Sponge Noir

Chapter 1 - Tuesday

It was just another day in the office at the Krusty Krab. I keep my door unlocked so people can come in and out as they please. Some of them complain about the restaurant's service while others report crimes they've witnessed. My cell rings from time to time for the same reasons. Other precincts know to call my cell and not my shoulder radio since that remains disconnected and clipped to a bulletproof vest all collecting dust on the wall. I like to live life on the edge but even if I wanted to play it safe, something that bulky would blow my cover, and going undercover is my bread and butter. What never has time to collect dust is my Glock 19 in my desk drawer. You've probably realized that I'm not your typical run-of-the-mill cop. Sure I'm a constable but everyone knows my pride comes from being a Krusty Krab P.I. You may be wondering, since when does the Krusty Krab hire detective cops? I'll answer your question with another question. If most crimes in your town are food related, wouldn't you want an investigator that also works for the best-known restaurant in the food industry? Anyway, when your job is as stressful as mine, you need a vice. Something to distract you and calm your mind. I swear if I didn't have my bubble pipe, I would have lost my sanity years ago [4].

I was leaning back in my office chair with my feet up on my desk taking a nice long bubble break since my shift was coming to a close. But you can't get carried away either because you still need to be on the ball. Your relaxation session can turn into an urgent matter that needs action at the flip of a switch. However, the actual flickering of my office light wasn't urgent enough to end my bubble break. When you work for someone as cheap as Krabs, malfunctions don't faze you. I just waited for it to shut on and off a few more times and it fixed itself. My cellphone started ringing, but since it was within arm's reach, I wasn't gonna let that end my bubble break either. I picked up the phone and cheerfully said, "Mmm-yellow! Joe Sponge here". There was no response. As a cop, you have to accept that teenagers love to mess with you. Kids keep pranking my number knowing they won't get in trouble since it is not the emergency line. Unfortunately, I use an old flip phone with no caller ID. But I'd rather deal with that than a distracting smartphone that will waste my life away. As soon as I closed my eyes, I heard the sound of a bus hatch door swinging open. Squidward warned me about the sound of bus hatch doors because the Krusty Krab was infiltrated by anchovies after that sound [6]. But when I opened my eyes, I could see someone had opened my office door and was holding a grocery bag.

A dame walked into my office with buck teeth and chubby cheeks that usually melt my heart like cheese on a Krabby Patty Pizza [13]. But her horror stricken face and the blood dripping down her Scuba pants with rips at the knees got me to stand up out of my bubble break. Her wailing voice hollered like a desperate Texas woman. "Please help me, Joe Sponge. I was robbed at gunpoint. Oh ho ho hooo". Tears poured down her beautiful furry face. "Don't cry too much babe", I said pulling out a first aid kit from my desk drawer. "The water level inside your air helmet will rise you know.

I would hate to see it go past your head" [59]. I wanted to help the gal, but not out of duty. This was personal. Lately, we've become a lot closer. Even though neither of us has declared it yet, I think the love I feel is mutual. I didn't know at the time how personal this case would get, all because of one bad harvest. I got on one knee and immediately went to work bandaging both her kneecaps. This gave her time to let it all out. A knot twisted in my stomach as I had a strange feeling of kneeling in front of a tearful Sandy before: a kind of Deja'Vu. The flashback that followed was ominous but quick. I could tell that I was proposing to her and she had what I assumed were tears of joy. Since proposing to Sandy was something I hoped to do at some point in the future, I shrugged it off as some dream recollection of that fantasy. Once I finished wrapping, she thanked me as I sat back down in my chair. Luckily, there weren't enough tears to significantly raise the water level in her helmet. Her eyes were still glossy and I quickly noticed my own eyes weren't that dry either. I put my bubble pipe in my mouth, sat down, and leaned back in my chair with my hands behind my head. After she sighed to calm herself down I said, "Tell me your story. I'm all ears", as bubbles spewed out the pipe held snugly by the corner of my mouth.