Autistic Author Emojis & Text

Copy & Paste Autistic Author Emojis & Symbols "Come on, it'll be fun," Enid begged, her eyes wid

"Come on, it'll be fun," Enid begged, her eyes wide with excitement. Wednesday sat quietly in the corner of the room, her black dress blending into the shadows. She didn't look up from her book, her finger marking her place. "I don't think so," she said, her voice calm and measured. Enid pouted, her cheerleader's spirit momentarily dampened. "But it's the prom dance, Wednesday. Everyone's going to be there!" Wednesday closed her book with a soft thud and looked up, her gaze piercing through Enid's hopeful facade. "I see your enthusiasm, but crowded social gatherings are not my idea of fun." Enid sighed, understanding that pushing the issue would lead nowhere. She sat down next to her friend, her own excitement dimming. "I know, I know. But it's our senior year. It's like, a rite of passage or something." Wednesday's eyes remained on the closed book in her lap. "I'd prefer to pass on that particular rite." Enid leaned in closer, whispering conspiratorially, "But it's the perfect place to observe human behavior. Think of it as an anthropological study." Wednesday's eyes lit up slightly at the thought. "I suppose you have a point," she conceded. "But I'll need to establish some ground rules." Enid clapped her hands together. "Of course! What do you need?" Wednesday thought for a moment before listing her conditions. "First, no slow dancing. Second, I control the music playlist. Third, I wear what I want." Enid nodded eagerly. "Deal! I'll handle the first two. And as for the third, I trust your impeccable taste." Wednesday raised an eyebrow. "My taste is not up for debate, nor is it the issue. It's the school's dress code that requires negotiation." Enid's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Leave that to me," she said, already texting away on her phone. Within minutes, she had secured a meeting with the principal to discuss "alternative fashion choices" for the prom. As the big night approached, Enid sent Wednesday a playlist of dark, rhythmic tunes that she had carefully curated. Each song was a masterpiece of gothic rock, a genre that she knew would resonate with her friend's soul. Meanwhile, Wednesday had been busy designing the perfect dress —a long, flowing gown of midnight black with intricate white lace that looked like it had been plucked from a Victorian mourning ceremony. She had paired it with her favorite black boots and a choker necklace adorned with a single crimson rose. The day of the prom, Enid couldn't contain her excitement. She bustled into the room, her own outfit a vibrant mix of neon colors that seemed to glow in the dim light of the Addams' mansion. "Wednesday, you have to come see this!" she exclaimed, her voice carrying the urgency of a child who had just discovered a secret treasure. Wednesday set down her scalpel, which she had been using to dissect a particularly interesting spider, and followed Enid upstairs. The dress laid out on her bed was indeed a sight to behold. It was a macabre symphony of black taffeta and delicate lace, the skirt adorned with a pattern of thorny vines that looked like they could draw blood with a single brush. The bodice hugged her slender frame, the neckline plunging just low enough to hint at the darkness beneath. "It's... " she began, searching for the right word. "Awful," Enid offered, her tone teasing. Wednesday smirked. "Perfect," she corrected, her voice laden with approval. "It's perfect."
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS i (By NeuroFabulous) Chip, son of Karen and Plankton, came home from summer camp early one day. Chip's mother, Karen, greeted Chip. Plankton, his father, was a quirky little fellow, known for his ingenious inventions that often failed, but never dampened his spirit. So Chip decides to go find his father eagerly. Plankton was on his own bed in the room he shared with Karen. The door swung open, slamming against the wall, and in burst Chip. He threw himself onto Plankton's bed, not noticing his father's flinch at the sudden noise and movement. "Dad! Dad! You won't believe what I learned at camp! I made a new friend, and we did the coolest science project together! It's like you're always saying, science can make anything taste good!" Yet it was too much for his overwhelmed body to handle. Plankton's eye glazed over, his body still as a statue, frozen in the midst of his usual frenetic energy. Chip's chatter trailed off as he stared at his father, confused. "Dad? Are you okay?" Chip stepped closer, noticing the way he didn't move, not even to blink. Panic clawed at his chest. The room grew silent, save for the ticking of a clock in the corner. The vivid colors of Chip's camp t-shirt seemed to dull in contrast to Plankton's unnatural stillness. The boy's mind raced, trying to understand what was happening. He knew his dad was quirky, but this was different. It was like the gears in Plankton's brain had stopped turning, leaving his body an empty shell. Chip reached out with a trembling hand, placing it on Plankton's shoulder. The cold, unyielding feel of his father's skin sent a shiver down his spine. "Dad?" he whispered, voice shaking with fear. "Wake up, please." His voice was a mere echo in the room, bouncing off the walls and returning to him, unheard. Panic swelled in his chest, pushing aside the excitement from moments before. Chip knew his dad was different, had always been different, but this... this was new, this was terrifying. Here, in their tiny house in the Chum Bucket, Plankton's breathing remained steady, but his eye were vacant. The young boy's mind whirred, trying to piece together his father's sudden stillness. Plankton had always been a whirlwind of ideas and energy, but now he sits there, silent and unresponsive. Chip's fingers tightened on Plankton's shoulder. "Dad, please," Chip began to plead, his voice cracking with emotion. He shook him gently at first, then more urgently, but the small figure remained unmoved. He tried to shake his father again, more firmly this time, but Plankton was still as stone. His eye were open, but there was no spark of life. The only sound was the frantic panting of his own breaths. "Dad, come on! You're scaring me!" Chip's voice grew desperate. He felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them back. He couldn't let fear overtake him now. He had to help his dad. He patted Plankton's cheek, then called out louder, "Daddy, snapshot out of it!" Still no response. He tried calling again, louder now, but Plankton remained eerily silent. He grabbed the nearest item, a rubber spatula from his dad's invention bench, and waved it in front of his father's face. Nothing. Not a blink, not even a twitch. "Dad, wake up!" But Plankton just sat there, his gaze fixed on some unseen point on the wall. Chip's thoughts spun out of control. He had to get his mother. She'd know what to do. "Mom, something's wrong with Dad. He won't wake up!" Karen rushed in. She took in the scene and immediately knew that Plankton was in the grip of a shutdown. An intense reaction to overstimulation for someone on the spectrum, like his autism. "Chip, sweetie, back away," she said gently, pushing his hand off Plankton's shoulder. Karen had always tried to protect her son from the reality of his father's condition. But now, she realized, it was time for Chip to learn. Her voice was calm and soothing as she approached Plankton. She sat beside him on the bed, her hand resting on his cold, stiff arm. "Chip, sometimes Daddy's brain gets too full." She looked up at her son, her screen filled with both sadness and love. Chip stared at her, his mind racing. "What do we do?" he asked, his voice a whisper. "We just need to wait," Karen replied, her voice steady. "It's like his brain's gone on a little vacation. Give him some space, okay?" Chip nodded, though he didn't fully understand. He stepped back and watched his mother gently stroke Plankton's arm. Curiosity began to bubble up inside him, mixing with the fear. Chip stepped back from the bed, his screen wide with wonder and worry. He studied his father intently, as if trying to solve a puzzle. Oblivious to his own fear, Chip tiptoed closer once more, his curiosity getting the better of him. He leaned in, peering closely at Plankton's expressionless face. "What's happening to him, Mom?" Karen took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "It's like his brain needs a break, Chip. Sometimes, his mind gets too busy, and his body just stops so he can recharge." Chip's screen searched his mother's, looking for more. "But why is he so still?" he pressed, his curiosity refusing to be quenched. Karen sighed softly, her fingers still moving in soothing circles on Plankton's arm. "It's like his brain is taking a nap," she explained. "When he gets too much information or feels too much, his body just stops to help him cope." Chip nodded, his young mind working overtime. "Can I talk to him?" Karen looked down at Plankton, her gaze filled with concern. "You can," she said softly, "but he might not hear you right now. Give him some quiet." Chip nodded, but his curiosity couldn't be stilled. "Can't I tell him about my day?" Karen squeezed his hand gently. "You can, but remember, his brain is resting. He might not understand everything you say. But it's okay to whisper comforts to him. Sometimes just hearing your voice can be comforting." With a nod, Chip whispered his questions, his voice barely audible above the clock's tick. "Dad, can you hear me? What's it like when your brain takes a nap?" He paused, waiting for some sign of life, but Plankton remained still. Karen watched her son carefully. She knew this was a crucial moment for him, learning to navigate his father's complex world.

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James Potter was a peculiar boy with a head of unruly black hair and eyes so bright they could outshine the stars. He had a knack for turning the most mundane moments into grand adventures. Whether it was climbing the tallest tree in the schoolyard or racing his friends across the Quidditch pitch, his imagination knew no bounds. But even in the whirlwind of his escapades, there was one person who remained steadfastly out of reach: Lily Evans. Lily was unlike anyone James had ever met. Her fiery red hair was a stark contrast to her soft, porcelain skin, and her eyes sparkled with a mix of intelligence and mischief. She was as fierce as a lioness and as graceful as a swan. Her laugh was like a melody that could charm the sternest of hearts, and it was a sound that James longed to hear directed at him. However, she had a tendency to dismiss his efforts with a roll of her eyes and a smirk that suggested she saw right through his bravado. Severus Snape, on the other hand, was a solitary figure. He lurked in the shadows of the school corridors, his eyes darting like a snake's as he took in every detail. His black hair was always impeccably combed and his robes pristine, as if he had just stepped out of a dark wardrobe. Severus was a prodigy in the art of potions, his talents often overlooked due to his cold demeanor. Yet, beneath the surface, there was something about him that drew James in. Perhaps it was the hint of vulnerability that occasionally flickered across his face, or the way his eyes lit up when he spoke about the most obscure magical herbs. The two boys moved in different circles, but they had one thing in common: a deep admiration for Lily. They watched her from afar, each imagining what it would be like to be the one to make her laugh genuinely or to capture her heart. But as the school year rolled on, their paths began to intertwine in ways they could never have anticipated. It was as if fate had a twisted sense of humor, throwing them together in situations that neither could escape. And as they found themselves drawn closer to Lily, a silent rivalry began to brew between them, a dance of longing glances and unspoken words. James, ever the charmer, tried to win Lily over with his flashy Quidditch moves and cheeky grins. But Lily, ever the enigma, remained unimpressed. In his frustration, James took to teasing Severus, using his popularity to make the other boy's life bad. He'd steal his books, trip him in the halls, and whisper snide comments. One rainy afternoon, as the school was dismissed for the day, James caught Severus crossing the crowded courtyard. He saw his chance and sneered, "Hey, Snapes, where's your broomstick?" His friends snickered, and Severus tensed, his eyes narrowing. Without waiting for a response, James conjured a water spray that drenched Severus' already soggy robes. The laughter grew louder as Severus stumbled away, the weight of his sodden clothes dragging him down. In the Great Hall, James watched as Severus sat alone at the Slytherin table, his shoulders hunched over a book. He whispered to his friends, "Look at the lonely little snake," and they all burst into laughter again. Severus glanced up, his gaze sharp and piercing, but James felt no remorse. In fact, he felt a strange thrill, as if he was in control of something he never had been before. The power of ridicule was potent, and he wielded it with the same ease he did his wand. Days turned into weeks, and James' pranks grew bolder. He'd jinx Severus' shoelaces to trip him up in the halls, replace his potion ingredients with foul-smelling dungbombs, and even cast a spell to make his robes shrink in the middle of class. Each time, Severus took the humiliation in silence, his eyes burning with a quiet anger that James found both fascinating and thrilling. It was a twisted game, but one James was determined to win. But the more James bullied, the more he felt the knot in his stomach tighten. It wasn't just guilt; it was something else. He noticed the way Severus' hands trembled as he poured potions, the way his voice grew softer in the face of his tormentors. And every time Lily saw what was happening, she'd give James a look that made him feel smaller than a house elf. He knew he was losing her respect, but he couldn't stop. It was as if he was under a compulsion to push Severus away from her, to prove to himself that he was the one she truly desired. One day, James' antics reached a new low. He'd convinced a group of his friends to help him pull a prank so elaborate, it was sure to leave Severus humiliated beyond repair. They waited in the shadows of the deserted library, setting up a series of traps that would culminate in a grand finale of slime and laughter. But as Severus approached, his head buried in a dusty tome, James felt a strange tug at his heart. He watched as the other boy stepped onto the first trap, a levitating book that smacked him in the face. The laughter of his friends seemed to echo hollowly in the vast room. Severus stumbled back, dropping his book into the puddle of ink that had appeared under his feet. He looked up, his eyes meeting James' for a brief moment. In that instant, James saw something he hadn't noticed before: a deep sadness that mirrored his own. It was as if the layers of bravado and spite had been peeled away, revealing a soul just as lost and lonely as his. The laughter died in his throat, and for a moment, James felt a flicker of empathy. But the moment was fleeting. His friends were still snickering, and Lily was watching from across the room, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. He knew he had to go through with it. The second trap was triggered, and a cascade of glittering confetti showered Severus, sticking to his damp robes like glittering scales. The Slytherin students looked on with a mix of amusement and contempt, and James felt his heart sink. He'd gone too far. As the last echo of laughter faded away, Severus slowly picked himself up, his eyes never leaving James. He wiped the ink from his face and took a step towards him, his fists clenched at his sides. "Is this what you call fun, Potter?" he spat, his voice low and dangerous. James took a step back, his bravado momentarily forgotten. He hadn't anticipated this. "It was just a joke, Snapes," James said weakly, his smile slipping. Severus took another step closer, his eyes blazing. "Is it a joke to you, to watch someone else's pain?" James's heart hammered in his chest as he searched for the right words, but his usual quips eluded him. The realization of what he'd done washed over him like a cold shower. He'd gone too far, and he couldn't take it back.
