Squidina
Tintenfisch
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It's an idea I've had in mind for months now. Basically, one of the many times I was watching the episode, it hit me that one could have fun with Squidward, Squilliam, and SB carrying out their community service.
I was, however, temporarily put back off the idea after realising there's a small nod to it in "Back to the Past" (SB comments that Squilliam must be doing his community service when he and Pat see Squilliam putting up the ManRay billboard). But the idea always stuck with me and I decided to go ahead. I'd already written a bit back then, so decided to pick it back up.
Note, it is currently unfinished, but here's what I have so far.
Behind a spoiler for the sake of how long the text is (plus it keeps it better organised, IMO).
Rated probably PG/Pg-13, but probably counts as G. Squidward and. Squilliam are just rivals here - so no Squidiam romance. ;)
There's the first part. Hope it's ok, so far. I hope to get more up soon - and get my. OC back out of the spotlight, since the plot isn't supposed to belong to him. ;)
I was, however, temporarily put back off the idea after realising there's a small nod to it in "Back to the Past" (SB comments that Squilliam must be doing his community service when he and Pat see Squilliam putting up the ManRay billboard). But the idea always stuck with me and I decided to go ahead. I'd already written a bit back then, so decided to pick it back up.
Note, it is currently unfinished, but here's what I have so far.
Behind a spoiler for the sake of how long the text is (plus it keeps it better organised, IMO).
Rated probably PG/Pg-13, but probably counts as G. Squidward and. Squilliam are just rivals here - so no Squidiam romance. ;)
------
Squilliam, once he'd gotten over his shock, had ripped the ticket from his nose and read it aloud: "For littering and the destruction of a city monument.. blah, blah - sentanced to... COMMUNITY SERVICE!?" He bellowed, half a mind to rip up the note in his fury. How could they sentance HIM, THE Mr. Fabulous, Squilliam Fancyson III to.. c-community service?! The audacity! Not to mention; that cop had made a fool out of him in front of everyone, including his arch rival, that peasant Squidward Tentacles!
However, ripping up an official ticket was against the law and not even THE Squilliam Fancyson was above the law.. at least, not as long as he wanted to keep his perfect, clean reputation intact. Afterall, he HAD already cleaned up Bikini Bottom in just one week, so it certainly couldn't hurt to do it again. Besides, he wasn't the *only* cephalopod who'd gotten a ticket. And with that, he couldn't help but putting on his usual smug grin, stuffing the ticket into his pocket as he walked up to his speechless rival, who still hadn't pulled the ticket from his nose. So, he did him the favor and looked at the paper. "Oooh! Why, what's this, Squiddy?? Community service *again*?" He laughed obnoxiously.
"You're one to laugh, Fancypants..! You got one too!" Squidward snapped defiantly and tried to snatch the ticket back. His grin never wavering, the millionaire surrendered the piece of paper back to its unhappy owner.
"Well, Squiddy-dear! See you tomorrow! - Don't be late!" And he turned and walked off, waving over his shoulder.
***
The next day Squidward and SpongeBob, who'd also gotten a ticket, arrived at the designated place where they were to perform their community service right after they'd finished their shift at the Krusty Krab. Squilliam Fancyson was nowhere to be seen.
"Bet the rich guy decided he was too *amazing* to show up.." Squidward grumbled mockingly.
"You mean Squilliam?" SpongeBob asked. "He's probably just running late, considering all the responsibilities he has." The sponge concluded. Squidward grumbled through his nose. "He probably had to practice even harder on the clarinet than you do, since he's so famous." Squidward just huffed, folding his arms defiantly.
The two were waiting to be told exactly what kind of community service they'd be doing today. Far as they could tell, picking up trash wasn't it, as there wasn't much trash to be seen.
"Hellooo-oooh!" Squilliam's voice suddenly rang out and Squidward whirled around to see his rival approaching at a relaxed pace, hands in his pockets and wearing a city worker's reflective vest. "Well, good to see you two peasants made it on time!" Squilliam giggled.
"Hi, Squilliam!" The sponge greeted him enthusiastically. "You made it!"
"And *you're* late!" Squidward snapped, pointing at his wrist.
"Oh, dear! AM I?" Squilliam gasped, then grinned smugly. "Well, you know how it IS with us fabulously successful and rich people and our equally important obligations that *don't* include unplugging the toilets at cheap fast food joints!" He scrutinized the tip of his tentacle, then blew on it as though cleaning it. SpongeBob grinned and patted the rich cephalopod on the shoulder.
"It's okay, Squilliam! You're here now, and we can all get started making beautiful Bikini Bottom even more beautiful!" Squilliam sidled up to Squidward and elbowed him.
"All ready, Squiddy?" Squidward rolled his eyes and the three waited for the person who'd be telling them what they'd be doing.
Soon they were met by a uniformed fish and lead to the beach, where they were given bags, sticks and vests. Apparently indeed meant to clean up trash after all. Instructions, as well, were given.
