of a snail shell.

"Meow."

SpongeBob held out a thumbs-down.

Patrick winked.

SpongeBob stood up and took out his soap bottle and bubble wand.

Patrick did the same.

The two simultaneously dipped their wands into their bottles, held the wands up and sucked in air.

Bubbles came out of the wands, floating towards their mouths.

SpongeBob side-stepped to the direction of Bikini Bottom's outskirts. He pointed in that direction and whispered:

"We gotta bring 'em as far away as possible, remember?"

Patrick shook his head and did a thumbs-down.

SpongeBob smirked.

S-S-S-S-S

Thirteen minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

SpongeBob and Patrick were walking backwards.

Patrick was aiming the opened bag at the nematodes, who were accelerating.

SpongeBob snapped his fingers.

Patrick closed the bag. He turned to SpongeBob and shook hs fist.

"Bobegnops, yeh."

"Kcirtap, yeh." SpongeBob shook his fist.

The nematodes halted once again. They chuckled.

"Pu evig I." Patrick pumped his fist.

SpongeBob and Patrick proceeded to reverse-laugh: "Ahahahaha! Ahahahahaha!" before running to a safe distance from the nematodes.

"Edis etisoppo eht ot teg ot," said SpongeBob.

Patrick opened the bag.

The nematodes resumed their hopping.

S-S-S-S-S

Fifteen minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

SpongeBob, Patrick, and the nematodes were now in an area where no buildings could be seen.

"Is this not the outskirts?" Patrick closed the bag.

SpongeBob shook his head.

Patrick stabbed the ground with the tip of his head, lifted the rest of his body up, and held out his limbs; forming an inverse star shape.

"Doow kcuhc dluoc kcuhc doow a fi, kcuhc kcuhc doow a dluoc doow hcum woh?" By the time he finished the sentence, blood from the rest of his body was rushing to his head.

"Huh?" SpongeBob's head leaned towards one side. "I've never heard of that one before."

The nematodes fell to the ground again in laughter. Their laughter was so boisterous that SpongeBob and Patrick began to giggle in reverse.

SpongeBob and Patrick resumed their walk backwards. When they got far enough, Patrick opened the bag.

The nematodes continued to laugh. They remained on the ground.

Patrick and SpongeBob closed their mouths with each other's hands.

The nematodes were laughing so loudly that it began to stir the sea urchins and the other tiny creatures living under the rocks.

SpongeBob and Patrick stopped covering each other's mouths.

SpongeBob exhaled.

"I guess they're satisfied " He snatched the bag and closed it by tying its ends into a knot.

One of the nematodes burped, ejecting a seed that glowed just as brightly as the magic paper.

The seed landed on the back of Patrick's head.

"Ow!" Patrick tried to scratch the back of his head.

SpongeBob caught the seed with one hand.

"Pat, you know what type of seed this is?"

Patrick squinted at the seed.

"It grows magic papers."

SpongeBob sucked his teeth and leaned his mouth towards one side.

"I don't think so." He squeezed the seed with two fingers, testing its hardness. "Isn't paper made from kelp trees?"

Patrick leaned so close to the seed that his nose holes were touching it. "Pumpkin?"

SpongeBob put the seed on his body, comparing it to one of his holes.

"I don't think it's pumpkin either. It's too small."

Patrick saw a red particle on the sand from the corner of his eye.

"Apple."

A light bulb lit up in SpongeBob's head.

"Pineapple!" He tucked the seed into his pocket. "That makes sense. If they like magic papers, and ate the pineapple, then they can probably 'spit' it back out." He pointed in the direction of his parents' house. "If we're gonna test the seed, we gotta retrace our steps to Ma & Pa's place, then we'll go to the pineapple."

Patrick nodded.

SpongeBob and Patrick walked towards SpongeBob's parents' house.

The nematodes were sleeping. The laughter had exhausted them.

S-S-S-S-S

Twenty minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

On the horizon, a few buildings could be seen. The lights coming from their windows glowed like fireflies.

As SpongeBob gazed at the windows' lights, his train of thoughts moved into a different direction. The image of the magic paper floating among glowing jellyfish passed by.

"We're only using the magic paper for emergencies. Nothing else. It doesn't have that much sap left."

"What about Squid?" said Patrick.

SpongeBob tightened his grip on the bag

"Don't tell him." He pulled it close to his chest. "He probably moved out 'cause he's been getting stressed out lately. If your house gets cursed and a storm then hits you after that, it's gonna take a toll on your mind."

Patrick's head was leaning downward; he was observing the sand's multi-colored particles for any patterns.

"But we tried to treat him nice during those crazy times. Wouldn't that balance out the stress?"

SpongeBob closed his eyes and exhaled.

"We can't read his mind, Pat. He's gonna view things differently."

Patrick looked up at the sky, but like the sand below, he could not discern any patterns.

"When do we ever agree with Squid on anything?" he said.

SpongeBob was staring at the horizon and the distance before it, anticipating the buildintops of the downtown area. For a few seconds, he felt like he was still holding the pizza box.

"A few times…" he nearly sung. His eyes were glistening.

Patrick smiled awkwardly.

S-S-S-S-S

Twenty minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

SpongeBob and Patrick were standing around the center of the depression.

SpongeBob, with the seed on one hand; crouched, dug open the center, replaced the pebble with the seed, sprinkled it with water from a pail he had just bought from a 99¢ store, and buried the seed.

The seed glowed brighter than before and began to shake.

"Run!" SpongeBob dashed up the depression. "If you get too close, the pineapple will crush you!"

Patrick took wide steps up the depression.

SpongeBob reached level ground before him.

RRRRRRUUUUMMMMMMMBBBBLE

SpongeBob's pineapple, with windows, front door, and all other furniture and belongings; erupted from the seed, occupying the entire depression.

The force of the eruption pushed Patrick across the street.

"Oof!" Patrick landed on the ground belly-first.

SpongeBob was gazing at the pineapple with his hands on his hips.

"Good ol' pineapple! It's exactly what it used to be." The thought of how his old bedroom would look like inside the pineapple shifted the vivid images racing through his mind. "Ooh~! I better tell Ma and Pa." He opened the front door and jogged to the shell-phone.

S-S-S-S-S

Thirty minutes later...

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward, in his pajamas, laid on his bed and wrapped himself with the blanket. He put the sleeping mask over his eyes.

The bedroom was identical to the one at his original tiki, save for the suitcase containing his clarinet, which was hanging from one of the walls.

"Good night, Clary." Squidward turned his body towards one side. He tucked his pillow and moved his arms under it. "Tomorrow, we're gonna start over. No more selfish mistakes. No more hypocrisy. No more greedy bosses. No more drudgery." He closed his eyes.

A pause.

RING RING RING RING RING RING RING RING

The shell-phone on the small table near the bed rattled.

Squidward groaned, sat up, took off his sleeping mask, and picked up the shell-phone.

"Hello?"

"Squidward?" said his father.

"You're speaking to him."

"We've all been aware by now that you've moved to somewhere pretty far away from our place, but can you please come to the Olympeia festival? I've heard that the festival is going to be different from the previous ones due to all of the turmoil that's going on."

Squidward smirked.

"Isn't the festival always done at Tentacle Acres?"

"W-Wait... you moved there?"

"Mm-hm."

"In that case, you're not gonna skip this festival, right?"

"I'm definitely gonna go. Those years where I've skipped on festivals have been long gone, Pop." Squidward chuckled.

"Well, see ya tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Squidward glanced at the calendar, which was hanging near the window. "Time flew." Upon hearing beeps from the other end, he put down the phone. As he moved back into his previous position on the bed, he noticed that he had shuttered the window. He then imagined SpongeBob watching him from the pineapple's window. "Oh, right, I don't live with them anymore." He lifted up the window's shutter.

RING RING RING RING RING

The shell-phone rang again.

Squidward sucked his teeth and picked up the phone.

"Who is it?"

"Mr. Tentacles?" said Monty.

"Yes?" Squidward straightened his posture.

"Since tomorrow's Olympeia, you're gonna have a day off."

"Okay."

A pause.

"Oh yeah!" The shuffling of papers could be heard from the phone. "I've upgraded your position as you requested. You'll now be a full-time sub. You'll be starting your first full workday a day after tomorrow."

"Roger."

"I have high expectations for you. If you can manage to get a masterpiece out of an amateur, you can certainly handle bigger responsibilities. If you keep up the good work for the next few months, I may even promote you to professor. Out of all of the years I spent working here, there was only a few of your level of education that got something like that."

Squidward was now visualizing a realm where no financial ruin or setback could creep up on him. He also imagined how the title of a professor would sound like in front of his first name.

"I'll do my best!"

"Good luck." Monty put down the phone on his end.

Squidward put down his phone. He laid on the bed in the exact same position as before. He slowly closed his eyes and put on his sleeping mask.

S-S-S-S-S

The next day...

S-S-S-S-S

April 10, 2018

Squidward opened the front door.

The sky had a pink hue and green flowers floating above. Miles away, loud music and chatter could be heard.

Squidward inhaled the fresh air, which smelled just as sweet as yesterday's.

"Ahh.." He glanced around.

The pedestrians were quietly exiting their homes. They did not make eye contact with each other. Most of them got on to their bikes and strapped on their helmets.

Squidward put a hand on his chin. His gaze fell to the tiki's pathway.

'What should I do? If I have the day off, I should fit in something before the festival starts.'

A line of bikers that stretched for a block passed him by. All of their faces were expressing calmness.

Squidward's eyes followed the bikers.

'In Rome, do what the Romans do.' "I think I'll take my bike today." He stepped back inside.

S-S-S-S-S

A few minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward was riding his bicycle in the back of the line of bikers. Amongst all of the other faces, his grin stood out. He looked behind his shoulder.

Another line of of bikers, with the purple-vested octopus in front, were accelerating behind him. They merged with the line of bikers in front.

"Now these neighbors know how to live." Squidward leaned back in his seat.

The purple-vested octopus frowned as loud music being played in the distance gradually loudened.

"Commoners," he muttered.

"What do you mean?" said Squidward.

"For the first time, they're gonna allow those who don't live here to watch the parade up-close." The vested octopus tightened his grip on the bicycle's handles. "It's gonna be chaos."

"How's that so bad? Before moving here, I was one of those guys. I always had to see the ceremony from far away. That's why I didn't bother to come to some of the past parades."

The vested octopus and a few other nearby bikers chuckled.

"You must be a newcomer." The vested octopus looked in the direction of the commotion. "You'll understand what I'm saying once you live here long enough."

Squidward frowned upon hearing the word "newcomer".

"My family's gonna come here to see the parade." He leaned forward, nearly bumping into the biker in front of him.

The vested octopus shook his head. He slowed down.

"It doesn't matter who's related to whom. The great thing about this place is that they don't allow inner-city low-lives to wreck havoc here. It should stay that way."

"My family wasn't born wealthy, but they aren't from the ghetto either." Squidward was focusing his gaze on the helmets of the bikers in front of him. "How can you be saying all this crap when yours moved in here?"

"I didn't.".

"Huh?"

"I was raised here." The vested octopus moved away from Squidward's line of bikers to a line of bikers on the opposite side of the street. "Ta-ta~!" He tipped his helmet towards Squidward.

Several bikers on both lines laughed.

Squidward sighed. His face became deadpan.

S-S-S-S-S

A few hours later…

S-S-S-S-S

Thousands of people, including Squidward and his family, had gathered on both sides of Tentacle Acres' widest street. The chatter, whistles, and yells were irritating the people dwelling in the nearby tikis, who were shaking their fists and yelling at the crowd to quiet down. Several cameramen from various news stations were also there.

A large amount of clergy from both sects of the Olympian religion were proceeding down the street, with Numans to the left and Mysterians to the right. On the outermost layer were dancers from various regions of Micronesia, performing dances suggestive of fighting. In the next layer, a group of drummers and bongo players were providing the rhythm for the dancing. In the third layer, several lines of muscular altar servers were carrying various floats depicting consecutive battles between the Olympian gods & their allies and the Titans & their allies. In the central layer were flamens and hierophants, who were chanting hymns celebrating the triumph of the Olympians and the establishment of Mt. Olympus as the pantheon's base of operations.

