Authors Note: I'm not saying that you have to listen to Touch by Daft Punk while reading this, I'm only saying that I listened to Touch by Daft Punk while writing this.
There must be something going on in town today.
The spindle above the kitchen window overflowed with order sheets. To keep both the food and flow of customers moving, SpongeBob had to step out of the kitchen to deliver multiple orders at once. Being able to grow multiple hands at once was well, handy, for getting out large amounts and limiting how many times he had to go in the dining room. And each time he stepped into the dining room that it didn't set of his touch starvation, he thanked Neptune.
It's usually not busy on a Tuesday, and SpongeBob came in this morning thinking that once the opening tasks were done, and between the occasional customer, he'd be on his shellphone and in the family group chat.
He mentioned the main dish for the family dinner being ham, and it erupted in different suggestions of side dishes and the last time he checked the messages were still coming in too fast for him to keep up with.
He didn't get a chance to share what he had in mind for the side dishes before it all happened. Part of him wanted to take it all back and tell them in making a variety of pasta dishes and call it a day. It'll definitely be easier.
But he really wanted to try making a ham. They don't sell them small enough for him to try at home without it feeling like a waste of food, even if it did come out well.
Chances are what everyone's suggesting was already something he was planning. If not, then he'll see what he can do.
Once the crowd died down, the Krusty Krab was left a disaster. He was left to clean up the mess. Mr. Krabs was too busy counting the money he made and Squidward was more focused on reading his magazine than doing part of his job. For once SpongeBob thought about flipping the open sign to close to keep any more customers from coming in for a while. Mr. Krabs was too preoccupied to notice if he did.
'Maybe I should ask for a raise,' he wondered as he what he needed from the janitors closet.
Gathering up trays and plates and dropping them by the kitchen sink, wiping down the tables so they're no longer a sticky mess, halfway through picking up trash scattered around the room, he caved and turned that open sign around.
Emptying the trashcans and taking it out back, finding that somehow someone lost a watch, a shoe, a wallet (that was quickly snatched out of his hands by Mr. Krabs), and a passport of all things. Sweeping and mopping the floors and wiping down the windows until the place looked like a functioning restaurant again.
By himself.
Because of course the cashier wouldn't do anything.
He's arrogant.
. . .
After flipping the opening sign back over, he went to the kitchen. It wasn't as big of a mess as the dining room but if anyone came in and ordered a krabby patty, they would need to wait. The topping station was empty, and there were only a few clean dishes left while the rest were either soaking or stacked around the sink. The dishwasher has been broken for months, and Mr. Krabs wasn't in rush to get it repaired.
Because of course he wasn't.
He's cheap.
. . .
"These dishes aren't going to wash themselves."
. . .
In the monotony of dishwashing, SpongeBob let his thoughts go back to planning the family dinner. There's so many to cook for, there had to be more than one ham. Maybe three? Or should he go for four just to be on the safe side? They can all taste different, one with honey brown sugar, one with glazed pineapple, another black forest, and one bayonne? No, that one took months to make, and he didn't have the time. Maybe another honey brown sugar. . .
After making a dent in the pile of dishes around him, he stepped back to put some of them away. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted another order slip in the window. A large basket of oyster skins and kelp shake. Not too bad. At least he doesn't have to touch the grill or rush to chop up toppings.
Maybe it was because he brought out all the orders today that he stepped out of the kitchen to bring out this one, or maybe it was because he needed a minute out of the kitchen and this was just an excuse. Whatever the reason, he came to a screeching halt when he spotted the only customer in the Krusty Krab.
Sitting at a table near the front of the room was another Sponge.
One he's never seen before or was related to.
. . .
And he's stuck standing there like a dummy. SpongeBob could practically hear his mothers words about proper manners.
'It's rude to stare at a lady, SpongeBob.'
After getting his wits back and snapping himself out of his stupor, SpongeBob remembered he was carrying food and started to bring it over to her.
Her skin was lilac colored with dark purple holes. Her dark coily hair was pinned back in three pigtails. While she sat, her gray eyes were glued to the book in front of her, her feet didn't reach the floor. Her blue overall dress was covered in colorful iron-on patches.
How long has it been since he's seen a new sponge? Decades. . .
Halfway to her table, she looked up from her book, and when her eyes landed on him, she looked just as shocked as he was.
There's so much SpongeBob wanted to say, so much he wanted to ask. Where did she come from? Was she moving to Bikini Bottom? What's her name?
But when he reached her table and sat down her food, all that came out was:
"Here's your order," he said. "Enjoy."
