This was where SpongeBob had first met Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy in the flesh, after years of fawning over the long-running Saturday morning television show and extensive library of comic books. This couch, facing this television, which was currently muted and tuned to a mind-numbingly boring show in which mind-numbingly boring people bought mind-numbingly boring antique anchor chains and talked about them extensively. At least, SpongeBob assumed they were talking. They could just have been opening and closing their mouths silently for all he knew. He doubted it would make much difference to his enjoyment of the show either way. Antique anchor chains weren't really his thing.
SpongeBob was perched on what he still considered to be Mermaid Man's side of the couch. Barnacle Boy sat next to him in his usual place, one elbow propped on the arm rest, his head leaning wearily into his hand. The atmosphere was tense and almost oppressive; the hushed silence accentuated every cough, shuffle and newspaper rustle. SpongeBob forced himself to sit upright, fearing that if he sank into the seat too much the overwhelming sense of apathy would overcome him and he'd become permanently reticent or disappear altogether.
In short, Shady Shoals actually felt like a rest home today. He felt uncomfortably bright and garish, offensively yellow in a sea of subdued gray.
Usually SpongeBob's visits were a flurry of excitement, an afternoon of action and adventure, of total immersion in the world of his heroes. Even on quiet days there was an endless supply of rambling stories to be told, which he would happily listen to for hours, sat cross-legged and doe-eyed at the slippered or flippered feet of Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy respectively, hanging on to their every word. This latter activity wasn't restricted to superhero-themed tales from Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy; the rest home was a goldmine of people with years of life experience and therefore years of interesting stories to tell.
Although it had been difficult getting here, now that he was in the presence of at least one of his heroes SpongeBob's instinct was to dive right into his usual routine, show everybody his perfected Sinister Slug impression, crack a few jokes and just generally try to lighten the mood, but today he repressed these urges as a mark of respect. It wasn't easy. To see Barnacle Boy in particular looking so tired and miserable (even more so than usual) was nothing short of torture.
As a kind of compromise, a halfway point between rigor mortis and leaping around on the tabletops in a home-made napkin cape and necktie mask, SpongeBob turned to Barnacle Boy and broke the silence. "Can I ask you something?"
Barnacle Boy sighed resignedly. "Fire away."
"Well." SpongeBob pulled his feet up onto the couch, crossed his legs and swivelled 90 degrees to the left so that his attention was fully on Barnacle Boy. This act alone seemed to startle the aged superhero, whose eyes left the television for the first time that day in order to gaze quizzically at SpongeBob. "You know how, on the show, you hunt down the bad guys and protect Bikini Bottom from their evil villain ways? But you also do that in real life, right? I know because I hang out with you a lot. I even helped you a few times. But I've never seen a cameraman. So how how do the producers of the show know when to come and film you? Do you do special filming for the show? Like, a staged fight afterwards? Do the bad guys get paid?"
When SpongeBob finally paused for breath, a smile tugged at Barnacle Boy's lips. Or maybe it was a grimace. As Barnacle Boy continued to survey him in silence, SpongeBob began to wonder if he'd made a mistake. The longer he wondered, the surer he became that it had been incredibly insensitive to ask such trivial fan questions in light of yesterday's events. His stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch and his cheeks began to burn with shame as he awkwardly shifted back to his pre-question position, legs dangling and hands folded politely in his lap once more.
"Sorry."
"You know," said Barnacle Boy, "You're the first person who hasn't asked about Saturday night."
SpongeBob cringed, cursing himself for being so tactless. "Should I have? I'm really sorry. I just wasn't thinking, I guess."
"No, it's OK," said Barnacle Boy, much to SpongeBob's surprise, "It actually makes a nice change."
SpongeBob wasn't really sure how to respond to this. "So you … don't want to talk about Mermaid Man?"
"We can if you want," explained Barnacle Boy, "I just meant that a question about cameramen makes a nice change from … you know."
At first SpongeBob wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to know, but then he thought back to his first painfully long night of mourning Mermaid Man and the relief that his regular workday routine of flipping patties had brought. He figured that answering fan questions must be the elderly superhero equivalent, and being the question asker was a service that he was more than happy to provide.
"So," said SpongeBob, now grinning toothily as he re-assumed his usual role as loyal fan, "What is the deal with the cameramen?"
The appreciative smile he received in return, weary as it was, made his heart soar.
"Sorry, kid," teased Barnacle Boy, "I can't tell you."
SpongeBob drooped, unable to hide his disappointment. "Why not?"
"Because I don't know myself. I've been doing this gig for so many years now, it's hard to keep track of details like that, you know?" Barnacle Boy got to his feet, stretching and stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.
SpongeBob knew that this couldn't be the truth (Barnacle Boy, old as he was, was far from senile) but he wasn't really upset. It was all part of the fun; the mystery of such unanswered questions kept the hook in his mouth and gave him something to speculate about with Patrick during their regular Mermaid Man marathons. These speculation sessions were always rather one-sided, with Patrick's contributions consisting mainly of vacant grunts as his attention was on the show itself rather than SpongeBob's theories, but SpongeBob enjoyed them all the same. Almost as much as he enjoyed acting out the episodes afterwards.
"Oh! That reminds me. Do you still want to see my Sinister Slug impression? It's uncanny." SpongeBob hopped down from the couch excitedly and began a series of unnecessary but impressive-looking stretches in preparation for his big moment. "I did a dry run at the Barg'N-Mart on Friday and everybody freaked out! I don't know why they called a paramedic, though. Barnacle Boy?"
Suddenly realizing that he was alone, SpongeBob stopped stretching and set off in pursuit of Barnacle Boy, who was waiting by the rec room door. Barnacle Boy held the door open, beckoned SpongeBob to follow him and they both passed through into the main hallway, where Barnacle Boy took a right turn along the corridor that led to the residents' bedrooms.
"Why are we going down here?" asked SpongeBob, slightly breathless as he broke into a trot in order to keep up with Barnacle Boy's long strides.
"I have something for you."
Some of the residents' doors were propped open and SpongeBob waved to them as he passed, each time receiving an nod or smile in return. He would very much have liked to stop and chat but Barnacle Boy seemed to be in a hurry.
Upon reaching the right bedroom, Barnacle Boy led SpongeBob inside and closed the door behind them. For one fleeting moment SpongeBob expected to look at Mermaid Man's bed and see him napping there. There wasn't really anything different or foreboding about the room. In fact, it looked much the same as it had done the last time SpongeBob had been here. Possessions still lay in their usual places; spare slippers, tasteless knick-knacks and mementos from the "glory days" (whenever they were; nobody was able to specify an exact date when queried, and SpongeBob had queried them many times).
The only thing missing was Mermaid Man.
A fresh surge of grief gripped SpongeBob like a vice. He willed himself to stay in control this time, though the effort made his head swim.
Barnacle Boy was rummaging through a small cardboard box that was sat at the end of Mermaid Man's bed. He straightened up, a white envelope in his hand, and passed it to SpongeBob.
"He left you a letter."
SpongeBob flipped it over and read the name written on the front: SpongeBoy.
Close enough.