While Squidward and SpongeBob got to work - both doing so with opposite amounts of enthusiasm: SB singing and Squidward grumbling - Squidward saw that Squilliam hadn't lifted a finger. Instead, the millionaire was just smugly observing them as though he was a manager merely overseeing their work. Irritated, Squidward was about to snap when an idea hit him. As Squilliam looked away for a moment, he, whistling innocently, kicked a can and sent it rolling toward his rival where it ultimately bounced off the millionaire's tentacle. Squilliam looked down in confusion. Squidward, now grinning smugly, sidled up to him after the officer had left to see to other workers.
"Well, Fancyman? You're just going to stand here or are you going to help?"
"Look who's talking." Squilliam casually kicked the can against the cashier's foot. "You've apparently forgotten you're here to clean the place up, not spread he mess around." With that, the millionaire turned and walked off.
"Where are you going?" Squidward snapped, kicking the can after him and following his rival.
"You and the porous one are cleaning over there, so I'm just picking out MY part of the beach." He continued walking a ways with Squidward at his side, then stopped and spread his arms. "Ah, this is it!" Squidward looked around noting this part of the beach, which was further away from the snack stands, was decidedly cleaner of trash than his and SpongeBob's.
"Why am I not surprised." He grumbled.
"Now, if you'll just scamper on back to YOUR spot, Squiddy," he was making a dismissive gesture as though he was telling a small child to go play. Squidward grit his teeth. "I must get started." He emphasised this by taking the stick and, after spotting a wrapper, casually stabbed it with the pointed end and deposited it into Squidward's bag.
"Fancyson!" Squidward gasped, then turned his bag over and dumped the wrapper out at Squilliam's feet. "Put it in your own bag!"
"Officer!" Squilliam suddenly cried, giving Squidward a nasty grin. "Oh, Officer! Would you come over here for a moment?"
"What is it?" The officer grumbled as he approached them, accidentally kicking the can as he walked, which landed between the two Cephalopoda.
"I would like to report that Squidward Tentacles is not only keeping me from doing my job, but is also dumping HIS trash here!" He tapped the can and wrapper with he tip of his foot.
"I did not! It was HIM, HE'S the one-" Squidward sputtered.
"Would you please escort him back over *there* so that *I* may continue?" Squilliam interrupted. Sighing, the fish indicated Squidward to pick up the two pieces of trash.
"What!? But HE drop- Oh, fine!" He quickly said before the fish could go for his notebook and write another ticket. He picked up the can and wrapper, unceremoniously dumping them into his own bag.
"Good. Come along, Mr. Tennisballs."
"It's Tentacles!" Squidward snapped and received a shove from the fish.
"And you might want to show him where the waste bins are! - Try to remember their location this time, Tennisballs!" The millionaire called after them as the officer guided Squidward away, the cashier's fists clenched at his sides and Squilliam giggled, pleased with himself, though wondering of the stick was going to break from the cashier's furious death grip.
***
"Waste bins?" A voice called from the millionaire's right and he spotted an octopus he knew very well and a lobster he didn't approaching, both in swimming trunks. The octopus was Jean-Paul, a famous and friendly model who always had a ready smile and a positive mood, he wore sky blue. The lobster, he only knew as the lifeguard here at the Goo Lagoon, and he was wearing yellow.
"Well, if it isn't Paully!" He greeted when the two came to stop before him.
"Bonjour, mon cher!" Then the model indicated his companion. "Have you met Larry? Larry, this is my dear Squilliam Fancyson. Mon cher, this is my good friend and gym-mate, Larry."
"Hey, Mr. Fancyson, good to meet you."
"My pleasure." Squilliam answered, reaching out and shaking Larry's claw.
"We were planning to play some rounds of volleyball, would you like to join us?" The model asked and Squilliam placed his fist on his hip.
"Paully, do I *look* like I'm here for pleasure?" The model looked him up and down, taking in the reflective orange vest, the stick, and bag and raised his eyebrow, grinning slyly.
"Well..." His red eyes twinkled.
"Don't even finish that." He knew exactly what the model was thinking. "This isn't a *costume*, my dear; promising though that thought may seem." The model giggled and shrugged.
"Then what ARE you up to?"
"Cleaning the..." Then he thought of something and grinned. "Why, I'm cleaning the beach, of course; so that you two may enjoy your games without the worry of cutting your feet on glass!" The model raised his eyebrow further, his grin giving way to be replaced with surprised confusion.
"Quoi?? ...You're cleaning the beach? Un moment.. êtes-vous sérieux?" (("What??" And "One moment.. are you serious?"))
"Why? Do you want to help?" His pleasant grin never fading. The model fidgeted slightly under the millionaire's gaze.
"Maie oui! - Besides, I have the strangest feeling I'm not being given much choice in the matter." The model said, reaching for Squilliam's bag and stick. He set them aside and Squilliam helped him into the vest. (("But of course!")) Then, before Squilliam and Larry's eyes, Paul's normally dark blue and light striped pigment suddenly changed to match Squilliam's solid turquoise, complete with the millionaire's trademark unibrow.