"Thank you," she whispered.
. . .
The kitchen really needed to be cleaned.
"The carnival is back in town! Do you wanna go?"
". . .Okay."
While Patrick did his happy dance, SpongeBob wondered if the starfish noticed that he didn't share the same excitement. His choice to spend time with him today wasn't out of any sense of friendship Patrick still hoped was still there. As much as the heated weighted blanket helped him sleep, there were still nights where sleeping was hard, and that meant occasionally hearing Patrick's bawling at night, and he'd rather not. If spending an hour with him was what it took to get a few nights of quiet, then he'll do it.
Sometimes.
Patrick is a challenge to be around.
Plus he ended up burning some food when cooking, and his kitchen needed to air out for a while.
Patrick rambled on and on about all the rides and food the entire walk to the carnival, though SpongeBob didn't pay much attention. His mind was focused on what happened yesterday and that new Sponge.
With the trip that he, Stanley, and BlackJack were planning came the chance to meet new Sponges, and he was excited for that, but he didn't expect it to happen this soon. It was so unexpected, he ran back into the kitchen and threw himself into his tasks with his mind and heart racing. Each time he walked past the kitchen window, he looked out take a glance at her. By the looks of things, she liked the food.
If she liked that, then she'd love the fried oyster skins and kelp shake he can cook at home with fresh ingredients. He should have gone out there and introduced himself and invite her over; she had to be new in town after all. Just go over and say hi, and get her name, then they would've learned more about each other, where they're each from and what they like and dislike and they'll be friends before the conversation was over, because Sponges are friendly far more often than not, it would've been so easy.
But. . .
SpongeBob looked over at Patrick who still had the same excitement from the beginning of their walk to the carnival. He remembered how before their energy was infectious to each other, if one of them was happy, so was the other, but not anymore.
What if it happened again with her? What if she found him as annoying as everyone else did? What if he ended up chasing her off? What if he ended up feeling that same awful feeling when everyone came back from getting away from him all over again?
As much as he knew about how friendly his own kind can be, it's hard to shake the thought of the worst case scenario playing out.
"Here it is, the carnival!"
The carnival was in the same spot as it is every year, down on the pier at Goo Lagoon. SpongeBob trailed behind Patrick as he pointed at the new rides. Luckily, with it being early on a weekday, it didn't look like a lot of people bothered coming today.
"We can get cotton candy and corndogs, and ride the ferris wheel and rollercoasters, oh oh oh! There it is! The Hurl-a-Whirl!" Patrick pointed to a brand-new shiny ride in front of them. The contraption looked like someone took a bunch of those swinging knocker toys together. "We gotta get in line before it gets longer, c'mon!"
Without thinking, Patrick reached back to grab his hand, but SpongeBob stepped out of his reach.
"Sorry, I forgot you don't like being touched," said Patrick. "Can we still go?
Patrick was, in the most generous and forgiving terms, forgetful, especially in moments like this. Years of knowing him taught SpongeBob that there's nothing to be done about it. Patrick didn't touch him, and he didn't feel the urge to scratch or his touch starvation acting up.
He nodded, and Patrick cheered.
Turns out, the park wasn't as empty as it looked; most people were in line to ride the Hurl-a-Whirl thing. Waiting in line wasn't bad at first with everyone in front of them, but the line kept growing. Between the people behind who had no concept of personal space and kept bumping into him, and Patrick blabbering about what the commercials said about this ride, he felt that horrible prickling under his skin again.
The weather was cool today but it did nothing to fight against the burning starting to radiate out from his gut. He wrapped his arms around himself a few times in a self-hug to hopefully stop it from getting worse.
"It's almost our turn, isn't that great?" Patrick asked. When he turned to see if SpongeBob was as excited as him. Instead, he looked like he was about to fall apart. "Are you okay?"
"No," SpongeBob mumbled. Things were fine up until now, and he hasn't scratched at the sides of his head for few days, but that streak was about to come to an end. "There's too many people too close to me. I can't be here, Patrick."
SpongeBob wait for Patrick to respond. Instead, he climbed over the metal railings, getting out of line and way from the crowd. Patrick can stay, he didn't care, but he's had more than enough of being around so many people.
With practically everyone wanting to get on that ride, it was easy to find a bench somewhere with no one around to bother him and ask questions. Curled up in his seat with his arms wrapped around his knees, SpongeBob thanked Neptune that this flare up wasn't getting any worse.