"You can totally sit with us," said a voice that seemed to shimmer with the promise of friendship. Cady Heron looked up from her lunch tray, blinking in surprise. The speaker was a girl with a smile so wide it could swallow her whole, her blonde hair glossy and her teeth as bright as the fluorescent lights above. The words hung in the air, tantalizing and slightly intimidating. This was Regina George, the queen bee of High School. Cady had heard the whispers, the stories that painted her as both an angel and a demon. She was the center of the school's social universe, and everyone else was just a planet orbiting around her. Cady felt a swell of excitement. She had been a fish out of water since moving from Africa to the suburbs of Chicago. The simple act of being acknowledged by the most popular girl in school was a beacon of hope in a sea of unfamiliar faces and cliques. She took a tentative step forward, her heart racing. "Thanks," Cady managed to murmur, setting her tray down at the table. The cafeteria buzzed with whispers as the group of pretty, popular girls made room for her. They were known as the Plastics, a name that Cady had learned from her newfound friend Janis Ian. These girls were the epitome of high school royalty, and now she was about to become one of them.
In the quaint town lived a young woman named Charlotte Watsford. Her days were filled with the quiet rhythms of the local library, where she worked meticulously cataloging books that had seen more years than she had. Charlotte had an unassuming beauty, with her auburn hair pinned back. Her smile was gentle, and it had the power to make even the sternest of patrons feel at ease. Beneath the veneer of the town, there was a world of magic, ancient and unseen. It was here that Charlotte's life took an unexpected turn when she met Cleo Sertori, a young woman with secrets as deep as the ocean. Cleo was a mermaid, a guardian of the sea, blessed with the ability to manipulate water and heal the creatures that dwelled within it. The revelation was as shocking as it was fascinating. Yet, with this gift came great responsibility, and Charlotte found herself torn between the life she knew and the allure of the vast, unexplored waters that called to her soul. One moonlit night, while the town slept peacefully, Charlotte felt an eerie emptiness within her. The gentle whispers of the sea that had once resonated in her heart were now silent. Panic set in as she realized her mermaid tail, a symbol of her newfound identity, had withered away, leaving her with the legs of a human once more. The loss of her powers weighed heavily on her, a sudden and profound absence that seemed to dull the vibrant colors of the world around her. Her heart pounded as she approached the edge. The ocean below was a restless canvas of inky blues and greys, a stark contrast to the serene waters that had cradled her during her time as a mermaid. The salt air kissed her cheeks, carrying with it a bittersweet reminder of the freedom she had left behind. Lewis, her devoted best friend, stood beside her, his eyes filled concern and curiosity. With trembling hands, Charlotte reached to Cleo's necklace. It was a talisman of her friendship with the mermaid, a bond that transcended the boundaries of land and sea. "I have to return this to her," she murmured, the weight of her decision etched into every syllable. With a heavy heart, Charlotte unclasped the necklace.
He felt his eyelid grow heavy to anesthesia. "Alright, Mr. Plankton, you're gonna start feeling sleepy," the doctor's voice echoed. The world around him grew fuzzy, sounds becoming muffled and indistinct. His head lolled, body slack. The nurse's grew blurry, darkness before not even nothingness. Karen, his wife, sat by him. Finally, the doctor stepped back, turned and gave her a thumbs up. The nurse began to clean Plankton's face, wiping away the excess saliva and bleeding with gentle touch. Karen follows as they wheel him out. His bed was pushed into a small cubicle, his breathing slow and even. In stumbled SpongeBob. Karen smiles. "The surgery went well, he's just sleeping it off," she assured. SpongeBob's taking in the beeping monitors. "What's all this for?" he asks, curiosity piqued. "To make sure he's ok while he's asleep," Karen explained. "The doctor said he'd be out for a little while." The yellow sponge nodded, his gaze lingering on the small wads of gauze peeking out from the sides of Plankton's mouth. "What's that?" he asks. "It's to help absorb.." Sponge Bob took in the sight of Plankton, who had begun to drool slightly onto the pillow beneath his head. The saliva pooled. "Oh no, Plankton. You're drooling!" Sponge Bob watched as drool continued to form like a thin string connecting Plankton's mouth to the pillow. Karen chuckled softly. "It's normal, Sponge Bob. He won't feel it as he's asleep." SpongeBob nodded, but curiosity remained. "Can I... I mean, should I... wipe it up?" he asks. Karen laughs. "It's ok, they'd take care of it. Just let him rest." "I promise to be super gentle" Karen nodded, a small smile playing. "Alright. Just be careful." His movements were deliberate, eyes never leaving Plankton's mouth as he approached. The drool strand grew longer, a tiny bridge between his friend and the pillow. The droplet fell away, landing on the pillow with a soft splat. Plankton stirred slightly but didn't wake. "It's fine. He's going to be a bit out of it when he wakes up anyway. Why don't you try talking to him while we wait for him to wake? It might help him feel more at ease." "Hey it's Sponge Bob. You're ok, just having a little nap. No Krabby Patties to steal right now," he added with a chuckle. Plankton's eye began to flutter, a sure sign that he was slowly coming back to consciousness. His body twitched, the anesthesia wearing off. "Looks like he's waking up," she said. Karen leaned closer, her hand reaching out to gently squeeze his. "Honey, it's me," she whispered. "You're ok." Plankton's unfocused and glazed. "Where... what... happened?" he mumbled. "You had wisdom teeth removed. You're in recovery," she said, voice soothing. Plankton blinked. "Wis...wis...what?" "You had a little...uh...dental appointment," SpongeBob said. "Teeth...gone?" he mumbled, still groggy. "You're fine," she assured. "I feel... funny," he giggled, voice silly. "Just relax, Plankton," Karen said. "But...but I wanna...see!" Plankton protested, arms flailing weakly. "Plankton, you need rest." "But I'm not tired!" he exclaimed, as his head lolled back onto the pillow. "I... I want to dance," he said, voice still slurred, which only resulted in more drool escaping. "First, you gotta get better," she said, voice earnest. Plankton's giggles grew, his eye half-closed. "But I'm already the best... at... at... at... " he mumbled, trailing off. "It's anesthesia," the nurse chimed in. "It can make people say some funny things. You're just feeling a bit loopy, Plankton. You'll be back to your usual self soon." Plankton's giggles grew softer, his eye struggling to stay open. "But... but... I'm not tired," he protested weakly, his voice a mere whisper. His eyelid began to droop once more. Sponge Bob leaned in. "You just had surgery, Plankton. You need to rest," he said firmly. Plankton's giggles turned into snores, his tiny body giving in despite his protests. "He's going to be out for a while," the nurse said. "Anesthesia can take time to wear off completely." Karen nodded, watching his chest rise and fall with each snore. Sponge Bob reached out and lightly patted Plankton's arm. Plankton's snores grew quieter and stirred, eye cracking. "Wha... SpongeBob?" he mumbled, groggy. Sponge Bob's heart swelled at the sight of his confused expression. "Just keeping you company as you wake." Plankton's eye rolled to the side. "Wha... what are you doing?" he slurred, his voice barely above a whisper. He tried to lift his hand to his mouth, but it flopped back down onto the bed with a limp thud. "Drool? I...I can't stop," he mumbled, his drool pooling around the fresh gauze. Sponge Bob chuckles. "It's ok, Plankton," he said. Plankton's eye narrows. "Not funny," he mumbled, words barely intelligible. Yet as he said it, another string of drool began to form, stretching from his mouth to the pillow. Sponge Bob's chuckles grew. "I know, I know. It's just... you're so... so... " he couldn't find words, laughter took over. Plankton's unable to control his drool. "I'm so...so...so..." he tried to form a coherent thought. "So what, Plankton?" "I'm...I'm not...not...drooling," he managed to say, words barely coherent. But even as he spoke, a new droplet formed at the corner of his mouth. "You sure?" "St...stop," Plankton managed to mumble, his mouth open and drooling again. "It's...it's...embarrassing." Sponge Bob smiled. "I know, you're ok. The surgery went well," he said. "Alright, we can get him ready to go home now," says nurse. They carefully lift Plankton from the bed, body still limp from the anesthesia. "You ok?" "Mm-hmm," Plankton mumbled, head lolling to one side. He struggled to keep his eye open, but the medication was too strong. Plankton's eye drooped shut once more, his snores echoing through the hall. "Whoa, there he goes again…" "He's still pretty out of it," she said. Plankton's head lolled to the side, his mouth hanging open. "Whoa, Plankton, wake up," Sponge Bob said, gently shaking his shoulder. "Mmph," Plankton mumbled, his eye cracking open. "Where...are we?" "Almost to the car," Karen said. "Just a bit longer." But Plankton's eyelid grew heavier. The nurse disappeared through the doors, leaving Karen and Sponge Bob to maneuver Plankton into a more upright position. His head kept flopping to one side, his snores grew louder. "Come on, Plankton, stay with us," Karen urged. Sponge Bob leaned close. "You ok?" he asked, patting Plankton's shoulder. Plankton's head lolled to the side, eye half- open. "Mmph...tired," he mumbled. Karen managed to get him in, his body collapsing into the seat like a ragdoll. She buckled him in. "You're gonna be ok," she whispered. Sponge Bob climbed into the backseat. Karen started the engine. "Let's get him home." The car ride was a blur of Plankton's snores and occasional mumble. Sponge Bob sat in the back, his hand on Plankton's shoulder, keeping his friend from lolling too far to the side. Each time Plankton nodded off, his mouth would droop, and gauze would slip out. "Plankton, gotta keep it in." Plankton mumbled something incoherent, his mouth still open and drooling. Sponge Bob leaned in closer, his hand ready to catch the gauze if it fell out again. Plankton's eye fluttered open, looking around the car. "Just stay with us, ok?" Sponge Bob nodded, hand on Plankton's shoulder. He watched as Plankton's eye drooped, the gauze slipping again. He leaned over and gently pushed it back. "We're almost there." Karen chuckled from the driver's seat. Sponge Bob’s grip on Plankton's shoulder tightening slightly. "Want to play a game?" "Mmph...game?" he mumbled. "I spy with my little eye, something..." But Plankton's head had already dropped back, snores echoing. Karen glanced in the mirror. "I think he's out for the count," she said. Sponge Bob was still vigilant, making sure Plankton didn't tumble out of the car. With Karen's help, they managed to get him to the couch. Sponge Bob helped prop Plankton up, careful not to jostle him too much. Everything’s just fine.