"What the- Paul, I told you never to do that!" Squilliam glared dangerously at his slightly taller clone. Paul gave a pleasant grin, perfectly matching the millionaire's usual one.
"L'officier, mon cher." Paul warned softly, nodding in the direction of the uniformed policefish who was at the snack stand. After a beat, Squilliam then grinned approvingly at Paul, realising what the model was up to. "And I'll be needing your invitation."
"My... invitation?"
"Oui! De l'officier, s'il vous plaît." Paul held his hand out and Squilliam fixed him with a suspicious look. (("From the officer, please."))
"What makes you think I have one of those?"
"Why else would you be cleaning the Goo Lagoon?" Then the model giggled. "Besides, I already read about it in the local paper: 'Millionaire Squilliam Fancyson sentenced to community service after the destruction of a monument and littering beautiful Bikini Bottom's pretty park'!" Squilliam exhaled. So much for his spotless reputation thanks to that darn Tentacles!
"So, why are you helping me? If you get caught.." The millionaire warned and the model shrugged.
"Are YOU going to say anything?" Squilliam shook his head and both looked up at the lobster who quickly put his claws in the air, shaking his head.
"I won't say anything and I don't want to get involved." Then he rubbed his neck and added. "I'm not even completely sure what's going on here, but I have nothing to do with it." Paul smiled at Squilliam and the millionaire reached into his pocket, handing Paul his ticket which the model looked over for a moment, then pocketed in his trunks.
"Et voilà! So, mon cher, go have fun today and leave it to me."
"I still want to know why you're doing this - so eagerly." Paul put his arm around the millionaire's shoulders.
"Because you'll be buying déjeuner this evening. - And, as I said before, I'm pretty sure I don't have a choice if I want to enjoy any part of this weekend." He winked, putting his beach towel over the millionaire's shoulders and Squilliam chuckled. (("Dinner"))
"Deal, dinner it is - about the weekend, we'll have to see how good that'll be. - Well, good luck, /Squilly/!"
"Merci!" With a squeeze, the millionaire released Paul and made his way off the beach, careful not to be noticed by anyone.
"So, I guess this means volleyball's off." Larry said and Paul nodded.
"But only for the moment." The model glanced around, getting an overview of what needed to be done. "This won't take more than an hour, I think." Larry nodded and watched for a moment as the model began clearing trash from the beach.
"Ok. Then I'm going to go catch some waves in the meantime."
"Oui, oui! Have fun!" The two waved as the body builder headed off.
As Paul worked, he began whistling, and after a moment, he'd switched to singing out loud. ".../Pas Rockfeller dans les affaire! - Y'a rien à faire à mon nuage arrimé - rimé! - Au lieu de déchanter je plane! - La badaba lalalala-aaa/!" And he held the stick up to his mouth as though it was a microphone, twirling into the chorus. "J'm'en balance de leurs exigences pépère! - Dans mon rockingchair! - Les finances et le manigance joker! - Dans mon rocking-..."
"Squilliam, would you keep it down?? Some of us are trying to work over here!" Paul halted and spun around to see an octopus in a brown shirt and the same cleaning outfit and vest. It suddenly occurred to him to wonder if Squilliam ever went around singing. Probably not, and certainly not French pop - he was glad it hadn't been techno. Before Paul could try and think of a response, he quickly squared his shoulders in the way the millionaire always did, while other octopus approached with a glare. "This isn't one of your concerts, you know!" The other octopus further scolded.
"..Mes concerto-oh, non! - I was, uh.." He began, faltering as he took in the other and recognised him suddenly: The cashier Squilliam was always picking on when they visited the Krusty Krab. "Oh, très magnifique..." He couldn't help mumbling under his breath. Just what he needed - he was supposed to pick on this guy. He put on Squilliam's typical 'better-than-you' expression and spoke through his nose in his best impression of the millionaire. "Oh, I just figured this place could use a little livening up! - Besides, my adoring fans seemed to have liked it." He made a point of wiggling his 'unibrow' as he indicated some beach-goers who had, indeed, been watching his 'performance'. The other octopus rolled his eyes, not looking the least bit impressed. A yellow sponge had come up as well, clearly also part of the cleaning team. Paul suddenly felt the other octopus' scrutiny and tried his best not to give himself away with any nervous fidgeting.
"I didn't know you could sing, Squil-" But Squidward cut in.
"When did you put on a bathing suit?" Paul couldn't help grinning and was unable to resist striking a pose - one that didn't exactly draw attention *away* from his lower torso.
"Do you like?" The other rolled his eyes, crossed his arms and huffed. Paul hoped that, at the very least, this might buy him some time to figure out how to send the other packing before he figured out it wasn't Squilliam he was talking to. It was just a shame his trunks weren't wet and clinging to him.
"No, I do NOT like looking at your... six-pack..?" The other faltered now and Paul struck another exaggerated pose, unable to stifle a giggle as he teased the other. The cashier snapped himself out of it, shaking his head. Undaunted, Paul slipped his arm around the his shoulders and grinned.
