"—And then we burned it down and danced in the ashes!"

"Well, I'm glad you all had fun."

And there it is.

The trip happened almost out of nowhere, but wasn't unwelcome in Mr. Krabs opinion. Everyone needed a break from the boy, his usual antics have been turned up to twelve as of late. It was a great time in Krabs opinion, especially since it last longer than they expected but could they be blamed for that?

But they had to come back at some point. The bus ride home was quiet, half because they partied pretty hard and were tired, half probably because they had to come back to the reason they left. For Mr. Krabs, it was because he was too busy dreaming about how much money he'll be making when he got back.

The bus ride was interrupted by something hitting the front of the bus. Everyone rushed out to see what the problem was. SpongeBob had thrown an axe of all things into the front of bus.

After explaining why they all were gone, it looked like the lad was about to cry. They all knew this would happen when they came back, but that didn't mean any of them wanted to deal with it, at least not as soon as they got off the bus.

"Don't be like that, boy," Mr. Krabs said. "Think of it like this, it's a holiday all about you!"

That should do it and stop him from crying. It might not take much to make him cry, but it didn't take much to stop him from crying and cheer him up either, most of the time. Mr. Krabs personally didn't understand it, but right now, that didn't matter so long as it stopped the waterworks from starting. Save the crying for another day.

It looked like his words were doing the trick, as the Sponge no longer had tears welling in his eyes. Instead, he glanced around the crowd, looking confused and hurt. Not what Mr. Krabs expected.

"SpongeBob?"

"I'm fine," he said. "Welcome back, everyone. Sorry about the bus." The crowd watched as he pulled the axe from the bus and walked off in a slump.

Ah, he'll be fine, come tomorrow morning. Once the Krusty Krab opened again and SpongeBob was back behind the grill, he'll be kicked out this slump and get right back to frying up those patties and making him money. He'd better be. Three weeks was a long time to now be making money, and these people were craving a Krabby Patty. Mr. Krabs could hear it already, the *ca-ching* of the cash register opened and closed with each purchase as the customers emptied their pockets and filled his.

The thought of it had him smiling all the way home.

Just as Mr. Krabs expected, there was line already growing before he arrived to open. It was going to be a busy day, but there was still work to be done before letting them in. Dusting, sweeting, three weeks was plenty time for the place to become grimy, especially since there was no deep cleaning done before they all left on such short notice.

It'll be fine. A little more waiting would make the customers spend even more, and he wasn't about to let that opportunity slip through his claws.

He decided to leave the dirty work to SpongeBob and Squidward. The two of them will be here soon. For now, he needed to check and count the money in his safe.

Once the clock reached opening time and he heard the customers footsteps as they rushed in, Mr. Krabs leaned back in his chair. Today was going to bring in heavy profit, maybe even his most profitable, or in the top five.

However, as time passed, the sound of the cash register never reached his ears, not a single time. And he's been in business long enough to recognize the sound of a frustrated crowd. Better get out there and see what the ruckus was about before things got out of hand. These customers were not shy about destroying the place when they didn't get their food.

"Mr. Squidward!" Krabs shouted as he came out of his office. "What in blazes is goin' on out here?!"

"SpongeBob never showed up, and we're overrun with these bottom feeders you call customers!" Squidward shouted back at him.

"What happened to him?"

"How should I know? I'm not his keeper!"

"I oughta go find him myself and drag him here by his ankles," he grumbled. He walked into the kitchen. Instead of SpongeBob standing at the grill, like he should be, the crab was greeted by the sight of an empty kitchen, no little yellow money-making square in sight.

That boy better not be letting his feelings get in the way of working. It was only the sight of a dining room filled with customers and the potential money lost that kept Mr. Krabs from cursing up a storm that would scare them all away. Right now, he had to man the grill and get the orders out. He'll deal with SpongeBob after.

Cooking wasn't the hard part. He was the one who cooked when he was between fry cooks after Jim left and before SpongeBob came along. It was the sheer number of orders and the different items on the menu that had the old crab out of breath. The orders left the kitchen as fast as he could get them done, and he didn't hear any customers complaining and speaking of taking their business (and money) elsewhere. But he knew that if the person who was supposed to be there, these patties would be flying out of the kitchen, right into their mouths.

Lad better have a good excuse for why he's a no show.

Once the lunch rush was through and no more customers were lining up, Mr. Krabs took the chance to back to his office and immediately dialed SpongeBob's number. The phone was answered on the third ring, but Mr. Krabs didn't give him a chance to speak.