Upon reaching the cul-de-sac, the dancers and instrument players gathered to one side.

The altar servers dropped their floats around the cul-de-sac in a specific pattern. One of them placed a podium, with a wireless microphone attached, and a stool behind it in the center of the cul-de-sac.

The flamens and hierophants gradually circled around the podium until their chants ended.

A short hierophant, a stingray, stood on the stool and picked up the microphone.

"Good morning, fellow believers!"

The yelling from the crowd intensified. A chunk of them were clapping.

The stingray placed his free wing on the podium.

"Regardless of the problems we've been facing over the past few years, our faith in the Holy Ones has not ceased in the slightest. Although our believers no longer make a majority of the country, as a matter of fact, only less than a third of us are still around, our devotion and sacrifices have intensified to make up for it. As a result, Jupiter has not abandoned us either."

More than half of the crowd, including all of Squidward's family save for Squidward, were clapping.

Squidward wiped some imaginary sweat from his brow. He was getting squeezed by the people around him. He covered his ears with his hands when the claps began to deafen him.

'Yeah, this is why I don't like coming here,' he muttered mentally. Upon moving his gaze towards the speaking hierophant, he saw a yellow dot and a pink dot from the corner of his eye. He swallowed his lips.

"As all of you may know, the transition of power from the previous generation of gods to the current generation of gods was not easy. Jupiter could not become the new ruler after defeating Cronus due to the opposition he faced from the other Titans. The war that subsequently followed nearly destroyed the Earth; Jupiter was sending so many thunderbolts that he shook the Earth's very foundations, and Neptune was bringing forth so many earthquakes that he caused several new mountains and landscapes to appear on the surface world. Fortunately, it was the Olympians who gained victory. On this day, Saturn's base had been seized by Hades' forces, immediately ending the war. This was also the same day when Jupiter received his wreath, signifying him as both ruler and peacekeeper of divine entities and mortals alike.

"We are also, on this day, renewing our commitments to serving the gods. Without the faith of the mortals, the gods could not have established their eternal rule."

Squidward, as he continued to push away the yellow and pink dots from his vision, gradually realized that he was no longer paying attention to the hierophant's speech. He then rubbed his eyes and straightened his posture. However, no matter how many times he repeated those actions, a faint sense of boredom would not leave his mind.

When the stingray finished his speech, he glided from the podium.

All of the flamens and hierophants turned to the direction of Mt. Olympus and proceeded to pray through loud chanting.

S-S-S-S-S

Two hours later…

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward was sitting at a table in the living room of his parents' house. Sitting around the table were eleven of his other family members; including his younger cousin Squeeze, who still had a full set of blond hair.

The windows had been covered with deep blue tints, a decoration put on during Olympeia that warded off malicious spirits and kept the deities at ease.

One of Squidward's aunts was looking at Squidward with a smirk.

"He lost all of his hair already?" She chuckled. "Kids these days grow up so fast."

Squidward's mother kept her mouth from either smiling or frowning.

"Yeah." She glanced at Squidward's slightly furrowed brows. "Squidgar"—she glanced at Squidward's father—"didn't lose all of his hair until his thirties."

"Then why did Squid's hair fall off so quickly?" said Squidward's aunt. "Was he just unlucky?"

Squidward's face wrinkled further as he attempted to suppress his frown. Without making eye contact with anybody, he slowly ate his food.

Squidward's mother shook her head.

"Things have been tough for him ever since high school." She leaned towards the aunt and whispered: "It's the stress."

"Ohh…"

A pause.

"You think Squeeze is gonna keep his?" said Squidward's mother.

Squidward's aunt leaned her chin against her fist.

"I doubt it." She turned to Squeeze. "You're gonna keep it?"

"Nope." Squeeze had a deadpan face nearly identical to Squidward's. "I wanna have that skinhead haircut." He pulled back his hair with both hands, emphasizing the length he desired. "Short hair is way better than a bowl cut."

Everybody in the table laughed, save for Squidward and his father.

Squidward's father, perceiving that Squidward was now only poking his food, touched Squidward's shoulder with his elbow.

"Don't be so glum."

Squidward looked at his father from the corner of his eye. One side of his mouth quivered.

"It's Olympeia." Squidward's father wore a smile. "Isn't it supposed to be a celebration?" He leaned towards Squidward's ear and whispered: "Just pretend to be happy… for me. I don't want you to look suspicious in front of the others."

Squidward bent his head and quickened the pace of his eating. Upon glancing at the veiled windows, he perceived the blurred outlines seen through the windows to be the array of tikis he had seen through his new bedroom's window. However, he imagined those same tikis having no neighbors inside them. The same sense of boredom from before returned, along with melancholy. He took his cup of water and gulped down the lump growing in his throat.

One of Squidward's uncles brought in slices of yellow and pink coral.

"Bon appetitie!"

Several of the children dashed to the plate and tried to snatch with their forks as many slices as possible.

Squidward narrowed his eyes.

S-S-S-S-S

An hour and a half later…

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward, who was now back at Tentacle Acres, was standing before a supermarket that had the sign with the words 'Full of Health' above the entrance.

Squidward looked through the windows and glanced at the doors.

The only signs of life inside the store were the staff standing by the register and carrying storage boxes.

Squidward shrugged.

'It wouldn't hurt to try the place out.' He pushed open a glass door.

S-S-S-S-S

A few minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward was walking down an aisle filled with canned food.

"Hmm…" He was repeatedly glancing to his left and right and at the shelves above and below him. "I bet they won't have-"

On a lower shelf was a can of canned bread with the label 'Best Thing Since Sliced'.

"Wow, they have it!" He grabbed several of the cans and ran towards the nearest line of shopping carts. "This town is great!" However, upon seeing a yellow flicker from the corner of his eye, he turned towards it. He felt a faint sense of deja-vu. "Sp-" He shut his mouth upon realizing that that yellow flicker was merely an employee that was the same species as SpongeBob. He exhaled through his nose and walked to another aisle.

S-S-S-S-S

Twelve minutes later.

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward exited the 'Full of Health' store with a stuffed shopping bag in hand. He walked down the sidewalk in his tiki's direction. After a minute of walking, he stumbled upon another block of buildings that were not tikis.

"I would really be impressied if it had-" He gasped again when he saw a dancing studio at the end of the block. He was close enough to be able to read the sign. He slapped his forehead. "An interpretive dance academy?!" He dashed towards his tiki. 'I'd better get the proper clothes!'

S-S-S-S-S

Fifteen minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward, now wearing his purple headband and leotard, was dancing with a group of octopuses to festive Olympeia music mixed with traditional instruments from the Oceanic Union's nations.

'Yeah! It's even better in a group!' Out of the entire dance group, Squidward was the only one smiling.

The music gradually faded to silence.

S-S-S-S-S

Several minutes later...

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward, now wearing hus brown shirt, was taking swift and wide steps down the street towards his tiki. The music that had been played in the studio was still bouncing around in his mind.

The street lights were glowing a soft yellow color. Combined with the symmetry of the road, they made the street look like a peer.

"This town is perfect."

S-S-S-S-S

A few minutes later...

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward was walking down the sidewalk before the park.

Three octopuses were playing their clarinets in a gazebo of dark green wood.

"A clarinet trio?!" said Squidward.

S-S-S-S-S

Ten minutes later...

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward was standing behind the trio of clarinet players, playing his own clarinet. The awkwardness of all of their notes unified into some sort of harmony.

S-S-S-S-S

Patty's boatmobile parked before Squidward's original tiki. She opened the door and stepped out.

"This is the place I was talking about." She skipped to the 'FOR SALE' sign and tapped its top. "You want it?"

Another door of Patty's car opened.

An orange male fish of moderate height with black hair tied into a ponytail, jeans that were ripped near the ankles, and narrow sunglasses stepped out of the vehicle. He folded his arms, which emphasized his built biceps.

"I'll have to take a better look." He walked up to the tiki's front door and pressed it with his palm. He took off his narrow sunglasses and, with a 'finger', felt the surface of the tiki's exterior wall while walking around it. He did not feel any indentations. With pursed lips, he nodded. "It's a deal."

Patty took out a packet of documents clipped to a board and a pen, skipped to the orange fish, and gave them to him.

"Just sign these and you're all set."

The orange fish scanned the documents, searching for any wording related to legal penalties and confiscation of property.

Patrick was watching them while standing near his rock. What caught his attention the most was the orange fish's newly bought sneakers, which matched with his jeans and sweater.

"He must be the guy moving in," he whispered.

When the orange fish finished signing the documents, he and Patty shook his hands.

Patty felt the calluses covering the orange fish's hand. While maintaining her artificial smile, she pulled back her hand.

"You work in construction?"

The orange fish shook his head. He put his sunglasses back on.

"Mainly at a grocery store."

"Grocery?" Patty glanced at the packet of documents. "You're a cashier?"

"Yep."

"Then how're you going to afford this house? I don't think a minimum-wage job is gonna be enough to pay the mortgage." Patty put her hands on her hips.

The orange fish chuckled.

"I have side-jobs. They pay me way more than what I get at the store."

"I'll trust you…" Patty turned towards her car while maintaining her gaze on the orange fish. "...for now." She held up an 'index finger'. "If you get into any 'slip-up' in the next four weeks, you'll lose the right to own the house, got it?"

The orange fish nodded. He did not allow his face to reveal any wrinkles.

"Yes, ma'am." He forced himself to pronounce the words clearly.

Patty tossed the keys to the orange fish.

The orange fish caught them.

Patty stepped into the car and drove down the road.

Patrick, with the tips of his hands repeatedly touching together, slowly walked up to the orange fish.

"Hi."

The orange fish twirled the keys with a 'finger'. He looked at Patrick from the corner of his eye. He tilted his head upward as a form of salute.

Patrick lowered his arms. His heartbeat slowed.

"What's your name?"

The orange fish stopped twirling his keys. He adjusted his sunglasses.

"The name's Jack."

S-S-S-S-S

The next day…

S-S-S-S-S

April 11, 2018

Squidward opened his tiki's front door. His biking helmet reflected the morning sunlight. Through deep inhales, he savored the sweet scent of the dew.

"Aah, another great day." He hopped onto his bike, which had been lying against the tiki's 'face', and pedaled to the road. After a minute of biking down the street, he reached the back of the same line of bikers.

The bikers were nearly in the exact same positions.

"Everybody's on their bike today," Squidward said quietly. After almost a minute of watching their movements, he perceived the backs of their heads to be identical. However, as he stopped with the line before a red light at a large intersection, his train of thought was cut off by the music of a mini-orchestra playing at a cafe. He shrugged.

S-S-S-S-S

Eleven minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward was humming to the melody of European classical music playing from the 'Full of Health' store's intercom. He picked up several 'Best Thing Since Sliced' cans and dropped them into his shopping cart.

S-S-S-S-S

Thirty minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

Inside the living room of Squidward's original tiki; Jack, with his slouching arms lying on both sides, was on the couch. A few liquor stains were on his sweat pants, with the bottle of liquor itself lying on the tea table. He burped.

Sitting on the other seats were three male fishes he had invited.

One of the guests, who was smoking a cigarette, grimaced upon smelling the alcohol-heavy odor of Jack's burp. "Ugh… do you floss…? Or at least use mouthwash?" He waved the smell away.

Jack smirked. He pointed at the guest's cigarette. "Look who's talking."

"At least what I'm using isn't tobacco," said the smoker. He took another puff of his cigarette and, in the direction of opposite of Jack's, exhaled the smoke. The material the cigarette contained was sharpening his senses while dulling his vision, and thus intensified the stench of Jack's burp while causing him to perceive the burp's cloud to be spreading around the room. "We need some fresh air in here." He opened a nearby window. He smiled as he felt a crisp breeze brush against his cheeks.