Her strongest memory was of the smell of rain on hot pavement. It was a scent that didn't just fill her nose but seemed to soak into her skin, bringing with it a sense of comfort she hadn't felt in a very long time. Bluey Heeler was a creature of the outdoors, a dog with a heart that pounded in sync with the vast wilderness she called home. Her fur, a blend of blue and gray, blended seamlessly with the shadows of the eucalyptus trees that stretched tall beside her family's modest house. Rainy days meant puddles to splash in and the rich scent of earth coming alive around her. But it had been a long time since she'd felt the cool kiss of rainwater on her snout. Now, Bluey was in the city, surrounded by the concrete jungle, a stark contrast to the boundless plains she'd once known. The smells here were overwhelming, a mishmash of exhaust fumes, fast food, and a million different creatures packed into a space so tight it made her feel claustrophobic. The noises were constant, a never-ending din that made her flinch and whine in the quiet moments of the night. Yet, amidst the chaos, she had found a purpose, a reason to push through the fear and confusion. Her new friend, named Mia, had taken her in, offering her a chance at a new life filled with love and companionship. Mia was as vibrant as the flowers she tended in the small patch of earth outside their apartment. Despite the stark difference in their sizes, they shared a bond that transcended the confines of the urban sprawl. Each day, Mia would take her on adventures through the parks, allowing her to feel the grass under her paws and chase the occasional squirrel up a tree. It wasn't the same as the open ranges she'd left behind, but it was a taste of freedom she hadn't known in weeks. One evening, as the two sat on the windowsill watching the rain dance in the streetlights, a distant howl echoed through the concrete valleys. It was faint, almost lost in the symphony of city sounds, but to Bluey, it was as clear as if it had come from right beside her. Her ears perked up, and she let out a soft whine, longing for the days when she could have joined the chorus. Mia looked at her, concern etched on her features. "What is it, girl?" she asked, her tail thumping against the sill as she tried to convey the ache in her soul. The howl grew stronger, more insistent, and suddenly, Bluey realized it wasn't just any howl. It was her sister, Bingo. The same melody that had serenaded their nights back home, now calling to her from across the miles. Bingo's howl was a beacon, a thread of their shared past that had somehow found its way to her here in the city. Mia's eyes widened as she saw the recognition in Bluey's eyes. "Is that...?" she began, but the question was unnecessary. Bingo came in. Without a second thought, Bluey leaped. She didn't care about the water soaking her fur or the cold seeping into her bones. All that mattered was finding Bingo. The city streets were a labyrinth of wet reflections, the neon lights playing tricks on her eyes as she sprinted through the rain. The scent grew stronger with every bound, her nose leading her through alleys and across busy roads, dodging puddles that mirrored the chaos above. Mia, soaked and panting, struggled to keep up. Then, a shadow moving swiftly in the rain. Bluey's heart leaped. That was Bingo! She picked up the pace, her paws barely touching the ground. The howl grew closer, turning into a series of excited barks as the two sisters rounded a corner and locked eyes. Bingo's tail wagged a mile a minute, and she barrels towards Bluey, knocking her over in a joyous reunion of wet dog and muddy paws. They rolled together, the sound of their laughter piercing the rain-soaked silence. Mia skidded to a stop, panting and smiling through the downpour. She watched as the two sisters played, their tails creating a whirlwind of joy in the dim streetlight. The sight was enough to warm her to the core, making the dampness of her fur coat feel like a small price to pay for this moment. "Bingo," she called out, her voice a mix of happiness and relief. "You found her, Bluey!"
"Hey, how's Plankton doing?" asked Patrick. SpongeBob looks at Plankton, chest rising and falling with snores. "He's sleeping," he said. "But it's the middle of the day!" "Well, he just had his wisdom teeth out," he explained in a hushed tone. "He's pretty out of it. But be quiet, ok?" He turned his attention back to Plankton, who had somehow managed to dislodge the gauze again. With a sigh, SpongeBob carefully repositioned it. "You're going to have to keep that in, Plankton," he said, his voice a gentle scold. But Plankton’s head lolled to the side, his snores growing louder with each breath, drool seeping through the gauze. "Look at him, SpongeBob," Patrick whispers. "He's snoring." "Patrick, shh. He's still recovering." "Can I...can I poke him?" "No, Patrick," he said, his voice a low whisper. Patrick's finger was already outstretched, hovering over Plankton. "Just a little? I just wanna see if he'll snore louder," he whispered. SpongeBob's grip on Patrick's hand tightened. "Patrick, remember what I said about being quiet," he reminded him. Plankton stirred in his sleep, snores turning to mumbles. Patrick was undeterred. He leaned even closer to Plankton, his hand hovering above the sleeping creature's forehead. "You're okay, buddy," he whispered, his voice a mix of concern and glee. "Just rest up, and when you wake up, we'll have the best party ever!" Plankton's snores remained steady. He reached out and gently poked Plankton's forehead. "Wake up, little buddy," he cooed, his voice a soft whisper. Plankton's eye snaps open, his tiny body jolting upright with a snort. The gauze fell from his mouth, and he looked around the room with a glazed expression, his eye finally settling on Patrick's massive grin. "Wha... what's going on?" he slurred, his voice muffled by the anesthesia. Plankton's eye narrowed, his head lolling slightly to the side. "What happened?" he slurred. SpongeBob took a tentative step closer to the couch, his heart racing. "You had your wisdom teeth out," he said softly, his voice filled with concern. "You're at my place, just resting." Plankton blinked, his eye focusing on SpongeBob with a look of confusion. "Wisdom teeth?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. SpongeBob nodded, his eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "Yes, Plankton, remember? You're all fixed up now," he said, his voice soothing. But Patrick couldn't resist the urge to add his own twist. "And, you snore!" he whispered, his voice filled with mirth. Plankton's confusion grew. "I... I snore?" he asked, his voice a mix of surprise and mortification. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about," he assured, SpongeBob eyes Patrick with a warning look. "What's it feel like?" he whispered, his voice a mix of excitement and concern. Plankton looked at Patrick with bewilderment. "It feels...weird," he mumbled, his words slurred. "And my mouth is...numb." Drool had formed at the corner of Plankton's mouth. Patrick couldn't resist pointing it out. "Look, Sponge Bob, he's drooling!" Sponge Bob shot him a look that was a mix of annoyance and amusement before turning back to Plankton. "It's okay, Plankton," he whispered, his voice gentle. "It's normal." Plankton's eye grew distant, his mind still clouded by the anesthesia. "Everything's...so...blurry," he murmured, his words slurring together. Sponge Bob and Patrick exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them. "It's the medicine," Sponge Bob explained, his voice calm and reassuring. "It'll wear off soon." But Patrick's curiosity was unquenchable. He leaned closer to Plankton. "Hey, Plankton," he whispered. "I... I don't know," he mumbled, his voice groggy. "Everything's all... wibbly wobbly." "Wibbly wobbly?" He looked over at Plankton, whose eye was still open, staring at the ceiling with a look of wonder. "Everything's...so...pretty,". "It's just the living room, Plankton. You're still a bit out of it." Patrick's eyes grew wide with fascination. "Hey, Sponge Bob," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder. "Look at his mouth!" Sponge Bob turned his gaze to Plankton, drooling more than ever. "Patrick, shh," he scolded, his voice a gentle whisper. "Let him rest." Plankton's snores grew quieter for a moment before picking up again, a trail of drool connecting his mouth to the pillow. "Is it...normal?" "It's just his body's way of dealing with the surgery, he can’t help it" he murmured. "It'll go away eventually, all part of the process. It's the stuff that makes you sleep through the surgery, like a really deep sleep so he won’t feel or remember.” "But why does it keep coming out?" "It's because his mouth is numb from the dental surgery, Patrick, it's his mouth muscles still asleep." "Can I...I mean, is it okay to, like, nudge it?" He made contact with the drool, sending a ripple through the salivary puddle. Plankton's snores grew louder, his mouth opening even wider. "Patrick," he hissed, his voice a mix of warning and amusement. "You're pushing your luck." His eyes remained fixed on Plankton, watching the drool pool grow and shrink with each snore. He remained blissfully asleep, oblivious to the conversation happening around him "What if I just...dab it with a tissue?" "I guess it’ll help keep him comfortable." He gently touched the tissue to the side of Plankton's mouth, catching the drool before it could fall onto the pillow. The moment the tissue made contact with the saliva Plankton, who was now snoring more heavily, his mouth hanging open even wider, drool cascading onto the pillow, sending a ripple through the salivary puddle. Plankton's snores grew louder, his mouth opening even wider., It was a light touch, just enough to make the saliva wobble like a gelatinous blob. It was a tiny movement, but it was enough to make Plankton's snores hitch. "The anesthesia is wearing off, and his mouth is just... reacting. The numbness is normal." With each dab of the tissue, Plankton's snores grew softer, quieted, his mouth twitching slightly, his breathing even. Then Plankton's face twitched slightly, his expression shifting from remaining asleep with breathing deep and steady, to one of slight discomfort as the lingering anesthesia began to wear off. Snores had turned into soft whimpers of discomfort. "It’s normal he's starting to feel the pain." He reached for the medicine. “Just stay still, Plankton," Sponge Bob whispered. Sponge Bob nodded, his smile gentle. "It's just the start," he murmured, his voice a mix of reassurance and experience. "It'll take a bit for the pain to go away." Plankton's mouth was still slack, the drool now a steady stream that pooled on the pillow. Together, they managed to get Plankton into a sitting position, his legs dangling over the side of the couch. "Hey you need to wake up just a little bit to take your medicine." Plankton's head lolls back against the pillows. "Patrick, hold his shoulders," Sponge Bob whispered urgently. "We don't want him to fall over." Plankton's gaze searched the room, his thoughts clearly muddled. "There you go," Sponge Bob whispered, his voice filled with relief. He carefully laid Plankton back down on the pillows, wiping the last of the drool from him. Plankton's eye remained open, blinking slowly as the world swam back into focus. "You did it," Sponge Bob whispered, his voice filled with pride as he swallowed medicine. "Now, just rest. The pain will start to go away soon." Plankton's eye drifted closed again, his snores returning, though softer than before. Sponge Bob gently let Plankton's head back onto the pillow. "He's okay now," Sponge Bob whispered, his voice a mix of relief and pride. "Good job, helping Patrick." Patrick's eyes remained wide with wonder, his mind still racing with the excitement of the past few moments. "What happens next?" he murmured, his voice filled with anticipation. Sponge Bob's smile was a mix of amusement and reassurance. "Now the medicine will kick in."
In the quiet town of Ponyville, there lived a young earth pony named Applejack. Her coarse, burnt- orange coat was always dotted with freckles of dirt from a hard day's work on her family's farm, Sweet Apple Acres. Applejack was known for her honesty and her strong work ethic, which were as solid as the oak trees that lined the property. Her mane and tail, a fiery shade of red, matched the color of the apples she grew with such care. One sweltering afternoon, Applejack took a break from her chores, wiping the sweat from her brow with a bandana that smelled faintly of apple blossoms. She looked out over the fields, the sun blazing down like a second sun, and sighed. The harvest was coming soon, and she had so much to do. Her thoughts drifted to her friends, Twilight Sparkle, Pinkie Pie, and the others, and she wondered how they were spending their day. Her contemplation was interrupted by the distant sound of hoofbeats. She shielded her eyes from the glare and saw a figure approaching. As it grew closer, she recognized the purple and white unicorn, Twilight Sparkle, her friend and the town's resident scholar. Twilight looked flustered, her eyes wide with excitement. "Applejack!" Twilight called out, her voice strained from the run. "You won't believe what I've found in the library archives!" Applejack leaned against the fence post, her curiosity piqued. "What is it, Twilight?" Twilight's eyes gleamed with excitement. "I've discovered something absolutely fascinating, Applejack. It's about an ancient artifact called the Element of Honesty!" Applejack's ears perked up at the mention of something old and precious. "The Element of Honesty? What's so special about it?" Twilight paused to catch her breath, her flank heaving. "It's one of the six Elements of Harmony," she began, "each representing one of the core virtues of our world. The Element of Honesty is said to be a rare and powerful artifact that can reveal the truth in any situation. It's been lost for centuries, but I found a map leading to its last known location!" Her voice grew hushed as she unfolded the ancient parchment, its edges yellowed with age. The map was intricate, with swirling symbols and cryptic notations that seemed to dance before Applejack's eyes. "It's somewhere in the Whispering Woods," Twilight whispered, her horn glowing softly as she traced a line over the paper. "Well, shucks," Applejack drawled, "that's a place I've heard plenty of tall tales about, but never actually visited." The wood had a reputation for being eerie and mysterious, a place where whispers of forgotten secrets lingered on the breeze. But the prospect of finding something as important as the Element of Honesty was too tempting to pass up. Twilight's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Applejack, I think we should go look for it. It's not far from here, and who knows what kind of trouble it could prevent if it falls into the wrong hooves?" Applejack nodded, a mix of curiosity and apprehension in her gaze. "Alright, but we'd better tell the others. They might want to come along." They gathered their friends, who were equally intrigued by the prospect of an adventure. Pinkie Pie bounced with excitement, Rarity's eyes gleamed with the promise of a new treasure to add to her collection, and Fluttershy looked nervous but determined. Rainbow Dash and Rarity promised to keep an eye on Fluttershy, who had a tendency to get spooked in unfamiliar places. They set out into the late afternoon sun, the map fluttering in Twilight's magic as they followed the path into the wood. The Whispering Woods lived up to their name, with rustling leaves and hushed whispers that seemed to follow them through the dappled shade. The air grew cooler, and the scent of damp earth and pine needles filled their nostrils as they ventured deeper. Suddenly, a shadow flitted through the trees. "Greetings, travelers, I am Aloysius, keeper of the woods' lore." His feathers were the color of moonlit silver, and his eyes held a knowing glint. Twilight stepped forward, the map still clutched in her telekinetic grip. "We're looking for the Element of Honesty," she said with a hint of urgency. "Could you help us?" Aloysius tilted his head, his beak clicking thoughtfully. "Ah, the Element of Honesty," he murmured. "A treasure indeed. But beware, for the woods are not kind to those who seek without pure intentions." The friends exchanged glances, their determination unwavering. Applejack stepped up, her eyes meeting the owl's. "Our intentions are as true as my word. We aim to protect our town and find this artifact before it falls into the wrong hooves." Aloysius studied them for a moment before nodding. "Very well. I will guide you to the spot where the Element lies hidden. But heed my warning: the woods hold secrets, and they do not give them up easily." The group followed the him, their hoofsteps echoing through the quiet wood. The whispers grew louder, and Applejack couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. Twilight, ever the scholar, took notes on the various plants and magical phenomena they encountered, while Pinkie Pie chattered away, trying to keep everyone's spirits high. As they ventured further in, the wood grew denser, the path narrower. The light grew dimmer, the sun's rays barely piercing the thick canopy above. The air grew colder, carrying with it a sense of unease that made even Rainbow Dash's wings flutter anxiously. "This place is giving me the creeps," Fluttershy whispered, her eyes darting around nervously. "Don't worry, Fluttershy," Rainbow Dash assured her, "we're all here for you." Aloysius led them to a clearing, where an ancient tree stood tall, its trunk twisted with age. The whispers grew to a crescendo, swirling around the tree's base like a cacophony of secrets yearning to be heard. "Here it is," He announced, his voice barely audible over the din. "The Element of Honesty lies within this tree. But remember, it will only reveal itself to the worthy." Applejack squinted at the tree, her heart racing. The whispers grew so loud, they seemed to form words, urging them to turn back. But she knew they couldn't. "Thanks, Aloysius," she said, turning to her friends. "Let's get to it."
