PowerPoint Presentation

[Audio] Prologue. "Ah...Ze country. So vast. So cultivated". A French narrator set the scene. "Here we see Bikini Bottom's lush farms teeming with life...that will soon be killed…to be eaten as food. From the rolling sea cow pastures to the bountiful crop fields, grocery stores and restaurants alike rely on these farms every year to make profits. But, oh no. What do we have here?"..

[Audio] "Hungry, Hungry. Hungry, Hungry, Hungry", a bunch of bouncing wormlike creatures chant in unison [1]. "Nematodes are heading straight towards Monsieur Jenkins's farm [2]. This does not look good". It did not take long for information to spread as a realistic fish-head news anchor broadcasted the situation [3]. "Breaking News. We have received reports that nematodes devoured all of Farmer Jenkins's seaweed crops. Bikini Bottom and other localities will have to wait till next year's harvest to replenish any seaweed products currently in stock. Expect seaweed prices to rise over the coming days". The French narrator flashed a time card and announced "Two weeks latair"..

[Audio] The name's Sponge, Joe Sponge. At least it HAS been for half a decade now. I may look a bit rounder than usual and I ain't talking about the pounds I gained from knocking on alcoholism's door. It's just that the pants of my formal fitted suit are tight enough to round my lower corners. I'm still a square without this expensive apparel but I prefer my body to be tapered down by a classy outfit. Growing out my sideburns and five-o'clock shadow used to look good but now my facial hair has grown a little too long [4] [19]. Gary was always the one to inform me when I needed to clean up my scruff. Maybe I haven't trimmed 'cause I'm depressed, or maybe it's because the urn holding his ashes has yet to pipe up. His passing is just another drop in the pool of despair I swim in these days. He was a good snail that I relied on to keep me grounded. Funny, that metaphorical lacking is now also literal since I am currently staring at a dark cloudy sky plummeting to my death. (record scratch). But you're probably wondering how I got here so let's go back. I could start my story at a time you would be more familiar with like five years ago. Back when a Sponge named Bob wore dorky square pants, sucked up to Mr. Krabs, annoyed Squidward, flirted with Sandy, boasted in front of Larry, and played childish games with Patrick. Or maybe when I frequented the Goofy Goober with Patrick, and sometimes Larry on his cheat days, licking alcohol-infused ice creams like partying frat boys [19]. But Bikini Bottom isn't the happy place it once was. I still pour my heart out for this city and feel the need to protect it. If you said I was married to the city, hell, I wouldn't deny it. And like any marriage, you stay committed for better or worse. But Bikini Bottom has gotten worse, much worse. Yet I'm so committed to preserving any ounce of decency this corrupt city has left that I became a cop and changed my name just to keep up. But keeping pace with the city meant running away from my old self and all the god damn things I enjoy. You'd think by spending so much time in the mirror adjusting my badge that I'd at least recognize the sponge staring back at me. Well, we all make sacrifices for what we love but don't let love blind you because you'll start sacrificing too much and not even realize you're digging your own grave. I'll start my story several days ago when my metaphorical shovel began removing the first piles of dirt..

[Audio] Chapter 1 – Tuesday. It was just another day in the office at the Krusty Krab. I keep my door unlocked so people can come in and out as they like. Some of them complain about the restaurant's service while others report crimes they've witnessed. My cell rings from time to time for the same reasons. Other precincts know to call my cell and not my shoulder radio since that remains disconnected and clipped to a bulletproof vest all collecting dust on the wall. I like to live life on the edge but even if I wanted to play it safe, something that bulky would blow my cover, and going undercover is my bread and butter. What never has time to collect dust is my Glock 19 in my desk drawer. You've probably realized that I'm not your typical run-of-the-mill cop. Sure I'm a constable but everyone knows my pride comes from being a Krusty Krab P.I. You may be wondering, since when does the Krusty Krab hire detective cops? I'll answer your question with another question. If most crimes in your town are food related, wouldn't you want an investigator that also works for the best-known restaurant in the food industry? Anyway, when your job is as stressful as mine, you need a vice. Something to distract you and calm your mind. I swear if I didn't have my bubble pipe, I would have lost my sanity years ago [4]. I was leaning back in my office chair with my feet up on my desk taking a nice long bubble break since my shift was coming to a close. But you can't get carried away either because you still need to be on the ball. Your relaxation session can turn into an urgent matter that needs action at the flip of a switch. However, the actual flickering of my office light wasn't urgent enough to end my bubble break. When you work for someone as cheap as Krabs, malfunctions don't phase you. I just waited for it to shut on and off a few more times and it fixed itself. My cellphone started ringing, but since it was within arm's reach, I wasn't gonna let that end my bubble break either. I picked up the phone and cheerfully said, "Mmm-yellow! Joe Sponge here". There was no response. As a cop, you have to accept that teenagers love to mess with you. Kids keep pranking my number knowing they won't get in trouble since it is not the emergency line. Unfortunately, I use an old flip phone with no caller ID. But I'd rather deal with that than a distracting smartphone that will waste my life away. As soon as I closed my eyes, I heard the sound of a bus hatch door swinging open. Squidward warned me about the sound of bus hatch doors because the Krusty Krab was infiltrated by anchovies after that sound [6]. But when I opened my eyes, I could see someone had opened my office door and was holding a grocery bag..