Another of the guests, who was wearing a black hoodless jacket filled with peculiar substances and metallic objects, watched the smoke coming from the smoker get pushed away by the breeze. He then turned to Jack. "Why did you have to move into this place?" He rested his elbows on his lap. "Bringing the guys here was a pain in the butt." He smirked as his mind echoed the swerving and screeching of boatmobiles. "Did you know how many car crashes I'd seen while driving to here alone? It was outta a movie."

The third guest, who was wearing a baseball cap in reverse, was bumping his knuckles against the cupboard, imitating a drum solo. He snickered. "Most people aren't like us, Mike." He sat up, took out his touch-screen phone, and resumed a text conversation with a stranger. Through taking turns typing in various numbers, the two were bargaining. "The average guy's gotta work at certain times of the day." He pointed at himself with his 'thumb'. "We work 24/7, remember?"

"True." Mike adjusted his jacket until he no longer felt pressure on one knee. "But it was still a hassle to move through all that traffic." He glanced at the bottle of liquor on the tea table. "I dunno how they're letting all these barnacle heads onto the roads." He scratched his chin until the first satisfying idea popped into his head. "Maybe they're giving out licenses like candy."

"Good job, Sherlock," muttered the smoker.

"How 'bout you drive for now on, Marcus?" Mike crossed his arms. "You don't realize how stressful it is to drive around everywhere for clients until you do it yourself."

Marcus delit the cigarette by squeezing its smoky tip with two fingers. "I'm on the move a lot too…" He took out his wallet and held it towards Mike, emphasizing the thick wads of money inside it. "And I never complained at all."

Mike dug into his pocket for his wallet. But upon feeling it, he realized that it was thinner than that of Marcus. He pouted for a few seconds before his lips quivered into a scowl fiercer than Marcus' frown. "Oh yeah?! What's the point of having all that money if you don't even know how to fight." He pointed at Marcus' arms. "You're so skinny that I betta a little kid from the 'burbs can give you a good beating." He grabbed Marcus' forearm and held it up, emphasizing its lack of muscle.

All of the men except for Marcus laughed.

Marcus punched the guest wearing the baseball cap in the shoulder. "You better cut it out, Ricky." He threw the cigarette to the floor. "Or else you're gonna have to give me back that special 'pipe' I lended you." He looked at Mike and cracked his knuckles.

"Cut it out, guys." Jack stood up and stepped between Mike and Marcus, who had raised their fists into fighting positions. "Just let it go for now. If the Strangler comes in and sees that we're fighting over petty crap, he's gonna reduce our supply. He's done it to me, so he can certainly do it to the rest of you."

"If that happens, we'll just find another dealer. We live in a city. It won't be so hard." Ricky slouched against his seat.

Jack shook his head. "The Strangler's got the best supply in the county. There ain't anybody else who knows the amount of insiders he knows." He returned to his seat. "We've been working with him ever since we started our business. Let's not burn any bridges."

Mike and Marcus sat back down.

Ricky was gazing at the flowers in the sky he could see through the nearby window. Upon seeing a dark orange flower, a rare color for a sky flower, he walked up to the window. He then leaned forward and watched the sky with his arms resting on the windowsill. After another minute of gazing, he saw yellow and pink hazes moving from the corner of his eye. He turned his eyes towards them.

SpongeBob, Patrick, and Gary were playing frisbee in a certain pattern. All of them were expressing cheerfulness.

From Ricky's viewpoint, the sunlight caused SpongeBob's black shoes to flicker. His lips slowly curved. "Damn, those are some nice shoes," he whispered. He then looked at Jack from the corner of his eye. "Do the folks here make alotta money?"

"Yep." Jack took a few more sips from his bottle of liquor. "If you compare them to where we came from."

"Then you gotta see this." Ricky, while grinning, pointed at the three neighbors. "They've got some expensive-looking clothes."

Mike and Marcus walked to the window and looked at the neighbors.

SpongeBob's white shirt was shining under the sunlight.

"Oh snap!" Mike widened his eyes. He pointed at SpongeBob's shirt. "The yellow dude's wearing the new Adibass. That only came out a few days ago!"

Marcus smirked. "I mean, if they can afford to get a pet, they can probably get alotta other stuff too."

"You guys wanna mug him?" whispered Mike as he closed the window. He turned to his fellow men and shook the heavier materials inside his jacket. "Since they look pretty weak, stealing their cash is gonna be easy."

Jack's mouth leaned towards one corner. He shook his head. "It won't be as easy as you think." He sat up. "The woman who gave me the house's keys told me that they can kick me outta here if I get arrested before a certain amount of days pass. If we're gonna get those guys' cash, we're gonna have to use stealth."

Marcus adjusted his pants, which had been hanging low. "So you mean to say that we're gonna have to get into their homes without them noticing and take whatever's in there?"

"Mm-hm." Jack clapped his hands together. He stood up. "If we don't find any cash, they probably got some other nice stuff we can sell."

KNOCK

KNOCK

KNOCK

KNOCK

A series of slow yet hard knocks came from the front door.

Jack, through the knocks, recognized who was behind the front door. He swallowed his lips, jogged to the door, and opened it. "Yo, Strangler!" He wore a smile.

The Strangler was a green fish with a set of brown hair a bit too small for his head. A small sutured red scar was on one side of his head. He was wearing a blue shirt that had its sleeves ripped off, a grey shirt underneath that shirt, buckled dark gray pants, and black boots. "How's it going, boys?" He folded his arms, revealing the veins on his hands. He stepped into the tiki and closed the door.

Ricky pointed at the neighbors through the window. "We're gonna rob the neighbors." He rubbed his hands together. "We'll be getting alotta money."

"Is that so..." The Strangler watched the neighbors from the window Ricky had pointed at. After a few minutes, he walked to the window in the kitchen area and looked through it. "Are you gonna be pickpocketing?"

"Nope." Jack closed his bottle of liquor and put it into one of his pockets. "We're gonna sneak into their houses when they're not looking and take their stuff."

The Strangler put a hand on his chin. He turned to face the group. "If we're gonna do that, we're gonna have to wait until the right time. I don't want this stuff to go to waste." He took out a plastic bag filled with a milky substance. "For now, let's focus on selling this out. One of my suppliers is running low on this stuff." He took out more of those bags and gave one to each man. "The 'dry' season may be coming a little earlier this year."

Ricky sucked his teeth.

The Strangler's brows furrowed slightly. "Patience." He held up an 'index finger'. "That's something you're gonna need. I've been doing this job way longer than all of you. I know what tasks we have to prioritize."

"But the police rarely show up in these parts," said RIcky. "It's gonna be such an easy steal."

"If it's gonna be easy, then don't worry about it." The Strangler's hands closed into fists. His arms were no longer folded. "We'll have time to come back to it later."

S-S-S-S-S

A few hours later…

S-S-S-S-S

SpongeBob was jotting down orders into his notepad, sticking them to the ordering window's chandelier, flipping patties and assembling them into burgers, and placing money into the cash register all within a manner of seconds.

The customers stared at the yellow blur with dropped jaws. Some of them were so startled that the plates SpongeBob had given them slipped through their hands.

Mr. Krabs, while sitting on a seat, was resting his head against a table. His eyestalks were closed and his claws were behind his head. The cash register's cha-chings sounded like bells swaying against the breeze. 'It seems Cashie and Mr. SquarePants are gettin' along.' As the cha-chings shifted to the shuffling of feet, he tuned his ear-holes to the customers' conversations.

"Y'know when they're gonna start the Fry Cook Games?"

"Hmm… I think it'll be a few weeks from now."

"Oh, c'mon! Why is it taking so long? I've heard that Fred Oyster & Bagels might finally win 1st place this year."

A chuckle. "I dunno 'bout that. They usually allow those fancy-schmancy restaurants to compete. If a restaurant wants to compete but doesn't have that type of reputation, they're gonna need a chef worthy of the Holy Ones themselves. I think I remember only a few times when a non-elite restaurant was allowed to compete in the Games."

Images of one of the Krusty Krab's previous fry cooks, Jim, competing in the Fry Cook Games resurfaced in Mr. Krabs' mind. He vividly saw the sweat running down Jim's face as he sliced ingredients before a massive audience and the fierce scowls he showed as he leaped and doved. The images then morphed into a memory of himself holding a golden trophy towards the heavens, basking in the screams and whistles of the audience and the countless camera flashes. He then remembered the horde of customers from around the country that poured into his restaurant throughout the weeks after the competition. "Sweet glory," he whispered.

"You think the Krusty Krab's gonna compete again?"

"Nope. Its glory days have long been gone. Without Jim, the Krusty Krab's nothing."

Mr. Krabs' heartbeat quickened. However, upon remembering that Squidward was no longer his employee, he let out an exhale. 'At least he's gone.'

"What about the newbie?" A munch from a Krabby Patty. "His cooking is just as good as Jim's."

"He's only been working here for about a month. We can't say for certain that he'll be consistently good. Alotta new chefs get an ego boost once the good reviews start coming in. After that, their cooking goes stagnant since they'll think they don't need to change. We'll have to wait and see."

"Don't be so pessimistic. The dude's also a lot different from Jim. He's really good at improvising. Whenever I ate Jim's patties, they always taste the same type of 'good', if you know what I mean. When I eat the new guy's patties, they taste different each time, but it's never a mix of good and bad. The new flavors he always adds complement the other flavors."

"Damn… I've almost never heard of a chef who does stuff like that. If the next food critic that comes here tastes the guy's cooking, maybe they'll let the Krusty Krab compete again."

Mr. Krabs opened his eyestalks.

"How'm I doing?" SpongeBob was standing before him, with hands folded together behind his back.

"Yer doin' amazin'!" Mr. Krabs hopped to his feet. He patted SpongeBob on the shoulder.

"T-Thank you." SpongeBob blushed. He put a hand on his mouth and took a step back.

"As a matter o' fact, yer doin' so well that I'm not goin' to let Mr Tentacles come back." Mr. Krabs adjusted SpongeBob's hats. "His hat is now permanently yers."

"But I miss Squid…"

Mr. Krabs sighed.

RING RING RING RING RING

The shell-phone in Mr. Krabs' office rang.

S-S-S-S-S

Mr. Krabs jogged to the shell-phone and picked it up. "Ahoy."

"Hello, Mr. Krabs."

"G-Gene?"

"I'm gonna be doing my yearly check-up in 3 days. I'm looking forward to this one 'cause I've been hearing some really promising things about your new fry cook. Don't let me down."

"Squid's not working here anymore." Mr. Krabs' lips were quivering.

"Thank Neptune." Gene's exhale could be heard through the phone. "Workers like him always drag down the quality of the service. Why did you keep him for so long?"

Mr. Krabs' heartbeat slowed. He leaned against the nearest wall. "I was just too used to havin' him around. I always kept thinkin' that without at least two crewmates, my ship wouldn't sail fast enough."

"Pssh. Focus on the quality over quantity. It's much better to have an employee who'll be loyal to you until the business shuts down than to have a bunch of lazy bums who are only good at getting nothing done."

Mr. Krabs chuckled. "Well, I learned from me mistake."

"April 14, save the date."

Mr. Krabs took out a marker from his pocket and put an 'X' mark on the specified slot in the calendar.

"You done?"

"Aye."

"See you around." Gene put down the phone on his end.

Mr. Krabs put down the phone on his end. With claws folded together before his belly and swallowed lips, he quietly walked through the doorway to the kitchen.

S-S-S-S-S

Mr. Krabs gently tapped SpongeBob's shoulder.

"Hm?' SpongeBob had been washing the dishes. He dropped the towel. "Yessir?"

"Gene's gonna come here tomorrow," said Mr. Krabs quietly.

"Who's Gene?"

"A food critic." Mr. Krabs crossed his arms.

