Spongebob Squarepants: Behind the camera.

chapter 2

"Spongebob Squarepants, you are charged with 1 count of possession of Methamphetamine. How do you plead?" the judge said. Look at him, all high and mighty. I bet he had a nice piece of ass on the side. My lawyer nudged me from my day dreaming.

"I plead guilty."

"Then I sentence you to 3 months in rehab. You have 2 weeks to check into a rehab. If you don't, you will go to jail, but you won't pass go, you won't collect $200." he chuckled at his crappy joke. The bailiff walked me back, my lawyer gave mouthed 'we won' to me. I hated that lawyer. To young, too inexperienced, too stupid. The company that hired me, Nickelodeon, had paid him to help me. My mom was waiting for me outside the court house when I got outside. I didn't see her in the court room. She ran over to where I was standing, her eyeliner smudged from her crying, and enveloped me in a big hug.

"I just want you to get better! You're not you on drugs! I want my baby back!" she blathered on. I shrugged her off.

"Yea well, where were you when your baby needed you huh? What makes you think you can choose when to help me? I'm not the same fucking little dumbass who followed mommy around, hanging on her every word. I don't fucking need you anymore." I started walking away, the paparazzi snapping away as I walked away. Mom grabbed my arm.

"I don't care if you're 100 years old, you dot talk to me like that. I am your mother. I raised you. Now you listen to me, I'm taking you to a rehab today, right now. You need help. If I have to, I will get the court to determine that I need to be in charge if that's the only way to get you help. now let's go." her word held venom in them. She dragged me to her car.

"Am I allowed to pack anything?" I asked. I was hoping I'd be able to sneak something that'll help me survive 3 months of hell.

"Nope. I packed you some stuff. The necessities." she pointed to a medium sized black duffle bag that was on the back seat. I got in the car grudgingly. As I sat there I realized that everything in the bag was all I owned. The cops took everything in the backpack I had when I was arrested. They had refused to give it back since it was now considered "evidence."

"Are you high?" Mom asked, bringing me out of my reverie.

"What? No. I'm not. I'm not stupid enough to come to court fucking high." she shrugged and started the car. It was silent and awkward. "So where are we going?" I figured it'd probably be the cheap one in the middle of Bikini Bottom. I'd barley call it a rehab.

"I found one 2 hours away. It's pretty good. I checked it out while they were holding you. It's pretty good. It's, Uh, well, it's in the middle of nowhere."

"WHAT? middle of nowhere? What the hell? You can't do that! I have the right to choose where I go. And I'm not going to be stuck there!" I was pissed. She couldn't do this! This was crap. Mom wouldn't look me in the eye.

"You lost your right when you started doing drugs." she almost whispered it. I couldn't deal with this. I knew it probably hurt my mom to have a druggie son, hell, it was a huge disappointment. A blemish on her perfect family. I just wished I could get away from her, from this whole messed up life I had. But you know what they say; life is hard, death is easy.