"Oh, but I know you DO like what you see! Everyone does." Squidward's horrified expression as his mouth fell open and red came to his cheeks said more to the model than any words ever could have. He glared even harder at Paul and, with a shove, tore himself out of the embrace. Paul let him go and gave him a flirty grin. Still, the model left the cashier alone, who turned back to his work with a huff, grabbing the sponge as he headed off.
Smiling after what he couldn't deny was, in fact, quite an attractive cephalopod, the model got back to work, occasionally stopping to look over and observe the other. He figured this slow pace would also make him seem a more convincing Squilliam. After a couple minutes, Paul realised the cashier was actually *avoiding* looking at him. Paul couldn't help smile at that.
***
At some point, Paul had to go to the bathroom, so sought them out and took care of his business. When he exited the stall, he ran into Squidward and, grinning, took the sink next to him.
"Needed a break, hm?" He asked as he began washing his hands, hoping it was something Squilliam would say.
"Yes, Squilliam; sometimes I have to go to the bathroom. Apparently so do rich snobs like you. Amazing! Somebody should call the newspaper for that headline: 'Millionaire goes to the bathroom - just like everyone else'!" Paul started to bite his lip, then grinned, stepped over to Squidward's sink and, with a swipe of his tentacle, splashed water into the other's face. "Hey!" He cried as Paul giggled. "Why'd you do that??"
"I just thought you needed to cool off." He explained to the other who was sputtering. "You have quite the mouth."
"*I* HAVE QUITE THE MOUTH!!?" Squidward exploded, advancing on the startled model, who began to step back as the other commenced hollering at him. Paul barely managed to keep control of his pigment and hold onto his Squilliam disguise in his alarmed surprise. "YOU'RE the one who always goes around calling names and putting everyone else down!" Paul backed up further.
"Uh..."
"YOU'RE the one always acting like you're so much better than everyone just because YOU have a yacht, and a unibrow, and a whirlpool elevator, and limos, and a private island.. and.. a six pack, and-" Squidward had to take a breath, but didn't stop approaching and Paul felt the wall cut off his retreat.
"Uh... are you serious?" Paul tried not to keep his voice from squeaking. He wasn't actually afraid of Squidward. Even if the other started throwing punches, Paul had no doubt he could hold his own, though he certainly hoped it wouldn't come to that. It was the fury, pain, and hate in the other's eyes and voice and Paul didn't want to provoke him further. He also realised he didn't really know just HOW much Squilliam had pushed the other.
"AM I SERIOUS?!!" Squidward bellowed and Paul couldn't help flinching. "Davy Jones' Locker, I am serious! Serious as tartar sauce! - You're always going around stepping on people's toes without any second thoughts as to...! As to...!" Squidward had to take another couple breaths, then.. "Oh, why am I even bothering! You're just going to rub this in my face the first chance you get!" With that Squidward whirled around and stomped out of the bathroom in a furious huff leaving the relieved and speechless model alone.
Paul slumped against the wall with a heavy sigh, realising he'd been holding his breath during the cashier's short but explosive tirade. He heard a toilet flush and then a stall door opened.
"Wow, that was harsh, man!" A fish came out of a stall and approached Paul. "What'd you do to him?" Paul groaned, rubbing his head and glared at the door.
"Just been trying to make him miserable for decades, apparently!" Paul grumbled. He took a few seconds to calm his heart rate and consider his options, then the model straightened back up. "If you'll excuse me, I have a phone call to make." He finished in a softer tone, then strode purposefully from the bathroom.
Still disguised as Squilliam, Paul went straight for the pay phones and popped a quarter into one, then picked up the receiver and dialled.
"Bonjour, James! Is mon cher Squilliam there? - - Oh.. Ok, merci beaucoup!" He hung up and popped in another quarter, then dialled the phone in Squilliam's limo.
"Bonjour, mon cher! - - I just wanted to tell you this isn't working out. - - Oh, well, you see, your favourite verbal punching bag is either going to make un pâté de pieuvre out of me or he's going to figure out I'm not you!" Paul couldn't help the desperate tone in his voice. "Quoi?? - - What did *I* do to hm?? - - Mimicked you, which was obviously offensive enough for him. - - Non, he doesn't know! - - Ah! Très bon! Tout de suite!" (("An octopus pâté" and "Very good! On the double!"))
Then Paul hung up the receiver and exhaling, went back to where he'd been cleaning up for Squilliam. This time not caring if it was something Squilliam would do or not, he avoided Squidward as he made his way back to where he'd been cleaning before the bathroom break. Unfortunately, this was bringing him closer to the other; so, he tried to just ignore him.
------
I'm sorry if Squidward's reaction, exploding like that, is out of character... I was having some troubles with the story. I've never written a thing with Paul and Squidward interacting (aside from some stuff in a future arc - and in that, the entire situation is different and Paul isn't trying to fool anyone).
Jean-Paul belongs to me. And, don't worry, he won't continue to be the main player in the story.