SpongeBob gasped. "Now's my time to shine!" He stood on tip-toe and put his hands on his hips. "Once that guy sees my skills he'll be coming back for seconds." He skipped to the deep fryer and pointed at it. "I'vebeenimprovingtoo! Icancooksome mean~ french fries now." He continued to blabber until Mr. Krabs slowly covered his mouth with a claw.

"This ain't no game, lad. He's a professional, and one of the serious ones too." He moved his claw away from SpongeBob's mouth, which was now silent. "If you make even one tiny mistake…" He moved the tips of his claw until they were a centimeter away from each other. "...he'll drop his score by a star."

SpongeBob, without opening his mouth, held his tongue between his teeth.

"He's one of our country's most popular food critics. He even used to have his own TV show."

"Oh yeah!" SpongeBob held up an index finger. "It was called 'Hades' Kitchen'."

"Right." Mr. Krabs bent his head. "But there's another reason why you should be takin' him seriously." He put a claw on SpongeBob's shoulder and leaned towards him. "I'm gonna need a good review from him in order for us to go to the Fry Cook Games."

SpongeBob's eyes began to sparkle. Countless images of the Fry Cook Games' events within the TV screen of his parents' house flashed by in rapid succession. "T-The Fry C-Cook Games?" The memories of the excitement he had felt whenever he watched the cooks representing the Krusty Krab were so vivid that he was now struggling to extract words from his mind.

"Aye." Mr. Krabs smirked upon seeing SpongeBob's quivering lips. He poked where he thought SpongeBob's heart was. "I see the potential in ya, but in order for that potential to be fully realized, we have to steer it into the proper streams." He pointed through the ordering window at the front door. "Since no other food critic has come here yet while you're hired, Gene's review is going to determine if me ship's worthy enough for the Games." He moved his gaze back to SpongeBob's eyes. "You'll have to mold that potential in ya to what Gene likes."

"So, what does he like?" SpongeBob rubbed his foot against the floor.

Mr. Krabs stepped to the grill and gestured all around it. "He doesn't like sloppily-made food. He's so good at tellin' which foods were made lazily or properly that he doesn't need to even taste it. The smell of the grill alone will be enough for him." He pointed at the grill's various switches. "If yer gonna make sure he doesn't catch that smell, ya gotta set th' grill to a slow burn for a while before you begin cookin'."

"Roger." SpongeBob did a military salute. "What else?"

Mr. Krabs opened the freezer. He pointed at the plastic bags of lettuce heads and tomatoes. "Thaw out th' vegetables before you put them into the patties. He doesn't like frozen food since it makes the food taste 'bland'."

SpongeBob nodded. "Gotcha."

"And one more thing." Mr. Krabs pointed at ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise containers. "Put alotta ketchup on the patty and then put a little mayo and mustard. If you don't put the condiments on in that exact way, he'll think it'll throw off the Krabby Patty's 'balance'."

"Why can't he just state his order specifically?" SpongeBob put a finger on his chin. "I don't think I've ever been able to read someone else's mind."

"The thing is, he's a food critic. He's expectin' every restaurant to cater to his whims, no matter how foolish they are." Mr. Krabs walked up to SpongeBob. "I'm telling ye all of these rules 'cause I learned it through trial-and-error. I had to go through a series of bad reviews from him until one of me previous fry cooks figured out somethin' that works."

"Jim?"

"Yep. He was just as good at cookin' as you are."

A pause.

SpongeBob looked down at his shirt. He imagined how heavy a gold medallion would feel against his shoulders. "Y'know, Mr. Krabs..." He adjusted his squarepants until the right words passed through his mind. "...why do you want me to go to the Fry Cook Games? I know I'd be really happy to go but... the Games don't really benefit the owners. The Games were created to make people think of cooking as a serious profession instead of some nobody's job. It's meant for the fry cooks, which is why it was named after them."

Mr. Krabs pirate-laughed for several seconds. "Of course it benefits me. Whenever we win the gold, I get a flood o' customers th' week after." He pointed at SpongeBob again. "Even though you're th' one who gets the prize," He pointed at himself with his 'thumb'. "I get th' bigger one."

"But I'm not doing it for the money." SpongeBob did not smile, but his eyes retained their glossiness. "I'm just doing it outta my love for the Krabby Patty."

"That's the spirit." Mr. Krabs patted the top of SpongeBob's head. He walked towards his office's doorway. "We'll be gettin' th' gold in no time."

S-S-S-S-S

Several hours later...

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward, inside the dance studio and wearing the same leotard, was dancing with the same people, who were now in different positions. They were performing a variation of the dance they had done yesterday.

"It just gets better and better," whispered Squidward. Out of everybody else, he was the one dancing with the most exuberance. His arms swung wildly towards the ceiling whenever the music from the radio reached a certain section, causing the other dancers to look at him with raised brows.

S-S-S-S-S

Twenty minutes later...

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward was standing before the trio of clarinet players. He was holding his clarinet with one hand. "All together!" He held out his other hand towards them.

All four commenced to play a clarinet solo in perfect harmony. Squidward's notes were the loudest.

S-S-S-S-S

Three days later...

S-S-S-S-S

April 14, 2018

The sky above Tentacle Acres was a dark blue mixed with scattered strands of heavy clouds. Although the sun was not fully visible, its rays were peeking from the horizon, illuminating the sky flowers.

Squidward was biking down a road he had not passed through before. The warm yellow light coming from the streetlights guided him through the weakening darkness of the early morning. No lines of bikers could be heard or seen. He was glancing at every aspect of his surroundings. Whenever his mind strayed to something else, he either quickened or slowed his pace. However, no matter how much he tried to channel his mental energy into his body's movements, the inexplicable emptiness he was perceiving only grew. Mental images that used to bring him much pleasure now only brought him a faint sense of satisfaction.

Squidward's eyes were half-closed. His mouth was drooping.

S-S-S-S-S

Several hours later...

S-S-S-S-S

C-CRREEAK

S-SLAM

A purple male fish who had a black afro and a drooping handlebar mustache entered the Krusty Krab. He was wearing a pair of circular glasses that had went out of fashion in the Oceanic Union decades ago. He was also wearing a green bowtie and a yellow shirt underneath a purple buttoned-up vest. On one side of the vest was a nametag with the words 'Gene Scallop'.

SpongeBob, upon seeing how Gene's mustache swayed as he walked, betrayed a goofy smile as the urge to giggle rose within him. He looked at Mr. Krabs from the corner of his eye. "Is that him?" he whispered.

Mr. Krabs was biting the tips of his claws. He nodded.

SpongeBob swallowed his lips and looked through the ordering window. Upon seeing the freshly prepared vegetables on a table and feeling a moderate heat rising from the grill, he turned his attention back to Gene.

Gene, with his arms akimbo, was deeply sniffing the dining room's stuffy air. Although the smell of tar and decaying wood filled his nostrils, he overcame the urge to grimace. "Smells like the rear end of a goat, like always." He walked up to the cash register,

SpongeBob clasped his hands together near his chest. "Hello! Welcome to the Krusty Krab. My name is SpongeBob. What would you like to order?"

Gene looked up at the menu and scratched his chin.

Mr. Krabs was sitting on his knees before a seat, with his elbows on the seat and his claws clasped together. He was whispering prayers to Hermes for bountiful profits.

'Nothing new. I guess Eugene is getting too comfortable.' Gene adjusted his glasses and folded his arms. "One Crying Johnny, one deluxe Krabby Patty, and a diet red tide on the side."

SpongeBob jotted down Gene's orders and stuck the note to the ordering window's chandelier. "Coming right away, sir!" He leaped through the ordering window.

S-S-S-S-S

Several minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

SpongeBob placed a plate that had a Krabby Patty soaked in grease, a Krabby Patty with extra onions, and a cup of burgundy soda. He did a military salute while maintianing his artificial smile. "Is this what you wanted, sir?"

"Mm-hm." Gene picked up the Crying Johnny and took a bite. He thoroughly chewed the extra onions it contained. He then gazed at the remaining Crying Johnny as he filed through memories of burger tastes he had previously encountered. Once he pinpointed the Crying Johnny's flavor, he commenced to eat the rest of the burger. He then widened his eyes as an unfamiliar flavor gradually covered his tongue.

SpongeBob's fingers were repeatedly tapping together. He was biting his lip.

"T-This…" Gene gulped down the final bit of the Crying Johnny as he savored the burger's aftertaste. The onion slices' varying levels of acidity combined into a sensation in his mouth that felt like smoke. "This tastes like… hot sauce…"

SpongeBob hopped in place and clapped.

Gene took hold of the deluxe Krabby Patty, squeezed it slightly to detect the amount of grease it contained, and then slowly took a bite.

Mr. Krabs was watching Gene from behind the mast. Like SpongeBob, he was hopping in place.

The moderate amounts of grease, combined with the fresh tomato slices and slight traces of mayonnaise and mustard, filled his mouth with a creamy texture. The patty itself, combined with the heavy amounts of ketchup, gave off the flavor of barbeque sauce. Upon taking subsequent bites, the creamy texture and the barbeque sauce flavor combined into another unfamiliar flavor: that of barbequed ribs and orange-flavored ice cream. 'How is this possible?' He stared at the final piece of the deluxe Krabby Patty. 'That sponge can create an entire menu out of this patty alone.' When the burger's aftertaste faded from his mouth, he swallowed the final piece. He then drank the soda in a few large gulps. Upon finishing, he let out a loud and long burp.

SpongeBob's cheeks were puffed-up. 'C'mon, c'mon, c'mon…'

Gene sat up. With a slight bow, he raised the emptied plate,

SpongeBob took the plate.

"This cooking has titillated my taste buds and gratified my gullet." Gene turned towards Mr. Krabs, who was now standing next to him. At the same time, he pointed at SpongeBob. "That sponge behind the grill is no square when it comes to cooking." He stood up and held out his hand towards SpongeBob.

SpongeBob, blushing, shook Gene's hand.

Gene's gaze returned to Mr. Krabs. "If you want to soak up the dough, sponge it up, sponge it out, or even over-sponge it. You can never have too much sponge."

The image of pouring dollars was so vivid in Mr. Krab's mind that he was nearly at a loss of words. "St-Sta…"

"Stars?" said Gene.

"Aye!"

"Five stars." Gene took out the exact amount of money needed and placed them on top of the cash register. He then walked to the double door. "Without a doubt!"

S-S-S-S-S

Several hours later…

S-S-S-S-S

Within the dance studio, the dancers were dancing in a formation where their arms were hooked together into one very long and twisted line.

Squidward with the same half-closed eyes from before, was effortlessly moving with the flow of the other dancers. He allowed his head to bob. The blinking spark of excitement that remained in his mind left his face slightly more animated than the deadpan faces of the others. When the music from the radio ended, he flopped face-first to the floor.

The others walked to the locker rooms to change their clothing, not noticing Squidward.

Squidward lifted his face from the floor and sighed.

S-S-S-S-S

Several minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward was sitting on the living room's sofa. With his chin resting on a hand, he was mindlessly flipping through TV channels. When he stumbled upon a channel that was showing a dancer that had a face powdered to paper whiteness and evocative clothes, he sat up. 'Finally, something cultured.' He leaned forward and, with the remote, turned up the TV's volume as he absorbed the bombastic music the dancer was dancing to, which consisted of a mix of rock and orchestra. Squidward unconsciously swayed his head to the drum beat.

The dancer ended his dance before a group of actors of various species, who were all wearing heavy armor. The actors held their hands towards the dancer and sung in unison a verse that echoed across the stage. Behind them, the orchestra sharply loudened their notes.

Squidward's ears and eyes were focused on the intricate patterns of notes and the matching colors of the actors' costumes respectively. He hopped over the cupboard and sat criss-crossed on the floor with his eyes now only an inch away from the screen.

S-S-S-S-S

Forty minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward was holding a tissue near his bloodshot eyes. A few tears were beginning to trickle down his cheeks.

The dancer then let out a final wavering note that echoed across the theatre, accompanied by a electric guitar note. He then collapsed as the other actors gathered around him in what looked like a stabbing frenzy.

