Chapter Text
In Bikini Bottom, peace and quiet was hard to come by. Between his thankless job, dead and buried hopes and dreams, and his annoying neighbors with no respect for boundaries, Squidward pretty much always felt miserable, tired, and vaguely nauseous.
But when Squidward was alone in his house, engrossed in his art, just him and the muses- sometimes, he almost felt content.
As he watched his paintbrush dance across the canvas, coating it a familiar shade of teal, a genuine smile crept its way onto Squidward’s sullen, tired face. For a moment, he felt a bit... lighter.
But alas- Squidward’s meditative state was predictably interrupted by a loud knocking on his door.
“Squidward! Hey, Squidward!” a familiar, energetic voice piped up loudly. “I tried calling, but you didn’t pick up!”
Squidward groaned, rubbing his forehead. At this rate, he’d have to start those new migraine preventative meds after all. He’d already maxed out on his sumatriptan for the week. “Go away, Spongebob, I’m busy pursuing my only source of fleeting happiness in this desolate world.”
“But Squidward, I think your mail accidentally got sent to my house. It’s from some, uh... art gallery?”
Is that- could it be? The Bikini Bottom Fine Art Gallery, offering you your very own art exhibit? Gosh, you’ve done it again, Squiddy. Hel-lo, fame and fortune!
Squidward threw open the door. A small, cheerful sponge stood in front of him.
“Hiya, Squiddy!” Spongebob waved hello with a cheerful smile. “How’s your Sunday going?”
Squidward rudely snatched the letter out of his hands. “Give me that!”
For the first time in a long time, Squidward’s crimson irises sparkled with the faintest glimmer of hope. He ripped open the letter.
“Ooh, let me see!” Spongebob peered over Squidward’s shoulder and started reading aloud. “Dear Mr. Tentacles, We regret to inform you that your mediocre, poopoo work has been rejected from our fine art gallery. To quote our panel of judges, ‘It looks like someone’s pet snail took a dump on a canvas.’ However, we would like to invite you to come attend the grand opening of… Squilliam Fancyson’s… debut art exhibit at the Bikini Bottom Fine Art Gallery. Come witness Squilliam’s raw talent; you could learn a thing or two from him. P.S. you stink.” SpongeBob winced, his voice trailing off as he read.
Just then, the phone rang. Squidward grumbled under his breath and went inside to pick it up, with Spongebob trailing behind him. “What?” he grumbled into the phone.
“Well hello there, Squiddy!” Squidwards blood froze as a familiarly snarky, posh, insufferable voice rang into his ears. “Did you get the invitation to my art exhibit?”
Squidward rolled his eyes. “Oh, Neptune. Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any worse. How did they even pick you, Squilliam? You don’t even make visual art!”
Squilliam then proceeded to monologue in a pretentious manner: “For your information, Squiddy dearest, I recently decided to take up oil painting as a casual hobby. My life as a successful professional musician can get a little stressful, you know. Oh wait- you wouldn’t know. Hah hah! Well, anyways, I was barely even trying- just carelessly flicked some paint onto the canvas here and there. But it appears my raw talent shined through once again! The art gallery judges just couldn’t get enough of my art- they practically fell to the ground and started to worship me! And my paintings are selling like hotcakes on Etsy, too. Squilliam’s Fine Art- look it up when you get the chance.”
Squidward frantically searched up Squilliam’s Etsy store on his shellphone. “100 sales? And all 5-star reviews?? And it opened just a week ago???!” Squidward’s dismay escalated with each line.
“ That’s right, Squiddy. How does it feel to know I’m more successful than you at literally everything you do?” Squilliam gloated. “How many sales do you have on your Etsy store? ”
Squidward gulped nervously. His shop had been up for almost a year now, and he hadn’t had a single buyer yet. But Squilliam didn’t need to know that. Squidward could just imagine the wicked smirk on Squilliam Fancyson’s stupid fancy face if he ever found out. “…I’m working on it,” Squidward muttered.
Squilliam let out a snarky, irritating laugh. “Working hard or hardly working? Hah, hah! Anyways- I simply wanted to call and congratulate you on making the most laughable garbage the judges had ever seen! I heard they ripped you to shreds- how embarrassing for you!”