[Audio] A dame walked into my office with buck teeth and chubby cheeks that usually melt my heart like cheese on a Krabby Patty Pizza [13]. But her horror-stricken face and the blood dripping down her Scuba pants with rips at the knees got me to stand up out of my bubble break. Her wailing voice hollered like a desperate Texas woman. "Please help me, Joe Sponge. I was robbed at gunpoint. Oh ho ho hooo". Tears poured down her beautiful furry face. "Don't cry too much babe" I said pulling out a first aid kit from my desk drawer. "Your tears will raise the water level inside that helmet of yours. I would hate to see it go past your head" [59]. I wanted to help the gal, but not out of duty. This was personal. Lately, we've become a lot closer. Even though neither of us has declared it yet, I think the love I feel is mutual. I didn't realize how personal this case would get, all because of one bad harvest. She sat down and I immediately went to work bandaging both her knee caps. This gave her time to let it all out and then she thanked me as I sat back down in my chair. Luckily, there weren't enough tears to significantly raise the water level in her helmet. Her eyes were still glossy and I quickly noticed my own eyes weren't that dry either. I put my bubble pipe in my mouth, sat down, and leaned back in my chair with my hands behind my head. After she sighed to calm herself down I said, "Tell me your story. I'm all ears", as bubbles spewed out the pipe held snugly by the corner of my mouth. "I was just on my way home from the Barg'N-Mart but when I turned down a dimmer street, I got jumped by three tall men in ski masks. My recently purchased perfume bottles fell out of my bag and shattered all around me. I fought the culprits off with my kar-a-tay while screaming for help but no one could hear me [7]. When one pulled out a gun, I knew I would be dead if I kept fighting. My vision became blurry with tears as they told me to get on my knees. The chemical smell got stronger as I kneeled into a glass-littered perfume puddle that sliced and seared my kneecaps with stinging pain". "Damn Sandy. Are you still in pain?", I asked staring into her Squirrely eyes. "I'm good thanks" she responded with a half-grin. "Anyways, I managed to pull out eighty bucks from my pocket and exclaimed that was all that I had on me. They accepted the money but what they really wanted were the seaweed seed buns in my grocery bag. While shaking in fear, I let them rummage through my bag and pull them out. The only silver lining was that I still had something to eat since they didn't want my seaweed salad." She tipped the bag towards me and I could see salad in a crushed plastic container. "What did they sound like? Did they have accents?". I asked while narrowing my eyes. "I don't know I was in shock. Once I saw the gun, I forgot all about what they sounded like". "That's alright Sandy. I'm just glad you're okay. You need to head home and let your knees heal. I'll be on this case faster than a barefoot jackrabbit on a hot greasy griddle in the middle of August" [8]. My Texas lingo made her snicker even though she was still visibly upset. "I like you Sponge. You can make me laugh in even the worst of moments. When I move back to Texas, I'll find a way to bring you with me". "That would be wonderful". I exclaimed. She then thanked me with a smile that continued to mask how distraught she was as she left my office..