The curtain swiftly closed.

The orchestra ended their fast-paced performance.

Squidward wiped his tears with the tissue. He took a few deep breaths before speaking. "That was..." He clasped the sides of the TV with both hands. Rejuvenated waves of emotion were flowing through him as the play's most jarring notes replayed in his mind. "...magnificent."

Squilliam briskly walked to the stage's center. With his forearm on his belly, he slowly bowed.

The audience gave a thunderous applause. Some of them began to chant Squilliam's first name.

"W-What?" Squidward's rear fell to the soles of his feet.

The curtain opened; revealing the actors, the band members, and the dancer facing the audience in a straight line. They all bowed in unison.

"And that's a wrap, folks! If you want to see more of Squilliam Fancyson's music, stay tuned for Michael Goldfish's presidential inauguration."

'Goldfish won?' Squidward rested a chin on his fist. After several more seconds of looking at the dancer, memories of that same person competing in the dance contest resurfaced. When the screen changed to show Squilliam's smirk, an old hatred that had been boiling in his subconscious rose to the surface. He scowled, grabbed the remote, and hurled it towards the TV.

The remote hit the TV's 'OFF' button.

The TV turned off.

"I'm sick of this garbage!" hissed Squidward as he stomped upstairs. His eyes were still moist.

S-S-S-S-S

Twenty-five minutes later...

S-S-S-S-S

Squilliam, the dancer, the actors, and his band were all behind the curtain. All of the audience and cameramen had left the theatre. The only sounds that could be heard in the building were their conversation and light footsteps.

Squilliam wiped away the dust from a crate's top before sitting on it. With his eyes half-closed in contentment, he turned to face everybody else. "Since you guys have given such a splendid performance, I'll allow you to eat anywhere you wish... as long as it's a restaurant that serves high-quality cuisine. I'm not going to let you eat among commoners."

The dancer raised his hand.

"Yes?" said Squilliam.

"The Krusty Krab."

Squilliam raised a brow. He then took out his touch-screen phone and browsed through the internet for a minute. Upon seeing the Krusty Krab's profile on a certain website, he shook his head. "It only has four stars."

"Check the latest review," said the dancer. "Gene Scallop went there not too long ago."

Squilliam scrolled up to the uppermost textbox beneath the Krusty Krab's description and statistics. Upon seeing Gene Scallop's five-star rating and the vivid imagery he used to describe SpongeBob's cooking, he smirked. "I'll be more lenient this time."

S-S-S-S-S

Mr. Krabs, inside the Krusty Krab's dining room, was sitting at a table. He was facing an elderly male fish he had known since his youth. "How th' Hades am I gonna run me business if it's not given any winds to sail on? Based on what Goldfish is sayin', he's gonna raise taxes for folk such as meself to 1/5 of income!"

The old fish, with his cheek resting on a hand, waved a hand of dismissal. "You've saved up alotta money over the years, Eugene, and the Krusty Krab's profits've been increasing too. Those taxes will barely leave a dent."

"No, no, no!" Mr. Krabs shook his head. "He's raisin' taxes for well-to-do businesses too! Not only will I lack th' money to invest in me busine-"

The old fish pointed at the wooden floor, which was creaking as customers passed by. "You barely invest in anything at all."

"But what about th' advertisements?" Mr. Krabs slapped his claws to the table and leaned towards the old man. A sweatdrop leaked from his shell. "I won't have money to spend on 'em! How're new customers gonna come here?!"

The old fish chuckled. "You're overreacting." He leaned back. "You've been relying on word-of-mouth ever since you bought this place. I've rarely seen any Krusty Krab posters, and the last time I've seen a Krusty Krab commercial was over five years ago. You're gonna do just fine."

"But what about emergencies and other extra stuff?" Mr. Krabs' arms were beginning to tremble. "You remember that storm? I had to waste thousands o' dollars on those pillow doo-hickeys. Don't even get me started on th' talent show."

The old fish, while smirking, raised a brow. "Didn't you get back way more outta the talent show than you put in?"

RING RING RING RING RING RING RING

The shell-phone in Mr. Krabs' office rang.

"I'll come back in a jiffy." Mr. Krabs jogged into his office

S-S-S-S-S

Mr. Krabs picked up the shell-phone. "Yes?"

"Are you Mr. Krabs?"

"Aye. Yer speaking to him."

"My name is Squilliam Fancyson. Conductor of the famous Fancyson Ensemble, owner of Fancyson Casinos. I am considering if my band should have a dinner at your restaurant and I would be honored if you would give me permission to do so."

Mr. Krabs' jaw had dropped. He was imagining dollar stacks as high as skyscrapers inside Squilliam's mansions. "Sq-Sq-Sq-Squilliam?"

"Is that a yes?"

"Y-You have millions, right?"

Squilliam chuckled. "Hundreds of millions."

Mr. Krabs gripped the shell-phone with both claws, as if he was shaking Squilliam's hand. "It's a deal!"

"Alright… I'm going to set the dinner at seven o'clock PM. Make sure no customers are allowed in by that time save for who I'm inviting. The date will be April #. Before me and the other guests come in, make sure to prep the place up. This dinner is a reward to my band for their hard work, so I expect the best presentation and service possible."

Mr. Krabs put a claw over his heart. "On me word!"

"If there's anything that will compromise the timing of the dinner, please keep me informed."

"Squilliam, you won't have to worry at all. I used to be the captain of a pirate crew, so I'm skilled at makin' sure a ship sails on time."

"Very well."

When Mr. Krabs heard beeps from the other end, he put down the shell-phone. He then ran to the kitchen.

S-S-S-S-S

"Mr. SquarePants!" Mr. Krabs grabbed SpongeBob by the shoulder and turned him around. "Now that we got Gene outta th' way, I'm gonna be giving ye a bigger task."

"Ooh~!" SpongeBob clapped. "What is it?"

Mr. Krabs leaned towards SpongeBob in a feeble attempt at crouching. "Squilliam and his crew are gonna be comin' here a few weeks from now. It's gonna be a dinner, so you'll be workin' extra hours on that day."

"Okay!" SpongeBob ran in place while on tip-toe. "I don't mind working more."

"But that's gonna be the least of yer worries." Mr. Krabs gestured towards the kitchen's walls. "Squilliam also said that we need to do some preparation. Since he's from old money, I'm expectin' you to get the most fanciest decorations you can think of. Once you get 'em, yer gonna be puttin' 'em on th' walls, sparin' the windows, an hour or two before Squilliam gets here."

SpongeBob took hold of both employee hats, intending to tip them. However, the word "decoration" echoed in his mind until images of his and Squidward's museum visit resurfaced. His memories of Squidward's deadpan face morphed into an image of Squidward having that same face while sitting in his new tiki all by himself. He then exhaled through his nose.

Mr. Krabs leaned his head towards one side. "What's gotten int' ya?" He tilted SpongeBob's chin up. "You've done way harder things. Is it 'cause Squilliam's rich?" He put a claw on his hip. "Don't be scared of him. I've plundered ships filled with booty that was probably worth twice his fortune."

"It's not that." SpongeBob was looking at a green stain on Mr. Krabs' shirt. "It's Squid."

Mr. Krabs crossed his arms and sighed. "You need to get over him." He glanced through the ordering window at the customers' faces. "He's committed mutiny so many times I can't even count 'em anymore. Other than makin' things go a little faster, he was only a distraction. If I treated him like a real pirate, I would've fired him after th' first few days."

"The thing is… I can't see him at home either. He moved out." SpongeBob stepped to the grill and began to mindlessly turn its knobs.

"Well, me lad, that's just a fact o' life." He walked to the doorway to his office, stood within it, and leaned towards one side. "Over my journeys across the seas, I lost many friends."

SpongeBob held one hand over the other. "Is that true?" His eyes gained a slight sheen of moisture.

"Absolutely." Mr. Krabs turned to face SpongeBob. "All me time out in th' sea wasn't spent bein' a pirate either. I also served in the navy."

"The navy?! M-My grandpa served in the navy too. Did you see him?"

"What's his name?"

"Sp-Sp..." A faint lump formed in SpongeBob's throat. He pressed his tongue with his teeth as he tried to push away images of white beds and sleepless hours. "SpongeRobert."

Mr. Krabs scratched his chin and shrugged. "It doesn't ring a bell. Maybe we served different ships."

SpongeBob took a deep breath. "Did you fight in any wars?"

Mr. Krabs laughed. "Not a single one. I barely remember there being any battles either." He took hold of the doors non-attached side. "The Oceanic Union hasn't went to war in over a century." When he began to close the door, he perceived that SpongeBob was still holding the spatula. "Don't forget that you still have to train for th' Fry Cook Games, along with those decorations for Squilliam's dinner."

"How should I train?" SpongeBob twirled his spatula with a finger.

"I'll tell you later." Mr. Krabs closed the door.

S-S-S-S-S

A few hours later…

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward placed a bread slice before a carefully assembled stack of vegetables native to the seafloor and roasted slices of ham, with another bread slice at the stack's bottom.

"Voila!" He took a step back, washed his hands, and took his time to gaze at the sandwich. "It looks more appetizing than I thought." He licked his lips. He then touched his head but remembered that he was not wearing a toque. "Right…" he droned. He then held the sandwich's with both hands. After taking a bite, the warmness of the ham and the coldness of the vegetables combined into an unsavory flavor. After gagging a few times, he managed to swallow his bile down. He then savored the sandwich's aroma. "But it smells so good..." He glanced at the sandwich from different angles. "How can it taste that bad?" As he glanced at each of the sandwich's layers, the fuzzy outline of a certain burger gradually appeared in his mental vision. He then glanced at the clock and sighed. "I've spent way too much time on this thing. Might as well finish it anyway." He took a small bite from the sandwich.

S-S-S-S-S

Two days later...

S-S-S-S-S

April 16, 2018. Veneralia.

SpongeBob was sitting in the boat inside the Krusty Krab's dining room. His chin was resting on one hand. He was watching a few customer couples exchanging hearts and saying "Happy Veneralia" to each other. No matter how many times he tried to swallow his saliva, the heaviness in his throat would not leave.

Patrick was sitting with his back against the left side of the boat. His face expressed nonchalance. With the plate on his lap, he was eating a deluxe Krabby Patty that had extra mayonnaise. When he looked at SpongeBob from the corner of his eye, he perceived the lack of an enthusiastic smile. He burped. "Why so glum... chum?"

SpongeBob took a deep breath and sat up. He forced out a slight smile. "I wish I could share one of those hearts with somebody." He glanced at the double door as another couple walked into the restaurant. "It only happens once a year, y'know."

Patrick shrugged. "Why not buy one from a store and give it to me?"

SpongeBob giggled and shook his head. "Today's Venus' day, Pat. I don't think she represents friendship."

Patrick took another bite from his Krabby Patty and immediately noticed that the mayonnaise had almost ran out. "Isn't being friends with somebody a type of love?"

"Yeah, but it's not romantic love." SpongeBob then turned towards the cash register. After jotting down the couple's order, cooking it, and then serving it to them, he returned to his seat and resumed talking to Patrick. "Venus is about creating new life and all that jazz." His smile widened to a genuine one. "If we're gonna be sharing special gifts with each other, we gotta wait several more months."

Patrick sat up and bumped both sides of his head in the rhythm of a drum until he managed to light up a mental light bulb. "It's in October, right?"

"Yep. Apaturia."

Patrick sat down in the same spot. "But I don't think we need to wait 'til just one day to give special things to each other." He leaned the tip of his head against the boat, causing him to see SpongeBob's face upside-down. "We could be sharing gifts all days in the year if we wanted to."

"Yeah…" SpongeBob's chin rested on both hands. He was gazing at the multi-colored heart-shaped balloons that the pedestrians outside were holding. However, upon seeing an oddly-shaped balloon that looked like a tiki, his eyes widened. "You think Squidward has a 'special someone'?"

