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Blue skies and swirly beams of sun used to be enjoyable for the residents of Bikini Bottom. They would spend their days doing what any sea life did: going shopping, visiting with loved ones, working, or engaging in hobbies. Now the Barg’ N-Mart was empty and even the sprawling fields of Jellyfish Fields were desolate, all the nets decaying in their solitude.
Spongebob made a last-ditch effort to hunt down the Magic Conch Shell, shouting desperate pleas he prayed would be heard by a God kinder than the one he’d known. Patrick sat slumped by a rock, rationing the last of a rusted can of beans. Squidward hadn’t bothered to come on the adventure, and Sandy was recovering from a worthless trip to Texas, begging soulless governors for emergency aid.
Nothing. No one came to save them.
“Aw give it a rest Spongebob,” Patrick scolded, hunger pains making him more irritable by the hour. “No one gives a kelp about us.”
With slumped shoulders, Spongebob walked back to sit beside his old friend, grateful that if he were to hunker down in these trying times with anyone, it was with him. Sensing his defeated spirit, the starfish passed him a single bean. He imagined it with a smiling face as he held it between his fingers, then savored its slight bitter tang. “It’s nothing like a Krabby Patty, but at least it’s sustenance. Right Patrick?”
“I don’t give a crap about that place!” Fuming, he stood and plopped back down again, weary. “I told you, stop talking about it!”
It was sad to be apart from the Krusty Krab, and he couldn’t help but worry about how lonely his spatula was. He’d left it there with naive hope that he’d be able to show up to work again the next day. That day never came, yet his hand still curled in its shape at the start of shift time every morning.
Spongebob settled into another day of nothingness, focusing on the warm sand to bring him some comfort of home in a town that no longer resembled itself.
“Spongebob? Spongebob?!”
He roused an indeterminate length of time later, blinking away a dark spot in his vision. But it wouldn’t clear.
As he squinted, he noticed a tall figure emerge, clad in black. He had pointed ears and looked something like an extra out of the cast of Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy. Was it a neighbor in especially good cosplay? Was it a scary animal looking for something to sink its teeth into? Was it… a bat?
“Do you need help?”
Patrick scrambled to his feet and pointed at the stranger, eyes wide. “Wait, I know you! You’re uh, um, uh. Um. Wait! Wait I got it! You’re um… cat man! Yeah!”
Silence yawned between them before the figure revealed itself in a low voice. “I’m Batman.”
“What are you talking about, Patrick?” Spongebob rubbed the crust from his eyes, doing his best to ignore the weakness in his limbs. “A bat and a man?”
“Yeah! Yeah! He’ll save us!”
The sponge couldn’t help but feel endeared to the Batman, what with how excitedly his friend was behaving.
“What do you need saving from?” Batman’s cape swished behind him. Spongebob had to admit he did look pretty cool.
Spongebob and Patrick exchanged glances, and Patrick took a step back to give him space. As much as he disliked recounting the unfortunate events, if they wanted help they’d need to rehash it.
“Well,” he held up one finger to count. “A few months ago Mr. Krabs—the owner of the incredible Krusty Krab, might I say—”
“Stop it, Spongebob! If you won’t give the cold hard truth, I will.” Patrick hissed, pushing him out of the way. Staring into the eyes of the fierce Batman was intimidating, but a great reassurance.
“It all started five months ago.”
Ten minutes later, Patrick had effectively explained the issue plaguing Bikini Bottom; the effort of which took so much energy he had to slump back against a rock, missing his own abode back in town.
“Krabs has control of the food supply, and because of this he inflated prices until he priced everyone out? How is he getting any income?” Batman was intrigued, his face set in a concerned scowl for the two.
Spongebob interjected now. “Busses drop off tourists there, so they can eat at the new ‘luxury’ restaurant.”
Batman thought long and hard, inquiring if there were other businesses that had access to separate food suppliers. Only one, they said. The Chum Bucket.
“But it still costs mucho dinero to eat there,” Patrick complained, turning out his empty pockets. “What’re we ‘sposed to do with these things?”
Batman squared his shoulders and stared out into the horizon. “I have an idea.”
After a deceptively quick ride in the Batmobile into town, Batman parked in front of the Chum Bucket. A copepod came out screaming and shaking his fist, telling the ‘intruders’ to ‘get off his property’.
When Batman assured him they were paying customers, the plankton introduced himself, ushering them into the lobby of a dining hall which looked like it had hardly been used.
As Batman took a closer look at different aspects of the interior, he realized it had never been used. Not a single scuff in any of the tables—no stains, wear marks, or even rusting from spilled liquid. The door had opened like it was brand new, and even the kitchen looked shockingly spotless.
Batman whispered to Spongebob at the ATM. “Did anyone eat here before the takeover?”
Spongebob shook his head, feeling bad for the little guy. “Not ever. The Krusty Krab was just too perfect.”
“Hm.” Batman pulled out a fifty and walked with them to the register. Patrick counted on his hand all the things he wanted to buy, and Spongebob prattled on about Plankton, now prompted.
“The food here has never been up to Krusty Krab standards, but I think the biggest reason no one eats here is that Mr. Krabs doesn’t like Plankton. I hate to use this word—oh, hate!—but I think Mr. Krabs hates him. Plankton hates him too. Before he took control of the supply, that’s the only reason we had our prices the way we did. Mr. Krabs did everything he could so no one in Bikini Bottom would eat at the Chum Bucket.”