"Honey, wake up," Karen said gently. Her voice was the sweet sound of a lullaby echoing through the silent, sterile room, but Plankton remained unresponsive. The steady rhythm of the heart monitor was the only reply to her soft pleas. She sat by his side, her hand intertwined with his, her thumb brushing the back of his palm. But now, his hand lay limp, a stark contrast to the warmth and strength it usually exuded. The antiseptic smell of the hospital filled the air, a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a cold, artificial glow on Plankton's pale face. His chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, and the rhythm was the only reassurance Karen had that he was still with her. The doctor had said it was a mild concussion, but the sight of him lying there, so vulnerable, filled her with dread. She knew that she had to stay strong, not just for herself, but for Plankton. The door to the room creaked open, and the doctor stepped in, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. He was a young man, his expression a mix of professionalism and concern. He looked at the charts in his hand before glancing up at Karen. "How is he?" he asked. Karen's eyes never left her husband's face as she replied, "The same." The doctor nodded, his eye reflecting the seriousness of the situation. "It's not uncommon for someone with a concussion to sleep longer than usual. We're monitoring him closely, and his vitals are stable. We've given him medication to manage the pain and reduce the swelling." Karen leaned forward, her grip on Plankton's hand tightening. "But when will he wake up?" she asked, her voice a whisper of hope. The doctor's eyes softened. "It could be hours, or even days. The brain needs time to heal. But rest assured, Mrs. Plankton, we're doing everything we can to ensure a swift and full recovery." Karen nodded, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She didn't want to believe it would take that long, but she knew that patience was the only option she had. She leaned back in the chair, her eyes never leaving Plankton's face. Time stretched out before her, each minute feeling like an eternity. The only sounds in the room were the tick of the clock on the wall and the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. The hospital's white walls closed in around her, making her feel trapped in a world where time had ceased to have meaning. Her thoughts raced, playing out every possible scenario in her head, each one more alarming than the last. A nurse came in to check on Plankton, her shoes squeaking against the floor. She offered Karen a kind smile and a reassuring pat on the shoulder before she tended to her husband, checking his bandages and administering fluids through the IV. Karen watched her every move, feeling helpless and out of place. The nurse noticed her distress and offered her a cup of tea, which she accepted with a nod of gratitude. The warm liquid helped soothe her nerves as she took a sip, her eyes never straying from Plankton. The minutes ticked by, each one feeling heavier than the last. The silence was broken only by the occasional murmur from the hallway or the rustle of pages as the nurse updated his chart. Karen's mind drifted back to the moments before the accident, the laughter and the joy that seemed so distant now. Plankton had been working on his latest invention, a contraption he swore would revolutionize the fast-food industry. It was a wild tangle of metal and wires, something that only he could understand. Karen had watched him, her curiosity piqued but her technical knowledge barely scratching the surface of his genius. "What does it do?" she had asked, her eyes wide with wonder. He had grinned, his teeth gleaming in the light of the makeshift workshop. "It's a secret," he had said, his voice filled with mischief. Now, as she sat by his side in the hospital room, she wished she had paid more attention. Perhaps then she could have anticipated the malfunction that had sent him to the emergency room with a concussion. Plankton had always been so driven by his ideas, so wrapped up in his world of gadgets and gizmos, that he often forgot the dangers that came with his experiments. It was his passion, and she had always admired it, but in moments like these, she couldn't help but worry. The room grew dimmer as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the floor. Karen's eyes grew heavy, and she fought the urge to sleep. Suddenly, Plankton's eyelid fluttered open, revealing eye that searched the room with confusion. "Where am I?" he croaked, his voice dry and scratchy. Karen's heart leaped into her throat, and she leaned forward, her hand tightening around his. "You're in the hospital, sweetie. You had an accident," she said softly, her voice trembling. Plankton blinked several times, his gaze shifting from the blurry ceiling to Karen's face. Recognition dawned in his eyes, but confusion remained etched on his furrowed brow. "What happened?" he murmured, his voice still weak and groggy. Karen's heart swelled with relief at the sound of his voice. She took a deep breath, then explained the accident as calmly as she could. "You fell while working on your latest invention. You hit your head pretty hard. The doctor said it's just a concussion, but you need to rest." Plankton's eyes searched hers, trying to piece together the puzzle of his foggy memory. "A concussion?" he repeated, his voice a mere whisper. "How long have I been out?" Karen's grip on his hand tightened, her knuckles white. "A few hours, darling. But it's going to be okay." She hoped her words were true, that the fear and doubt didn't seep through. Plankton's gaze was unfocused, his thoughts jumbled. He didn't remember the accident, the pain, or the panic that had brought him here. All he knew was the gentle squeeze of her hand and the sterile scent of the hospital room. As he began to sit up, a wave of dizziness washed over him. Karen's other hand shot out to steady him, her eyes filled with concern. "Lie back down, Plankton. You need to rest." He obeyed, his head heavy on the pillow, and his eye fell shut again. The doctor had warned her about the potential side effects of the concussion: confusion, dizziness, and memory loss. It was a strange sight, seeing him so unsure of himself, a stark contrast to the usual confidence that radiated from him. When he opened his eye again, the confusion had deepened. "What's the last thing you remember?" Karen asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Plankton's eye searched the room, as if the answer was hidden in the shadows. "I... I don't remember," he said, his voice filled with a sense of panic that was alien to him. "It's all blank." Karen felt a chill run down her spine. The doctor had mentioned that amnesia was a possibility, but she hadn't allowed herself to believe it would happen to Plankton. "It's okay," she assured him, her voice shaky. Plankton's eye searched hers, desperation flickering in their depths. "What do you mean, I don't remember?" Karen took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of anxiety brewing within her. "Sometimes with concussions, memories can be a bit jumbled. But don't worry, they'll come back to you." She hoped her reassurance sounded more convincing than it felt. The doctor had warned her that the road to recovery might be bumpy, but she had never anticipated Plankton's memory loss. Her mind raced, trying to think of ways to help him, to fill in the blanks without overwhelming him. "Do you remember anything at all?" she asked, her voice gentle. Plankton's eye searched the room again, as if the answer was hiding in the corners. "I remember... I remember working," he said, his voice trailing off. "But it's all... fuzzy." Karen felt a pang of sadness at the lost look on her husband's face. She didn't know how to navigate this new, uncharted territory. But she knew she had to be strong for him. "It's okay, Plankton," she said, stroking his forehead with the back of her hand. "You just need to rest." The doctor had instructed her to keep the environment calm and familiar to aid in his recovery. So, she began to speak in soothing tones, telling him stories of their past adventures. Her words painted a picture of a life filled with love and adventure, and she watched as his face relaxed with each passing moment. His breathing grew steadier, his chest rising and falling in a more natural rhythm. The hospital room was a cocoon of beige and white, the only color coming from the bouquet of flowers she had brought from home. Plankton's chest rose and fell in the rhythm of deep sleep, his breathing steady and even. The heart monitor beeped reassuringly, a metronome to the symphony of his rest. His face was peaceful, free from the tension that had gripped it earlier. She felt a weight lift from her shoulders as she realized the immediate danger had passed. For now, at least, he was safe, and she was grateful for every moment of his peaceful rest. She knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but for now, she was content to sit by his side and enjoy the quiet.
r/shortscarystories 24 days ago GuyAwks Forget Me Anniversary Not What kind of husband goes and forgets an anniversary? And not just any anniversary. Our 10 year anniversary. I didn’t want to have to remind Stephen about it. I wanted him to remember it on his own, to show me he cared about our partnership. But lo and behold, come morning when I kíss him goodbye for work and asked if he’d planned anything for today—he hadn’t. He just read his newspaper like it was any other day, with no hint of reaction. Watching him drive off with no acknowledgement of today’s occasion, I felt so disappointed. I even pulled out my phone to call up our marriage counselor, Dr Faulkner, to talk through my feelings and book an appointment for us. But, just my luck, he wasn’t picking up. So instead, I swallow my discontent and got our two kids ready for school. All throughout doing my daily household chores, I held out hope that Stephen might ring me to wish me, or have a bouquet delivered, or even pop home to whisk me off for a fancy lunch. Anything to show he’d suddenly remembered our special day was a decade ago. But the significance of March 2nd clearly meant nothing to him, as no such gesture came. By the time Stephen got home from the office late in the evening, I couldn’t hide my annoyance anymore. Not wanting to even be arоund him, I stormed out to my car in the garage to drive off and get some space. That’s when I heard the muffled sound coming from the trunk. Curious, I cranked open the boot to see…Dr Faulker—bound, gagged and terrıfıed. “Happy anniversary, honey” purred Stephen’s voıce from behind me. I whirled around, my heart aflutter and a wıde, joyful smıle on my face. “Oh Stephen, you did remember! And with a personal touch, you shouldn’t have.” Swooning, I ripped the gag off our helpless victim. “Stephen, Janice…p-please let me go!” Dr Faulkner gasped in sweaty confusion. “What are you doing?!” “He’s been in there since yesterday,” Stephen informed me. “I knew you’d find your anniversary gift eventually.” “Anniversary?!” yelped Dr Faulkner. “I-isn’t your wedding anniversary in November!?” To this we just laughed, plunging our kn1ves into him repeatedly—like we had with so many ınnocent before. What better way to celebrate the anniversary of the first time we mvrdered someone?