Patrick shrugged. "Beats me. Other than going to a temple once in a while, he doesn't go out much." He drank his entire cup of iced soda in one gulp. "I don't think he's… suave enough to get a girlfriend."

"Suave, suave, suave…" whispered SpongeBob, tuning his ears to the word's melodic tone. His pseudo-chant ended when a dollar bill, a tip from a customer, fell onto his open hand. "He still lives by himself, right?"

"I talked to my dad yesterday…" Patrick began to tap the plate on his lap like a bongo as a hazy memory of Squilliam's play passed through his mind. "...and he said that the folk who live at Tentacle Acres are snots."

SpongeBob sat on the boat's rim. "Deep down, I don't think Squid's like his new neighbors. Although his face might not show it much, he's actually a really kind person."

"You sure?" Patrick laid on the floor back-first. "Squid's been grouchy ever since he lived at our street."

SpongeBob sat on the floor criss-crossed, leaning towards Patrick. "But he said sorry for cheating on the dance contest."

"Okay, I'll give him that.," said Patrick. "But he's now try'na avoid talking to us. Didn't you notice how he'd been acting weird not too long before moving out? He's probably scared of us 'cause he knows he can't mess with us anymore."

SpongeBob's head leaned towards one side. He then stood up, on the verge of giggling. "Pat, I think you're just overthinking things."

Patrick hauled his upper body up. His arms supported his back. "But it's gotta be true! Why else would he wanna move out all of a sudden?"

SpongeBob shook his head. "It's all in how you perceive it." He put his hands into his pockets and proceeded to repeatedly raise and lower the heel of his left foot. "I think Squid left 'cause he still feels guilty."

"Over what?" Patrick stood up.

"Cheating on the contest." SpongeBob raised his voice. "... and maybe for treating us kinda bad." He perceived a glimmer of moistness in Patrick's eyes. He held his tongue between his teeth until he placed together a certain phrase. "Don't you miss Squid?" he said quietly.

Patrick swallowed his lips. He nodded. "It's just… it happened so suddenly…" He glanced at SpongeBob's two employee hats. "All these changes…"

"Then why're you mad at him?" SpongeBob clasped his hands together.

"It's too sad," Patrick whispered tremblingly. He gulped. "I gotta blame something." He took a deep breath. "It makes me feel better."

"It's nobody's fault," said SpongeBob.

Patrick limply dropped his plate into SpongeBob's hands. His brows were raised.

"We're all gonna react to stress in different ways," said SpongeBob. "I don't think we can control how're we gonna react. It's built into us ever since we became grown-ups."

"I dunno about that." Patrick tucked up his pants. "I still feel like a kid."

"I feel like one too but, the thing is, we're old enough to become set in our ways. We can still change but.." SpongeBob was tapping his fingers together. "...it's gonna be harder."

"I dunno about that either." Patrick, standing on tiptoe, was peeking through the ordering window. "Maybe Squid has stayed the same inside but changed what he's doing on the outside."

SpongeBob shook his head slowly. He entered the kitchen. "When I'm talking about change, I'm talking about the inside, not the outside."

"Then what I'm saying still works." Patrick opened the door to the kitchen and leaned against it with folded arms. "Squid's 'inside' still hasn't changed."

"He is changing." SpongeBob clasped Patrick's shoulders. "I knew it ever since he started that part-time job as an art teacher."

Patrick's arms loosened to his sides. "You actually go to his classes?"

"I went there one time." SpongeBob placed his arms into akimbo. "You wanna know how I know Squid's changed?"

Patrick scratched his head while nodding.

"When we were getting deep into the lesson, I was having trouble understanding the concepts. It got so bad that I gave up and went home. But that didn't stop Squid from trying to teach me. He actually walked all the way to my home to bring me back to his class. When I finally managed to follow his directions correctly, he became so overwhelmed that he cried. I didn't come to any of his other classes 'cause of that."

Patrick looked towards the floor as his mind swam through a burst of thought. After almost half-a-minute, he noted the dollar bill still stuck to SpongeBob's hand. "How did you get that?" He pointed at the dollar bill.

"Oh." SpongeBob peeled the dollar off his palm and flapped it until it was no longer rigid. "A customer gave it to me." He stepped out of the kitchen and held up the dollar bill while glancing around. He cupped his free hand near his mouth. "Someone left extra money! Whose is it?!"

Several customers smirked and ran up to SpongeBob.

"It's mine!"

""Mine!""

"Gimme! Gimme!"

The customers held out their hands towards the dollar bill but SpongeBob kept it out of their reach.

SpongeBob's lips were swallowed. 'I guess the customer already left.' He took a wide step into the boat and wore a smile. "My bad." He raised a hand towards the customers. "It was part of the normal pay." He hastily put the dollar bill into its proper slot in the cash register and slammed the register to a close.

The group of customers sucked their teeth and returned to their seats.

A pause.

SpongeBob opened the cash register again and gazed at the dollar. He perceived that it had not a single crumple. "Pat, do you think subs get paid enough?" He put a hand near his lower lip.

"The teachers?" Patrick rubbed the top of his head until it was free of dust. "I don't think so."

"How come?" said SpongeBob.

"You remember those strikes?" Patrick shrugged.

"Mm-hm." The tension in SpongeBob's hands loosened. "During high school?"

"Yep." Patrick looked up at the galley grub. He dug into his pockets. "Maybe they were doing that 'cause they weren't getting enough money." He put a few quarters on top of the cash register. "If they don't get enough, Squid shouldn't have enough either." His stomach quietly grumbled. "Two packs of french fries with some extra ketchup please."

SpongeBob, in less than thirty seconds, served Patrick his order. He quickly put the quarters into the cash register. "How much does Tentacle Acres cost?"

"Not sure. If the people there act spoiled, they're probably rich." Patrick tossed a french fry to the air. It landed in his mouth.

"Then how can Squid afford to live there? He's probably having a tough time paying bills."

Patrick sat on top of a table. He ate a few more french fries. His eyes were half-closed. "Then what're we supposed to do?" He burped. "If me, you, and Squid tried to share all of our bills, we'll probably lose all of our houses."

"True." SpongeBob was drumming the boat's rim. He was pushing through the rapid flow of pessimistic and frightening thoughts as he waited for another bulb to light up in his head. Upon seeing a customer leave a small box wrapped in pink gift wrap to another customer, he smiled. "How about we give Squid a gift?" He stepped out of the boat and sat at Patrick's table. "But it's gotta be something he really likes."

Patrick stopped eating his french fries. His 'hands' folded together. "But what about the last time we did that? Squid got mad and pulled that trick on us. If we visit his house uninvited, he might get mad again."

"Then let's just leave it at his front door. He won't mind."

Patrick narrowed his eyes slightly. With his forehead resting against his fist, he was staring at the table as he sunk into a deep state of thought. "How do you know he'll pick it up?" He munched on a french fry. "He could just ignore it and throw it in the trash."

SpongeBob held up an index finger. "That's why the gift's gonna be something I'll cook. It'll be so nice and tasty that he can't resist it."

Patrick bent his head forward. He gulped down both packets of french fries. "Sounds like a plan to me."

S-S-S-S-S

In a local Mysterian temple; the hierophant, a male cuttlefish, was pacing to and fro as he gave his speech. "It is through the reproductive powers of Venus that the creation of families can continue. Although she can certainly intervene in the creation of new romantic relationships, that is merely one of her several powers. Once the passion fades, she will need to intervene in order for the love to remain stable."

Squidward was sitting criss-crossed among a large gathering of followers who were sitting in the same position. Upon realizing that the hierophant was speaking in a monotonous tone and pacing in the same patterns, his back hunched and his chin unconsciously rested on both of his hands. The same sense of stagnation had returned with much more power than before, lulling him into a state between sleeping and consciousness. Thoughts of blasting wild music and committing outrageous acts were the only things keeping his eyes from closing entirely. When the hierophant, paced near his side of the room, he sat up.

The hierophant perceived that, out of the entire congregation, Squidward was the only one with drowsy eyes. He smirked. When Squidward was not looking at him, he tip-toed past a few rows of followers and lightly tapped his head.

Squidward opened his widely. Due to the strong sunlight coming from the chamber's open ceiling, he could only manage to look at the hierophant's robe. His brows faintly furrowed.

"Looks like love's not enough for this one." The hierophant returned to his spot.

Nearly every other believer, and a few of the altar servers, laughed.

Squidward's arms slowly folded. Irritation caused his heartbeat to slightly quicken. While trying to make eye contact with the hierophant every chance he could get, he maintained a mild frown toward him.

S-S-S-S-S

An hour later...

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward was slowly walking up to his tiki's front door. He took out his keys from his shirt pocket.

A crumbly paper-like surface touched one of his feet.

He looked below and perceived a brown bag that had its opening wrapped in a knot. With a cocked brow, he picked up the bag. He probed it a few times, feeling its warmness. 'It's cooked food...' He deeply inhaled its aroma, which caused his mouth to salivate. He then glanced to his left and right. 'But who would leave me with something like this? Is this a Veneralia gift?' He looked at all of the bag's sides but could not find a tag. He then sniffed the bag again, detecting the scent of roasted meat. 'I might as well bring it in.' He unlocked the front door and stepped inside.

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward glanced at the kitchen, which still had the lingering smell of the overcooked breakfast he had attempted to make that morning. He moved his gaze back to the bag. 'This'll do for now.' He sat at a table in the living room and opened the bag.

A moderately-long sandwich that had plentiful amounts of vegetables from both underwater and the surface world, a layer of bacon and salami roasted to the right temperature, and a creamy layer of butter and cheese was before him.

Squidward gazed at the sandwich with his mouth ajar. 'Did my mother cook this?' He took hold of the bread with both hands, feeling the crumbs. He then gulped down his saliva and took a bite from the sandwich's tip.

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward's brows were furrowed as he watched, through one of the closet's windows, Squilliam skip down the hallway. His hands closed into fists and he lifted them. The thought of smashing one of the windows with his fist and squeezing his body through the opening passed through his mind.

The yellow sponge, who had been sitting with the pink starfish in one corner of the closet, quietly walked up to Squidward. He began to massage Squidward's shoulders.

Squidward looked at the sponge from the corner of his eye. He raised a brow. "What're you doing?"

"Tryn'a make you relaxed." After several more seconds, the sponge felt a faint sensation from Squidward's shoulders. He let go of them. "There, all better."

Squidward turned towards the sponge. Feeling a certain pressure in his shoulders, he rolled them. He then widened his eyes upon hearing a faint snap and then feeling a lack of pain in his back. "How... did you do that?"

The sponge held up his hands and moved his fingers up and down in alternative patterns. "It's a technique one of my aunts taught me. Her husband's a fireman, so she figured out a way to loosen the tightness he gets after coming home from work."

"Um, okay." Squidward pressed his hands together and glanced around the closet. "Y'know when the janitor's gonna show up?"

The sponge shrugged. "Beats me. We're just gonna have to get lucky." He returned to his spot.

Squidward sat in the other corner of the closet opposite to the door. He brushed back a few stray strands of hair.

The starfish pointed at Squidward's blond hair. "I wish I had hair like that."

"It's not as thrilling as you think it is," said Squidward. "My type of hair requires alotta maintenance."

"Oh..." The starfish swallowed his lips. Upon seeing a brown fish pass by the closet, he took out a freshly bought chocolate bar from his pocket. "You want this?" He held it out towards Squidward. "Since we're gonna be here for a while, you gotta eat something." He tapped his belly. "I'm already full."

"You can have it." Squidward shook his head without make eye contact with the starfish. "I don't eat much sweets."

The starfish perceived the skininess of Squidward's limbs. "No, no, no. You should have it." He stood up, took a wide step to Squidward, and dropped the chocolate bar to his lap.

Squidward looked up at the starfish with slightly moist eyes. Both of his hands were gently holding the chocolate bar. "T-Thank you," he nearly whispered.

"You're welcome," said Patrick. "What's your name?"

