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Description
Note: This satire is a collaborative effort between the sick and twisted minds of ~Exwhorecist [link] and ~angelenes-dreams [link] Read at your own risk!

"…you don’ know me…. YOU don’ @#*& 5#@#$^^# know me!…… "

With the oil companies’ transformation of Bikini Bottom into a top-side-oil-rig-operated slag-heap and brothel-theme-park, and having lost his fry-cook job at Krusty Krab due to competitive market forces ( the opening of a next-door-swim-thru-Hooters), the recently unemployed SpongeBob’s depression continues to worsen. Making matters even more unbearable, Mr. SquarePants’ frustration at his inability to make sweet-nookie with his long-time ‘friend’, Sandy Cheeks ( it turns out SpongeBob’s square panted ultra-tight elastic waistband’s effects have finally rendered him impotent) , further exacerbated by his confirmation of suspicions of a subsequent torrid sex-affair between Squidward and said Sandy-Cheeks lass ( SpongeBob had always known Sandy’s thrill-seeking propensities but little did he imagine they extended to kinky bondage play and toy sea-cucumber accessory experimentations; that is, until Patrick snapped a couple of compromising photos of said lass and Squidward performing an XXX rated version remake of The Little Mermaid (Does Bikini Bottom )) , Mr. SquarePants is greeted with further upsetting news: pet snail Gary has been consumed as part of a blue-plate escargot entree-special at the Krusty-Krab. Now, facing repossession of his beloved pineapple home and being forced to live with his parent’s in their split-level coconut’s basement, SpongeBob has sunk into a heavy daily dose-age of Jim-Bean, aqua-velva shooters and day-time Springer re-runs, resorting to ranting drunkenly and incoherently at student passersby from a near by fish-school, all the while exposing his nekkid sponginess in a leering, lascivious and mocking manner.

Description
Note: This satire is a collaborative effort between the sick and twisted minds of ~Exwhorecist [link] and ~angelenes-dreams [link] Read at your own risk!

"…you don’ know me…. YOU don’ @#*& 5#@#$^^# know me!…… "

With the oil companies’ transformation of Bikini Bottom into a top-side-oil-rig-operated slag-heap and brothel-theme-park, and having lost his fry-cook job at Krusty Krab due to competitive market forces ( the opening of a next-door-swim-thru-Hooters), the recently unemployed SpongeBob’s depression continues to worsen. Making matters even more unbearable, Mr. SquarePants’ frustration at his inability to make sweet-nookie with his long-time ‘friend’, Sandy Cheeks ( it turns out SpongeBob’s square panted ultra-tight elastic waistband’s effects have finally rendered him impotent) , further exacerbated by his confirmation of suspicions of a subsequent torrid sex-affair between Squidward and said Sandy-Cheeks lass ( SpongeBob had always known Sandy’s thrill-seeking propensities but little did he imagine they extended to kinky bondage play and toy sea-cucumber accessory experimentations; that is, until Patrick snapped a couple of compromising photos of said lass and Squidward performing an XXX rated version remake of The Little Mermaid (Does Bikini Bottom )) , Mr. SquarePants is greeted with further upsetting news: pet snail Gary has been consumed as part of a blue-plate escargot entree-special at the Krusty-Krab. Now, facing repossession of his beloved pineapple home and being forced to live with his parent’s in their split-level coconut’s basement, SpongeBob has sunk into a heavy daily dose-age of Jim-Bean, aqua-velva shooters and day-time Springer re-runs, resorting to ranting drunkenly and incoherently at student passersby from a near by fish-school, all the while exposing his nekkid sponginess in a leering, lascivious and mocking manner.