"SpongeBob! Why aren't you here at work?! I know we've been closed for the last few weeks but that's no excuse for forgetting to come in!" Krabs screamed.

He would've kept going if he wasn't interrupted by coughing. Deep, hacking coughs, along with a long wheezing inhale following afterwards on the other end of the phone. Even as he reflexively held the phone away from his ear, he still heard it.

"Sorry, Mr. Krabs. I don't feel too good," SpongeBob spoke. The crab barely heard him. All that coughing was doing a number on his throat. "I'm going to the doctors."

". . . Right. Well, uh, you do that, and get some rest. Sounds like you need it."

"Thank you, sir."

The call ended with Mr. Krabs feeling crummy for yelling at the lad. Sounded like he came down with something nasty, something worse than the suds, and he was practically falling apart in the kitchen that time. At least he had enough wits in him to not come in and cough and sneeze all over the food again.

"Lads out sick. He'll probably be out for while. Sounded like he was coughing his gills off." Mr. Krabs stepped out of his office and joined Squidward at the cash register boat. "Check on 'em when you get off tonight, will ye, Squidward?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever." The cashier didn't bother taking his eyes off one of those magazines he was always reading.

Whatever illness SpongeBob came down with, it looked to be done and over with the next day. He was there first thing in the morning, waiting for the crab to unlock the door. Mr. Krabs gave him a look over. He looked fine, nothing like when he came in with the suds, all grey and barely holding himself together Maybe it was the 24 hour bug? A particularly strong one. Or the lad suddenly got good at pretending to be sick.

Mr. Krabs almost laughed at that. The boy couldn't lie to save his life. It had to be a short term bug.

Good thing, too. The sooner SpongeBob was back in the kitchen, flipping those patties and making him money, the better. As soon as the closed sign as flipped to open, the line of customers was out the door. He holed himself in his office to count the money he made yesterday. He didn't have time to do it between the cooking and cleaning.

He listened the wonderful sound of his precious cash register opening and closing with each order as he counted. His profits were better than he thought. Definitely made up for not making any money for three weeks. The thought of it came to mind more than once in the middle of their celebrations, but he had to remind himself that they money would come to him, and more, once it was all over.

He thought about tossing it all in a tub and swimming around in it. . .

A knock at his door pulled him out of his thoughts. He expected it to be a customer since neither of his employees cared to knock before barging right in. Squidward only came in when he was angry enough about something to not bother knocking, and SpongeBob was too excitable to remember knock in the first place.

"Mr. Krabs, are you busy?" Instead of some irate customer, it was SpongeBob peaking his head into his office. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

"Come on in," he said, waving for him to step inside. "How ya feelin', son? You sounded awful over the phone yesterday."

"Um, I feel fine, I guess," SpongeBob mumbled. "Mr. Krabs, I know I couldn't come in yesterday, but I'm going to have to take more time off—"

"Time off?!" Mr. Krabs nearly choked.

SpongeBob nodded. "For about a week."

"And what in the world do you need that much time off for? You already had three weeks of not working! I figured you'd be happy to get back in the kitchen."

"It's not about that."

"If you can't tell me why, then it can't be important enough for you to need time off for," krabs said, ending the conversation. A whole week off, has the boy lost his mind? He had three whole weeks and then some of a vacation and he had the gall to ask for another week.

He looked up and still found the fry cook standing there, wringing his tie.

"With all due respect, Mr. Krabs, I'm not asking, I'm telling you. I won't be here," said Spongebob. "It's out of my control."

He hadn't heard the boy speak to him in that tone before. His skinny arms moved to his side as he did his best to hold his ground.

It wasn't a very good job.

"You've gotta lot of nerve asking me for time off right when we're getting a surge of customers," Mr. Krabs said. "Fine, but only a week if you still want your job when you get back."

"Thanks, Mr. Krabs."

He waved the boy off to get back to work. Right as he reached the door, he stopped, and Mr. Krabs wondered if there was something else he wanted to say. But nothing same, and he closed the door as he left.

Mr. Krabs definitely didn't miss working in the kitchen. After turning off the grill, he stretched, and listened to his back crack after another long day. As much as he would have loved touching the money as it came in, Squidward was a liability in the kitchen. That left either him stepping in or hiring someone temporarily, but he didn't want to waste any money that he didn't have to. Plus, there were too busy for some newcomer who couldn't keep up with the demand.