Actually, he and Larry were both only supposed to have short cameos, but Squilliam apparently saw an opportunity to try and get out of it.
Larry and Paul are friends (makes sense, they have going to the gym and the beach in common, after all ). Paul and Squilliam are lovers at this point, but I'm trying to keep it very toned down in the story. That is the reason Paul's so easily roped into helping Squilliam.. and he tends to hold Squilliam generally in very high regard.
The song Paul sings is: "Rocking Chair" by Florent Mothe
EDIT: Here's a link to the YouTube Video with lyrics.
(Not that Paul listens to much pop, but it seems like a song he'd like anyway , and Paul can sing quite well, though for him it's more for fun than anything else , but he'll participate in karaoke and has been known to sing in the shower ).
Squilliam, once he'd gotten over his shock, had ripped the ticket from his nose and read it aloud: "For littering and the destruction of a city monument.. blah, blah - sentanced to... COMMUNITY SERVICE!?" He bellowed, half a mind to rip up the note in his fury. How could they sentance HIM, THE Mr. Fabulous, Squilliam Fancyson III to.. c-community service?! The audacity! Not to mention; that cop had made a fool out of him in front of everyone, including his arch rival, that peasant Squidward Tentacles!
However, ripping up an official ticket was against the law and not even THE Squilliam Fancyson was above the law.. at least, not as long as he wanted to keep his perfect, clean reputation intact. Afterall, he HAD already cleaned up Bikini Bottom in just one week, so it certainly couldn't hurt to do it again. Besides, he wasn't the *only* cephalopod who'd gotten a ticket. And with that, he couldn't help but putting on his usual smug grin, stuffing the ticket into his pocket as he walked up to his speechless rival, who still hadn't pulled the ticket from his nose. So, he did him the favor and looked at the paper. "Oooh! Why, what's this, Squiddy?? Community service *again*?" He laughed obnoxiously.
"You're one to laugh, Fancypants..! You got one too!" Squidward snapped defiantly and tried to snatch the ticket back. His grin never wavering, the millionaire surrendered the piece of paper back to its unhappy owner.
"Well, Squiddy-dear! See you tomorrow! - Don't be late!" And he turned and walked off, waving over his shoulder.
***
The next day Squidward and SpongeBob, who'd also gotten a ticket, arrived at the designated place where they were to perform their community service right after they'd finished their shift at the Krusty Krab. Squilliam Fancyson was nowhere to be seen.
"Bet the rich guy decided he was too *amazing* to show up.." Squidward grumbled mockingly.
"You mean Squilliam?" SpongeBob asked. "He's probably just running late, considering all the responsibilities he has." The sponge concluded. Squidward grumbled through his nose. "He probably had to practice even harder on the clarinet than you do, since he's so famous." Squidward just huffed, folding his arms defiantly.
The two were waiting to be told exactly what kind of community service they'd be doing today. Far as they could tell, picking up trash wasn't it, as there wasn't much trash to be seen.
"Hellooo-oooh!" Squilliam's voice suddenly rang out and Squidward whirled around to see his rival approaching at a relaxed pace, hands in his pockets and wearing a city worker's reflective vest. "Well, good to see you two peasants made it on time!" Squilliam giggled.
"Hi, Squilliam!" The sponge greeted him enthusiastically. "You made it!"
"And *you're* late!" Squidward snapped, pointing at his wrist.
"Oh, dear! AM I?" Squilliam gasped, then grinned smugly. "Well, you know how it IS with us fabulously successful and rich people and our equally important obligations that *don't* include unplugging the toilets at cheap fast food joints!" He scrutinized the tip of his tentacle, then blew on it as though cleaning it. SpongeBob grinned and patted the rich cephalopod on the shoulder.
"It's okay, Squilliam! You're here now, and we can all get started making beautiful Bikini Bottom even more beautiful!" Squilliam sidled up to Squidward and elbowed him.
"All ready, Squiddy?" Squidward rolled his eyes and the three waited for the person who'd be telling them what they'd be doing.
Soon they were met by a uniformed fish and lead to the beach, where they were given bags, sticks and vests. Apparently indeed meant to clean up trash after all. Instructions, as well, were given.
While Squidward and SpongeBob got to work - both doing so with opposite amounts of enthusiasm: SB singing and Squidward grumbling - Squidward saw that Squilliam hadn't lifted a finger. Instead, the millionaire was just smugly observing them as though he was a manager merely overseeing their work. Irritated, Squidward was about to snap when an idea hit him. As Squilliam looked away for a moment, he, whistling innocently, kicked a can and sent it rolling toward his rival where it ultimately bounced off the millionaire's tentacle. Squilliam looked down in confusion. Squidward, now grinning smugly, sidled up to him after the officer had left to see to other workers.
"Well, Fancyman? You're just going to stand here or are you going to help?"
"Look who's talking." Squilliam casually kicked the can against the cashier's foot. "You've apparently forgotten you're here to clean the place up, not spread he mess around." With that, the millionaire turned and walked off.
"Where are you going?" Squidward snapped, kicking the can after him and following his rival.
