The Super Chum Bucket
Chapter 1: The Construction
by SpongeFan SquareFiction
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"La la-la la la, la la la-la-lah..."
A salty old crustecian hummed his favorite little sailor ditty to himself as he made his way towards his most favorite place in the world: his restaurant. With a ring of keys in one claw and his daughter's closed parasol in the other, Eugene Krabs scurried down the path that lead to the Krusty Krab.
A mental note to return Pearl her pink sun umbrella was made during the walk. He had woken up a little later than usual this morning, thus missing the opportunity to hand it to her before she went off to school. She never did like lugging that old parasol around (it embarrassed her to no end-- current high school 'It Girl' couldn't be seen carrying such an "uncoral" accessory!), but her stubborn father made her, worried that he might have to tend to her "sensitive" skin again. He remember the immense suffering he had once gone through, wasting a good $35 just for some ridiculous skin care products Dr. Fish perscribed for Pearl.
"Ah, well. A couple o' hours without care ain't much," he finally decided. "But fer now, me money awaits!"
Just coming around the mound overlooking the Krusty Krab, he paused as he did every morning or so to stare at his establishment in all its glory. But this was not so today, for his view was blocked by a tremendously large building. "Huh? That wasn't there yester-- WHA?" he cried out in midsentence, having just realized what that building was. He immediately recognized that familiar fishing glove and bucket handle at the very middle of the eight story rooftop. "The SUPER CHUM BUCKET!" he half-questioned, half screamed as he read the new restaurant sign out loud.
It wasn't enough that the giant structure was in the way... oh, no! Its entrance had to be six yards away from his! The building itself did not look inviting-- it had just as much color as the bucket that previously stood in its place. And no matter what the appearance was, Mr. Krabs knew that the diminutive poser that owned the establishment couldn't create a meal to save his own life. So... wait a minute... where was the threat to him? He didn't even know.
'But one thing's fer sure... 'tis be the start of a brand new war...' he seethed and turned his heel, heading the opposite direction.
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The silent yet melodic sounds of the early morning provided Squidward Tentacles a few minutes of bliss. As he tumbled out of bed, the song of the scallops outside his window brought a rare look of serenity to his face. It was finally Friday, and today after work he would be excusing himself for tomorrow so he could go on his much anticipated vacation. An independant musical expo was being held in lavish Macadamia Bottom for the rest of the three-day weekend and he was not going to miss it from the world. Much less for an entire day sitting behind a greasy register or in front of an even greasier grill with shrieking high-pitched laughter to go along with it. His suitcase was already packed full. He reached for his beloved clarinet, which was resting its bell against one of Squidward's pillows.
"Ah, Clarie, isn't it wonderful? A two-and-a-half day stay at the extravagant Golden Gills Hotel!" he spoke giddly to his fine wooden instrument, cradling it in his tentacles for a few moments before depositing it into its special carrying case and putting the case on top of his dresser drawer. "As soon as I get back from work today, we're headed straight to the airport!" He sighed contenly as he gazed into his reflection in the mirror. "Just think... two whole days of orchestral heaven!" In an inebriated stage of glee he thought only existed in feel-good movies and musicals, he skipped around his room happily, stopping to greet the singing scallops out his window before heading downstairs. "Two whole days... no loafing, no register, no--" Stop. A powerful knock in his front door and startled him out of this reverie. He immediately knew who it was. "...SpongeBob..." he finished his sentence spitefully.
The persistent, repetitive knocking became louder and louder with every sluggish step Squidward took towards his entrance. He wasn't in the mood for this. He was never in the mood for this. Everything about his overly perky next-door neighbor was annoying. 'For goodness sake, even his knock is annoying!' With a tentacle reaching over to his throbbing temple, he grabbed the doorknob with the other. The flung the door open, and exclaimed, "SPONGEBOB, WILL YOU STOP THAT INFERNAL--" He was cut short when he was shoved back slightly and stumbled into his house again. This brief moment of shock forced Squidward to become aware of this surroundings. It hadn't been SpongeBob who was knocking on his door. "Mah-mah- Mr. Krabs!" he stammered nervously when he noticed his aforementioned boss had walked into his house. If he had known, he wouldn't have let his temper get the best of him. Also, if he had fingernails... well, let's just say he wouldn't have them anymore.
Mr. Krabs did not look very happy. "Squidward!" he snapped.
"I didn't mean to! I didn't know it was you! Please don't fire me!" he pleaded, then reasoned. "Wait a minute... what am I saying?"
Krabs' irate expression showed his overpowering desire to strike his employee in the face. Yet he withheld it successfully. When entering, the salty crab shut the door behind him. "Quit yer blubbering, Tentacles! We've got a very serious situation on our hands!" He looked down. "Er, claws!" He looked at Squidward. "Er, appendages! Now, where is that little barnacle SpongeBob?"
Squidward glared at him incredulously. "How should I know?!" he cried out.
"SPONGEBOB!!!"
"Yes, CAPTAIN!" SpongeBob shouted back, literally bursting through Squidward's entrance at about two milliseconds after Mr. Krabs had finished calling him. His Krusty Krew uniform was intact despite the intentional burst. Although Squidward began whining about his front door being in pieces and whatnot, an unfazed Mr. Krabs starts to explain.
"Listen up, you two! I got a hunch Plankton's up to one of 'em old tricks to steal me secret recipie again."
"Really?" Squidward droned with terrible disinterest.
Mr. Krabs nodded roughly, not quite catching his sarcasm. "And this time, I don't intend on lettin' that little bilge rat even land its first step!" The two neighboring workers looked at each other puzzled. What did he mean by that? The elder crab raised a claw as he announced the bottom line. "For the next few days, the Krusty Krab wil remain closed!"
SpongeBob gasps in utter shock, Squidward gasps with delightfulness.
The thrill... the exhiliration... the opportunity! "Yes!" the nasal octopus cried out, punching the air repeatedly with both fists. Before he could do a happy dance, he stopped himself when he saw two pairs of eyes gawking at him strangely. "Dah, I mean... how disappointning," he muttered unfazed, lowering his raised limbs to brush the sand off his shirt. "Oh, well. Better safe than plagerized and bankrupt, I always say." In an overly dramatic surge, Squidward patted the back of SpongeBob's sniffling form. "As horrible as this situation is, we must press on! Well, have a nice weekend!" He turned away, eager to get his luggage and enjoy an extra day out on the expo. 'Tonight's the Musician's Exhibition Theater! If I leave now, I can make my reservation right on time!' But as his luck would always have it, this was not so.
"On the contrary, Mr. Squidward," Mr. Krabs began, grabbing onto the back of Squid's brown polo before he could go too far, "This doesn't mean we're on any sort of holiday. The three of us will be visually scoutin' the Chum Bucket from the distance!"
"Umm... what?"
"As of today, we're on reconnisance duty! 24 hour surveillence over the Super Chum Bucket!"
If it hadn't been drowned out by SpongeBob's yells of exhiliration, the sound of Squidward's brain collapsing would have been heard. Literally.
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NEXT: Chapter Two: The Hostages