(AN: My writing muse is on fire right now, so here's chapter three (along with a ton of other writings written at about the same time—I told you I'm on fire! Somebody put me out!) Hope you enjoy! Oh yes, and if you want to listen to the music that I listened to while writing this chapter (and that really put me in the mood for this chapter), pull out some Bachman-Turner Overdrive, especially "Ride On Down the Highway" and "Shotgun Rider". Wee-oot!)

O.o.O

With his newly earned driver's license, SpongeBob became the man… er, sponge… about town!

Okay, maybe not. Still, however, whenever he took ol' "Morgan Nancy" for a ride, people on the streets would wave at him—"Hey, SpongeBob, nice set of wheels!" SpongeBob was already fairly well-known throughout Bikini Bottom, but now he was gaining even more fame, as "that weird kid who keeps driving around in circles!"

SpongeBob didn't have to leave as early as he did for work, either. In fact, he could leave his house fifteen minutes later than he normally had back when he walked to work, and he still got to work an hour early, just like he always did! Without waking up any earlier, he could put in even more unpaid overtime, a fact that, when Mr. Krabs learned of it, caused the crustacean to kiss Morgan Nancy multiple times a day.

Another unforeseen consequence of getting a boat was that many of SpongeBob's friends would ask him for rides. This was usually Patrick, but on occasion Sandy would hitch a ride as well, and even Squidward got over his dislike of the boat to ride home with SpongeBob when their shifts ended at the same time. ("I suppose it does beat walking," he admitted begrudgingly to SpongeBob.)

So, for the time being, at least, SpongeBob's life and driving was going just swimmingly! But… could it last? Was there an accident waiting to happen, an accident that would cause SpongeBob untold grief and anguish, and would bestow monetary benefits on a villainous antagonist?

Are you crazy? Of COURSE that's all going to happen! What kind of a story would this be without it?

O.o.O

"You've got a one-track mind, you know that?"

Sheldon J. Plankton gave an irritated sigh in answer to his computer wife's accusation. Day after day he had to put up with her put downs… just because she was a computer didn't mean she knew everything!

"And do you know why?" Karen continued, pressing the matter.

"Please, Karen, I'm in no mood to—"

"Because you think that the only way you'll ever have a successful restaurant is with the Krabby Patty formula!"

"Well, it's certainly worked for Krabs!" Plankton spat out.

"You're looking at it the wrong way," insisted Karen. "The reason why the formula works for Krabs is because it's a unique gimmick! What you need isn't the same thing he has, but your own unique gimmick! Something that makes the Chum Bucket unique!"

"It's already got that!" cried Plankton. "The lowest customer rate in Bikini Bottom!"

"I meant something that will bring in customers, genius," sneered Karen.

Plankton threw up his arms in despair. "Come now, computer wife, what kind of gimmick could I come up with? A free toy with every Chum Burger? People still won't come!"

"How about that old jukebox you have in the back?" Karen suggested. "With every purchase, a customer would get a free song of their choice played!"

"That's preposterous," snapped Plankton. "Besides, even if that were a good idea, how would I get the word out? I have no money for advertising! I hardly even MAKE any money at all!"

"Advertisements aren't the only way to get an idea out in the general public. There's also word of mouth. You could go out, mention a free song of your choice with every meal, the people you tell will tell their friends, those friends will tell their friends, and before you know it—"

"People never listen to me," sighed Plankton. "There's no way I could get the word out to even one person! But oh, if only I could, by some convenient and fortuitous circumstance, have a customer walk into this very restaurant at this very moment! If only, by odd stroke of fate, an unintended visitor would stride into my eating establishment! If only—"

CRASH!

"That sounded fortuitous," remarked Karen.

O.o.O

A few minutes earlier…

SpongeBob and Patrick were in Morgan Nancy, driving to Hal's Hotdog Hut.

"I'm going to get a footlong with mustard," said SpongeBob, licking his lips.

"I'm going to get a yardlong, with chili!" said Patrick happily.

"You can eat a whole yardlong?" said SpongeBob in awe. "I can hardly make it halfway through a plain yardlong—chili would make it even tougher!"

"SpongeBob, you are talking to the champion hotdog eater! I once ate a whole three-yardlong with ketchup AND mustard! A yardlong's a piece of cake. That is, if that piece of cake tasted like a chilidog," added Patrick.

"Wow, Pat, that's impressive," said SpongeBob. "A footlong is all I have room for! Mmm, I can just taste it now—a warm hotdog, covered with mustard—perhaps some relish—along with a soft drink and a—"

CRASH!

"…fire hydrant?" Patrick finished dubiously.

"OH NO!" SpongeBob leapt out of his boat and to the bow, and gasped at the damage. His thoughts of his footlong hotdog had distracted him from paying attention to his driving, and he had hit a fire hydrant. The bow of his boat was crushed in.

"Tarter sauce," muttered Patrick. "I bet we'll never get to Hal's Hotdog Hut now."

A policeman appeared out of nowhere and started writing up a ticket. "License and registration please," he said curtly, already writing out a ticket.

As SpongeBob dumbly handed over his license and registration, Patrick asked the officer, "Is this going to take long?"