A plan formulated in his mind as the sponge and star ordered, taking their plates to the immaculate tables. They were served by a robot that was kinder than Plankton, but not by much. Batman eyed their ATM curiously.
“Excuse me,” Batman said, assuring them he’d be right back.
“What do you think his plan is?” Spongebob mused, but Patrick shook his head.
“Right now, all I’m thinking about is this Chum Burger.”
But they didn’t need to ponder long; before Patrick had finished half of his Kelp juice, Batman emerged with Plankton on his shoulder.
“I plan to subsidize the food here until Mr. Krabs has a change of heart.”
Spongebob and Patrick looked at each other, then back to their strange hero. “Where are you gonna get all the money?”
𓇼 ｡˚𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ｡˚ 𓇼
In a week, things had more or less gone back to normal.
While the grocery stores weren’t stocked, the citizens of Bikini Bottom were thoroughly fed by Plankton’s cooking. The gang was all there, with Patrick as the greeter, Spongebob as the fry cook, and Squidward as the cashier. It was almost like working at the perfect Krusty Krab, which made Spongebob’s heart ache each time he rang the bell to signify completion of an order.
Oh, when would Mr. Krabs notice?
It was on the seventh day that Mr. Krabs took stock of his monthly sales. They’d halved the last month, and this was supposed to be the peak of summer!
He called Pearl and lamented to her. “Why are me customers not coming? Swore I’ve done everything right.”
As he dried his tears with clawfuls of money, Pearl sighed at him, exasperated. “Dad! I told you! Tourists don’t want to see a starving town! It kills the vibe!”
Eugene couldn’t believe his own Pearl would say such things. “The vibe is perf’ctly good! No other customers bothering them! No line when they come to order!”
Someone sounded behind Pearl, muttering something he could only barely make out. It sounded a lot like…
“Call you later, Dad. We’re going to the Chum Bucket for lunch.”
THE CHUM BUCKET? “Since when?!”
Pearl yawned. “Come on, Dad! It’s so not cool to be out of touch. Everyone who’s anyone is eating there now. Let’s go, everyone!”
She clicked the line off and left Eugene hanging in the silence. People were willingly eating Plankton’s food? Plankton was getting customers? Plankton was getting money?!
He could hardly believe it. He stormed his empty lobby and threw open the glass doors, rushing out by the clam sign and staring at the line wrapping Plankton’s building five fold. “Barnacles!”
Fueled by adrenaline and rage, Eugene stormed through the line and broke into his arch nemesis’ establishment. Squidward sat to attention when he arrived, then narrowed his eyes and crossed his tentacles over his chest, turning away. His nasally voice sounded from the far end of the restaurant.
“Spongebob, and Batman,” he added with a smirk. “Our evil overlord has arrived.”
“Mr. Krabs?!” Spongebob shrieked, rushing into the dining area. It was at that moment that Eugene’s attention got pulled to someone ordering, a wad of cash being handed over. At the same second, he noticed a large creature with pointy ears conversing with Plankton toward the back.
“What kinda foolery is this?” Eugene demanded, grabbing Spongebob stiffly by the arm. In an instant, the pointy creature stood between them, carrying an aura with innate command. He stepped back. “Who are you?”
“This Batman is my financier,” Plankton gloated, leering at his enemy. “How’s your tourist attraction going, Eugene?”
A fire blazed in Eugene’s chest, something that tourism couldn’t put out. Before all the heat could erupt, the ‘Batman’ interrupted, giving a menacing look that sent ice down his shell.
“Go back to your original prices and feed these good residents.”
In truth, Eugene didn’t give a single barnacle about his community. What boiled his blood was that Plankton was getting regular customers, and at the rate his tourism was dropping, in a few month’s time… he’d be… in the red.
The mere thought of it was a dagger aimed precisely at his heart. Going bankrupt AND Plankton getting all of his paying customers? He was running straight toward a nightmare he’d never recover from.
Some money was better than... NONE!
He’d punish Plankton for stealing all of his customers, even if it meant going back to how things used to be; he’d leave the Chum Bucket in the dust where it deserved. Vengeance couldn’t change the past, but it could forge the future.
“Alrighty,” Eugene relented, rubbing his claw on the back of his shell awkwardly. “I guess’ll go change me signs now.”
Mr. Krabs scuttled out of the business as Spongebob and Patrick high-fived, which caused a rush of whispers about the patrons. Batman nodded at the sponge and star, and Spongebob took his cue and stood on the nearest table to address them.
“Dear residents of Bikini Bottom,” he announced, Patrick giving him a thumbs-up. “The day is saved! Please form a single-file line in front of Mr. Batman here and get your money. The Krusty Krab is now open!”
“What!” Plankton cried as the room erupted in cheers. Fish hurried into line, tripping over each other to escape his food and get onto a better life. “I thought you guys wanted to help me!”
“We still will,” Batman reassured. “I’ll give you a stipend going forward.”
A few hours later, with another million drained out of his account, Batman wandered out the Chum Bucket’s front doors with a worn but sated spirit. Residents were already milling about with their Krabby Patties and Dr. Kelp’s, happily sharing in the joys of neighborly life. A few fish waved to him, and others blew kisses or shouted appreciation.
“Shell me if you need anything,” Batman reassured Spongebob and Patrick, and even Squidward gave him a half-smile from a few yards away. His new friends nodded and waved him off, watching as he climbed into his Batmobile and revved it into high gear, aiming towards the surface. His H20-to-oxygen nasal cartridges were running out just in time for a job well done.
What a week. Gotham had never seemed so sweet.