[Audio] I emptied my last bottle of bubble soap into my pipe and blew some more to calm my nerves while I wrote Sandy's incident down in a crime report. Sure seaweed products have gone up in price, I thought to myself, but that's no motive to commit armed robbery, especially since lettuce and sesame seeds are easy substitutes. Another aspect of the incident that I questioned was, why take the buns and leave the salad? I left my office and walked over to Krabs's, I needed to let him know about the incident but when I opened his door, I was greeted by an empty chair. I slapped the report on his desk while muttering in a half-flabbergasted manner, "He's been taking long breaks lately. He's hardly ever at work". It was nearing the time to punch out and no one was in the restaurant so I decided to order a Krabby Patty. But when I took a bite, there were no seaweed seeds [44]. Our old fry cook moved to Ukulele Bottom for college and this new kid just recently finished training so mistakes were normal [9]. But when I went to give him a friendly reminder, he told me a story about a break-in. "Bro, didn't Krabs tell you that we were robbed?". "Holy fish paste! No. That buttery ol' bastard never tells me anything." I responded angrily. "Krabs said some crooks broke in last night because he forgot to lock the doors. But when I told him that the lame-ass Krusty Krab training video, no offense, informed me that our flaming burglar alarms are capable of repelling the toughest crooks, he quickly stated that he forgot to reactivate them last night also [10] [11]. We don't know how many came in but they just yeeted all the items in the storage room and now it's completely trashed. I looked hard through the mess for seaweed seed buns but every single bag was missing, no cap". "Barnacles! How much money did they steal from the register?". "None brother. That's the thing. It's a weird flex for someone to break into a restaurant and steal just seaweed seed buns and nothing else of real value especially since we know cops didn't chase them out if you weren't informed right?". I nodded and he continued. "I also asked Krabs why they didn't steal anything else. but he didn't have an answer. Then he said he had to do some errands and put Squidward in charge who then also left with the same excuse." "Yea Squid does that when he's put in charge. I should have known given the fact you're wearing two hats [12]. He's probably sunbathing right now for all we know". "Facts", exclaimed the cook while chuckling. "I already know he hates his job". "I guess keep using plain buns till we get another shipment of seaweed. Speaking of which, did Krabs place an order" "He told me he tried but everyone was fresh out claiming that we're not the only place to be hit up. I suggested ordering sesame but he said, 'Why would we pay for new buns when we have plenty of plain buns'". "Sounds like Krabs". I remarked. "But if we're just using cheap plain buns from here on out, I gotta make sure Krabs lowers the prices". He laughed again. "Good luck. That would be fire if you could pull that off with cheapskate Krabs. Also what about Krabs's business rival across the street? Do you think he could be responsible?". "Plankton? I doubt it". I said chuckling. "He only wants to steal two things: money and the Krabby Patty secret formula. I happened to check the safe this morning and the formula is still in there". "Wait, bro. Didn't Plankton steal the formula already? Why isn't he still making Krabby Patties?" [19]. "He did and it takes months to memorize. I got him busted in six days", I said raising my eyebrows and blowing my pipe bubbles. "Since his arrest, Krabs confiscated the stolen formula and leftover patties in the Chum Bucket which he resold over here. The only other place Plankton had it stored was on Karen's hard drive, his computer wife. Shortly after his arrest, he spent all his money to make bail, but that was enough time for Karen to flee their forced marriage [19]. Plankton found a note in his restaurant saying that she ran away with the successful and handsome robot working at Weenie Hut Juniors [45]. Now that microbial loser just wants to re-steal the formula so he can make a buck". We shared a laugh as I opened the kitchen door to leave. But the cook piped up. "Oh, one last thing. Krabs explicitly said to not clean up the mess until the forensics team gets here. He doesn't want the evidence tampered with". "Thanks for the heads-up", I said as I quickly left the kitchen. Then I muttered to myself, "I guess Sandy's attack wasn't an isolated incident". I opened the storage room door and the Cook was right. The place had been ransacked. Toiletries, hot sauce, coffee beans, and other non-perishables were shattered and scattered all over the floor. The mess was so big that some dense piles were hard to step around. I opened up the cold storage and there was another mess but the seaweed salads were still in plain sight..

[Audio] I checked the inventory list and they were all accounted for. Then a stray plain bun caught my eye. As I walked towards it I noticed another one. Then another. I followed the trail of plain buns to an open bag about half full surrounded by other bags filled with plain buns. When I read the tiny labels, my heart stopped. These were seaweed seed buns. My mind wondered off on a tangent asking, why would anyone be interested in stealing just seaweed seeds and not seaweed salad, or better yet, why would anyone waste time to scrape them off at the scene of the crime when they could have just walked out with the buns and all? Something didn't add up. The fact that those seaweed seeds were coming out of my paycheck and Sandy's gorgeous Texas accent had yet to leave my mind, I decided I was gonna take the lead on this case regardless of Krabs's orders. I thought about calling him but it was late and I figured it would be more professional to take charge the next time we were in person: man to MANager [19]. On my way home, I called the Chief of Police who works at the central station downtown. He's Mr. Krabs's boss but together they oversee all of Bikini Bottom's police bureaus: three stations spaced throughout Bikini Bottom and the Krusty Krab. No answer meant he was probably asleep. I left a voicemail about the stolen seaweed seeds and buns. I stepped into the pineapple. When my head hit the pillow it felt like my body was falling asleep but my mind was staying awake. Sandy's cry for help was now uncomfortably echoing in my head..