HE'S BACK, BABY

YES!!! What can I say?

Here’s the story in brief. We followed “Rabbit’s” plan with one exception. Bear was able to persuade the good doctor to allow us to avoid the costly and dangerous trip to Yellowstone and to drop him instead into Buckingham Fountain.

It worked. Once I saw him falling from the sky, I sprinted to the side of the fountain, and, with a perfectly timed leap, chomped the dear sponge and carried him off to safety.

YIKES! It was touch and go for a while there. We whisked the kid back home and at Dr. Frogg’s and Dr. M&M’s insistence, subjected him once more to the bubble test.

“All clear,” announced “Rabbit.”

My hear skipped a beat. What a relief.

Bob remembers little of his ordeal. He keeps talking about tunnels and his mission to rule the sphere. BLAH, BLAH, BLAH!!! He’s on a pain pump and whenever he gets too rambunctious, we give him a hit.

He is going to take a long rest, starting tonight. And lets get something straight right now. Bob is MY toy. This is MY blog. If anyone is going to rule the sphere, it’s ME!!!!!

Spongebobby: The Treatment

So here’s the deal, the solution, as in what we have to do to cure the Sponge, according to that quack “Rabbit”. The chip cannot be removed surgically.

Rather we must transport Bob via tricycle across the highlands of Snail Heights to the Heliport. Then I must fly him in a helicopter to the airport, where he will embark in a bi-plane flown by Hummingbird. All this is to subject Bob to the maximum amount of reverberation.

“In my experience,” “Rabbit” pronounced, “these matters can only be rectified by a good shaking up and by dropping the patient from a great height into a very low valley or atop a geyser or volcano that is in the process of eruption.”

Huh? I’m sitting there barely able to contain myself. This is modern medicine??!! Of course, all these other mopes are busy taking notes, writing everything down as if they were listening to the Delphic Oracle.

And, geez, this is going to cost us another 5,000 carrots, none of which is covered by Spongecare.

I have a recipe, a very good one, for rabbit stew.

Oh, and here’s another kicker. He has to be caught on the fly by his totemic animal familiar (ME!!!) and subjected to a violent chomp. This action will dislodge the foreign body completely.

Duh!

My, they make a nice couple.....

"What are you doing tomorrow night?"

Uh oh, here we go again....

Who's running things today???

I think we know who!!

Sheesh - he's ALREADY picking up bad habits!

Chasing his poor ole "dad" down the hall. Looks like he needs a few more weeks at the animal behaviorists'.

I ask you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury.....

Is there REALLY any doubt as to WHOM is "cuter?""


PULEEZE - come to your senses!!! Don't be taken in by flowery goo-gaws and a "lost puppy" demeanor.

This dude is P A T H E T I C !!!

Spongebobby: The Diagnosis?

You thought I had forgotten about the beloved Sponge, but I did not. All the while, even with the distractions of the news from Snail Heights, the whole eight-ball affair, thoughts of this beloved all-purpose pal and his tragic plight have never been far from my mind.

Last week, Dr. Monkey T. Frogg and Dr. M&M (aka Frog Boy) contacted “him”. They wanted permission to conduct further tests and to consult with another colleague, known simply as “Rabbit”. “He” immediately consented. I, on the other hand, protested vehemently. I tried frantically to grab Bob to hide him under anything at hand like the blue sham, but, as usual, to no avail.

I believe I have mentioned before how big “they” are and how “they” control the means of production and consumption, yadda, yadda, yadda. So “they” had their way, and now, in a way, I am rather glad of it.

It turns out that “Rabbit” has devised a complex analytic diagnostic technique. The patient must be submerged in a bath of warm, soapy water. “Rabbit” reads the pattern of bubbles to determine the disease and its causation.

In the case of the one true Spongebobby, he has determined that there is an obstruction in his pie hole.

“A pit?” said Dr. Frogg.

“A stone, a piece of gravel?” queried M&M.

“Neither,” opined “Rabbit.” “It is a very tiny microchip. Judging by the pattern of bubbles, the chip is broadcasting encoded data to a receiver embedded in the tunnels beneath Snail Heights. It is diabolical. It is sinister. That will be 2,000 carrots please.”

“What?”

“Two thousand carrots. That was the agreed price. Up front.”

“Do you take Spongecare?”

“No, but I will arrange to bill them if you like. It’s a good plan. You’ll be generously reimbursed.”

“What are we going to do with 2,000 carrots?”

“Where are we going to get 2,000 carrots? Farmer’s Market doesn’t start for another month.”

“That’s your problem,” said Rabbit.

“Don’t worry”, said Dr. M&M, “I have an excellent recipe for carrot soup.”

“In that case, I am prepared to offer a special discount. I will credit your deductible towards a share in the soup. I’m inordinately fond of carrot soup provided your recipe does not call for ginger. I am allergic to ginger.”

WTF! WTF!! What is going on here? AAARGH!!! I mean, my sponge is plugged up with a microchip undoubtedly inserted by the evil fiends who live in the tunnel under Snail Heights. He’s broadcasting gibberish to half the universe and these guys are trading recipes for CARROT SOUP!!!!!!

To be continued…