"Squidward. But you can call me Squid for short." Squidward sat up. The irritation he had felt towards the upperclassmen and Squilliam had faded to the back of his mind. "And you?"

"Patrick," said the starfish.

"SpongeBob," said the sponge.

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward's eyes had moistened. He had not swallowed the bite yet. The flavor was transporting his mind to a world where he no longer suffered from the mental confinement that disillusion had brought him. Within these images, he saw the world through a child-like lens: an ever-expanding realm filled with limitless possibilities and adventures. "SpongeBob made this..."

He gobbled down the rest of the sandwich.

S-S-S-S-S

The next day...

S-S-S-S-S

April 17, 2018

Squidward, through a window in the music room, was glancing at each sentient and non-sentient animal that passed by the tiki. He was holding a paintbrush. Next to him was an empty canvas on a holder. For nearly half-an-hour, he had been waiting for a Muse to strike him. However, no matter how many times he switched his gaze between the ground and the sky, no vivid image would surface from his bubbling mess of thoughts.

He frowned and slammed the brush to the canvas holder's sill. "Why can't I create anything?!" He grabbed the canvas with both hands, pulled it off the holder, and held it towards the ceiling, allowing a certain shade of sunlight to touch it. He avoided looking at the countless self-portraits covering the room's walls. "I've done it before back at my old house, so why can't I do it here?" He stared into the canvas, vainly attempting to extract some facsimile of an idea from the white void. After another minute of waiting passed by, he sighed and shoved the canvas back to the holder.

With his head leaning downward, he walked down the stairs. 'Maybe I should take a little break. Something'll probably come by.'

S-S-S-S-S

The next day...

S-S-S-S-S

April 18, 2018.

Squidward, with slightly baggy eyes, was pushing his shopping cart through an aisle of refrigerated liquids. Upon spotting a carton of Aquafluo milk, he tossed it into his cart. As his cart rattled from the carton's landing, deja-vu slowly leaked into his thoughts. He looked behind his shoulder with slightly knit brows. "Did I... pass here before?"

A pause.

He glanced at his digital watch. Upon seeing the date it was showing, he widened his eyes. "It's already the 18th? I thought I'd been living here for a week!"

S-S-S-S-S

Several hours later...

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward and the other three clarinet players, under a tree that was near a path, were playing a classical composition that they had been playing all week.

Out of all four, Squidward's playing was the quietest. He was leaning against the tree. His eyes were half-closed and his 'fingers' were barely closing the correct holes. A certain pattern of anxiety-inducing thoughts was the only thing preventing him from falling asleep under the clarinets' monotonous melody. Upon reaching a difficult section of the composition, he stopped playing his clarinet and wiped his eyes. "I sorta... don't feel like playing my clarinet today." He slowly walked towards his tiki with a hand on his chin.

The three clarinet players continued their playing without even glancing at Squidward.

S-S-S-S-S

Sixteen minutes later...

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward stopped before his tiki's pathway. He perceived an envelope sticking out of the slit at the front door's bottom. His heartbeat quickened. 'There it is.' He bit his lip. He jogged to the door, grabbed the envelope, and slipped into the tiki.

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward swiftly tore open the envelope and dumped its contents onto the living room's table.

One of the papers had the words: 'RENT: $7,000'.

His jaw dropped. "How the Hades am I gonna afford that?!" he whispered loudly. 'My job as a substitute teacher only pays me about 20K a year. At this rate, I might have to move outta here in less than a month.' He glanced at a window, seeing a few scallops shining under the evening sun. "Or maybe..." He swallowed his lips as high-pitched and low-pitched utterances of "Jerk!" echoed in his mind. 'But they will never let me back. They're gonna show their anger one way or another. I've done them dirty too many times to count.' He shakily took hold of a seat and pulled it open. 'If I'm gonna move again, it's got to be somewhere else.'

He sat down and rested his face against his hands.

S-S-S-S-S

The next day...

S-S-S-S-S

April 18, 2018.

DING DONG

Squidward opened the front door, causing the morning sunlight to shine against his face. He held a hand above his eyes. He heard scampering from his left and glanced in that direction. However, he saw nobody. On the doormat was a bag with the words 'Krusty Krab' on it.

Squidward grabbed the bag, glanced in both directions to make sure nobody was seeing him, and slammed the door shut.

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward walked up to the music room.

The empty canvas was in the same position as before.

He opened the bag, slowly took out the Krabby Patty and, with his nostrils touching the burger, smelled it. His tongue poked through his lips but he restrained it from licking his lips.

'It's just as good as before.' After taking a bite, he picked up the paint brush and twirled it as a faint outline of a drawing gradually appeared in his mental vision.

Cling

The swing of a baseball bat could be heard from his tiki, interrupting his flow of thought.

He furrowed his brows slightly and took another bite from the Krabby Patty. When the outline returned, he looked below at the small paint containers lying below the canvas holder. When he was on the verge of picking the perfect color he heard the hollering and shouting of young boys.

"Hey!"

"Get to first base already!"

"C'mon, man! Throw the ball to me!"

With his train of thought cut off again, he tightened his grip on the brush and frowned. 'Don't mind them, Squiddy. Just get the job done. They're just children, they can't help themselves…' His mental voice continued to blabber as he vainly attempted to bring his attention back to the canvas.

DINK

A softball bounced against the window nearest to Squidward.

"I thought the Acres were for civilized people," he whispered. He stomped to the window. Upon opening it and looking in the direction the softball came from, he perceived on a nearby lawn a set of stone slabs in the shape of baseball field and a group of young boys getting scolded by their parents.

"Hmph." Squidward nodded and closed the window. He turned around and took a large bite of the Krabby Patty. As he felt the creaminess of the melted cheese, he noticed that the landscape painting depicting a beach was lying against the wall opposite of him. The specks of white paint that had been sprinkled on the part depicting the ocean was seemingly twinkling from the sunlight shining on them.

Squidward's eyes widened. He swallowed the cheese.

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward, inside the music room of his original tiki, was standing before a canvas that had a few blue brushstrokes on it. He was shakily holding the paintbrush. As he inched it towards the canvas, he heard the giggling of SpongeBob and Patrick from outside, causing him to rub the brush against the canvas.

What looked like a depiction of a wave appeared on the canvas.

Squidward sighed, perceiving the fat brushstroke as an error. He took a wide step to the nearest window and knocked on it with his knuckle. When SpongeBob and Patrick were looking at him, he shook his fist and then held an 'index finger' to his mouth. "Shh!"

SpongeBob and Patrick nodded with swallowed lips and then resumed their game of frisbee.

The frown remained on Squidward's face. He returned to the canvas, washed his brush, picked up another one, and used the two brushes and the palette he was using to create a mixed color of lighter yellow. He then crouched and, with a drop of sweat running down his brows, inched the brush towards the lowered portion of the canvases.

S-S-S-S-S

Patrick leaped backwards while stretching his arms towards the incoming frisbees.

BONK

The back of his head hit a rock as his body returned to the ground.

SpongeBob covered his mouth with a hand and sucked in air through his teeth. "You okay, Pat?"

Patrick held up a thumbs-up. While observing the blurriness in his vision that the dizziness brought, he perceived that SpongeBob's pants were round. He began to laugh.

After several seconds, SpongeBob began to laugh as well.

S-S-S-S-S

SpongeBob and Patrick's laughter became so loud that it nearly echoed against the music room's walls.

Squidward swallowed his curving lips as the urge to laugh began to rise from his chest. He took a deep breath and forced his wrist to vibrate as he sprinkled yellow dots over the canvas. Upon finishing that task, he grabbed a brush and opened all of the paint containers.

Upon hearing a light tap from the ceiling, he looked towards the window. "Huh?"

Within several seconds, he saw SpongeBob and Patrick climbing past the window towards the tiki's roof. "What's going on here?!" He marched to the window and yanked it open.

SpongeBob looked at Squidward from below. "The frisbee landed on the roof."

Squidward exhaled through his nose and closed the window. He glanced below the canvas and sighed. The paintbrush had fallen into the light pink container.

Squidward picked up the brush, glanced at the brushstrokes on the canvas so far, then moved his gaze to the palette. "Pink can be quite nice with blue. It's a lucky draw, I guess." He put fat brushstrokes on the upper portion of the canvas, depicting clouds.

The falling of a heavy body and the movement of a few objects were heard from the ceiling.

Squidward's brushstrokes faltered, creating jagged lines and chaotic shapes. "Barnacles!" He threw the brush to the floor and tossed the palette to elsewhere. "Nearly an hour of hard work… ruined…" He stared at his fists, which he held near his face. He walked to the corner of the room opposite that of the canvas. After a few minutes of drowning in his pessimism and the hateful images he constructed of his neighbors, he turned back to the canvas. From his distance, the pink complimented the yellow sprinkles so well that they made the canvas seemingly glow.

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward, while leaning forward with his hands clasped together behind his back, was gazing at the stormy pink clouds the landscape painting depicted. He quickly ate the last remaining piece of the Krabby Patty. He walked back to the empty canvas. "SpongeBob and Patrick… they're my Muses…"

S-S-S-S-S

The next day…

S-S-S-S-S

April 19, 2018.

Squidward was slouching on a bench in Tentacle Acres' park. His arms were hanging over the edge of the bench's back. His eyelids, although heavy, were being kept open by the rays of afternoon sunlight and the chirps of swallows. When a particular strong ray brushed against his eyes, he wiped them and sat up. "Yep, this is great." He looked to his right, noticing a group of octopuses walking in a single-file line with the exact same facial expressions. "They might as well rename this town 'Squidward's Paradise'!" He glanced to his left, seeing a leashed worm, with eyes closed to project the air of a lady, peeing inside a bush. "Or perhaps too much paradise."

FWEEEE

Squidward widened his eyes and turned towards the direction the of vacuum-blowing. "SpongeBob?"

After managing to blow away a large clump of leaves, the park employee turned off the reef blower, placed it near a custom-shaped large coral piece, and put a sign with the words 'Back Whenever' on it, and walked towards the nearest public restroom.

Squidward moved his gaze to the pathway before the bench, clasped his hands together, and leaned forward. However, his heartbeat was quickening. A powerful yearning to enter a realm of freedom and adventure was quickly possessing him. The more he tried to push back the idea of throwing away his mask of rationality and civility, the more vivid the images associated with the reef blower grew. He glanced around, perceiving that nobody was nearby. 'Oh, come on, Squiddy, it's just a touch. There's nothing wrong with that.'

He stood up, walked to the reef blower, and began to stroke all sides of its cold surface.

A faint breeze passed by the park, pushing the sign away from the reef blower.

Squidward's lips slightly curved. 'I'm just gonna test it to see if it's still working.' While looking at the building for public restrooms, he slowly crouched and picked up the nozzle. 'I'm helping out that guy, there's nothing wrong with that either.' He flicked a switch to 'ON'.

The nozzle was aimed towards the sky. It blew out some air for a few seconds before Squidward turned the machine back off.

He giggled. 'I don't think that's enough. If I'm gonna make sure this thing's working properly, I gotta test out both of its functions.' He held the nozzle towards his face and turned on the reef blower again.

Squidward's nose floated over the blown air from the nozzle.

He flicked another switch to 'SUCK'.

The nozzle sucked in his nose.

He bit his lip. He flicked the same switch back to 'BLOW'. After the nozzle pushed away his nose, his giggled louder than before.

A female octopus walking down the pathway saw what Squidward was doing. She put a hand on her hip. "A-hem."

Squidward saw the female octopus from the corner of his eye. He stopped giggling, wore a deadpan face, and stood up. "Leaves." He strapped on the reef blower and turned it off. "Just getting the leaves." When the female octopus was out of his sight, he played with the nozzle by repeatedly coiling and uncoiling it around his arm. 'This is still gonna need more testing.' He smirked quiveringly as he returned to the bench. 'That guy can't continue his work if his reef blower is defective.'