Saying yes to coming out here was a mistake. There was no rhyme or reason to when they happened, but he shouldn't have pushed his luck by going somewhere with a lot of people around. He should go home. The kitchen was probably smoke free by now, not that he had it in him to cook again today. No, spending the rest of the day under that weighted blanket sounded like a great idea.
When he heard the bench creak and felt it shift, he knew Patrick found him.
"SpongeBob?" Patrick asked. "Are you okay?"
SpongeBob shook his head.
"Can I help?"
He shook his head again.
"I'm sorry. I thought coming here would be fun."
"I know, Patrick." SpongeBob unwrapped his arms from around himself, though his limbs were still shaky. The tingling and burning began to fade away, but the entire thing left him exhausted and ready to crawl into bed. "I'm going home."
"Do you want me to come with you?"
"No. I want to be by myself," said SpongeBob.
He took a few steps to make sure he legs wouldn't give out before leaving Patrick behind on the bench.
So much for that. Maybe taking up his cousins offer for sleeping pills wasn't so bad.
She's here again.
When SpongeBob read the same order of friend oyster skins and kelp shake, he rushed to look out the kitchen window. There she was, at the same table as before, reading that book of hers. He glanced at the clock; and at the same time, too.
It was hard to get her out of his head from the moment he saw her. As he cooked her order, he wondered exactly what kind of Sponge she was. Couldn't be the same as his family. While she was short, she was also purple, and his kind were typically brown, or in rarier instances, yellow. Cladocroce lamellate? She definitely has the color, but they tended to be much taller.
"Stanley's the tallest in the family, I think. That doesn't make him any less of an Aplysina Fistularis," he said to himself.
Haliclona Permollis? Maybe, but they tended not to have as many holes as other Sponges. This shouldn't be that hard to figure out. There's only a handful of Sponges that were purple. SpongeBob knew that if he wanted the answer this badly, then he had to go out there and ask her. It's considered rude to speculate on this sort of thing, anyways.
But it'll be a disaster, he can see it now.
He'll introduce himself and ask what kind of Sponge she is, and maybe he'll get an answer, but his questions won't stop there. He'll ask more and more because you don't become friends without learning a lot about each other, but she's think he's annoying like everyone else, and before he knows it, she'll be running out the door to get away from him.
. . .
But they could be such good friends.
SpongeBob loves his family very, very much. But sometimes, even before those flowers sprouted in his lungs, he wished another Sponge would find their way to Bikini Bottom. Being the only Sponge in town is lonely at times.
And it might not have to be that way anymore.
If only he can get out of his own way.
He brought out her bought nice and piping hot, the best way to eat fried oyster skins. There wasn't much he could do here to make them taste better, but hopefully, she can taste the difference.
"Here you go!"
"Thank you," she said. "It tasted really good last time. . ."
"It did? That's great! I'm glad you liked it," SpongeBob said. "And I hope you enjoy it again."
And he bolted back into the kitchen.
Spongebob didn't know much about science and research and all that stuff, so when Sandy showed up at his house asking if she can ask him more questions, he was more confused than anything. It's been weeks since he's talked to or thought about her.
But like before, she was here as a scientist, not someone who thinks they're still friends. It made being around her easier than it was being around Patrick.
They ended up in the kitchen again. When he asked one of his cousins to bring over some extra fruit from the farm he didn't expect them to show up with crates of strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, just about every kind of berry you can think of.
The plan was to try making desserts, but this was too much. Instead, SpongeBob decided to make most of the berries into jams and jellies, and used the leftovers for treats. It'll take a while, and he's never done it before, but he can't let food go to waste. What kind of chef would he be if he wasted food?
While he stood at the stove, slowly stirring a pot of simmering blueberries, Sandy sat at his kitchen table with her notebook and who knows how many questions. Hopefully it wouldn't last all day.
"It's been a while since we've talked or seen each other," Sandy started. "Last time, you said we're just 'people' to you now. Do you feel any different?"
"No." Of course not. Why would he? The doctor said it was permanent; she knows this.
"Is it still hard to be around us?" She asked.
"It's hard to be around everybody." SpongeBob reached for the potato masher to squish the little berries.
"Patrick came over to my place a few days ago and told me about what happened at the carnival." Am I missing a step? I fell like I missing a step. Or an ingredient. "He said you looked like you were in pain before you left. That was because you were around too many people, right?"
Maybe? Probably? Touch starvation is tricky, he can pass out orders at work for hours and nothing happens and days later be around a crowd for what ended up being 5 minutes and want to crawl out of his own skin. It was sporadic and hard to predict when a flare up would happen. And at the same time, they kept touching him and standing too close, he was going to feel uncomfortable even if the flare up didn't happen.
