SWNOVELXO Chapter 9: Deep Fried Revenge
It almost felt like a normal day.
The buzz of hungry customers. The sizzle of sea beef on the grill. Mr. Krabs cackling in his office while SpongeBob, still smelling faintly of seaweed and regret, flipped patties in a smoky daze.
Squidward actually let himself exhale.
No Lurala drama. No morally compromising choices. Just dead-eyed customer service and the faint scent of krill grease clinging to everything he loved.
And then…
The bell above the front door jingled.
And in walked a nightmare in a velvet blazer.
"Squillium Fancyson?!" Squidward screeched, dropping a tray of ketchup packets.
The pompous octopus strutted into the Krusty Krab with all the arrogance of a narcissist who'd just won a beauty pageant and a lawsuit.
"Ah, Squiddy," Squillium crooned. "Still toiling away in fast food mediocrity? How charming."
Squidward fumed. "What are you even doing here?"
Squillium pulled a clipboard from his jacket like a magician revealing a rabbit. "Oh, didn't you hear? I've started a health inspection firm. Fancyson Food & Sanitation Services. Got the city contract last month. A lovely privatization deal—very lucrative."
Squidward's jaw dropped. "Only in Bikini Bottom would public health be auctioned off to the highest bidder…"
"Quite," Squillium purred. "But don't worry. I'm willing to overlook the expired pickles, the mold in the soda machine, and whatever horrifying substance is congealed beneath your ice cream pump…"
He leaned in.
"For a price."
Squidward narrowed his eyes. "What kind of price?"
Squillium smiled. "Your paycheck. All of it. For the next three months. Consider it… insurance."
Squidward stared at him.
Then turned away.
Then, under his breath: "Lurala."
The air shimmered, and the ghostly green form of the shinigami drifted down from the ceiling fan like a leaf on a poisoned breeze.
"You called, my morally eroding delight?" she cooed.
"I need the notebook," he hissed.
Her eyes lit up like sickly neon. "Ohhh, I thought you might."
She reached into some invisible pocket of her dimension and pulled out the Death Note.
Squidward turned to Squillium with a forced grin. "Wait here. I'm just gonna... get your inspection bonus."
Squillium chuckled, too smug to notice the growing malice in Squidward's gaze.
In the back, hidden by sacks of moldy tartar sauce, Squidward flipped open the Death Note.
"Squillium Fancyson."
Cause of death:
Trips on a stray patty bun, hits his head on the floor, becomes disoriented, stumbles into the industrial deep fryer in the Krusty Krab kitchen, and fries alive. His body is mistaken for calamari rings and served to a waiting customer, who finds them "crispy and refined, with a smug aftertaste."
He closed the notebook.
Smiled.
And walked back toward the counter.
"I've got your bonus right—" he started.
THWUMP.
Squillium slipped on a stray bun SpongeBob had dropped earlier. He let out a dainty gasp as his head bounced off the floor with a sickening thock.
"Ugh... dizzy..." he muttered, stumbling through the kitchen doors.
"Wait—where is he—" SpongeBob began.
Then came the splash.
Then the scream.
Then the smell.
Squidward walked calmly into the kitchen, just in time to see Squillium's legs kicking wildly from inside the fryer, the rest of him bubbling in golden oil.
SpongeBob dropped his spatula. "Bro... I'm tripping so hard right now."
Mr. Krabs stuck his head in. "What in blazes—who's cookin' calamari?!"
By the time the fryer alarm blared, it was too late.
Squillium Fancyson was deep-fried to perfection. A pile of glistening, golden-brown calamari rings sat where he'd once stood.
A customer at the counter picked one up through the order window and took a bite. "Mmm! These are fancy. I'll take your entire stock!"
Squidward turned back to the register, face neutral, but a flicker of satisfaction danced in his eyes as he rang up the customer.
Lurala floated beside him, licking imaginary sauce off her fingers.
"Oh Squiddy," she whispered. "You're finally getting the hang of this."