"Filling out all the paperwork, calling other officers, towing the boat if need be, it could take up to twenty minutes," said the policeman.

"But I'm hungry now!" Patrick complained.

The officer shrugged. "Well then, why don't you eat there?"

Both Patrick and SpongeBob looked at the building indicated: The Chum Bucket.

"Oh no, Patrick, you can't eat there!" said SpongeBob. "That's Plankton's restaurant!"

Patrick considered this. "So?"

"He's Mr. Krabs's biggest rival!"

"So?"

"My loyalty lies with the Krusty Krab, and so should yours!"

"No, SpongeBob LoyaltyPants, my loyalty lies with my stomach!" cried Patrick. "And I'm hungry and I'm going to eat here while you get licensed and registered!" With that, Patrick turned and walked towards the Chum Bucket.

"Pat, NO!" cried SpongeBob, reaching out to grab Patrick and pull him away, but the policeman stopped him.

"Sign here, please."

O.o.O

"Is there anything to eat in here?" Patrick hollered while entering the deserted restaurant. He was greeted by his echo.

"Cool!" cried Patrick, hearing his voice reverberate back to him. "Echo! THE RAIN IN SPAIN STAYS MAINLY—"

"A customer!" cried Plankton, leaping into the main dining room and behind the counter.

"Oh, Plankton. I'm ready to place my order. Order, order, order…" Patrick said, needlessly creating a double-echo.

"Patrick?" cried Plankton, raising his eyebrow. "Oh well, I'll take what I can get… What will you have? The Chum Burger is our most ordered item—two people have tried it so far!"

Patrick thought about this for a moment. "Do you have hotdogs?"

Plankton blinked. "Well, yes…"

"With chili?" asked Patrick eagerly.

"If you want…"

"Great! I'll have a chilidog with a Dr. Kelp!"

"Alright… that'll be 2.95," said Plankton, still in shock that he was actually taking someone's order.

As Patrick laid his money on the counter, Karen shouted from the other room, "Plankton, don't forget the jukebox!"

"Oh, right!" Plankton ran into the back room and pulled out an old-fashioned jukebox. "I forgot to tell you, Patrick, with every order you get to play any old song of your choice—that is, if I have it on this jukebox!"

"Ooh, neato!" cried Patrick, clapping his hands in delight. "The Krusty Krab doesn't have a jukebox! In fact, they don't even have hotdogs!"

"Will you… eat here more often, then, because of the jukebox and the hotdogs?" asked Plankton incredulously.

"Yeah, sure! This place is great!" cried Patrick.

Plankton handed Patrick his order, and Patrick tore into his dog while at the same time flipping through the songs on the jukebox. "This isn't half bad, either! I'd say it's even better than Hal's Hotdog Hut!"

Plankton's mouth was slowly pulling up into a smile. "Now, Patrick, make sure you tell all your friends about the hotdogs and the jukebox… the more customers I have, the more songs I can put into the jukebox, the bigger I can make the hotdogs, and the closer I'll be to ruling the world! …Except that last one," he added hurriedly.

Patrick seemed to not notice Plankton's last diabolical comment. "I might not have to tell anyone," he laughed. "If SpongeBob's driving someone somewhere and he hits that fire hydrant again, the people he's driving with will find out for themselves!"

Plankton's eye grew wide. In a second, he zipped back to Karen.

"Karen… did you hear that?" he asked, astonished. "Patrick's here because SpongeBob is driving and gets into accidents! If I stage it so that he gets into accidents every time he drives by here, all of his passengers will come and eat here! And with Patrick spreading the word about my hotdogs, an item that the Krusty Krab lacks…"

"And the jukebox," added Karen.

"Yes, and the jukebox," said Plankton.

"My idea was a good one, admit it!"

"Yes, Karen, I do admit it. That simpleton Patrick thinks that the jukebox is the best thing since sliced kelp! The rest of Bikini Bottom will likely think the same! And so, with the hotdogs, the jukebox, and SpongeBob's wrecks, I will drive business away from that tightwad Krabs, and—"

"I think you're forgetting something," interrupted Karen. "Two words. One is 'thank'. The other is—"

"Yes, yes, thank you, Karen," said Plankton distractedly.

"There are other ways of thanking me, you know," purred Karen.

Plankton tensed in horror. "What do you mean?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"Oh, come on, darling, it's been weeks! How about putting a disk in my hard drive? Just a quickie!"

"Oh, not now, Karen," sighed Plankton. "I have a headache."

"You always have a headache," sniffed Karen, irritated. "Why don't you ever think of what I want to do? You can't have a successful marriage without a certain level of intimacy—"

Karen fell silent—Plankton had pulled her cord. Of course, when he plugged her back in, she'd chew him out for hours, but Plankton would deal with that later. He was in no mood for her nagging right now—now was the time to celebrate!

Finally, for the first time in months, he had customers!

O.o.O

(AN: Oh my God… I'm so twisted… "stick a disk in my hard drive"… (cracks up laughing) Um, anyway, if I haven't scared you off, I'll see you next chapter! (snorts in merriment))