Hey! Okay, so remember, folks, coarse language, dirty humor, and hostility are contained within this chapter (and possibly the conclusion). If that sounds like something you won't enjoy, run. Run as fast as you can, lol.

Disclaimer: I do not own SpongeBob SquarePants or any of its characters.

Truth Smoothie

The breezy Treedome was now not only filled with the three friends, dozens of strange contraptions, the oak tree, and well, air, but also silence (aside from the whirring of the blades on the fan, which also took up quite a bit of space in the room).

Normally, SpongeBob and Sandy (especially Sandy) would be blinking in shock from something unintelligent or nonsensical that Patrick would say; he was a big, pink, star-shaped barnacle head, after all, with not much going on upstairs in the "attic" of his brain.

Instead, their different colored eyes shifted back and forth towards each other, blinking repeatedly because of the harsh coldness that had just fallen from Patrick's voice.

"Uh… heh. Gee, Patrick," SpongeBob began in a weak, nervous tone, rubbing the back of his helmet while he looked between his two friends with uneasiness. "I-I didn't know you… felt so strongly about my jokes… heh."

Sandy had assumed that since Patrick was who he was, her scientific invention would most likely not pull up many hidden secrets from deep within his headspace, because she had always thought that the files in the drawers of his mind were not only out of alphabetical order, but that some were also missing.

Now, of course, the unbelievable insults he had uttered were just about SpongeBob's humor and the bland pun he came up with. It was possible -though neither of them could believe that that was what he truly thought about the yellow guy's joking ways- that he might not have much else to say in the way of his opinions. Again, his brain was missing important information.

Maybe all he had left was just a few comments about how he wished he could eat all the time and never stop. Or maybe he was secretly frustrated with the fact that he couldn't see his forehead, or perhaps—

"Psh. Well, yeah, duh. I mean, come on! I've known you my whole life, SpongeBob, and your jokes only seem to get worse and more annoying as time goes on!" Patrick said, raising his arms and his voice.

Or perhaps he had more words to say that would rip his porous friend's heart in two.

"Oh, and another thing…" Patrick stared off into space with his black eyebrows intensely furrowed, trying to swim through the sudden massive tidal wave of negative feelings that were flooding the gates of his mind. "It always makes me mad whenever you don't let me eat the rest of Gary's snail foodstuff! Man," he turned in the seat so hard, it should have caused the picnic table to collapse. "You really piss me off, SquarePants! You… you selfish cube with sticks for arms!"

SpongeBob could not control the way his body jerked backward in utter shock and hurt. When he swiftly turned his head to Sandy again with a look of pure confusion and horror, she couldn't help but feel the pain radiating from his crystal-blue eyes.

"S-Sandy? W-why is this happening? What does it all mean?"

Sandy leaned forward with concern on her face, picking up the clipboard and turning it to a fresh page. "I hate to break it to ya, but it means it's workin', SpongeBob…" she shook her head, taking note of the changes in Patrick's behavior with her pencil and paper. "Although, accordin' to my research and everything, the truth shouldn't be comin' out this harshly."

"Gosh… you mean… everything he's saying really is… how he really feels about me… his best friend?"

The idea of this dimwitted yet still lovable starfish -who knew SpongeBob since birth and spent many days, weeks, months and years going through so much with him, good and bad- having such brutal things come out of his mouth felt like someone slicing his heart in-half.

"I can take Patrick's truth about my jokes," SpongeBob shook his head sadly, "but.. I-I don't think I can take— "

"That lousy snail of yours doesn't deserve all that food! He's as fat as Mr. Krabs' stupid wallet, and as fat as your square head!" Patrick spat where SpongeBob's ear would be inside his helmet.

Though the experiment was proving to be a success so far, Sandy had to wonder, by what she was witnessing, if it was still a good idea to let this invention go out to her bosses, let alone as many people in the sea as possible.

It would turn out to be as bad as the time SpongeBob fed the Bikini Bottomites Plankton's Jerktonium-laced fruitcake.

"Golly…" Sandy's mouth turned downward at Patrick's harshness. "Maybe this is the way the stuff is when it just starts taking hold… maybe it'll get bet— "

Strangely, as if SpongeBob had torn off his saddened face like it was a mask, was now fully turned towards Patrick; his expression as fiery as a giant pile of burning wood at a campsite.

"Oh, is that so?" SpongeBob asked, his tone mocking and cold as ice. "Well, Patrick, I don't think you have the right to say such nasty things about my Gary or Mr. Krabs' wallet; after all, you aren't in the best shape yourself… Tubby!"