He hardly kept up with it himself. After the first couple of days, krabs had no idea how the little guy kept on top of the orders, as well as his other duties and not let the kitchen fall into ruin. He only had a chance to catch his breath after the lunch rush, and that was only for a moment before cleaning the mess made in the kitchen and getting ready for the evening rush later on.

The lad better have a good reason for not being here. SpongeBob didn't tell him, and technically, legally, he didn't have to disclose the reason he needed time off, just that he did. But he's always been an open book, telling everyone about any and everything going on with him. It wasn't like him to be so secretive.

Whatever it was, he better have it taken care of when he gets back. He already had plenty of time off when everyone was out of town.

Exactly one week later, as he walked up to the Krusty Krab, Spongebob stood outside, waiting for him to unlock the doors. Good.

Mr. Krabs flipped through his keys as he reached the front doors. "Ready to get back to work, boyo?"

He expected to get an enthusiastic 'aye, aye captain' or 'yes, sir'. Neigher one of those came. Instead the response he got was a quiet nod from the Sponge before he headed inside and right into the kitchen. That was odd, but Mr. Krabs didn't put much thought into it. As long as he was back to work, that's all that mattered, and things around here can start to get back to normal, and last week will be nothing but a minor hiccup in the grand scheme of it all.

But, as the days passed and things settled back into their routine, there was something nagging in the back of the crabs mind. Something telling him that things weren't back quite at 100%. Something missing. There wasn't any commotion besides the customers walking around and talking, and the couple times Plankton tried stealing the formula. He checked, double checked, and triple checked the money in his safe, each count coming out the same. Everything looked fine. Even today, it's been nice and quiet—

Quiet.

Too Quiet.

As much as it was nice to be able to work without hearing or having to deal with SpongeBob's shenanigans, it was hard to deny that it became just as much of a part of the background noise as everything else in the restaurant.

Besides, SpongeBob being quiet was like a child being quiet; it meant somethings wrong or someone is hurt.

He peaked into the kitchen from the side door in his office. Lad was in there, in front of the grill , without any of the over the top actions to entertain himself . Maybe he was more upset about the whole holiday away from him than he let on. Mr. Krabs assumed like every other time it would take maybe a day for him to forget all about it, it wasn't like the boy to hold a grudge. Perhaps an apology was in order. The boy was forgiving, to a fault in Krab's opinion.

Besides, he can't have two grumpy employees. One was enough, and he'd rather have it be Squidward; his attitude kept away customers who try to scam them out of food. Besides, upsetting the cook was never a good idea, and Mr. Krabs didn't want to see if that rule was true with Spongebob.

He waited until the short line of customers were served before stepping into the kitchen. The lunch rush was going to hit in 30 minutes, giving him enough time to talk to SpongeBob and clear the water.

He spotted SpongeBob at the counter, chopping vegetables and getting things ready. Krabs had no idea how he chopped that fast and didn't lose half his fingers doing it. He couldn't ask for a better employee. Did his work and then some, came in on time, and most importantly, didn't ask too many questions when it came to his money making ventures or ask for a raise.

Or overtime. The crab didn't want to think about how much overtime he owed the kid.

Mr. Krabs called out to get his attention, but SpongeBob kept working without even a look in his direction. Was he ignoring him? Nah, couldn't be, he wouldn't try and do something like that to his boss of all people. Krabs called out to him a few more times, getting no response. It was only when he was next to him that Spongebob finally look up from the counter.

"Boy, I've been tryin' to get your attention for five minutes! What's the matter with ye?"

SpongeBob looked back and forth between him and the cutting board. ". . .Nothing. Is there something you wanted, sir?"

"Just wanted to check up on you. You didn't give a reason for not being here last week," Mr. Krabs said. "You, uh, aren't still upset about the whole No SpongeBob Day thing, are ye? I probably should've worded things better the day we came back. We didn't mean to be gone that long, either. And I wanted to let you know that we all really do appreciate ya and what you do for us."

There, that should do it. A good, solid apology.

. . .

Why wasn't he doing anything? Lad should be all smiles and bouncing off the walls, crying up a storm of happy tears from such an apology. Instead, SpongeBob stared at him, one eyebrow arched and confusion written all over his face. He looked at him, up and down, like he was judging not only what he just said, but him as a person.

SpongeBob turned back to the counter and started chopping away again.

"I have to get things ready for lunch," said SpongeBob. No acknowledgement of his apology, barely a reaction at all. Feeling that he wasn't going to get anything more out of him, Mr. Krabs went back to his office.