Squidward’s eyes narrowed. He gritted his teeth so hard it made the veins pop out of his head. “If that’s all you called to tell me, I’ll be hanging up now.”
“Oh, and by the way-” Squilliam continued.
Squidward abruptly hung up the phone with a satisfying click.
He chuckled quietly to himself. Bet no one’s hung up on Squilliam like that before. I’d like to see the look on his pretentious face right now. Hah, hah.
“Gee, Squiddy. That Squilliam guy kinda sounds like a jerk,” Spongebob chimed in. “Don’t listen to him. I think you’re an awesome artist!”
Squidward grabbed the art gallery letter Spongebob was still holding, ripping it into itty bitty shreds. Bits and pieces of colorful paper rained down on them both like confetti. “I’ll show Squilliam. Raw talent? Yeah, right. Screw him. I have more talent in this tentacle than Squilliam has in his entire body. I bet I can make more Etsy sales than him with all six of my tentacles tied behind my back.”
“Ooh, Squidward, can I help you sell your art? I’m really good at selling things!” Spongebob offered hopefully. “There was that time when me and Patrick sold all those chocolate bars... ooh, and the Pretty Patties! Those were sooo pretty-”
Squidward pushed Spongebob out the door and slammed the door in his face.
Squidward stayed up all night, tweaking keywords on his Etsy page and taking updated photos of his paintings and sculptures in bright lighting, from all sorts of angles. He feverishly worked on revitalizing his Etsy storefront.
The next morning, he spread the word on social media. His posts on his art account got more and more likes. Word was getting out!
But, alas- not a single customer. Two weeks went by, and Squidward began to lose hope.
Until, one day, he received a glorious notification from Etsy.
“Oh my gosh! Could it really be??? Jellyfisher1221 just bought 10 of my art pieces!!” Squidward cried out delightedly. “Take that, Squilliam!”
He glanced at the customer’s address. It was a PO Box at the post office. Revitalized, Squidward jumped for joy, twirling around his house in his ballet shoes, carefully packaging his artwork and writing a handwritten thank you note in his fancy cursive handwriting. He added some free squid stickers to the package as a thank-you, too.
Squidward stuck a shipping label on the comically large package and handed it to the mailman. His spirits had brightened. It felt nice to have his hard work finally be appreciated.
A few days later, a five-star review was posted on his Etsy store, written by Jellyfisher1221. “Squidward Tentacles is super talented! He’s my favorite artist ever! Everyone should buy his art- you won’t regret it! Sincerely, a super fan.”
That review brightened Squidward’s entire day. At night when he was going to sleep, he crawled into bed with a dopey smile still on his face.
“SpongeBob! You really need to keep your pet snail on a leash!” Squidward called out, banging on the door to SpongeBob’s pineapple. Gary just meowed sassily in Squidward’s arms. Somehow, SpongeBob’s pet snail had snuck his way into Squidward’s house yet again.
“Eek! Sorry Squidward!” SpongeBob wagged a finger at Gary, chiding him. “Gary! Bad boy! You can’t go breaking into people’s houses!”
“Mrow!”
“Yes, I know he’s cool, but you still have to be invited over first.”
Squidward blinked a couple times. There seemed to be several new paintings up on SpongeBob’s wall. “You redecorated?” He asked curiously.
“Oh yeah! Do you want to come in and see? I’ll get you a can of diet Dr. Kelp,” SpongeBob offered, Gary perched atop his head.
“Yeah, I think I will.” Squidward wandered inside, admiring Spongebob’s new decor. Wow, Spongebob has great taste in art. The artwork decorating the pineapple was so lovely. And so familiar. Oh, no.
Squidward felt his stomach sinking as he took a look around SpongeBob’s house. The place was filled with Squidward’s art. The art he had just sold to Jellyfisher 1221 on Etsy. Squidward felt like he was going to be sick.
“You’re- you’re Jellyfisher1221?” Squidward asked accusingly when SpongeBob reappeared from the kitchen with two cans of soda in hand.
“Ooh, yes! I saw your art on Etsy, and I just loved it! It really livens up the pineapple, don’t you think?” SpongeBob chirped brightly, offering Squidward a soda can. Squidward knocked the can onto the floor. He grabbed SpongeBob roughly by the collar, lifting him up in the air. SpongeBob gulped.