Sandy shook her head once more at the quick rage of her usually sweet, kind friend. Just moments ago, she had expected him to start the waterworks; his face had looked as innocent as a young kid having one of their toys getting stomped on by a school mate. But now, with those dark bags forming underneath his eyes, the bitterest scowl covering his mouth, his eyebrows sharp enough to stab someone with, and his deep, heavy breathing, it would've led a person to believe that he had been drugged up with an illegal substance that had the potential to make somebody hyper enough to jump off walls, and angry enough to commit murder.

From the looks of it, Patrick was on drugs, too. And the piercing glare he was giving SpongeBob made it appear like he was equally as ready to kill an entire town full of people.

"…Better… as time goes on…" Sandy reluctantly finished, swallowing the rising nerves in her throat.

"Grrrr! Why…" Patrick growled like an animal, releasing a hot breath. "Y-you little prick! Nobody calls me Tubby, and you know it!" he poked SpongeBob in the chest with a finger.

"Oh, ho-ho," SpongeBob chuckled condescendingly, rocking back a bit and rolling his eyes. "But I just did. And since I 'piss' you off so badly by not allowing you to eat the Snail-Po that belongs to me and sits in my house, which you are constantly breaking into and stealing from, which frankly, Patrick, pisses me off just as much…" he gritted his teeth. "Why don't you do something about it? Hmmm?"

The closer he leaned into him, the higher the temperature rose in Patrick's blood.

"Ya Big. Pink. Loser!"

SpongeBob returned the nasty favor of poking Patrick's chest with his finger, making sure to use the one that was attached to the middle of his hand.

Patrick being reminded of the depressing time when he tried to win an award for working at the Krusty Krab was the glove that slapped the cheek.

"THAT DOES IT, SQUAREPRICK!"

Sandy's hind end sprang from the picnic table as the two young men rolled off the bench in a dusty, circular cloud; the deafening sounds of smacking, punching, and kicking filling the air-dome like an electric guitar echoing throughout a concert stadium.

Her eyes hadn't been filled with this much horror since the time she had been mooned by Patrick's humongous rear end being squished against her helmet.

"TAKE THAT!"

"YOU TAKE THIS, GAH!"

"OW!"

Clearly, that wonderful and brilliant smoothie that was supposed to help people speak their minds in a dignified, smooth manner had kicked in harder than Mystery the Seahorse had kicked Scooter the Fish for inserting a coin into her slot.

Six long days of research, hours of deep thinking, mixing, running on the exercise wheel and having to endure the loud shrieking of the blender -though she felt like she had been so careful and precise in doing all of it- it was turning reality into a freezing-cold nightmare when it should have made it into a world of warmth, calmness, and understanding.

This wasn't the first time she had miscalculated some of the scientific ins and outs of a project; sometimes even the most intelligent person screws up royally, and what she was witnessing now between her two best friends only further cemented that disheartening fact.

That mixture of fruit and chemicals was most definitely potent. More potent than even ten bottles of a cowboy's favorite whiskey.

She hadn't thought that the first version of that simple phrase would also be a miscalculated way of describing how this would all unfold.

Jeepers! She mentally exclaimed, her eyes following the beige cloud of wild particles that held SpongeBob and Patrick trapped and invisible. This is just terrible! I-I had no clue there was this much hidden animosity between these two. I can't give this stuff to my bosses! They're comin' back tomorrow. I don't have enough time to reformulate the dang thing… it'd take me weeks to do it!

Her throat swallowed hard on its own at the next thought that came booming through her head.

What's gonna happen when mine kicks in?!

Sandy's stomach turned inside her as the dusty ball rolled in her direction faster than when SpongeBob rode atop the exercise wheel and came crashing into her.

"AHHHH!" she screamed as she was suddenly sucked into their fight like crumbs into a powerful vacuum cleaner.

Surprisingly, as she was rolled and squashed between them, she found that SpongeBob had a lot more strength in his little fists than she could have ever guessed. Yes, he was good and forceful with his karate chops, but she never thought that he was able to use his hands in the way that the tough guys at the Salty Spitoon used theirs.

Perhaps a side effect of the smoothie was turning small, curled fingers into tiny boxers.

"THAT'S FOR CALLIN' ME 'TUBBY'!"

"OH, YEAH? WELL, THIS IS FOR INSULTING MY GARE-BEAR, MY BOSS' WALLET, AND MY SQUARE HEAD!"

"OUCH! THIS IS FOR RUBBING THE FACT THAT YOU HAVE A JOB IN MY FACE ALL THE TIME!"

"AH! WELL, MR. STAR, IF YOU WEREN'T SUCH A LAZY PILE OF BLUBBER, YOU'D HAVE A JOB, TOO! TAKE THAT!"