There was something off about the lad, but Krabs couldn't figure out what. He still came in, still did his job, everything was the same except for this silent treatment he's decided to give everyone.

At first, Mr. Krabs reasoned that it wasn't too bad. Everyone got back from that impromptu vacation not that long ago, so it was better to ease back into his antics rather than have it hit them all at once and stop customers from coming in to avoid him. But as the days passed, and those days turned into weeks, he kept that silent act up, and wasn't showing a single sign of going back to his goofy self.

And it was starting to bring down the mood of the place.

That wasn't his suspicion.

He was out doing some groecery shopping since there was a sale going on and his coupons were set to expire in only a few days. Couldn't let those go to waste. From the next aisle over, he overheard a conversation that immediately had his attention.

"Wanna grab something to eat?"

"Sure. Not the Krusty Krab, this time. Let's go somewhere different."

"Why not? it's the closet."

"Yeah, but I dunno. There's something off about that place now. It's got a gloomy feeling in the air. I don't know what it is, but they better do something about it."

He had to fix this. That's two whole customers lost, and who knows how many more were out there, thinking the same thing? He wasn't going to lose customers all because SpongeBob wanted to sulk around the place.

"What in blazes is going on out here?!"

While in the middle of paperwork, a loud bang followed by shouting from the dining room grabbed Krabs attention. He was neither in the mood or had time for interuptions.

"SpongeBob tripped and spilled food all over a customer," Squidward said.

He looked over to where the commotion was coming from. A mess was on the floor, table, the customer, and SpongeBob. As he was being yelled at, the boy picked up the pieced of the dropped and ruined food. The customer was significantly larger and taller than him, enough to loom and cast a shadow over the fry cook. And by Neptune, was that guy was shouting at the top of his gills.

He needed to step in before things got worse. Other people were already watching and staring, and at any moment, SpongeBob was going to burst out in tears.

Mr. Krabs stepped in between the two, with his back to SpongeBob and him facing the customer in question. he's dealt with his fair share of customers like ths, enough that it didn't phase him. The guy gave the usual threats, about never coming back here again, what kind of place is he running here, and demands for him to fire the fry cook that did this to him.

That wasn't going to happen. SpongeBob might be giving him a bit of trouble at the moment, but he was nowhere close to firing him.

After some back and forth, the guy huffed, grabbed his food, and left. At some point in the midst of their arguing, SpongeBob must've picked himself up, cleaned up the mess, and replaced the food without either of them noticing.

Aye, he should go he if he's okay. SpongeBob, as hardworking as he is, wasn't good at dealing with rude customers like he and Mr. Squidward was. He was too soft hearted to not let incidents like this upset him.

In the kitchen, SpongeBob was at the sink, working at a small pile of dishes. He didn't look upset. Usually after something like this he'd be back here pacing the floor enough that Mr. Krabs thought he was going to wear a hole in the floor, fretting about what he should have done different.

He placed a claw on his shoulders to get his attention, but as soon as he did, SpongeBob flitched and turned around, brandishing a pair of tongs like a weapon, and by the panicked look on his face, he was ready to use it like one.

"Oh. Sorry, Mr. Krabs. Is there something you want?"

"I came to check on you, see if you're okay after what happened out there," he said. "No use in getting upset over a rude customer. Those happen, no matter how good a service you give. Do you hear what I'm saying, son?"

"Mmm-hmm."

What kind of response was that?

"Er, listen, there's somethin' important I need to talk to you about, so when you're done with these dishes, come to my office."

All he got was a nod in response.

. . .

"You asked to see me, Mr. Krabs?"

"Come in and have a seat, boyo. And close the door, don't want anyone overhearing us," said Krabs. "I wanna talk to you about how you've been acting around here lately. All this moping around and being all quiet, it's starting to bring down the mood, and even worse, it's starting to chase way the customers, too!"

"So?"

So? What's gotten into him. Mr. Krabs had to bling and rub his eyes to make sure he was still talking to SpongeBob and not Squidward. He'd dwell on an unhappy customer for days if he couldn't whatever problem they had during their visit.

"My job is to cook, give the customers their food, keep the kitchen and the dining room clean, and keep stock of the food we have," said SpongeBob. "It's not in my job description to entertain."

He didn't recognize this Sponge. And that wasn't only because of what he was saying. There was something odd about the way he was looking at him that Mr. Krabs couldn't pinpoint.

Regardless, he wasn't getting anywhere like this. He thought it would be easy enough to get SpongeBob back to normal if he learned that it was affecting the krusty Krab and it's customers. The boy put everything he had and more into this place, so much that mr. Krabs had to wonder if he loved it more than him at times. But right now, it seemed like he was witnessing the Sponge turning into one of those bare minimum employees who stuck exactly to what the job description said and did nothing else, and he couldn't have that.

SpongeBob did the job of three people, and he didn't want to hire more to make up the difference if he kept this up. No, he had to nip this in the bud before it got any worse.

"How about we get to the root of the problem. it's obvious to me that you're still upset about the whole town leaving you behind, but you can't be letting it get in the way of workin'," he said. "What do we have to do for you to start actin' like yourself again? What do we have to do to make it up to you?"

Whatever it was, it betterr not cost as much s it did to cheer him up when his 'best day ever' didn't turn out how he planned. Just thinking about it made him want to hold his wallet close. Mr. Krabs waited for an answer, hoping that it would come at low low price of 0 dollars and 0 cents, but SpongeBob was taking his time to give him one. He stood there, ,looking at the floor, with one hand scratched at his head and the other fussed with his tie.

"I don't have the answer to what you're asking me," SpongeBob said. "Can I go back to work, now?"

Mr. Krabs nodded and waved a claw to dismiss him. So much for that. He needed to figure out something else.

He didn't know why it took this long to think of asking Squidward if he knew anything about why SpongeBob was acting like this. The two were neighbors, and despite how much the cashier acted like he didn't, he cared about the little yellow guy.

"Wait, no ones told you what happened with him, have they?" Squidward nearly threw his magazine aside. After checking to make sure SongeBob was still in the kitchen, he leaned over and whispered. "I'll tell you after work. Hope you still got that bottle of scotch you keep in your desk."

That didn't sound good.

Once six o'clock rolled around, the place was cleaned, and SpongeBob headed on home, Mr. Krabs and Squidward settled in his office for this conversation. Between them, a half empty bottle of scotch sat while they each held a glass.

"So what's the matter with 'em?"

"It's a long story, and I don't understand most of it myself." Squidward leaned bacck in his seat, swirling his drink before taking a sip. "Apparently, he got sick right after we came back. With some rare disease that makes you cough up flowers if you think the people you love don't love you back. The only way to cure it is to believe those people love you again, or get the flowers removed. He decided to get them removed, but that now means he's stopped loving who he thought didn't love him, and that's all his friends, and from what I've seen, everyone in Bikini Bottom."

. . .

Mr. Krabs couldn't help but let out a bellowing laugh. he's heard a lot of crazy and impossible stories in his day, and had a number of his own, but this one takes the cake for sounding the most ridiculous.

"That's a good one, Squidward. Coughing up flowers, who ever heard of such a thing." He wiped the tears of his eyes and took a sip of his own drink. "Now what's the real reason?"

"That IS the real reason. I saw the flowers myself, Eugene. His house was filled with them," Squidward insisted. "If you don't believe me, ask Sandy. She said so herself, and she's the scientist. it's why he's been acting like this and pulling back from everyone."

Mr. Krabs watched him, trying to read his face and look for any sign that this was some elaborate joke, but found nothing. The cashier stared as his drink, and sat up in his chair once his slouch became to low and painful. The Krusty Krab already felt eerie when it was empty and the lights were dimmed or turned off, but the direction his conversation was taking was compounding that. The buzz of the light above them and the creek of the building as the structure settled became the background noise to their talk.

"I was happy, at first." Mr. Krabs watched him pour another drink. "Finally got what I always wanted, for him to leave me alone, but it kept eating away at me until I snapped. I yelled horrible things at him. I don't know what I was thinking! I just wanted him to go back to normal! But all he did was look at me. No flinching, no crying, nothing."

"Did you try apologizing?"

"I did! I tried over and over again, and I still do! He keeps saying the same thing, 'it's okay that you hate me, you don't have to apologize for it.' He says it so easy, too, like it's a fact like any other. The sky is blue, grass is green, and I hate him and everyone in this backwater town can't stand him. I never hated him, but now it's too late to apologize for ever saying it."

When he reached for the bottle again, Mr. Krabs pulled it out of his reach.

"You've had enough for tonight, Squidward." And quite frankly, so did he. He tucked the bottle back in his desk.

Lad sure got himself in quite the predicament this time.