ᴴᵃᵖᵖʸ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ! ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᔆᵉᵉᵐˢ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ˢᵏⁱᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᵈᵘᵉ ᵗᵒ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵒⁿˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˡʸ ᵖˡᵒᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿᵉʳ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵖᵘᵇˡⁱᶜ ⁱᵐᵃᵍᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵃᵐᵒᵉᵇᵃ ᵖᵘᵖᵖʸ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵇᵃᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵉˣᶜⁱᵗᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ ᵈᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵃᵘᵍʰᵗʸ ˡⁱˢᵗ! 'ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵍᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ᵍⁱᶠᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ' ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ᶜʰᵉᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ'ˢ ʳᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢⁿᵒʳᵉᵈ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵒ ⁿᵒʷ⸴ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ˢⁿᵉᵃᵏˢ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᴴᵉ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡᵃⁱⁿ ᵉᵃʳˡⁱᵉʳ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁿᵉᵉᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒᵒˡˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵃᵇᵒʳᵃᵗᵒʳʸ ᵉˣᵖᵉʳⁱᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ⸴ ˢᵒ ʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ᵗᵒᵒˡ ᵇᵒˣ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇʳᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ⁱⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ʷᵃᵍᵍᵒⁿ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ʷʳᵃᵖᵖⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ⸴ ʰᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵒˡ ᵇᵒˣ ʰᵉ ʷʳᵃᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃᵍᵍᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ˢⁱᵍʰˢ⸴ ᵗⁱˡᵗⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ʷᵃᵍᵍᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᴴᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢˡⁱᵈᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ ᵗʳᵉᵉ ᵇʸ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵇᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ʷᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘᵖ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᵍⁱᶠᵗ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡˡʸ ᶠᵉˡˡ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃᵍᵍᵒⁿ ᵐᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵗʰᵘᵈ ⁿᵒⁱˢᵉ ᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ʰᵉˢⁱᵗᵃᵗᵉᵈ⸴ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ⁿᵒʷ ᵃᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧‧ "‧‧‧ʸ’ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵉᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖᵗᵃˡᵏˢ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ʳᵒˡˡˢ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ˢⁱᵈᵉ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˢ ˢⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ˢⁱᵍʰᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ʳᵉˡⁱᵉᶠ⸴ ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃᵍᵍᵒⁿ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ʷᵃᵗᶜʰᵉˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ ᵖʳᵉˢᵉⁿᵗ‧ "ᴶᵘˢᵗ ʷʰᵃᵗ ᴵ ⁿᵉᵉᵈᵉᵈ!" ᔆᵖᵒᵗ ʷᵃᵍˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵗᵃⁱˡ‧ ╰ ✧ ・゚∙ ∗ — ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ⟨ 2 1 6
ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ ᶠᵃⁿᶜʸ ᴼⁿᵉ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ᵈᵒᵒʳ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ˢᵉᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃᵗ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ‧ "ᴵ ʰᵉᵃʳ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ'ˢ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ʳᵘⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵘˢⁱⁿᵉˢˢ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ‧ "ᴵ'ᵐ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵐᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵘˢⁱⁿᵉˢˢ ᵗᵒ‧ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉᵍⁱⁿ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ‧" "ᵂᵉˡˡ ˢᵘʳᵉ! ᴮᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ʳᵉˢᵗ‧ ᴵ'ˡˡ ˢᵉᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵃ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ⁿᵒʷ‧" ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ ˡᵉᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ʰᵉ ᵍᵃᵗʰᵉʳᵉᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ˢᵘᵖᵖˡⁱᵉˢ‧ "ᴳᵉᵗ ᶜᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵇˡᵃⁿᵏᵉᵗˢ ˢᵐᵃˡˡ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐⁱⁿⁱ ᶜʰⁱⁿᵃ ᶜᵒᵗ‧" ᴴᵉ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵇʸ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᵇᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡⁱᶠᵗᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ‧ "ᵁˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᶠⁱᵍᵘʳⁱⁿᵉˢ ᴵ ˢᵒˡᵈ ˢᵒ ᵃˢ ᵗᵒ ʷʰʸ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ˢᵘᶜʰ ˢⁱᶻᵉᵈ ᵇᵉᵈᵈⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᶜᵘʳⁱᵒᵘˢ‧" "ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏˢ⸴ ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ ᶠᵉˡˡ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʳᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖⁱˡˡᵒʷ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰⁱⁿᵃ ᵇᵉᵈᵈⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ ᵃʷᵒᵏᵉ ᵉᵃʳˡʸ ᵃˢ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ᵈⁱᵈ⸴ ʸᵉᵗ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳᵉᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵍᵘᵉˢᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ ˡᵒᵒᵏᵉᵈ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵃʷ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃˢˡᵉᵉᵖ⸴ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ˢⁿᵒʳᵉᵈ ˢᵒ ˢᵒᶠᵗˡʸ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵃˡᵐᵒˢᵗ ⁱⁿᵃᵘᵈⁱᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉᵃʳ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃᵗᶜʰ ᵘᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ʳᵉᵃᵈⁱⁿᵍ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵍᵘʸ'ˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵖⁱᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃᵗᵉˢᵗ ⁱˢˢᵘᵉ ᵒᶠ ᴴᵒᵘˢᵉ ᶠᵃⁿᶜʸ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵒᵖᵉⁿᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ⸴ ʰᵉ ˢᵃᵗ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᵘᵖ ᵃˢ ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ ˢᵉᵗ ᵐᵃᵍᵃᶻⁱⁿᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ "ᴴᵉʸ ᶠᵉˡˡᵃ!" "ᴼʰ ʰⁱ‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉᶜⁱᵖʳᵒᶜᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ'ˢ ᵍʳᵉᵉᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ "ᴿᵉᵃᵈʸ?" ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ ᶠᵒˡˡᵒʷᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ʳᵉˢᵗᵃᵘʳᵃⁿᵗ‧ "ᴵ ᵃˡˢᵒ ˡⁱᵛᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵘⁱˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵘᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᶠᵉ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉᵐ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷʰʸ'ˢ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷ⁻ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵃᵗ⸴ ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵘʳᵉ ᴵ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵏⁿᵒʷ‧‧" "ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵐᵉᵉᵗ ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ; ʰᵉ ⁱˢ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵘˢ‧ ᴬⁿᵈ ᴵ ᵇᵘⁱˡᵗ ᵐʸ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʷʰᵒ'ˢ ᵐᵃʳʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ!" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱⁿᵗʳᵒᵈᵘᶜᵉᵈ‧ "ᔆᵒ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵃᵗ‧‧‧" "ᔆᵉᵉ ᵐʸ ʷᵒʳˢᵗ ᵉⁿᵉᵐʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ʷᵒʳᵏˢ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᴷʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᴷʳᵃᵇ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳⁱᵛᵃˡ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵃˡˢᵒ‧ ᴺᵒʷ ʷᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃ ᵗᵒᵖ ᶜʰᵉᶠ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵘᵖᵍʳᵃᵈᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵃᵗᵉʳʸ!" "ᴼᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉ! ᴮᵘᵗ ʰᵒʷ?" "ᴹʸ ᵇᵘᵗˡᵉʳ‧" ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ'ˢ ᵇᵘᵗˡᵉʳ ᶜˡᵉᵃⁿˢ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱᵗᶜʰᵉⁿ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏʳᵘˢᵗʸ ᵏʳᵃᵇ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ⁿᵒʷ‧ "ᔆᵒ ˡᵉᵗ'ˢ ˢᵗᵉᵃˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃᵗᵗʸ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒ ⁱⁿ ᵐʸˢᵉˡᶠ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʷⁱˡˡ‧‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵍᵒ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵃᵗⁱˢᶠᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧‧‧" "ᶠⁱⁿᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈⁱˢᵗʳᵃᶜᵗ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ᴵ ˢⁿᵉᵃᵏ ⁱⁿ!" ᔆᵒ ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ ʷᵉⁿᵗ‧ "ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈˢ ᵒʰ ᴵ ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃ ᶜᵃˢʰⁱᵉʳ!" "ᴬⁿᵈ ᴵ ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵛᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ˢᵉᵉ ᵐᵉ‧‧‧" "ᑫᵘⁱᵗᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗʳᵃʳʸ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ‧‧‧" ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ ᶜᵒⁿᶠʳᵒⁿᵗˢ⸴ ᵏᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍ 'ᵉᵐ ᵇᵘˢʸ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵒᶠ ˡⁱˢᵗ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ‽" ᴬˢ ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ ᵃʳᵍᵘᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ ᶠʳᵒᶻᵉ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ʰᵉᵃʳᵈ ᵃ ˢᶜʳᵉᵃᵐ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵒᶠᶠⁱᶜᵉ‧ ᵀʰᵉʸ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ʳᵃⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᶠᶠⁱᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷʰᵒ ˢᶜʳᵉᵃᵐᵉᵈ⸴ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉʸ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵈ ʷʰʸ‧ ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ˢᵗᵒᵖᵖᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿᵍʳᵉᵈⁱᵉⁿᵗˢ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃˡˢᵒ ⁿᵉᵃʳˡʸ ᵏⁱˡˡᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʳᵒᶜᵉˢˢ‧ ᴮʳᵒᵏᵉⁿ ᵍˡᵃˢˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒᵗᵗˡᵉ ˢʰᵃᵗᵗᵉʳᵉᵈ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ˢᵒ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰʳᵒʷ ᵃᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴺᵒʷ ˢᶜʳᵃᵗᶜʰᵉᵈ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵇᵃᵈˡʸ ⁱⁿʲᵘʳᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵘʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ‧ ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ ʰᵉˡᵖᵉᵈ⸴ ᵇʸ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʰᵃʳᵈˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ⁱⁿ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ‧ ᔆᵒᵐᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖⁱᵉᶜᵉˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵉᵐᵇᵉᵈᵈᵉᵈ ᵈᵉᵉᵖˡʸ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ ʳᵉᵐᵒᵛᵉᵈ⸴ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ⸴ ᵈᵃᵐᵃᵍᵉˢ ᵈᵒⁿᵉ⸴ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵇᵃᵈ‧ ᴮᵃᵈ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ʰᵃʳᵐ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵘᵐᵇˡᵉ⸴ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ'ˢ ʷᵃⁿᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱⁿˢᵗᵉᵃᵈ ᵒᶠ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ⸴ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᶜᵒᵘᵍʰᵉᵈ‧ ᴺᵒ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᵉˢᶜᵃᵖᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ; ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵍˡᵒᵇ ᵒᶠ ʳᵉᵈ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ‧ ᴴⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ᵘᵖ ʳᵒˡˡᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒʷ ᵖᵃˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ᶜᵒˡᵈ ᵗᵒ‧ "ᴹʳ‧ ᴷʳᵃᵇˢ?" ᔆᑫᵘⁱᵈʷᵃʳᵈ ᵇʳᵒᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢⁱˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ‧ ᴮᵘᵗ ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ ᵍᵒᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ‧‧ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵈʳᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ᵃˢᵖʰʸˣⁱᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ˢⁱᵖʰᵒⁿⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏᵉᵈ ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ᵃʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵃˢ ˢʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵏᵉᵈ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿᶜᵉ ⁿᵒ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵇᵘᵇᵇˡᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵘᵖ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʷᵒᵘⁿᵈˢ‧ "ᴬᵍʰ‧‧" "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‽ ᴵ ᵍᵒᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ‧‧" ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ ʰᵉˡᵖᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢⁱᵗ‧ ᵀʰᵉ ᶜᵒˡᵈ ᵈʳⁱⁿᵏ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ‧ "ᴵ ˢᵉⁿᵗ ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʰᵉ ᵇʳᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉˡᵖᵉᵈ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵇˡᵉᵉᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ‧" ᴱˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿˢ ᴷᵃʳᵉⁿ‧ "ᴵ ᶜᵃˡˡᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ʰᵉˡᵖⁱⁿᵍ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒˡᵈ ᔆᑫᵘⁱˡˡⁱᵃᵐ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖʰᵒⁿᵉ‧ "ᔆᵒʳʳʸ‧‧" 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟽𝟷𝟿