"You and the porous one are cleaning over there, so I'm just picking out MY part of the beach." He continued walking a ways with Squidward at his side, then stopped and spread his arms. "Ah, this is it!" Squidward looked around noting this part of the beach, which was further away from the snack stands, was decidedly cleaner of trash than his and SpongeBob's.
"Why am I not surprised." He grumbled.
"Now, if you'll just scamper on back to YOUR spot, Squiddy," he was making a dismissive gesture as though he was telling a small child to go play. Squidward grit his teeth. "I must get started." He emphasised this by taking the stick and, after spotting a wrapper, casually stabbed it with the pointed end and deposited it into Squidward's bag.
"Fancyson!" Squidward gasped, then turned his bag over and dumped the wrapper out at Squilliam's feet. "Put it in your own bag!"
"Officer!" Squilliam suddenly cried, giving Squidward a nasty grin. "Oh, Officer! Would you come over here for a moment?"
"What is it?" The officer grumbled as he approached them, accidentally kicking the can as he walked, which landed between the two Cephalopoda.
"I would like to report that Squidward Tentacles is not only keeping me from doing my job, but is also dumping HIS trash here!" He tapped the can and wrapper with he tip of his foot.
"I did not! It was HIM, HE'S the one-" Squidward sputtered.
"Would you please escort him back over *there* so that *I* may continue?" Squilliam interrupted. Sighing, the fish indicated Squidward to pick up the two pieces of trash.
"What!? But HE drop- Oh, fine!" He quickly said before the fish could go for his notebook and write another ticket. He picked up the can and wrapper, unceremoniously dumping them into his own bag.
"Good. Come along, Mr. Tennisballs."
"It's Tentacles!" Squidward snapped and received a shove from the fish.
"And you might want to show him where the waste bins are! - Try to remember their location this time, Tennisballs!" The millionaire called after them as the officer guided Squidward away, the cashier's fists clenched at his sides and Squilliam giggled, pleased with himself, though wondering of the stick was going to break from the cashier's furious death grip.
***
"Waste bins?" A voice called from the millionaire's right and he spotted an octopus he knew very well and a lobster he didn't approaching, both in swimming trunks. The octopus was Jean-Paul, a famous and friendly model who always had a ready smile and a positive mood, he wore sky blue. The lobster, he only knew as the lifeguard here at the Goo Lagoon, and he was wearing yellow.
"Well, if it isn't Paully!" He greeted when the two came to stop before him.
"Bonjour, mon cher!" Then the model indicated his companion. "Have you met Larry? Larry, this is my dear Squilliam Fancyson. Mon cher, this is my good friend and gym-mate, Larry."
"Hey, Mr. Fancyson, good to meet you."
"My pleasure." Squilliam answered, reaching out and shaking Larry's claw.
"We were planning to play some rounds of volleyball, would you like to join us?" The model asked and Squilliam placed his fist on his hip.
"Paully, do I *look* like I'm here for pleasure?" The model looked him up and down, taking in the reflective orange vest, the stick, and bag and raised his eyebrow, grinning slyly.
"Well..." His red eyes twinkled.
"Don't even finish that." He knew exactly what the model was thinking. "This isn't a *costume*, my dear; promising though that thought may seem." The model giggled and shrugged.
"Then what ARE you up to?"
"Cleaning the..." Then he thought of something and grinned. "Why, I'm cleaning the beach, of course; so that you two may enjoy your games without the worry of cutting your feet on glass!" The model raised his eyebrow further, his grin giving way to be replaced with surprised confusion.
"Quoi?? ...You're cleaning the beach? Un moment.. êtes-vous sérieux?" (("What??" And "One moment.. are you serious?"))
"Why? Do you want to help?" His pleasant grin never fading. The model fidgeted slightly under the millionaire's gaze.
"Maie oui! - Besides, I have the strangest feeling I'm not being given much choice in the matter." The model said, reaching for Squilliam's bag and stick. He set them aside and Squilliam helped him into the vest. (("But of course!")) Then, before Squilliam and Larry's eyes, Paul's normally dark blue and light striped pigment suddenly changed to match Squilliam's solid turquoise, complete with the millionaire's trademark unibrow.
"What the- Paul, I told you never to do that!" Squilliam glared dangerously at his slightly taller clone. Paul gave a pleasant grin, perfectly matching the millionaire's usual one.
"L'officier, mon cher." Paul warned softly, nodding in the direction of the uniformed policefish who was at the snack stand. After a beat, Squilliam then grinned approvingly at Paul, realising what the model was up to. "And I'll be needing your invitation."
"My... invitation?"
"Oui! De l'officier, s'il vous plaît." Paul held his hand out and Squilliam fixed him with a suspicious look. (("From the officer, please."))
"What makes you think I have one of those?"
"Why else would you be cleaning the Goo Lagoon?" Then the model giggled. "Besides, I already read about it in the local paper: 'Millionaire Squilliam Fancyson sentenced to community service after the destruction of a monument and littering beautiful Bikini Bottom's pretty park'!" Squilliam exhaled. So much for his spotless reputation thanks to that darn Tentacles!
