After such a turbulent day, SpongeBob found sitting in his dimly lit library and organizing his prized Mermaid Man comic book collection to be very therapeutic. As the majority of the issues were already well worn from multiple readings, the ones involved in the rest home incident weren't any more noticeably damaged than the others. SpongeBob was thankful to own them in any state, perhaps now more than ever. He smoothed creases out of the occasional rumpled cover and slotted each book back into its rightful place on the shelf.
It wasn't long before a loud, metallic knocking sound brought SpongeBob out of his reverie. He got up, stretched, and went to answer the door. A large figure loomed just outside and as SpongeBob's eyes gradually adjusted to the light he recognized several pointy appendages and familiar pair of flowered shorts.
"Are you ready?" Patrick greeted him with a dopey grin and a bamboo net. SpongeBob must have looked surprised because Patrick's smile faltered and he cocked his head suspiciously. "You didn't forget, did you?"
It quickly dawned on SpongeBob that Patrick was here to collect him for their usual evening of jellyfishing.
"Uh … no," he lied, to spare Patrick's feelings, "Of course I didn't. I wouldn't forget. I've never forgotten before. Why would you think I'd forget?"
SpongeBob chuckled nervously.
"Well, all right! Let's go!"
The pink sea star swished his net through the water and provided a series of accompanying grunts and battle cries. SpongeBob, hand still resting on the door handle, wondered how to break the news.
"Listen, Patrick ..."
"Barnacles," mumbled Patrick, "I hate listening."
SpongeBob grew steadily more irritated as Patrick continued to goof around with the net. "This is important!"
"Well then, what are we waiting for?" asked Patrick, thrusting the net into a startled SpongeBob's hands.
"I'm not talking about jellyfishing, Patrick, I need to-" SpongeBob screamed as Patrick hoisted him easily onto his shoulders and, laughing his deep, good-natured laugh, began to charge down Conch Street. Further pleas for his best friend to take him seriously died on SpongeBob's lips. He couldn't ignore the surge of joy, the sting of the cool water as it streamed through his pores, and soon joined Patrick in raucous laughter, his troubles left behind in the confusion.
As dusk rolled in and the weak sun dipped behind a horizon of grassy dunes, SpongeBob and Patrick flopped onto their backs for a well-earned rest after an intense jellyfishing session. SpongeBob felt more like his usual, happy self than he had done in days. Lying in the cool, soft grass of Jellyfish Fields, the straggling rays of sunlight just barely warm on his face, he was exhausted but content.
Patrick gave a rumbling snore. With a heavy heart, SpongeBob remembered that he still hadn't told his friend about the death of their hero. Jellyfishing had been a welcome distraction, but he knew he would have to say something eventually.
"Pat?"
The lethargic sea star was still out cold.
"Hey, Pat," said SpongeBob, giving him a gentle dig in the ribs with his elbow. "Patrick!"
Patrick groaned and rolled over. "What?"
"I, uh, went to visit Mermaid Man yesterday," began SpongeBob.
"Did you hear that he died? They were talking about it on the Eating Channel last night."
"You – know?" spluttered SpongeBob. "Why didn't you say anything? I've been worrying about how to tell you and then you turn up at my house like there's nothing wrong and we go jellyfishing like any other day and I thought you just didn't know yet but this whole time you did know and-"
Patrick watched SpongeBob rant and pace in bewilderment, mouth hanging open slightly. "We always go jellyfishing on Mondays. I thought you were having a good time."
"Yes, but -" SpongeBob paused, looked at Patrick, and realized that he was right. They had had a good time. But there was still something he didn't understand. "Aren't you upset?" he finished quietly.
"Why wouldn't I be? He was my favorite superhero, too," rebutted Patrick, sounding hurt. He paused. "But you really liked Mermaid Man, huh?"
SpongeBob nodded miserably. "He wasn't just my favorite superhero," he mumbled, "He was my friend."
"Well, there's still Barnacle Boy, right?" said Patrick, patting SpongeBob's shoulder comfortingly.
SpongeBob winced at the tactlessness of this statement but knew that Patrick was only trying to help. "Well … yes," he agreed.
The mention of Barnacle Boy reminded SpongeBob that he had arranged to meet up right about now. He didn't have a watch but the light was quickly fading and he knew it must be close to 7pm.
"Hey, Pat? I have to get going," said SpongeBob. For a moment he considered bringing Patrick along since he, too, loved visiting the Mermalair, but then remembered that he had promised to tell no-one.
"OK," said Patrick, none the wiser. "Same time tomorrow?"
"I wouldn't miss it for anything," nodded SpongeBob.
"Pinkie promise?" asked Patrick, extending one of his hands expectantly
"You don't have any pinkies, Patrick," said SpongeBob, grinning.
Patrick frowned forlornly at his digitless appendage, then looked hopefully back up at SpongeBob. "Stumpy promise?"
SpongeBob took it and shook it. "Stumpy promise."