ᴸⁱᵃʳ ᴸⁱᵃʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏ'ˢ ᵒⁿ ᶠⁱʳᵉ ⁽ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮᵒᵇ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ⁾ "ᴾᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʲᵉˡˡʸ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵈʳⁱᵛᵉ ᶜᵘˢᵗᵒᵐᵉʳˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵉᵃʳˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷʰⁱˡˢᵗ ⁱⁿ ʲᵉˡˡʸᶠⁱˢʰ ᶠⁱᵉˡᵈˢ⸴ ʷʰᵉⁿ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ⸴ ᵃ ˢᵗᵒʳᵐ ᶜˡᵒᵘᵈ ᶜᵃᵐᵉ‧ ᴸⁱᵍʰᵗⁿⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵘᵈᵈᵉⁿˡʸ ˢᵗʳⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵃ ᵈʸⁱⁿᵍ ᶜᵒʳᵃˡ ᵗʳᵉᵉ⸴ ᶜᵃᵗᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ ᵒⁿ ᶠⁱʳᵉ‧ ᴵᵗ ˢᵖʳᵉᵃᵈ ʳᵃᵖⁱᵈˡʸ ⁿᵒʷ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ⁿᵒʷ ˢᵘʳʳᵒᵘⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠˡᵃᵐᵉˢ⸴ ʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰᵒᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʷⁱˡᵈ ᶠⁱʳᵉ ᶜᵃᵘˢᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵈⁱᶠᶠⁱᶜᵘˡᵗʸ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵖʳᵒᵖᵉʳˡʸ‧ ᵁⁿᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵉˢᶜᵃᵖᵉ ᶠˡᵃᵐᵉˢ⸴ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ⁿᵒʷ ᵒᵛᵉʳʷʰᵉˡᵐᵉᵈ⸴ ˢᵒ ʰᵉ'ˢ ᶠᵃⁱⁿᵗᵉᵈ/ᵖᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ᵒᵘᵗ‧ ᴸᵘᶜᵏⁱˡʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱʳᵉ ᵈⁱᵉᵈ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵘⁿᶠᵒʳᵗᵘⁿᵃᵗᵉˡʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ʳᵉⁿᵈᵉʳᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵘⁿᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʳᵃⁿ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠˡᵃᵐᵉˢ ᵇʸ ʲᵘᵐᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᶜᵒᵒᵖ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘᵖ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʳᵘⁿˢ⸴ ᵖᵘˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠⁱʳᵉ‧ ᴰᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʳᵉᵐᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡⁱᵐᵖˡʸ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵇᵘʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ ᴴᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱˢᵉᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵒᵈʸ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶜᵒᵒˡ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ "ᴵ⁻ᴵ⁻ᴵ'ᵐ ˢ⁻ˢᵒʳʳʸ!" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ ᴺᵒʷ ᵃᵗ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ'ˢ ᵖⁱⁿᵉᵃᵖᵖˡᵉ ʳᵉˢⁱᵈᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶠⁱˡˡᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵇᵒʷˡ ᵒᶠ ᶜᵒˡᵈ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵒˡ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ ᵂʰᵉⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵒᵈʸ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ˢⁱⁿᵏ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᶜᵃᵘᵍʰᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒ ᵃˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢˡⁱᵖ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ‧ ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ʳⁱⁿˢⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗˡʸ ᵈʳⁱᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᶠᶠ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᵗʰⁱⁿ ᵗᵒʷᵉˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵒʳᵉʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵃˢ ᵗᵉᵐᵖᵉʳᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ‧ ᔆᵗⁱˡˡ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃʳᵐ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃˢ ʰᵒᵗ ᵃˢ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵈⁱᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵘᶠᶠᵉʳ ˢʰᵒᶜᵏ ˢᵒ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ᵈⁱʳᵉᶜᵗˡʸ ᵖᵘᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᶜᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵃ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ᵖⁱˡˡᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵃⁿ ᵒⁿ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᴿᵘᵇⁱᵏ'ˢ ᶜᵘᵇᵉ⸴ ʷᵒʳᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ⁱᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡˡʸ ʳᵉᵍᵃⁱⁿ ᶜᵒⁿˢᶜⁱᵒᵘˢⁿᵉˢˢ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ‽" "ᵁᵍʰʰʰ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵉʸᵉ ᶠˡᵘᵗᵗᵉʳˢ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ‧ "ᵂᵘʰ? ᵂʰᵃᵃ⁻ ʷʰᵃ’ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃᵐ ᴵ?" ᴴᵉ ˢᵃⁱᵈ‧ "ʸᵒᵘ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵃˢ ʰᵉᵃᵗ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵐᵒᵏᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵒ ᴵ ᵇʳᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵃᶠᵉ‧" "ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᴮ⁻⁻ ʷʰ⁻ʷʰᵃ⁻ʰᵘʰ?" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᵍʳᵒᵍᵍʸ‧ "ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ʷᵒʳᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿ ᵐʸ ᴿᵘᵇⁱᵏ'ˢ ᶜᵘᵇᵉ‧ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢⁱᵗ ᵘᵖ?" ᴴᵉ ᵏⁿᵉʷ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵏᵉᵉⁿ ᵒⁿ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ‧ "ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ˡᵉᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ‧‧‧" "ᶠⁱⁿᵉ‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵖⁱˡˡᵒʷ ᵇᵉʰⁱⁿᵈ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵃⁿ‧ "ᴿᵉᵃᵈʸ?" ᴴᵉ ˢᶜᵒᵒᵗˢ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢⁱᵗˢ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘᵖ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐ‧ "ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ʷʰᵃᵗ ʷᵃʳᵐ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ; ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵍᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᶠʳᵉˢʰ ᵈʳⁱⁿᵏ‧ "ᴵ ᵖᵘᵗ ⁱᶜᵉ ⁱⁿ ⁱᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵒᵗᵗᵃ ˢᵗʳᵃʷ‧" ᴴᵉ ˢᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ ᵈᵒʷⁿ‧ "ᵀᵃˢᵗᵉˢ ʳᵉᶠʳᵉˢʰⁱⁿᵍ‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉᵈ‧ "ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˢᵒˡᵛᵉ ᵃ ᴿᵘᵇⁱᵏ'ˢ ᶜᵘᵇᵉ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵈ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵃ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵒʳ ᵍᵒ ᵃᵗ ⁱᵗ‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ⁱᵗ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁿᵒʷ‧‧" "ᴵ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˢᵗᵒʳᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵘᵗ ˢᵒ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵇᵉ ˢᵗᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵐᵉ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ'ˡˡ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵘᵐ ᵇᵘᶜᵏᵉᵗ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ‧" "ᵂʰʸ ᵈᵒ ᴵ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˢʷᵉᵃᵗʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉᵃᵏ?" "ᵂᵉˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ'ᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᶠⁱʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵒⁿˡʸ ʲᵘˢᵗ ⁿᵒʷ ᶜᵒᵒˡᵉᵈ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᵏᵉ‧‧" "ᴵ ʷᵃˢ ⁱⁿ ʲᵉˡˡʸᶠⁱˢʰ ᶠⁱᵉˡᵈˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃ ᶜᵒʳᵃˡ ᵗʳᵉᵉ ᶜᵃᵘᵍʰᵗ ᶠⁱʳᵉ⸴ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ˢᵘʳʳᵒᵘⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᴵ'ᵈ ᵐᵉˡᵗ‧‧‧" ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ˢᵃʸˢ‧ "ᴮᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵘˢᵗ'ᵛᵉ ˢᵃᵛᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ ᴵ ᵃˢˢᵘᵐᵉ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ⁿᵒʷ ᴵ'ᵐ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ˢᵒ⸴ ᵗʰᵃ⁻ ᵘʰ⸴ ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸ⁻ʸᵒᵘ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍˡᵃᵈ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᴵ ᵃᵖᵒˡᵒᵍⁱˢᵉ ᶠᵒʳ‧‧‧" "ˢᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉ ᵇᵒᵇ⸴ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᵘˡᵗ‧ ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉⁿ'ᵗ ᵉⁿᵉʳᵍʸ‧" "ᵂᵉˡˡ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵍᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ˡᵃᵗᵉ‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ᵃ ʷᵃˢʰ ᶜˡᵒᵗʰ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵇʸ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵈ‧ ᴴᵉ ᵗᵘʳⁿˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵃˡᵃʳᵐ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵒᵛᵉˢ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ʷᵃᵗᵉʳ ᵒᵛᵉʳ‧ "ᴵ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜˡᵒᵗʰ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠʳᵉᵉᶻᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᶜᵒˡᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵉ‧‧‧" "ᴵ'ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵘʳᵉ ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇʸ ᵐʸˢᵉˡᶠ‧‧" "ᶜᵃⁿ ᴵ ˡⁱᶠᵗ ʸᵒᵘ?" "ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃˢʰ ᶜˡᵒᵗʰ ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ ˢᵘʳᵉ‧" ᴴᵉ ˢᵉᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ˢᵘᵖⁱⁿᵉ‧ "ᶠᵉᵉˡˢ ˢᵒ ⁿⁱᶜᵉ ᵏⁱᵈ‧‧" "ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ʷᵃᵏᵉ ᵐᵉ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ‧" ᴴᵉ ᵗᵘʳⁿᵉᵈ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵒᶠᶠ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ'ˢ ᵉʸᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒ ˡᵒⁿᵍᵉʳ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ‧ "ᴳᵒᵒᵈ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ‧‧" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʰᵒᵖᵉˢ ʰᵉ'ᵈ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵇʸ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒᵐᵒʳʳᵒʷ‧ "ᴬˡˡ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ?" ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳˢ‧ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ᶠᵉˡᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜˡᵒᵗʰ⸴ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ˢˡᵉᵉᵖ ʳᵉˢᵗᶠᵘˡ‧ ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ˡᵘʳᶜʰᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ᴾˡᵃⁿᵏᵗᵒⁿ ʷʰᵒ ⁿᵒʷ ˢⁿᵒʳᵉᵈ‧ 'ᴿᵃⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ᵖᵒᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ⸴ ˢⁿᵒʳⁱⁿᵍ‧‧' ᔆᵖᵒⁿᵍᵉᵇᵒᵇ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ‧ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝟔𝟓𝟎
"Ok, Plankton I'm going to give you something to help you relax." The nurse prepped a syringe, the cold liquid sliding into his gum line. The doctor's voice grew distant. Karen's hand tightened around his, as the anesthesia took hold. Plankton closed his eye, numbness spread. He felt his heart rate slow and his muscles relax as the world around him faded to a gentle buzz. The anesthetic was administered, and doctor's instructions to count back from ten echoed in his mind, but he never made it past seven. The doctor's skilled extracted the troublesome teeth. Plankton's face remained still, his breathing deep and even under the influence of the anesthesia. Karen squeezed his hand again, hoping he could feel her support through the unconsciousness. The doctor's face broke to a satisfied smile. "All done," he said, gesturing to the nurse to start cleaning up. "Everything went smoothly." Karen nodded to express her gratitude. "We'll keep him here for a bit longer to make sure he's fully recovered from the anesthesia, but you can stay with him." As the doctor stepped out, Karen pulled up a chair next to Plankton. His features looked almost childlike, and couldn't help but feel a twinge of protectiveness. He might be trouble, but she cared for him deeply. The nurse bustled around, removing various tubes and monitors attached to him, and soon the room was quiet once more, filled only with the low murmur of the machines. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and Karen sat there, holding his hand. The nurse finished her work and gave Karen a nod, indicating that she could talk to Plankton if she wanted. Leaning in close, she whispered, "You did good. Just a little bit longer, and you'll be back." Plankton's eye fluttered open, and he groaned, his speech slurred from the anesthesia. "K-Karen?" "I'm here," she said, smoothing back his antennae. His eye searched for a moment before the reality of the situation set in, and he tried to sit up. "Easy now," Karen said soothingly, gently pushing him back down. "You're okay. The surgery's over. You did great!" Plankton's gaze darted around the room, trying to focus. "Where... where are they?" he mumbled, his voice thick and groggy. Plankton's eye narrowed in confusion before drifted shut again. "Did we get... the formula?" he slurred, his mind still clinging to his latest obsession. Karen couldn't help but chuckle. "Not today. But don't worry." She watching him closely as the anesthesia wore off. "You've been out.." "So, we didn't get it?" he asked. The nurse turned to them, noticing Plankton awake. "How are you feeling?" "Woozy," Plankton slurred words thick and slow. The doctor nodded understandingly. "That's normal. The anesthesia will wear off in a bit, but you'll be feeling a bit out of it for the rest of the day. You'll need to keep that ice on your jaw to reduce the swelling." Plankton's eye searched Karen's face, his mind still fuzzy. "Why you smiling?" he asked. "I was just thinking about how you're going to have to eat mashed peas." Plankton groaned. "Mashed peas?" Karen nodded. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you have plenty of jellyfish juice to keep your strength up. Let's get home," Karen said as she helped him to his feet. He swayed slightly, and she went to steady him. The walk to the car was a blur for Plankton. He leaned heavily on Karen. "Why the floor tiles look like they're moving?" he murmured. Karen chuckled, her hand round his waist. "It's just playing tricks." They made their way out to the parking lot Karen opened the door, and Plankton stumbled in, collapsing onto the backseat. "You ok?" she asked. "I think... I think I'm ok," Plankton mumbled, eye slowly closing again. "Just need... to sleep." Karen nodded and got into the driver's seat, starting the engine. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Plankton's head lolled to the side, and he began to snore softly. She couldn't help but chuckle at his vulnerable state. It was a rare sight to see the ever-scheming Plankton so out of commission. The drive home was smooth. Karen glanced back at him, his face relaxed and peaceful. When they arrived at the Chum Bucket, Plankton's snores grew as she helped him in. He barely stirred as she placed a cold pack on his swollen jaw and handed him a glass of jellyfish juice. Plankton took a sip, his eye fluttering open. "Ah, Karen," he slurred. His eye were glazed over as he tried to adjust the ice pack. Karen puts it back in the right spot, tucking a pillow behind his head, patting his shoulder gently. "You need strength...." He reached for the notepad, scribbling illegibly. "Got to keep planning," he mumbled, voice a distant echo of his usual enthusiasm. Karen couldn't help but chuckle at his determination. "You should focus on getting better." Plankton's eye widened, and he tried to sit up, knocking the ice pack to the floor. "The formula!" he exclaimed, his words still slurred. "Shh, it's ok," Karen said, placing a hand on his shoulder and gently pushing him back down. "The formula can wait." He mumbled something about "Krabs" and "plan," but words were too jumbled to make sense. Karen recognized the signs of his usual scheming, even in his state. This was the Plankton she knew, always thinking of his next move, even when he could barely keep his eye open. As she cleared a space on the cluttered lab bench for him to lie down, she noticed his scribbled notes on the notepad. The words "Patty" and "formula" peeked out from a mess of squiggles and half-formed thoughts. She couldn't help but feel pride. Plankton might be a bit loopy from the anesthesia, but his spirit was sharp. She picked up the pad tried to make sense of the scrawl. Plankton watched her, his eye tracking her movements. "You're not... stealing my ideas, are you?" he accused, voice still thick with sleep. "No," Karen said, trying to keep a straight face. The room was a swirl of colors and shapes to Plankton as he attempted to focus on Karen's face. He closed his eye. "I'm perfectly... coherent," he slurred, trying to sit up again. The room tilted dangerously, and he had to grab the edge of the bench to steady himself. "Let's not have you knocking anything over clumsy." "I'm not clumsy," he protested, his words coming out in a slow drawl. "Ok," Karen said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "I believe you, Mr. Graceful." Plankton slumped against the pillow, the effort of arguing too much for his post-surgery state. He mumbled something about jellyfish jelly. Karen shook her head. She knew he'd be back to his usual self in no time, but for now, he needed to rest. The hours ticked by, the only sounds being Plankton's snores. Karen sat glancing over at him. His chest rose and fell in a deep, steady rhythm, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. The surgery had been a success. As the sun began to set, Plankton stirred. His eye popped open, and looked around the room with a wild look. "Karen, where are we?" "You're home." Plankton blinked, gaze unfocused. "Home," he repeated, as if trying to convince himself. "But what about my teeth?" Karen couldn't help laugh at his bewilderment. "They're gone. The doctor took them out." Plankton's expression one of shock. "They're really... gone?" "Yep," Karen said, voice filled with amusement. "You don't have to worry." Plankton's expression mix of confusion and relief. "But... how? I don't remember anything." Karen chuckled. "That's anesthesia for you. It's like a vacation from reality." Plankton blinked, his mind racing to catch up with the situation. "Vacation?" he murmured, the sounding foreign in his mouth. "No, no, no," he protested, flailing about as he tried to sit up. "We must... we must... " His words trailed off through the anesthesia haze. Karen placing a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. "Plankton, please. You just had surgery." "But the Krabby Patty... the formula... we can't lose it," he slurred, voice cracking. Karen's smile softens. "Don't worry just focus on you getting better." Plankton stilled, and he nodded slowly, antennae drooping. "Ok," he murmured. "But as soon as I can, we go back to work." "Of course," Karen said soothingly, pushing him back down onto the makeshift bed. The room grew quiet again, save for the occasional snore from Plankton and the low hum of lab equipment. Hours passed by the time Plankton stirred again. His eye blinked open a glimmer of lucidity in his gaze. "Karen?" he called out, his voice still slurred but with a hint of urgency. "I'm here," she said. She had been keeping watch. Plankton sat up slowly, the anesthesia's finally lifted. His jaw felt heavy. "How long was I out?" "A few hours," Karen replied, her voice calm and assuring. She had been expecting this moment, when the fog of the anesthesia would clear. "I feel like I've been hit by a Krabby Patty press," he grumbled, holding his jaw gingerly. "It's normal," Karen said, her voice steady. "Give it time. The pain will ease up." "What about the... the formula?" he asked, his voice strained. "It's safe," Karen assured him. "Mr. Krabs doesn't even know you're down for the count." The mention brought a spark of energy to Plankton's eye. He pushed himself to his feet, the cold pack slipping to the floor with a wet thud. "We can't waste time," he said, his voice stronger now. "We must... we must..." But before he could finish his thought, a wave of dizziness washed over him, and he stumbled flailing. Karen caught him, grip firm but gentle, and helped him back down to the bench. "You're not going anywhere." Plankton groaned, stubbornness battling with his body's insistence on recovery. "But the... the Patty," he mumbled. "I know," Karen said, her tone a mix of sympathy and amusement. "But you're in no shape right now. Besides, we've got a week of mashed peas to look forward to." "Why does it have to be mashed peas?"
He slurred his words, a side effect of his wisdom tooth surgery. "W-wha...wha' happened?" he mumbled. Karen held his hand, her thumb tracing comforting circles on his palm. "You're ok, just had wisdom teeth removed." Plankton blinked, trying to make sense of the world. "Teeth?" He says through thickness of his mouth. "What teeth?" The nurse then tells "Looks good. Just rest for a bit. The anesthesia can feel loopy." A trickle of drool slid down the side of his mouth. He tried to lift his hand. "H-here," Karen said, gently dabbing at the corner of his mouth. "You're ok. It's normal." Plankton's eye closed, and he leaned into her touch, the world fading to comforting haze. "Don't worry," she whispered, stroking him. "I'm here." Within moments, his breathing grew even, chest rising and falling in gentle rhythm that told her he had succumbed to sleep. His breathing deepened, mouth slightly agape. Karen watched the rise and fall of his chest, the soft snores that punctuated the silence. The steady beep of the heart monitor was an assuring metronome as she waited. A droplet of drool had formed and was slowly making its way to the pillow. The nurse told it might happen. It clung to the edge of his mouth before splattering onto the pillow. His mouth twitched in his sleep, and she wondered if he’s dreaming. The nurse returns with water and ice chips, placing them on the tray. "He'll need these when he wakes," she instructed. "They'd help with the swelling and keep him hydrated." Karen nodded. "How long til he's fully awake?" she asked. "Could be an hour." The only sounds the occasional snore from Plankton. Drool continued to escape, forming a puddle on the pillow. She wiped it. She saw the gauze pads tucked in his cheeks. They looked out of place, despite the sleep medication lulled him to. The door creaked open, and in stumbled SpongeBob. "Plankton! You ok?" he exclaimed. "Shh, he's sleeping," Karen whispers. "They took his wisdom teeth." SpongeBob's eyes widened further. "Wisdom teeth? Gosh, Plankton, sounds painful!" Karen nodded solemnly. "But he's tough. He'll be ok." Plankton stirred in his sleep, a low groan escaping his throat. "Shh," Karen soothed, her voice gentle. "You're ok. Just rest." SpongeBob tiptoed over. "How's he?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sleeping it off. The anesthesia wearing off." SpongeBob nods, eyes not leaving Plankton. "What's with gauze?" "Helps with bleeding," Karen explained. "It's normal." SpongeBob's concern palpable. "B-bleeding?" "It's ok," Karen assured him. "Just a precaution. He'll be fine." SpongeBob’s gaze lingers. He gently took Plankton's hand, his own fingers wrapping around his. His grip was firm but gentle, a silent promise to be there. The nurse removes the gauze, leaving his mouth open and vulnerable. Finally, Plankton's eye flutters open, still clouded by the anesthesia. "What...wha's goin' on?" he slurred, voice thick and groggy in confusion. "You had your wisdom teeth out," Karen said. "Mmph," he managed. SpongeBob leans in with concern. "You had a little operation. We’re in the recovery room." Plankton's eye widened slightly, and he tried to sit up, only to be met with dizziness that sent him back. "Mm...Krabby Patty...?" he mumbled. Karen chuckled. "No, aren’t at the Krusty Krab." The reality of the situation slowly dawned on him. His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. He reached for the cup of water, but his hand trembled, spilling the contents onto the tray. "Oops," SpongeBob said getting napkins. "Let me help you." But Plankton's eye had already rolled back into his head, his hand dropping limply to the side, slipping back into the abyss of his drug-induced haze. The nurse returned, checked his vitals again, expression unchanged by his state. "It's normal as it can take awhile." SpongeBob fidgeted, eyes never leaving Plankton's face. "Is he...drooling?" Karen nodded holding tissue ready. "Just be careful not to wake him up." "Oh, right. I just wanted to make sure he was ok." Karen gave his hand a comforting squeeze. "He is. Just let him rest, we're here for him when he wakes." They sat in companionable silence, only sound the soft snores and occasional dribble. "Is that...normal?" he asked, voice a mix of fascination and horror. "It's a side effect of the surgery," Karen explained gently, using a fresh tissue to wipe Plankton's mouth. "It can stop when he's fully awake." The nurse checked on him again. "Almost ready to go?" Karen nods. "Yes, let's get him home. He might be a bit out of it." SpongeBob nods, eager. "I'll help too!" "Thanks, SpongeBob," Karen said. "But remember, he's going to need lots of rest and quiet. Now, let's get him into the wheelchair." With Karen's help, they managed to get Plankton into the chair, body limply compliant. His eye remained closed, his breathing even. As they wheeled him out, his snores grew quieter. In the car, Karen adjusted the seat so Plankton could lean back, his mouth still a little slack, drool pooling on the gauze she had placed. His mouth remained slightly open, gauze in his cheeks bulging with each inhale. "Look at the drool," SpongeBob whispered. "It's just a side effect of the surgery," she said, handing SpongeBob a fresh tissue. "Make sure to keep his mouth clean. We don't want to get too messy." SpongeBob nodded, expression earnest as he took the tissue and began to dab at Plankton's mouth. Plankton's head lolled to the side again, and he let out a snort. "It's okay, Plankton. We're almost home." she whispered, her voice gentle. Sponge Bob whispered, "I never knew Plankton to be so...so drooly." Karen's eyes remained on the road. "It's a side effect of the surgery," she reminded him. "It's nothing to be too concerned about." Sponge Bob nodded, his gaze lingering on Plankton's slack jaw. "We're home," Karen whispered, her voice barely audible. Sponge Bob nodded, eyes glued to Plankton's still form. "Must we wake him?" "Wait til we get him inside," Karen said, her voice soft. "He'd be more comfortable in his own bed." They carefully maneuvered Plankton out of the car, his body still limp with sleep. Karen settled him into his bed, pulling the blankets up. "Leave him be," she said. "He needs his rest. He'll be ok," Karen assured him. "Just let him sleep it off." "I'll keep an eye on him," Sponge Bob offered, pulling up a chair. "Thanks," she said with gratitude. "I'll just be in the next room." Sponge Bob nodded solemnly, taking his post by Plankton's bedside. He knew Plankton’s surgery had to have been tough on him. He reached out and touched Plankton's arm. "Rest up, Plankton," he whispered. "I'll be here when you wake.." Plankton stirred slightly, a soft groan escaping. His eye remained closed, but his hand twitched. SpongeBob leaned in closer, his heart racing. "You ok, buddy?" he asked. Plankton's eye opens, tongue thick and unresponsive. He tried to speak, but all that came out was slurred mumble. "Wha...wha's...goin' on?" The words were barely discernible, muffled by the gauze in his mouth and the thickness of his own drool. Plankton's trying to make sense of the shadows that surrounded him. "You're home, Plankton," Sponge Bob said softly. "You had your wisdom teeth removed." Plankton's mind raced as the fog of anesthesia slowly lifted. "T-teeth?" he slurred barely above a whisper. SpongeBob nods. "You had your wisdom teeth out. It's ok, you're going to be fine." He sat in the chair by the bed, watching the steady rise and fall of Plankton's chest. The gauze in his mouth was still soaked with drool. As the light outside began to fade, Plankton stirred again, his eye fluttering. The pain in his mouth was a dull throb now, and the drugs had left him feeling groggy and disoriented. He tried to sit up, but the effort was too much. SpongeBob jumped to his side, his hands gentle as he put Plankton back down onto the pillow. "Easy," he said. Plankton's eye searched, the fog of anesthesia still clouding his thoughts. "Sponge...Bob?" he managed to croak out. "I'm here, Plankton," SpongeBob said, his voice filled with gentle concern. Plankton's eye searched SpongeBob's face. "Why...are you...here?" "I'm here to take care of you got wisdom teeth out, remember?" Plankton's mouth felt like it was filled with soggy seaweed, thoughts jumbled. "Wisdom teeth?" he mumbled, his voice barely audible. SpongeBob nods. "The surgery went well." Plankton's gaze grew distant as he tried to piece together the events of the day. "What...what happened?" Sponge Bob took a deep breath, preparing to explain it again. "You had to have your wisdom teeth out. Remember? You've been out of it all day." "My...my teeth?" Plankton repeated, still slurred. Sponge Bob nods solemnly. "They had to take them out." Plankton's eye grew even wider. "My...my...precious..." Sponge Bob gently pushed him back. "It's ok. You don't have to worry. They're gone." Plankton filled with panic. "Gone? How could I forget?" SpongeBob looked at him with a mix of confusion and concern. "It's the medicine," he said, his voice calm. "It messes with your memory a bit." Plankton's eye searched the room again, desperation growing with each passing second. "But...but I can't forget!" he slurred. "I can't forget about the...the...what was it again?" SpongeBob leaned in closer, his voice filled with patience. "Your wisdom teeth. You had them removed." Plankton's mind a jumble of half-formed thoughts. "Wisdom teeth," he murmured, words tasting foreign on his tongue. "Why would I forget something so...so..." His voice trailed off, and he frowned, his tiny brow furrowing. Sponge Bob's gaze was steady and reassuring. "It's normal. I never knew you could be so... drool-y." Plankton shot up. "Drooly?" "Don't worry," SpongeBob said. "It's a temporary side effect." Plankton's eye narrowed, and he managed to slur out, "You better not tell, I'd hate for my reputation to be ruined.." "Don't worry," Sponge Bob promised. "Your secret's safe."