"So, why are you helping me? If you get caught.." The millionaire warned and the model shrugged.
"Are YOU going to say anything?" Squilliam shook his head and both looked up at the lobster who quickly put his claws in the air, shaking his head.
"I won't say anything and I don't want to get involved." Then he rubbed his neck and added. "I'm not even completely sure what's going on here, but I have nothing to do with it." Paul smiled at Squilliam and the millionaire reached into his pocket, handing Paul his ticket which the model looked over for a moment, then pocketed in his trunks.
"Et voilà! So, mon cher, go have fun today and leave it to me."
"I still want to know why you're doing this - so eagerly." Paul put his arm around the millionaire's shoulders.
"Because you'll be buying déjeuner this evening. - And, as I said before, I'm pretty sure I don't have a choice if I want to enjoy any part of this weekend." He winked, putting his beach towel over the millionaire's shoulders and Squilliam chuckled. (("Dinner"))
"Deal, dinner it is - about the weekend, we'll have to see how good that'll be. - Well, good luck, /Squilly/!"
"Merci!" With a squeeze, the millionaire released Paul and made his way off the beach, careful not to be noticed by anyone.
"So, I guess this means volleyball's off." Larry said and Paul nodded.
"But only for the moment." The model glanced around, getting an overview of what needed to be done. "This won't take more than an hour, I think." Larry nodded and watched for a moment as the model began clearing trash from the beach.
"Ok. Then I'm going to go catch some waves in the meantime."
"Oui, oui! Have fun!" The two waved as the body builder headed off.
As Paul worked, he began whistling, and after a moment, he'd switched to singing out loud. ".../Pas Rockfeller dans les affaire! - Y'a rien à faire à mon nuage arrimé - rimé! - Au lieu de déchanter je plane! - La badaba lalalala-aaa/!" And he held the stick up to his mouth as though it was a microphone, twirling into the chorus. "J'm'en balance de leurs exigences pépère! - Dans mon rockingchair! - Les finances et le manigance joker! - Dans mon rocking-..."
"Squilliam, would you keep it down?? Some of us are trying to work over here!" Paul halted and spun around to see an octopus in a brown shirt and the same cleaning outfit and vest. It suddenly occurred to him to wonder if Squilliam ever went around singing. Probably not, and certainly not French pop - he was glad it hadn't been techno. Before Paul could try and think of a response, he quickly squared his shoulders in the way the millionaire always did, while other octopus approached with a glare. "This isn't one of your concerts, you know!" The other octopus further scolded.
"..Mes concerto-oh, non! - I was, uh.." He began, faltering as he took in the other and recognised him suddenly: The cashier Squilliam was always picking on when they visited the Krusty Krab. "Oh, très magnifique..." He couldn't help mumbling under his breath. Just what he needed - he was supposed to pick on this guy. He put on Squilliam's typical 'better-than-you' expression and spoke through his nose in his best impression of the millionaire. "Oh, I just figured this place could use a little livening up! - Besides, my adoring fans seemed to have liked it." He made a point of wiggling his 'unibrow' as he indicated some beach-goers who had, indeed, been watching his 'performance'. The other octopus rolled his eyes, not looking the least bit impressed. A yellow sponge had come up as well, clearly also part of the cleaning team. Paul suddenly felt the other octopus' scrutiny and tried his best not to give himself away with any nervous fidgeting.
"I didn't know you could sing, Squil-" But Squidward cut in.
"When did you put on a bathing suit?" Paul couldn't help grinning and was unable to resist striking a pose - one that didn't exactly draw attention *away* from his lower torso.
"Do you like?" The other rolled his eyes, crossed his arms and huffed. Paul hoped that, at the very least, this might buy him some time to figure out how to send the other packing before he figured out it wasn't Squilliam he was talking to. It was just a shame his trunks weren't wet and clinging to him.
"No, I do NOT like looking at your... six-pack..?" The other faltered now and Paul struck another exaggerated pose, unable to stifle a giggle as he teased the other. The cashier snapped himself out of it, shaking his head. Undaunted, Paul slipped his arm around the his shoulders and grinned.
"Oh, but I know you DO like what you see! Everyone does." Squidward's horrified expression as his mouth fell open and red came to his cheeks said more to the model than any words ever could have. He glared even harder at Paul and, with a shove, tore himself out of the embrace. Paul let him go and gave him a flirty grin. Still, the model left the cashier alone, who turned back to his work with a huff, grabbing the sponge as he headed off.
Smiling after what he couldn't deny was, in fact, quite an attractive cephalopod, the model got back to work, occasionally stopping to look over and observe the other. He figured this slow pace would also make him seem a more convincing Squilliam. After a couple minutes, Paul realised the cashier was actually *avoiding* looking at him. Paul couldn't help smile at that.
***
At some point, Paul had to go to the bathroom, so sought them out and took care of his business. When he exited the stall, he ran into Squidward and, grinning, took the sink next to him.