"Yes." He decided on a simple answer than waste his time giving a drawn out one. Carefully, SpongeBob tasted the jam. Definitely missing something. But what?
"I have another question, and it might be hard to understand." SpongeBob doubted that. She has a habit of underestimating him and thinking he was dumb, just like everyone else. Nothing new. "What do you think we think about you?"
"What do I think you all think about me? I think. . ." When they weren't in front of him and trying to talk to him, SpongeBob quickly discovered it was hard to think about them at all. Out of sight out of mind, or however that phrase goes. Not that he didn't try.
SpongeBob tried a lot at first, just to see what did and didn't change. It's like his sbrain didn't want him to think about them if he didn't have to. "I think that you all think that you care about me."
"Of course we care about you, Spongebob," she said. "Why would we do all of this if we didn't care?"
"You care, I didn't say you didn't care, just not about me." That lemon did the trick! It tastes perfect now. Time to jar it and move on to the strawberries.
"If you think that only think we care about you, then what do you think we actually think about you?"
This is a lot of blueberry jam. Should I give the rest to the family or find a way to add it to deserts?
"A means to an end."
". . .A means to an end? You think we use you?"
"I don't think you do, I know you do. But it's not your fault, you guys can't help it," he said. He carried the empty pot to the sink before replacing it with a clean one and leaving the dirty one to soak. "I told you before, other sea creatures don't like Sponges. But they'll use us, so. . yeah."
"But aren't we different from the other folk in Bikini Bottom?"
. . .
In the few moments when he's able to think about them and shuffle through his memories of the time they spent together, what became hard to ignore were those moments when his perceived naivety and kindness were used to other advantage. Or that the ever so minor shift in their expression and demeanor when they got what they wanted.
Love has to be blinding for him to not see it when it happened.
"No, not really. You guys are just like the rest of them."
She sighed.
Hopefully letting the strawberries sit in sugar for a few hours help them cook faster. They're the biggest berries, so they'll take longer to cook, right?
"Can I ask a question?"
"Sure, go ahead."
"When you're working on your inventions, is it easier now? Since I'm not getting in the way?"
". . .No."
"You hesitated."
""Cause your question caught me off guard, SpongeBob."
Why bother lying? It's not like they can hurt his feelings anymore, he's already told her that. it's been a couple months since everything happened, SpongeBob thought that would be plenty of time for most of them to come to their senses and admit to themselves that things are better this way. He already has.
"Are you all planning on celebrating next year?" He asked.
"I don't know. No ones talked about it as far as I've heard."
They'll probably go again. He's lived in Bikini Bottom for over two decades. A few weeks away from him to burn effigies and dance in the ashes isn't enough to vent however much frustration they had surrounding him.
He had the date of when he woke up and found Bikini Bottom empty engraved in his mind. At least next time around he'll go visit family instead of descending into madness.
Glad I decided to let the strawberries stand in sugar.
Sandy asked him a few more questions before she left. What she was going to do with that information, SpongeBob didn't have a clue. He's already told her he's not interested in any attempt to 'fix' him. Hopefully she'll call it quits before she comes back for a third round of questions.
"Tarts! That's what I'll make with all this jam!"
Three day's she's shown up now.
It's a slow day, only a few customers here and there, including the normally busy lunch rush. With nothing better to do, SpongeBob focused on wiping down the windows until they were streak free. He wasn't using it as an excuse to be in the same room as her, not at all.
That would be weird.
. . .
Maybe he can ask about her book; she's always reading it when she's here, and it's almost as big as she is. He loved books, they can become friends over that, and he can show her his library full of books! What kinds were her favorite? He had plenty of all kinds.
A gentle tap on his shoulder pulled him out of thoughts. He nearly jumped to the rafters when he turned and saw the new Sponge standing there.
"Hi?"
"Hi," she said. She fidgeted with her hands, and avoided eye contact. "Can I, um, talk to you outside, please?"
I spent all this time wondering if I should talk to her and she wants to talk to me?
"O-Or after your shift," she mumbled. "That can work, too. You're probably busy. . ."
"We can talk now!" SpongeBob rushed. "I'm not busy at all!"
That's got her to smile. He left the cleaning supplies on a nearby table as he followed her outside.
Stay positive, as hard as it was these days, he had to stay positive. She's the one who asked to talk. All he did was bring her order to her table three times. And maybe stare at her for a little longer than what's polite. What's the worst that could happen?
When they reached the Krusty Krab sign, she stopped and turned to him. She looked. . .determined, like it took all the bravery she could muster to get to this point.
"Are you like me?" She asked. "Are you a Sponge, too?"
. . .
That wasn't what SpongeBob expected at all. Out of all the things that ran through his head during the short walk out here, none came close to this.
He started to laugh. That that worrying and panicking and fussing over the last few days for nothing! But his laughter came to a stop when he saw her determination turn into sadness. Oh no, all she did was ask a question and he's making her cry, what kind of a Sponge was he?
"I'm sorry! Please don't cry! I'm not laughing at you, I promise, I thought you were going to ask something else and your question surprised me, that's all," said SpongeBob. "I'm a Sponge, too. Can't you tell?"
She shook her head. "No. I've never met another Sponge before."
"You haven't? But what about your parents?"
"Adopted," she said. "I feel like I've travelled all over the ocean and I've never seen or met another sponge before."
"There's plenty of us! I'm here, and my family lives on the outskirts of town," SpongeBob said. "There's a whole kingdom full of us, and it's going through a baby boom, so there's going to be even more of us around!"
"Really? That's wonderful! I was starting to think we were going extinct. It's nice to know we aren't," the purple Sponge said. She held out her hand for him to shake. "My names PorFlora WashFoam. What's your name?"
Oh, a traditional name, like his!
"I'm SpongeBob SquarePants. It's nice to meet you, PorFlora."
While the idea of touching others was an absolute no, this time, SpongeBob didn't have the slightest hesitation when he reached out and took her hand.
. . .
. . . .
Touch, I remember touch
Pictures came with touch
A painter in my mind
Tell me what you see
A tourist in a dream
A visitor, it seems
A half-forgotten song
Where do I belong?
Tell me what you see
I need something more
. . . .
. . .
The moment their hands touch, that ever present prickly feeling under his skin that constantly threatened to erupt and leave him paralyzed faded away. Stunned into silence, SpongeBob looked up from their clasped hands to PorFlora's face. She looked as surprised as he felt.
"I'm sorry," PorFlora mumbled. "Please don't be mad at me."
Before he asked what she meant, she leg go of his hand to wrap her arms around him. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her.
And he smiled, as wide as he could.
And he laughed, and laughed, and laughed until tears were streaming down his face, as this wonderful, stupendous, amazing, marvelous, superb, glorious feeling of love and warmth and acceptance that's he's been missing so much hit him like a tsunami.
Throwing caution to the wind, SpongeBob spun around with her in his arms, laughing harder than he ever had since the day his family moved to Bikini Bottom. It's been entirely too long since he's felt like this, he didn't want it to end.
Once his spinning slowed and came to a stop, SpongeBob found he wasn't the only one laughing. PorFlora still clung to him, laughing with happy tears just like him.
"You're very warm," PorFlora said. "You give good hugs."
"Thanks, you give good hugs, too."
They stayed together, arms wrapped around each other, for who knows how long. If anyone walked or drove by and saw them, neither cared. There's nothing quite like a good hug to lift your mood. When they finally did separate, their hands stayed together.
"Are you moving to Bikini Bottom?" SpongeBob asked.
"No, I was travelling through the other day and I stopped for lunch. I wasn't planning on staying this long, but then I saw you, and well, yeah," PorFlora explained. "I'm on vacation, and I planned on driving until I find somewhere I want to spend it and park my RV there."
She pointed down the street where her RV was parked just off the road.
"If you need somewhere to park, you can park at my house!"
"Are you sure? I don't want to impose or anything. . ."
"You're not imposing, I've got plenty of space," he assured her. "And besides, what are friends for?"
"Oh, I've never had a friend before," she smiled. "Sure, then, if you don't mind."
"Great! My house is right down the road. it's the giant pineapple, you can't miss it," said SpongeBob. "I'll be there when I get off from work."
"Okay. Thank you." PorFlora hugged him again, a quick one this time, before pulling back and heading to her RV. "I'll see you later!"
He waved her off as she walked to her RV. Once she was out of sight, SpongeBob clasped his own hands together. It's only been a few moments and he already missed holding her hand. A simple gesture was all it took to beat back his touch starvation.
He felt silly now that it was over. Worrying himself sick when she was also working up the courage to talk to him. They could have been friends days ago!
"At least we're friends now," he chuckled. It felt nice being able to say that. He walked back to the Krusty Krab with a smile. Only a few hours until they close and he'll get to see her again.