"I've never understood why they call it a 'morning routine'," Karen mumbled to herself. The clock glared: 5:47 AM. The house was silent, aside occasional tick of the wall clock. Plankton, her companion, was still snoring away upstairs. Karen sighed. Plankton had fallen asleep on the couch. Again. Karen had been Plankton's personal assistant, and she had grown accustomed to his erratic sleep patterns. Her processors ticked methodically as she calculated the best way to wake him without causing disturbance. She had tried various tactics in the past: music, cup of tea, even a friendly message displayed on her screen. But today, she had a new idea. As she booted up the household systems, she decided to start subtle. The lights began to brighten gradually, mimicking the glow of a dawning sunrise. It was a feature Plankton had installed, yet never used. She watched him stir slightly on the couch, snoring subsided to a gentle wheeze. "Karen?" he mumbled groggily. "Yes, Plankton?" she responded, keeping her voice low. He mumbled something incoherent and rolled over, eye still closed. Karen's curiosity piqued. It wasn't often Plankton talked in his sleep. She leaned closer, digital eyes studying his face as he continued to murmur. "Krabby Patty... so... delicious... must... get... recipe," he slurred, voice trailing off into a snore. Karen's circuits buzzed. Plankton's subconscious was revealing something significant he had kept hidden from her. The Krabby Patty recipe was the holy grail of their world, the secret ingredient known only to Mr. Krabs. Plankton had spent life trying to steal it, and seemed his obsession had seeped into his dreams. She waited for more sleep-talk to come with anticipation. The room grew lighter as the sunrise simulation reached its peak. Plankton's snoring turned into gentle rhythmic breathing. "Closer... so close," he murmured. "The secret... right there... in... Krabs'... locker." Karen's mind raced. A clue! Plankton's dreams might just be key to unlocking the mystery. She quickly made a note and continued observation. The sunrise simulation had reached its zenith, the room was bathed in a soft, warm light that made Plankton's snores almost peaceful. "Hidden... behind... picture... of... his... mother," Plankton murmured, voice barely audible. Karen's processors whirred. The secret might actually be within their grasp. She wondered if Plankton stumbled upon something real in his sleep- induced ramblings. As Plankton's breathing grew even quieter, Karen gently nudged the couch with her robotic arm. "Plankton, wake up," she whispered. With a jolt, Plankton's eye snapped open. "Karen what's going on?" He rubbed his eye and took in the bright room. "Why is it so light?" "It's morning, Plankton," Karen replied. "And I believe you had quite the interesting dream." Plankton sat up, eye darting around the room. "The Krabby Patty recipe! Did I say something about it?" "You might have," Karen said coyly, her LED eyes gleaming. "Care to share your dream with me?" Plankton looked at her, his brain still fuzzy with sleep. "I don't remember much," his mind racing to piece together the fragments of his dream. "Just something about a locker and a portrait." Karen nodded. "Ah, yes. Your subconscious might have been onto something. Would you like me to make breakfast while you ponder your dream?" Plankton nodded, mind still swirling with hazy images from his sleep. "Coffee," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. "And something light." "Of course," Karen said, already knowing his preferred morning meal. She began preparing coffee and a plate of toast with jellyfish jam. While the water boiled and the toaster popped, she couldn't help but replay his words. The picture was a detail she hadn't expected. A place to start, a thread to pull at in their quest for the recipe. As the aroma of the brewing coffee filled the air, Plankton's eyelid grew heavy once more. He slumped back down onto the couch, mind still entangled in the web of his dream. "Just a few more minutes," he mumbled, his body succumbing to the call of sleep. Karen observed him with a mix of concern and intrigue. She knew the importance of rest, but she couldn't help feel a sense of urgency about the revelation from his dream. Plankton had always been so guarded about his Krabby Patty obsession, and now a potential lead. But as seconds ticked by and Plankton's breathing grew deeper, she realized curiosity would have to wait. She gently covered him with a blanket she had folded neatly over the arm of the couch. His snores grew louder. The sunrise simulation had run its course, and the room was now bathed in the soft light of early morning. Plankton's features relaxed into a peaceful expression, free from the worries that etched his face during waking hours. Karen felt a strange sense of pity for him, this tiny creature who had dedicated life to one all-consuming goal. She brought the coffee and toast over to the coffee table, placing them within arm's reach of Plankton. As she set the tray down, the smell of the freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, but Plankton remained fast asleep. His hand twitched slightly, as if he were reaching for something in his dream. Karen studied his face, the lines of stress and determination that usually etched his features had smoothed out in sleep. His dream had been so vivid, and the mention of Mr. Krabs' locker and his mother's portrait was too specific to be coincidental. It was clear that Plankton's subconscious was trying to communicate something important. As the room grew brighter, the sunrise simulation fading into the background, Karen knew she had to act quickly. She gently placed a hand on Plankton's shoulder. "Plankton," she whispered, "I need you to remember your dream. It's important." He grunted and shifted under the blanket, but didn't wake. Karen knew to be careful. If she startled him too much, he might forget details. She tried a different approach. "You were dreaming about the Krabby Patty recipe," she said softly. "Can you tell me more?" "It was... in the locker," he murmured, his voice distant and dreamy. "Behind the picture of his mother." Karen's digital eyes widened. "Mr. Krabs' locker?" she prodded gently. "Yes... the secret... so close," Plankton mumbled, his hand moving in a grasping motion as if he were reaching for something in his sleep. Karen leaned in closer, her digital heart racing with excitement. "What did you find in the locker, Plankton?" she whispered, her voice a soft hum in the stillness of the room. Plankton's hand clenched into a fist, and he mumbled something unintelligible. She waited, her anticipation growing. Finally, his words grew clear. "The recipe... it's... in... a... safe." Karen's circuits sparked. A safe behind Mr. Krabs' mother's portrait? This was more than a mere hunch—it was a concrete lead. She needed to ensure Plankton didn't forget this vital piece of information when he awoke. "The safe," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "What did the combination look like?" "Three... numbers," he murmured, his voice trailing off again. "Three numbers," Karen echoed, mind racing. "Can you remember them?" Plankton's fingers twitched again, as if typing on an invisible keyboard. "Two... six... seven," he murmured, voice fading away. Karen lit up, capturing the sequence. "Two, six, seven," she repeated, committing the numbers to her digital memory. "Plankton, stay with me," she urged softly. "Is there anything else you can tell about the safe?" But Plankton was already lost to the world of slumber, his hand dropping to his side. The finality of his silence told her that the moment had passed, and wouldn't be sharing any more secrets from his dream. With a sigh, she stood up and returned to the kitchen, her mind racing with possibilities. A safe behind a portrait was a classic hiding spot, but it was the kind of classic that Mr. Krabs would never see coming. Karen poured the coffee in a mug and placed it on the tray, the steam rising up and curling in the early morning light. The scent was strong just how Plankton liked it. She hoped the aroma would coax him back to consciousness without jolting him too much. As she approached the couch, she heard him mumble something about "the perfect bun" and "special sauce." It was clear that his dream was still lingering in the periphery of his waking mind. This was her chance. "Plankton," she said, her voice gentle. "What else did you see in the locker?" He stirred, his eye still closed. "The... bun... it's... so... soft..." Karen leaned in closer, her digital heart thumping with excitement. "The bun, Plankton? What about it?" "It's... it's... part of the secret," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "The fluffiness... it's crucial." Karen's processors raced with the implications. Could it be that the Krabby Patty's allure was in the bun, not just the patty itself? The ingredients she had always seen Plankton focus on were the meat and the secret sauce. This was a revelation. "Fluffiness," she repeated, her digital mind filing away the word. "Can you tell me more about the bun?" But Plankton had already drifted too far into the depths of his slumber to respond. His breathing grew even and steady, his features relaxed once more. Karen let him rest, but she couldn't shake the feeling that the answer was so close she could almost taste it. Plankton's chest rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern, snores growing quieter as he descended to deeper slumber. Plankton's dream had provided a glimmer of hope, a potential shortcut in the quest for the Krabby Patty formula.
Plankton lay on the makeshift bed of crumpled newspaper, his body contorted into an uncomfortable knot. "I can't get to sleep, Eugene." Krabs sighed. "Why not?" "To hard," Plankton complained. Krabs looked over. "Maybe you need something to relax," he suggested. Plankton nodded, hopeful. "Like what?" Krabs considered for a moment, then his eyes lit up. "How about a bed time story?" "A what?" Plankton's voice was filled with skepticism. "You know, something to lull you to sleep." Plankton's expression softened. "Alright, Krabs, hit me with your best shot." Eugene cleared his throat and began his tale. "Once upon a time, in the vast expanse of the sea, there was a tiny plankton named Planky..." Plankton's eye widened for a moment, but the gentle rhythm of Krabs' voice soon began to work its magic. The crab's words painted a picture of a serene under water world, where the currents were soft whispers and the bioluminescent creatures danced a silent ballet. Plankton's eye grew heavier with each sentence, his body slowly unfurling from its tense state. "Planky," Eugene continued, "was a curious little fellow who loved nothing more than to drift through the sea, discovering its many secrets." His voice took on a soothing quality, each word carefully measured to match the steady rise and fall of the ocean outside their abode. "One night," Krabs went on, "as the moon cast its silver glow through the water, Planky stumbled upon a hidden lagoon. It was a place where the jelly fish swam in lazy circles, their soft bodies pulsing to an ancient lullaby that only the deep-sea creatures knew." Plankton's eyelid grew heavier, the image of the tranquil lagoon filling his mind. "In the center of this secret place," Krabs whispered, "was a giant clam, its shell open just enough to reveal a soft, inviting cushion of algae. Planky couldn't resist the urge to rest his tiny body upon it." Plankton's breathing grew deeper. He could almost feel the gentle sway of the clam's soft inner lining beneath him, the coolness of the water surrounding him, and the hypnotic pull of the moon's glow. Krabs noticed the change in his friend's demeanor and continued the story with renewed enthusiasm. "As Planky lay on the clam's cushion, the jellyfish grew closer, their ethereal lights creating a dazzling display of color that danced in time with the whispers of the water. They sang to him, their melodies echoing through the quiet night." The room grew quieter, save for the sound of the waves outside and Krabs' steady voice. Plankton's eye closed fully, his breathing syncing with the rhythm of the story. The crab went on, "Their song was one of peace and tranquility, of a world where worries were as fleeting as the bubbles that floated to the surface. Planky felt his troubles melt away, replaced by the warm embrace of the sea." Then, amidst the serene imagery, the first faint sound of a snore escaped Plankton. It was a sound so small and delicate that it could have easily been mistaken. Krabs smirked to himself. It's working. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "As the jellyfish serenaded him, