Sponge Noir

Chapter 4 - Friday

I crawled out of bed roughly half an hour past my alarm with quite the struggle. I was gonna be extra late but I didn't care if I pissed Krabs off. My alarm was set to the right time but my foghorn was blowing quietly with faint squeals. I grabbed one of my fresh air canisters labeled, 'The driest, purest, most airiest air in the whole sea' [53]. Sandy introduced me to these babies back when trailing the Hash-Slinging Slasher was making me lick every day because, when working properly, the high-quality air blows hard enough and loud enough to wake me from drunk slumbers.

While getting ready for work, I was thinking about my dream. It gave me a mental ultimatum: either retire to desk duties while other officers try to inefficiently solve this case without the Spotters or go rogue and solve this case by somehow paying for the Spotters through any means necessary. I chose the latter given that I desperately want to answer Sandy's cry for help so that she can feel safe. I was gonna finish this case as quickly as I could and I wasn't gonna wait on Mr. Krabs's money since I was certain it would never come. Then I thought, I'll go there on my own, try to strike a deal, and hopefully my own finances can cover it. This job pays me well and I should still make ends meet. Besides I care more about justice and my love for Sandy than I do about materialistic purchases. Ever since I've become Joe Sponge, I've had no problem getting into tough bars and would even hit up the Salty Spitoon if I wanted a change in scenery during my heavy licking days. I punched in at the Krusty Krab, opened my desk drawer, grabbed my Glock 19 and badge then caught the next bus at the stop across from the Krusty Krab. Fortunately, Krabs wasn't around to give me lip for being late and for not going straight to my desk duties. I remained undercover on the bus and knew that it would eventually reach Sea and Urchin, since that was in the heart of Rock Bottom's downtown core. That is unless anchovies force the driver to take a detour, I thought. When I got off at the stop, I saw a group of muscular fish walking out of the bar intoxicated. I passed them and got close enough to the door to hear muffled metal playing.

There was no bouncer and I figured you would only get ID'd if you ordered alcohol.

When I stepped inside, there was no one on stage but the speakers were blasting the bar's regular tunes. I knew I would have to talk loudly to be heard. It was evident that the bars in this city attract patrons at all times since it was pretty packed in the late morning. Most were anchovies licking or scooping hard ice creams and playing pool. "Dammit", I muttered. There were so many anchovies and I couldn't see anyone carrying a staff. I walked up to the bartender who was a frighteningly jacked lantern fish tatted from head to toe. It was relatively dark in the bar but his biological headlamp gave him enough light to do work. I said I was looking to do business with the Rock Bottom Spotters. He immediately stopped rinsing bowls, shone his light at me, and looked me up and down with narrowed eyes. Then he put his fin to his lips and gave a loud whistle. Four anchovies at one of the pool tables, who were using peculiar-looking pool cues like the bamboo poles of jellyfish nets, slid the poles into the straps on their backs and then escorted me to a room. The music quieted slightly but I waited for the door to close fully before flashing my badge and ID.

"Don't worry, I'm not here to arrest you", I said with assurance, "I'm a cop looking to do business". When the Spotters read my ID one asked, "Sponge? Wait meep. Hold on. Meep a sponge like you was with us in Jellyfish Fields when we were the Jelly Spotters meep like five years ago. That wasn't you was it meep?" [43].