Squidward’s face fell. “So, this whole time, after toiling on my website day and night, when I thought I had finally found someone who actually appreciated my artistic genius- it was just you, idiot Spongebob, buying my work out of pity.” Squidward’s voice was dry and cold. He felt betrayed.
Spongebob shook his head vigorously. “No, no Squidward, you’ve got it all wrong! It wasn’t-”
Squidward cut SpongeBob off, shouting into the younger boy’s face. “I can’t believe my adoring fan turned out to be the likes of you ! Of all the annoying, obnoxious, uncultured, spineless bottom feeders I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting, it just had to be you ! You know what? I think I’m just going to close up my shop for good now. I doubt I’ll ever recover from this humiliating blow to my ego.” Squidward visibly wilted.
“Wait- but Squidward! I didn’t-”
“Just leave me alone, SpongeBob! Haven’t you ruined enough things in my life?!”
Squidward released SpongeBob and stormed out of the pineapple house, slamming the door behind him. Squidward crawled home, climbed into bed, and cocooned himself under the covers, wallowing in self-pity.
Spongebob’s smile faltered. He deflated a bit, and crawled onto his couch, sniffling. Gary crawled towards him, cuddled into his side, and meowed comfortingly.
“Oh, Gare-bear,” Spongebob lamented sadly, stroking the snail’s shell. “Where did I go wrong? I just wanted to do something nice for Squidward, cause he’s my friend, and he’s been really down in the dumps lately.”
“Mrow.”
“Yeah, I know he’s always sour- but this time it seems worse. I can just sense it. Sponge’s intuition. I think he’s really mad at me this time. Like, even more than usual.”
“Mrow.”
“It’s just a shame that he works so hard on his art, but no one seems to appreciate how hard he works. What should I do?”
“Mrow.”
“Gary, you genius! Squidward is sad that I’m his only fan. But I’m sure we can change that! If I could just get more people to see Squidward’s awesome artwork, I’m sure they’ll love it!”
Spongebob gave Gary a treat, then skipped gleefully all the way to Mr. Krabs’ house, eager to propose his newest business venture to him.
“Go away, SpongeBob. I thought I told you to get lost a week ago!” Squidward shouted from behind the closed door to his house.
“Oh, please, please, please, Squidward? I know you’re mad at me, but please come with me to the Krusty Krab now! Just for a little bit! You won’t regret it! I won’t ask you for anything else!” After a week of getting the cold shoulder from Squidward at work, Spongebob was back at Squidward’s door, knocking desperately. Spongebob dropped to his knees and laced his hands together in a pleading gesture, silently willing the squid to open the door.
A moment later, the door flung open. Squidward was positively fuming. “No! NO, NO, NO! Why on earth would I want to spend my singular day off in the Krusty Krab with you ? I’m already forced to be there 6 days a week. I’d rather be banished to Davy Jones’ locker for the rest of my days than go there with you now!”
The Flying Dutchman suddenly spawned, letting out a wicked laugh. “Did someone say… Davy Jones Locker?”
“Now is really NOT a good time!” Both SpongeBob and Squidward yelled in unison.
“Oh, poop. You’re no fun.” the Flying Dutchman grumbled as he dissipated into vibrant green smoke.
“Just leave me alone, SpongeBob!”
SpongeBob sprang to his feet. “But but but there’s a surprise! Mr. Krabs-
“Look. I don’t know what barnacle-brained scheme you’ve cooked up this time, but if you’re involved, I’m sure it’ll be an incredibly stupid, poorly developed idea that’ll probably get me injured,” Squidward spat.
“But- but this time it’s- it’s different!”
“Oh? Then tell me, Einstein. What’s this genius plan of yours.” Squidward asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. He crossed his arms and glared down at Spongebob, who wilted under his harsh gaze.
Spongebob fidgeted with his hands. “But... but I can’t, Squidward! That’s the whole fun of the surprise, ya see? Just trust me- I know you’ll love it!”
“I’ve heard enough,” Squidward glowered. “Now why don’t you go waste someone else’s time.”
“Wait wait wait, please I-!”
Squidward slammed the door in Spongebob’s face.