"Needed a break, hm?" He asked as he began washing his hands, hoping it was something Squilliam would say.
"Yes, Squilliam; sometimes I have to go to the bathroom. Apparently so do rich snobs like you. Amazing! Somebody should call the newspaper for that headline: 'Millionaire goes to the bathroom - just like everyone else'!" Paul started to bite his lip, then grinned, stepped over to Squidward's sink and, with a swipe of his tentacle, splashed water into the other's face. "Hey!" He cried as Paul giggled. "Why'd you do that??"
"I just thought you needed to cool off." He explained to the other who was sputtering. "You have quite the mouth."
"*I* HAVE QUITE THE MOUTH!!?" Squidward exploded, advancing on the startled model, who began to step back as the other commenced hollering at him. Paul barely managed to keep control of his pigment and hold onto his Squilliam disguise in his alarmed surprise. "YOU'RE the one who always goes around calling names and putting everyone else down!" Paul backed up further.
"Uh..."
"YOU'RE the one always acting like you're so much better than everyone just because YOU have a yacht, and a unibrow, and a whirlpool elevator, and limos, and a private island.. and.. a six pack, and-" Squidward had to take a breath, but didn't stop approaching and Paul felt the wall cut off his retreat.
"Uh... are you serious?" Paul tried not to keep his voice from squeaking. He wasn't actually afraid of Squidward. Even if the other started throwing punches, Paul had no doubt he could hold his own, though he certainly hoped it wouldn't come to that. It was the fury, pain, and hate in the other's eyes and voice and Paul didn't want to provoke him further. He also realised he didn't really know just HOW much Squilliam had pushed the other.
"AM I SERIOUS?!!" Squidward bellowed and Paul couldn't help flinching. "Davy Jones' Locker, I am serious! Serious as tartar sauce! - You're always going around stepping on people's toes without any second thoughts as to...! As to...!" Squidward had to take another couple breaths, then.. "Oh, why am I even bothering! You're just going to rub this in my face the first chance you get!" With that Squidward whirled around and stomped out of the bathroom in a furious huff leaving the relieved and speechless model alone.
Paul slumped against the wall with a heavy sigh, realising he'd been holding his breath during the cashier's short but explosive tirade. He heard a toilet flush and then a stall door opened.
"Wow, that was harsh, man!" A fish came out of a stall and approached Paul. "What'd you do to him?" Paul groaned, rubbing his head and glared at the door.
"Just been trying to make him miserable for decades, apparently!" Paul grumbled. He took a few seconds to calm his heart rate and consider his options, then the model straightened back up. "If you'll excuse me, I have a phone call to make." He finished in a softer tone, then strode purposefully from the bathroom.
Still disguised as Squilliam, Paul went straight for the pay phones and popped a quarter into one, then picked up the receiver and dialled.
"Bonjour, James! Is mon cher Squilliam there? - - Oh.. Ok, merci beaucoup!" He hung up and popped in another quarter, then dialled the phone in Squilliam's limo.
"Bonjour, mon cher! - - I just wanted to tell you this isn't working out. - - Oh, well, you see, your favourite verbal punching bag is either going to make un pâté de pieuvre out of me or he's going to figure out I'm not you!" Paul couldn't help the desperate tone in his voice. "Quoi?? - - What did *I* do to hm?? - - Mimicked you, which was obviously offensive enough for him. - - Non, he doesn't know! - - Ah! Très bon! Tout de suite!" (("An octopus pâté" and "Very good! On the double!"))
Then Paul hung up the receiver and exhaling, went back to where he'd been cleaning up for Squilliam. This time not caring if it was something Squilliam would do or not, he avoided Squidward as he made his way back to where he'd been cleaning before the bathroom break. Unfortunately, this was bringing him closer to the other; so, he tried to just ignore him.
------
I'm sorry if Squidward's reaction, exploding like that, is out of character... I was having some troubles with the story. I've never written a thing with Paul and Squidward interacting (aside from some stuff in a future arc - and in that, the entire situation is different and Paul isn't trying to fool anyone).
Jean-Paul belongs to me. And, don't worry, he won't continue to be the main player in the story.
Actually, he and Larry were both only supposed to have short cameos, but Squilliam apparently saw an opportunity to try and get out of it.
Larry and Paul are friends (makes sense, they have going to the gym and the beach in common, after all ). Paul and Squilliam are lovers at this point, but I'm trying to keep it very toned down in the story. That is the reason Paul's so easily roped into helping Squilliam.. and he tends to hold Squilliam generally in very high regard.
The song Paul sings is: "Rocking Chair" by Florent Mothe
EDIT: Here's a link to the YouTube Video with lyrics.
(Not that Paul listens to much pop, but it seems like a song he'd like anyway , and Paul can sing quite well, though for him it's more for fun than anything else , but he'll participate in karaoke and has been known to sing in the shower ).
There's the first part. Hope it's ok, so far. I hope to get more up soon - and get my. OC back out of the spotlight, since the plot isn't supposed to belong to him. ;)