Anyone who spend any amount of time with him knew he had a heart of gold. A noble trait to have, truly, but Mr. Krabs was of the opinion that it was far to risky of a trait to have, especially for someone like SpongeBob. Made him to prone to being hurt, too vulnerable, too blind to the obvious warning signs in others. he's made his own attempts at toughing the boy up for his own good, with little to no success. Because one day, something was going to come along and hurt him harshly enough that'll force him to grow up and snap him out his idealistic view of the world.

Turns out that something finally came along.

"He," Squidward coughed before downing the last in his glass. "He doesn't like being touched, or when people get too close to him, so try not to do that. He doesn't like crowds either, probably why he stays in the kitchen more, now. Patrick keeps trying to spend time with him, but I don't know if that ever works. And Sandy said she was going to try and see if there's a way to fix him, but it's sure. I try to keep an eye on him. it's all I really can do."

"That's still a nice thing for you to do," said Mr. Krabs. "And thanks for telling me."

He offered Squidward a ride home, since the cashier was in no state to make the way there by himself, and Squidward agreed. Pulling up to Conch Street, he saw that the lights in the pineapple how was on. He thought about going over and talking to SpongeBob, but decided not to. It was getting late, and he still needed to sort through everything Squidward had told him.

As the next few days passed, Krabs watched Spongebob as he worked, though it was hard with how much he stayed in the kitchen unless it was to clean, as he barely came out to deliver orders. Seeing him worrk, without giving so much as a word to the customers was strange. He knew the all their names, and always made a point to make each of them feel welcome. Now, in the rare instance that he decides to be the one to give them their food, he bring the tray over and leaves without peep out of him.

Part of him didn't want to believe what Squidward said last night, but the proof was right in front of him.

"Can you eat lunch with me?"

Patrick showing up for lunch was guaranteed everyday, and typically SpongeBob took that time as his break.

"No."

Not anymore by the looks of it. While SpongeBob went back to the kitchen after giving him his food, Patrick was left sad and disappointed as he ate his food without his usual gusto.

Avoiding his friends, barely any interest at work, quiet as urchin. How can learning about that one holiday be enough to turn him into a completely different person? Maybe he should have come up with a lie when they came back, but how were they supposed to know something like this would happen? At most everyone thought his feelings would be hurt.

According to Squidward, SpongeBob didn't bother telling them that he was sick, before or after, and they practically had to confront him when Patrick became too upset with the changes he saw in his friend.

Not being able to love anymore, Mr. Krabs couldn't imagine what that would feel like. And for someone like Spongebob, it sounded like a fate worse than death.

Once the place was empty and Patrick left, SpongeBob came out to clean the dining area with a bucket in hand. As he started to wipe down a table, Mr. Krabs started to reach out and touch his shoulder to get his attention, but remembered what Squidward told him.

'He doesn't like being touched.'

Suddenly, how he reacted when checking on him after that rude customer made sense.

"SpongeBob?"

SpongeBob glanced at him before turning his attention back to a stubborn spot on the table.

"Yes, Mr. Krabs?"

"Squidward told me about what happened with ye, somethin' about flowers and love and all that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I take that's why you asked for time off a while back. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because that's none of your business, sir."

"'None of my business?' Of course it is, we're like family here, son-"

"No!" He tossed the rag back into the bucket, splashing soapy water all over the floor. He scratched, no, he clawed at the sides of his head, hard enough that Mr. Krabs worried that he was going to draw blood. "I'm not, we're not family. I already have a family! It's large, and we're all very close. You can Squidward are not my family. he's my coworker, and your our boss, and this is just a job. And stop calling me 'son'. I'm not your son, I'm your fry cook. That's it."

He and Squidward watched as he tried going back to cleaning, with one hand focused on scratching, but that didn't last for more than a few seconds, as he dropped the rag and headed towards the door.

"I'm sorry but I can't be around you right now. I'm going home."

He and Squidward watched as he walked off, until he was far enough that they didn't see him anymore. He didn't expect that reaction, and it left the old crab frozen where he stood until Squidward came up to him.

"See what I mean?"

"I see," Mr. Krabs sighed. "Poor lad. Is he stuck like this?"

Squidward shrugged. "I think so. It doesn't look like it's going to change from what I've seen."

Mr. Krabs certain hoped that wasn't the case. He decided to close the restaurant down for the rest of the day. He didn't feel like getting behind the grill, after hearing what the boy said, neither of them was the right mind to stay there.