"OWW!"

"STOP! Both of y'all, just STOP! You're gonna get all three of us killed with this monkey business!"

"Hey, nobody asked you to butt-in, you bucktoothed, big-footed sasquatch!"

"Yeah! Butt-out, ya furry nut-lover!"

Upon having those two blood-boiling insults shoot through her ears like a piercing gun pricking the earlobe with a piece of jewelry, Sandy stretched her arms out as if she was prying open the mouth of a clam; her hands pressed against both their helmets, which allowed them to see the long claws that seemed to pop out of the tips of her fingers like an act of sorcery had occurred.

Low-sounding breaths of rage flew out of her mouth, mixing with the noise of those claws scratching their way down the two glass bubbles like nails on a chalkboard, or a metal tool being dragged across the asphalt.

SpongeBob and Patrick's faces flashed with terrified looks as they fixed their eyes on Sandy's morphing features; she now appeared to be as drugged up as they were, the whites of her eyes cracking with red capillaries, her pupils shrinking as her eyelids opened wider and wider, and her teeth grinding into her lower lip as though she was trying to bury them beneath the sensitive skin.

As the two sat on their rears and tried to avoid her feet that spread further and further apart the angrier that she grew, a drop of hot saliva spilled from her slightly opened mouth and dripped down onto the grass, creating the same sizzling sound that SpongeBob heard on weekdays when he cooked Krabby Patties on the grill.

As if the hair-raising sounds of her breathing wasn't enough to scare the pants off them, her head whipped around in both their directions, clenching her teeth even harder and glaring at them with malice, leaving them to swallow their whimpers in the way they should have swallowed their pride.

She looked like a wild carnivore getting ready to kill its prey and have a feast.

"So," she spat out the word like she was spitting out a ball of gum. "That's what you two fat knuckleheads think of me, is it? A dang smelly animal with big teeth, feet, and a furry nut-lover, huh?"

"W-well, your feet do look kinda sasquatch-y…" Patrick's voice shook and weakened like his legs.

"Y-yeah and nuts are one of your biggest passions…" SpongeBob said; his tone as frightened as a child checking under their bed for monsters.

"Well, then," Sandy firmly stated, gripping onto each of their chests and yanking them towards her mad face. "We can put aside how y'all got enough gall to even dare to call me somethin' as humiliatin' as a big, hairy primate," she lifted them like they were weightless dolls and set them down to stand in front of her. "But we can talk about the other interestin' set of words."

"T-talk about it?" SpongeBob squeaked.

"Yeah. See, it's true that I love me some good nuts…"

SpongeBob and Patrick's eyes grew as wide as an open range as Sandy roughly brushed her right foot against the ground like a bull, and she looked at them with a warning of the pain that was to come. Obviously, her version of "talking about it" had nothing to do with words.

"But I don't just love eatin' 'em."

It was a good thing neither of the young boys were dirty-minded because they would have burst into giggles and angered her to the point of frying them up like a pair of steaks at a Texas barbecue.

"W-w-what else do you like to do with 'em?" SpongeBob asked, stiffening up with sweat pouring down his face.

"Yeah," Patrick gulped, "crack 'em open?" he grinned sheepishly.

"Oh, yeah."

That evil smirk growing on her lips raised the speed of their pulses faster than the time she nearly killed them for breaking into her Treedome during hibernation season.

"Oh! Then you must use a nut cracker for that, right?" Patrick asked, his goofy smile returning.

"Why, I surely do. In fact, I'm in the mood to crack some right at this very moment."

"Well, in that case, I-I can go grab the nut cracker for you if you want me to…"

"No need. I got one right here."

"AHHH-HAAAA-HAAAAA!"

Sandy gladly put her giant foot to good use, pulling it backward and then sending it straight into the "nuts" that were housed inside the front of Patrick's shorts.

The poor starfish flew across the dome like a fireball, unprepared for the harsh meeting of his back against the hard polyurethane.

BOOM!

"Finland!"

When he crashed, the entire place vibrated like there was a worldwide earthquake, causing SpongeBob to crouch down and tremble with fear like, what Sandy wanted to call him, a pussy.

She did hate cats. Especially scaredy-cats.

After the violent shaking ceased, SpongeBob lifted his head back up to look at her with dread. "Heh, heh…" his shoulders bounced at the creepy, scary look she was staring at him with. "I-I didn't know you were talking about those kinds of nuts…"

"Now it's your turn, SquarePrick."

The disdainful way she vomited up Patrick's previous insult made him jump to his feet, holding his hands out in front of him like he was standing in front of a speeding bus, trying to alert the driver to hit the brakes so that he wouldn't get flattened like roadkill. "No, Sandy, don't! Please!" he begged, tears spilling from his squinting eyes as he pressed his palms together like he was praying to Neptune himself. "I don't want to have my nuts cracked! Please, I…"

Sandy's guard went all the way up when he stopped shaking his head, and his plea for mercy was replaced with a devious, smug smirk.

"Ohhh, wait a minute…" he mockingly lowered his eyelids and placed his hands on his hips. "I'm a sponge; therefore, I don't have any nuts! I'm nut-less. I reproduce by budding. IN YOUR FACE! BAHAHAHA!"

The pointing of his finger towards her eyes, on top of his obnoxious, insane laughter lit a vengeful fuse within her.

"Y'all are right, SpongeBob."

"Why, of course, I am, Saaann-day. Perhaps I'm much smarter than you give me credit for." He dusted off his shoulder, walking around her in a circle to aggravate her further. "And perhaps when I produce some babies, they could all grow up to replace you as the town scientist since it seems you're as dumb as dumb ol' Texas! Bahahaha!"

"Why, sure. Allow me to help ya with the process of your baby-makin'."

By the time SpongeBob opened his eyes with confusion, his gut was met with the bottom of her foot, making him nearly double over from the unbearable pain.

"HI-YAH!"

"OW!"

"HEE-YAH!"

"OH-HO!"

"Hi-YAH, YAH, HA, YAH, HI-YAAAHHH!"

"OOH, AH, EEEE, OH, OHHHH-HOOO!"

When she was done karate kicking and chopping him everywhere on his body, including the area of his non-existent scrotum (just for the heck of it), he lay out on the grass as perfectly sliced chunks of cheese, ready to be served over a giant salad.

If only Sandy had another one of those giant soybeans hanging around, along with some supersized croutons.

~French Narrator~

"Four and a half hours of painful truths later…"

"Ya know somethin', Patrick?" SpongeBob asked.

"What?"

"I've thought about what you said, and you're right."

"That your laugh could be used by the FIA to torture people in interrogations?" (the 'FIA' standing for 'Fish Intelligence Agency').

"Wha? No. I was talking about the thing with Mr. Krabs's fat wallet. You had that pegged correctly. I've always known just exactly who he is; firing me, his best employee, all those times for stupid reasons, like saving a single stinkin' nickel… stingy, red bastard."

"Thank Neptune that's what you're talkin' about, SpongeBob. 'Cause if you'd been talkin' about how you could agree with what Patrick said about me bein' an overbearing, insensitive bitch, I'd have taken a damn chainsaw to your imaginary nutsack."

"Well, I've thought about that, too, Sandy, and I think he's— "

"Say 'right', and I'm grabbin' the chainsaw."

"…I… ehhh… never mind, heh, heh." SpongeBob already had to literally pull himself back together after being chopped up into cheese chunks.

"Speaking of who's right and wrong about stuff, I think you guys were wrong about how you said I'm a 'selfish, gluttonous barnacle-dick'."

"How could we be wrong? Y'all eat like a freakin' hog on a hot summer's day." At this point, Sandy didn't give a darn whether she was labeled a 'hypocrite' or not for eating too much herself; if either one tried it, all she'd have to do would be to teach them another lesson with her fists or her feet. Or both.

"Yeah, and you've done stuff like not share that Krusty Kid's meal with me. And let's not forget how you wouldn't give me the toy to play with, either. I had to fight you for it."

"Sounds pretty darn selfish if ya ask me."

"Oh, yeah? Well, you guys are… are… uhh…" Patrick rubbed underneath his helmet, his brain running out of the energy to think.

"Good at jellyfishing?"

"Sharp as a tack?"

"Pft, no. I'm tryin' to think of insults, not comp… c-comp… compli… oh, I give up."

At 11:00 p.m., the sky was now as black as the endless void where the souls of the three friends floated; all badly bruised on their insides from finally coming to know what they had been hiding from each other for so long.

The bizarre insanity that occurred just hours before was like a dark, agonizingly dragged-out scene in a novel written by a deranged psychopath. More yelling, physical harm, insults, throwing of objects and mental pain had gone down more intensely than a plane crashing and destroying a boatway, leaving everything in ruin.

Who knew such lively and unique characters, who all had their issues but managed to stick together all these years and remain close, were keeping the most jaw-dropping opinions deep within their minds and hearts?

All Sandy wanted to do was impress her bosses and help them be honest with one another. And if it helped them, why couldn't it do the same for so many others?

The fact of the matter was that certain "truths" or opinions were best kept hidden from the rest of the world, and going the extra mile to drink a potent substance of fruit and chemicals to bring them to the surface wouldn't just be a huge problem – it could potentially rip relationships apart between people.

At least, that was the danger that seemed to have only been proven to be true by what was going on this evening.

From the looks of it, it wasn't going to help anybody. People would be better off just chatting through their personal opinions of each other by going to therapy.

This entire concept that came to Sandy in the first place seemed just as genius as all the others she had come up with over her career as a scientist.

This was the first time in quite a while that one of her ideas turned out to be not so bright. The smoothie had done its job, but not in the way it was supposed to.

Then again, not every set of thoughts and feelings out there were as brutal as the ones that had been shared and were still being shared at the moment, as the female and two males lay out underneath the brilliantly lit dome, with the twinkling stars showing above and all around them.

Only this time, the psychotic and rageful phase of their behavior was, quite oddly, over and done with.

Sandy hadn't a clue that her invention would drag them through two different stages; one that gave the effects of certain stimulants, and one that now made them sound as exhausted as a man with a hangover, with mouths that chirped and cursed like dolphins, confessing more truths that tasted sour coming out, and stung when traveling through their ears.

It was as though Sandy had downed a bottle or two of that cowboy whiskey or some other type of liquor, and SpongeBob and Patrick -being the weaker ones who couldn't handle the potency of real alcohol- had scarfed down dozens of fancy, glass cups filled with Triple Gooberberry Sunrises, which were the desserts that had left them trashed at Goofy Goober's back in the year 2004.

The vanilla extract inside the smoothie could've had something to do with how drunk they were acting, but if that was indeed the case, it was still rather strange that it hadn't affected them earlier on.

But this was a world where a talking sponge, a nose-picking starfish, and a smart squirrel living in an air-dome existed; basically, the most illogical things could occur, and no one would be able to question them.

The eyes of Patrick and Sandy stared up at the bright balls of light in the sky, while they lay with their backs on the grass. Neither was making any efforts to move their limbs, which was the opposite of what SpongeBob was forcing himself to do.

The sponge, laying on his stomach, his scratched-up helmet leaning against his left palm, and his right hand gripping a red marking pen and tracing it around an off-white piece of paper, looked down with tired and bloodshot eyes at the picture he was sketching.

Even when feeling drunk off his square behind, he managed to tap into his brain and use his artistic side. However, what he was making wasn't anything to gawk at when compared to the other masterpieces he had created in the past, such as the time when he magically produced David by Michaelangelo in Squidward's art class.

"Uh-huuhhh…" he muttered, sticking his tongue out in anticipation. "Mmm-hmm… oh, yeah, just one more little stroke of the… marker, and…"

After slurring his words and inhaling deeply, SpongeBob tucked his fingers under the paper, pulling it off the grass and holding it up high for his friends to see. "Ta-da! What do you guys think?"

Sandy, still on her back, lifted her head first and squinted at the poorly drawn smiley face with a wiggly mouth and U-shaped eyes. "Mm… I've seen ya do better than that crap."

"Pssh," SpongeBob practically spit out a breath and rolled his eyes. "Aw, phooey! What do squirrels know anyway?" he brought his top and bottom eyelids together to match the look of disgust on the rest of his face. "What do you think, Patrick?"

"It sucks."

Patrick just barely lifting his pointy head to take a glance at what, in SpongeBob's mind, was a breathtaking piece of art and being so blunt about it was yet another stab to the heart.

He sniffled, his eyes glowing and beginning to water. Those two words made him swirl with emotions, such as sadness, betrayal and—

"You big jerk!" he balled-up the paper in his hands and threw it at Patrick's head, causing it to bounce off his helmet and land on Sandy's stomach.

"You barely even looked at it!" SpongeBob exclaimed, bursting into full-blown tears and sobbing while he sat up and hugged his scrawny knees to his chest.

"So?!" Patrick questioned annoyedly, sitting up and shooting a glare in his direction. "What's the big deal? Why do you gotta be such a freaking crybaby wuss?"

"W-why do you have to be such a dickless wonder?!" SpongeBob pointed a shaky finger at him.

As a result of the ridiculous, overdramatic scene in front of her, Sandy rolled her eyes so far upwards, she could have seen into the back of her head.

"I-I don't know!" Patrick took shallow breaths, trying to find a way to take the blame off himself. "Why don't you ask Sandy that question? Thanks to her, I really am a dickless wonder now. She's the reason I can't ever have any kids in the future!"

"Oh, shut the hell up, ya tub of lard dunderhead," Sandy slurred, sitting up and grabbing the crumpled paper to throw it across the way towards SpongeBob. "Like y'all were gonna eventually get with someone and have kids anyway. No woman in her right mind would ever get near your chubby, smelly behind, let alone be interested in your deformed shrimp dick."

"Yeah, well, it really is deformed now, no thanks to you, squirrel-bitch!" Patrick's deep voice thundered as he stood up, wobbling and nearly falling back down due to his dizziness. "You know," he shook his head quickly, "you really are a bitch. Y-you're mean… a-and you think you're smarter than everyone else, and you like to crack people's nuts with your sasquatch-y feet!" he clenched his fists and shut his eyes tightly, making a low, ongoing groaning noise.

"Good grief, it looks and sounds like you're takin' a shit." When Sandy stood up herself, it was as if a warning siren for a life-threatening disaster had gone off. She, too, clenched her fists and her teeth, staring at Patrick with daggers. "And ya know what? On second thought, you're right; I am a bitch, but at least I own it! Meanwhile, y'all have been dumber than a sack of bricks floatin' down to the bottom of the ocean your entire life, but yet you continue to act like a smartass!"

"Hey, that isn't fair, Sandy," SpongeBob said, pushing himself up off the ground with his weak hands and staggering backward as he tried to keep his eyes open. "Patrick may act like a jerky smarty-pants, but at least he doesn't use people as his test monkey like a certain someone has been using me for all these years."

Sandy cocked an eyebrow at how quickly his mood changed. He was sobbing and angry at Patrick no more than a minute ago, and now he had turned the tables, reabsorbing the tears into his body and directing his vexatious attitude toward her.

Perhaps the town theories about this yellow guy having some sort of personality disorder were correct. It wasn't just the effects of the smoothie; SpongeBob had been this way his entire life, but it had become much more pronounced in the last few hours.

Sandy had even stopped writing down the changes in all their behaviors, not just SpongeBob's, not long after the concoction had kicked in inside her bloodstream. It was like her mind, which was usually as clear and bright as the Texas sky, was now as foggy as a puff of smoke from a cigar. She couldn't seem to focus on writing words down on her clipboard; every time she did, the sentences looked as messed up as SpongeBob's lame smiley face drawing.

"Well, you've certainly got some nerve there, SquarePrick. I always thought y'all enjoyed bein' my test subject and lab partner," she crossed her arms over her chest as her face showed her fed-up feelings.

"I do, but it gets really tiresome after while." SpongeBob stuck his hand inside his helmet to wipe away the drool from his mouth and the snot from his nostrils. "Especially considering that you're always putting my life in danger with your little experiments. You don't even care about me at all, do you, Sandra?"

"Why, I care more about y'all than you could ever freakin' know, SpongeRobert," she pointed a finger at herself, leaning forward quickly and startling him with the fierce look in her eyes. "But seein' as how you agree with fathead over there about me bein' a bitch, it seems you don't return that care."

"What?" he waved her off with both his hands, continuing to stagger. "Oh, please, you said it yourself just a few minutes ago that you're a bitch and you own it, which makes it pretty easy and fair for me to agree with you. But don't think just because you are a bitch, that I don't put up with it anyway and love you with all of my beating heart, Sandy, because I do." He folded his arms over his chest and turned his back to her, which was like both a slap in the face and a reason for her to hit herself over the head because of the meaningful words he had just spoken.

Or did she just think he had spoken them? Was she hearing things?

"What did y'all just say to me?"

SpongeBob's eyes burst open with realization; his pulse speeding up at the fact that he couldn't even remember everything he had just said, or at least didn't want to remember. "Uhh… I-I said… you're a bitch and you own it, and I agree. That's all."

"Bullshit!"

Once again, SpongeBob's eyes opened; this time, though, they squinted back into place quicker than the morning he was hungover at Goofy Goober's and realized what a terrible boss Mr. Krabs was for picking Squidward to be the manager instead of him.

He spun around on his heels, shooting a drunk-looking glare at her. Now it was his turn to start questioning what he had heard. "What did you say, San-day?"

"Bull. Freaking. Shit."

Sandy returning his threatening stare made him scowl even harder.

"You mentioned the word 'love', and you know it. Don't pretend ya didn't, ya bullshitter."

"Well, I don't know what 'bullshit' is, but I do know seahorse shit when I see it." He grabbed onto his red tie, repositioning it and curling his lips inward. "I brought a seahorse to the Krusty Krab once, and I had to clean up her shit all over the kitchen. But you wouldn't know what that's like, would ya, Sandy? You're only used to cleaning up your own shit!"

"Hey, at least I do clean up my shit! Unlike Patrick, who never wipes his ass or even bathes!" she sneered, her voice growing raspy.

The smoothie was almost finished running its course inside Patrick, as he now lay on the grass again; his arms and legs stretched out, his belly rising and falling, and his eyelids struggling to stay open. "Are you guys talking about me?"

"SHUT UP, PATRICK!" SpongeBob and Sandy exclaimed together, glancing at him angrily.

"Psh," Patrick dropped his head back down. "Whatever, big fat meanies."

"Ha, ha, ha!" SpongeBob mocked, smirking and rocking his head from side to side. "There you go again, Sandy. Always thinking you're better than everyone else. You know, acting all superior twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week isn't a very nice or attractive thing for a person to do."

Sandy's vocal cords were on the verge of exploding with a growl at the way he looked at her with those conceited, asshole-ish, and infuriatingly gorgeous blue eyes.

He really was a prick, but he was also too cute for his own good.

"Ya know what else ain't attractive? Bein' an annoying, smug little brat, with a brain the size of a damn pea."

"Hmph, well, it doesn't surprise me what you think of my intelligence— "

"Or lack thereof."

"Ah, who gives a barnacle?! Give it a rest, Sandy. You think I care whether you find me attractive or not? Ha! Well…" he flung his right arm, falling forward a bit. "Joke's on you, sister because I couldn't care less how pretty you are, with your… adorable fluffy ears, and your chocolate-brown eyes that make me melt like… eh… chocolate, and especially your beautiful personality. HUH! Who do you think you are, making me feel all warm and fuzzy with your laugh? You make me sick!"

Truly, he wished she would make him sick much more often than she already did.

Sandy's finger pointed at him like a loaded shotgun, with a mind of its own. "Well, you make me sicker with your sweet smile, that cute, long as heck nose that shows your emotions like a dog's tail, the stupid holes all over your charmin' little face, and that same set of clothes you've been wearin' all your life. You and your little striped socks and shiny, black shoes! Y'all ought to be ashamed for makin' me blush whenever ya walk into the room!"

Patrick, now in a deep sleep despite all the horrible name-calling that was going on, snored loudly with drool bubbling out of his mouth and into his helmet. Even if he was awake, he most likely wouldn't have understood what was going on, anyways. So, he wouldn't have found their argument all that amusing or worthy of teasing.

"Oh, yeah. Well, even though I've been sporting this outfit for so many years, at least it's interesting, well-put-together and not attached to my body, unlike your boring, old tail!"

Sandy's tail was like her second pride and joy, next to her science career. To hear such an insult about it, though it could have been far worse, was like a kick to her gut and a wrecking ball to her confidence, especially coming from him, of all people.

"Why, you…" she shook with anger. "Well, hey, I shouldn't be all that surprised by your opinion of it, considerin' the fact that I brush it for over an hour just to make it look good for your sorry behind before you come for a visit, and you never even notice!"

"Ha! Speaking of things going unnoticed, Sandy, you never seem to notice that I pile on half a bottle of cologne just to impress your senses!"

"Oh, I noticed. That's supposed to be cologne? I always just thought you fell into an unflushed toilet full of piss before comin' over here."

"Ohhh!" SpongeBob balled-up his fists, exasperation filling up his insides. "That's it! I have about had it with this steaming pile of seahorse shit." His feet stomped across the way towards Patrick. He bent in half, grabbing his hand and dragging him along the grass while he still slept soundly. "Come on, Patrick. Let's get out of here." He turned his head back slightly to send a bitter look of farewell to the scientist.

"We'll leave this squirrel-sasquatch to tend to her inventions. I sure hope those chimps don't fire ya, Miss Cheeks. Not that we'd miss you if you went to move back to the surface, anyway."

His words, while still poking her like a sea bear, also stung like sour lemon juice being poured over a cut or splashing into an eyeball while it was being squeezed over a drink.

She wasn't about to let him leave her hanging over a cliff like this.

This was the last straw.

"You get your little, yellow ass back here, SquarePants. I ain't done with you just yet."

Those words blew into SpongeBob's ears like a megaphone. He dropped Patrick's hand at the exit faster than a lazy high school student dropped their grades. He turned around, bending his arms at his sides in his "I'm ready!" fashion and began a steady, purposeful walk towards her.

"So, I see we're using coarse language now, are we, Sandra?"

"Don't give me that shit, you hypocrite. You've been cussin' up a bigger storm than either me or Patrick have for almost the entire night. Don't deny it."

"Well, I see that besides being insensitive, you're also good at keeping track of things. How is that possible?! Are you a spy or something?"

"I have ears, you idiot!"

"I wish I could say the same, but all I have are holes on the sides of my head!"

"Don't forget about the big one inside your head."

If all she was going to do was continue to insult his mind, why did she call him back? Their whole evening had been filled with nothing but insults, so what else was there to say? What was the purpose?

"Alright, you've made your point! I am not gonna stand here and take this anymore," SpongeBob declared with another stomp of his foot; his heart filling with more determination than the time he tried to save his parents from Cousin Blackjack.

"Y'all askin' for a fight?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow and preparing her knuckles by cracking them.

"Only if you're up for it, nut-crusher!"

"Oh, I'm up for it, ya square-headed squeaky toy!"

"So am I, you big-brained, pink-nosed fuzzball!"

The heat within the room rose like an elevator making its way up to the top floor of a hotel. The two burned holes through each other with their eyes, circling the dome and wiggling their fingers like cowboys getting ready for a showdown in an old Western film.

"Sidewindin', patty flippin', clumsy egomaniac!"

"Big, bushy-tailed, air-sucking rodent!"

The gasp that came from her was deep enough to suck up every ounce of oxygen within the room, proving SpongeBob's statement true.

For such a little guy, he sure had a gigantic piehole.

"THAT. DOES IT! HEEEEE-YAAHH!"

"HI-YAHH!"

They charged towards one another, their battle cries echoing so loudly, they could have woken up the entire city. But it still didn't manage to wake up Patrick, as he continued to snore away, occasionally mumbling something in his sleep.

For the next two minutes straight, they swung at each other with all their limbs, using each one to deliver punches, kicks, and chops that would have impressed the biggest karate masters in existence.

SpongeBob would lift his foot quickly, but not quickly enough to have it meet her face; instead, it met her hands every time, to which she would respond by flipping him in different directions, slamming his back hard onto the grass, the polyurethane, and now, after one last attempt to win the fight, into the sharp bark of the oak tree.

The impact knocked his helmet right off his head, causing the water inside of it to land in a splash that made him feel dry just witnessing it.

He slid down the tree, scraping up his back. "I-is that all ya got…" his voice cracked with exhaustion and pain, his eyelids drooping and his finger shaking. "Ya… ferocious... sasquatch... thing?"

"Nope, I got one more harsh as hell truth for ya," she stated, coming towards him.

Her approaching legs that should have been two appeared to be four in his blurry, lopsided vision.

"Oh, yeah? Well, bring it on, squirrelly!" he made a fist and shook it to look tough, but just ended up looking pathetic.

"I'll bring it on, alright."

She reached her destination too fast for him to gather his jumbled thoughts and prepare for the final blow, and he had a feeling it would somewhere on his face this time.

Where, exactly? His eye? He had had black eyes before, so that wouldn't be anything he couldn't deal with afterward. If not there, then perhaps his nose? His jaw? Maybe even his forehead or cheek?

She roughly gripped her strong hands around his shirt collar and yanked him off the ground, pulling him towards her so that she could deliver that "truth."

When their faces nearly collided and his eyes were forced to look into hers, he flinched, closing his 'lids and accepting his fate of being finished off.

If he was supposed to be knocked out by her fist, he should have been experiencing at least a few more seconds of enormous pain.

Why, then, was her fist not anywhere near his face, and why was he not in pain or unconscious, but a state of shock?

His eyes shot open at the sensation of her lips smashing against his and moistening them.

"Hmm! Mm, hmmm!" he panicked.

He shifted his eyes to the pink sleeping oaf on the other side of the room. He wasn't going to be able to save him from whatever the heck it was she was doing.

His breaths grew fast and heavy, blowing out from his nostrils and hitting her skin, which only encouraged her to shake her head, deepening the fervent kiss that she was smothering him with.

After a few seconds of her moving her hands from his collar to wrap her arms around him in a tight embrace, SpongeBob still didn't know what was going on, but he did know that he now liked it.

He liked it a lot. So much so that his arms made their way around her as well, and intense affection enveloped him completely, leaving his eyes with no choice but to close again, and the helpless murmuring of his voice under her lips to turn into a blissful moan of surrender.

Twenty years of pent-up passion, and it was finally being released.

Out of all the secrets being kept hidden, this had to be the most explosive one.

What was happening was proof that the truth didn't always hurt.

A/N: Alrighty! Well, that happened lol. I apologize if it seems overdone or too vulgar for some of you, but I did put a lot of warnings, and the direction I took it in is just the way I wanted it to go. If you disliked it, I am sorry. But if you enjoyed it, hey, good for you, haha. This will be on hiatus for a while until I can figure out how to finish it.

Also, I know that (technically) starfish reproduce differently than what I implied in this chapter, but since this is based on a cartoon (and I am not an expert on sea creatures) let's just try to suspend our disbelief for the sake of making those "nut" jokes work, ha.

See ya again soon!