He sat on the bench, turned on the reef blower, and held the nozzle towards his face.

The blown air caused Squidward's lips to flap.

He tilted the nozzle upward.

Squidward's upper eyelids flung so wide open that their inner layers were shown, causing his face to look like that of a monster. He laughed as he tilted the nozzle away from his face. When he perceived that the leaves getting blown away by the reef blower were curving slightly, he put the nozzle under his shirt.

The air caught between his skin and shirt caused the shirt to swell like a balloon, making his belly look like that of a pregnant seahorse.

Squidward laughed so hard that his nose honked. He took out the nozzle from his shirt and aimed it at the ground to his right.

His body moved to the bench's leftmost side. The weight of the reef blower caused him to lurch.

He giggled and aimed the nozzle at the opposite direction

His body moved to the bench's rightmost side.

Meanwhile, another female octopus, who had black hair, and a male fish were playing croquet.

The female octopus' ball was near the center peg. She was raising her mallet but dropped it to the ground upon hearing Squidward's laughter. She then turned towards Squidward and shook her fist. "Would you pipe down over there, iron lung?!"

After hearing her words, the male fish began to laugh. He was leaned forward while holding onto his mallet.

The female octopus, upon hearing the strange features of the male fish's laugh, began to laugh as well.

Squidward frowned, stood up, and turned towards the croquet players. Upon noticing the male fish's mallet, a light bulb lit up in his head. He smirked devilishly, took several steps towards them, flicked one of the reef blower's switches to 'SUCK', and aimed the nozzle at the male fish.

The two players' croquet balls and the male fish's mallet got sucked into the reef blower.

The male fish, lacking support from below, fell face-first to the ground.

Squidward, with a hand covering his mouth, chuckled. "Looks like when it comes to having fun, you don't have a 'leg' to stand on!"

"Hey! That's not funny!" The female octopus was glaring at Squidward as she pulled the male fish to his feet.

A male octopus who had lingering traces of black hair on the sides of his head, a green golf cap, and in orange sweater, was playing his clarinet near a pond. As the commotion over Squidwards's reef blower grew louder, he overheard the words being spoken. He stopped playing his clarinet, marched to the scene, and pointed at Squidward. "Yeah!"

Another who had overheard the commotion, a female flounder wearing designer pants, walked up to Squidward. "What's going on over here?" She put her hand on her hips.

The female octopus pointed at Squidward. "It's that guy! He's playing with a reef blower!"

The flounder cocked a brow. "Playing? With a reef blower? That's the most childish thing I've ever heard of." She chuckled.

Squidward's smirk widened to a grin akin to SpongeBob's. He was etching his initials on the ground by blowing away grass in certain patterns. "But it's fun!"

The flounder shook her head with her eyes closed and both brows raised. "How could you possibly have fun with one of those oversized hair dryers?"

"Like this?" Squidward stuck out his tongue slightly as he aimed the nozzle at the male octopus.

The reef blower sucked the clarinet out of the male octopus' grip. However, the clarinet got stuck in the nozzle. The air getting sucked through the clarinet's hole caused it to play jarring notes.

The male octopus ran towards Squidward. "Give it back!" Upon seeing that Squidward was running backwards away from him, he outstretched both hands. "Please!"

Squidward was laughing. When he could no longer breathe he looked behind his shoulder and perceived that he was approaching a golf course. He then flicked a switch to 'BLOW' while keeping the nozzle towards the male octopus.

The nozzle shot the clarinet towards the male octopus.

The clarinet covered the male octopus' face. As the male octopus breathed in and out, the clarinet continued to play abrasive notes.

"Tag! You're it!" Squidward turned around and resumed his running. He boostened his speed by aiming the nozzle towards the ground behind him.

S-S-S-S-S

Seventeen minutes later…

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward was sitting on the couch with some moderate amounts of sweat running down his back. He was taking a few deep breaths. He was still smiling, although it had lessened slightly. He had thrown the reef blower to a random location in the park before returning home.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"Mr. Tentacles." A male voice came from the other side of the door.

Squidward leaped to his feet and opened the front door.

A police officer was standing before him. At an angle of exactly ninety degrees, he held out an envelope towards Squidward. "Just read this."

Squidward took the envelope and flapped it, feeling the light wads of paper inside it. "What is it?"

The police officer put his hands behind his back. "A well thought-out and organized list of complaints." Save for his slightly furrowed brows, his face was entirely expressionless.

Squidward rolled his eyes and closed the door. "Even the law enforcement are pushovers." He tore open the envelope and held the stapled packet of documents towards his face. The information in the documents consisted of the acts of mischief that he committed and, in the last document, a notice that he was going to be removed from his home in a few days. "Grievances?" He dropped the packet to the table and took out a pen from his shirt pocket. "This whole town is a grievance! There should be a law against so many stuck-up tight-wads living in one place." In bold lettering, he signed on the blank lines of the documents, acknowledging the knowledge "I'm outta here!" He marched to the front door, yanked it open, and shoved the packet into the police officer's hands.

Squidward held up an 'index officer'. "I'm moving out of here ASAP."

The police officer nodded with narrowed eyes. "Very well."

SLAM

The officer closed the door.

Squidward slowly walked towards the shell phone, with his gaze towards the floor and a hand on his chin. 'What was that thing that purple lady said?'

The phone book, which weighed as much as a stone, landed on his foot.

"FFF!" He sucked in air between his teeth. He tremblingly bent forward and picked up the book. As he dropped it to the table, a stray shred of paper hovered out of the book and landed on his free hand. A phone number and the word 'Patty' were written on it.

S-S-S-S-S

Patty, with hands folded together behind her back, was glancing at the self-portraits on the living room's walls. The relative similarity between all of the portraits caused him to perceive them as the tiles the wall consisted of. "Oh my, these paintings are very nice."

Squidward was standing behind Patty. While keeping his mouth closed, his tongue was pressed between his teeth. He wiped his sweaty palms with his shirt. "So…" When Patty looked at him from behind her shoulder, he straightened his arms. "What's the verdict?"

"You're in the clear!" Patty held out a paper stuck to a clipboard towards Squidward. "Just sign this."

Squidward, with a blank face, jotted his signature on a line next to an asterisk and, with a trembling hand, gave it back to Patty.

Patty glanced at the signature while taking a step back.

The back of her knee bumped into the shell phone's table.

CLUNK

The shell-phone's body and receiver fell to the floor.

Patty covered her mouth with both hands, stood on tip-toe, and took a wide step back. "My apologies."

Squidward's face did not change. "It's alright." he returned the phone's body and receiver to their proper positions. "With storms like that typhoon coming by more often these days, I've grown used to things becoming a mess."

Patty chuckled. She shook her head and adjusted the table. "No, no, Mr. Tentacles, I"m the one who should've been more responsible." She walked to the front door and opened it. "The trucks moving your things are coming soon, right?"

Squidward bent his head.

Patty took a step outside. She pointed at a certain spot on the lawn. "The moment all of your possessions are moved out of this home, the 'for sale' sign is gonna be put there. However, after that happens, things still aren't final yet. Our company has a special policy where, if thirty days have not passed yet, homeowners who have recently sold their homes can move right back to them. If anybody had bought that home during that thirty day period, they get fully refunded and are then forced to leave. If you develop any doubts or regrets about selling your home, you can fall back on that."

S-S-S-S-S

Squidward glanced at the calendar. "Aha!" He snapped his fingers. "I still have time!" He speedily dialed Patty's phone number.

S-S-S-S-S

A few hours later…

S-S-S-S-S

In the bedroom of Squidward's original tiki, a few opened suitcases filled with thick wads of cash had been laid out on the bed. Jack and his other companions, including the Strangler, were inspecting each stack of money, flipping through the dollars with their 'thumbs'.

Marcus coughed. He closed his suitcase. "Business has been going pretty well for us." He stepped towards the bedroom's exit. "With all this extra cash, I think I can finally get a new boatmobile."

"Not a used one?" said Mike.

"I'm being serious, Mike." Marcus put his hands on his hips. "I'm getting a new car."

Jack closed his suitcase and looked at the Strangler. "Maybe focusing our efforts on selling instead of robbing wasn't such a bad idea after all."

The Strangler chuckled. "See? I know what times of the year the clients are gonna be super-hungry. If you guys had followed my advice straight to the T, you would've only worked three months a year and still come out with good money."

"Can't argue with ya," said Jack. "Since me and my crew are still young, we've just gonna have too much energy to wait all the time."

The Strangler flexed his fingers. "Robberies aren't gonna bring a steady income either. Mugging the right person is way more harder than finding good clientele."

RING RING RING RING RING

The shell-phone near the bed rang.

Jack picked it up. "Yeah?"

"This is Patty from Spandex Realty. I have some unfortunate news for you. The previous owner of your home now desires to move back here. As part of our policy towards those who sold their homes within the last thirty days, they have a right to return to their original homes. You will be fully refunded."

Jack sucked his teeth.

"We have also called a delivery service. They will send workers to help speed up the process of packing up your things. I hope that will lessen the sting." Beeps were then heard from the phone.

Jack put down the shell-phone and turned towards the others. "Guys, we can't stay here any longer."

"The cops figured us out?!" said Ricky.

Jack shook his head. "For some stupid reason, they're gonna kick me outta here since the guy who used to live here wants to come back. We're gonna have to find a new base of operations." He resumed eye contact with the Strangler. "How're we gonna rob these neighbors? Since this place barely has anything else, we're gonna look much more suspicious if I don't have the benefit of living here. The longer distance we'll have to cover will also make it easier for the cops to catch us."

"Then we're gonna have to change our plan." The Strangler put a hand on his chin. "I'll figure something out."

S-S-S-S-S

The next day...

S-S-S-S-S

April 20, 2018.

Squidward was driving down the street towards his original neighborhood. The morning breeze was pushing away the small drops of sweat on his forehead. Although his eyes were fixed to the road, his mind was wandering to other realms. Countless images of SpongeBob and Patrick's possible scowls were flying around his mind chaotically, creating a feeling of tightness in his belly. As the buildings of his neighborhood arose from the horizon, his heartbeat quickened.

After another minute, his boatmobile slowed to a halt before the tiki. He turned it off, stepped out of the vehicle, glanced to his left and right, took in a shaky breath, and slowly walked towards the tiki.

SpongeBob and Patrick emerged from behind the tiki, ran towards him, and hugged him from both sides.

Squidward stared into space, wondering if he had fallen into another dream. His lips were quivering.

SpongeBob snuggled under Squidward's arm. "Where have you been?"

"N-Nowhere," blurted Squidward. His hand landed on the top of SpongeBob's head.

SpongeBob's eyes moistened. Within Squidward's blank stare, he saw a warmness that he could nearly touch.

Squidward took another deep breath. He pushed against SpongeBob and Patrick, but they would not let him go. "Do you forgive me?"

"For what?" said Patrick.

Squidward was gazing at the tiki, perceiving that its 'face' was looking down at him like a god would do to a mortal. "For cheating on that contest... for being a terrible teacher... for being a lousy neighbor... for being a bully-"

SpongeBob slowly put a finger over Squidward's mouth. "I've said it many times, and I'll say it again." He gently held Squidward's chin and tilted it until he directly looked into his eyes. "I've already forgiven you, Squidward, and I always will."

Patrick, imitating the massages he would receive from SpongeBob, rubbed Squidward's shoulders with both hands. "Are you like me now?"

Squidward looked at Patrick from behind his shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"Do you forget alotta stuff?" Patrick took a step back.

Squidward was walking towards his tiki's front door. SpongeBob was still hugging him. "Maybe."

A pause.

Patrick looked at his hands and then sniffed them. Their dustiness, along with lingering crumbs of hot sauce-flavored chips, caused a smell similar to that of motor oil to fill his tiny nostrils. A rapid succession of recent memories turned on a mental light bulb. "Hey, Sponge, isn't the boating test tomorrow?"

SpongeBob's eyes widened. His grip on Squidward loosened. He slipped to the ground face-first.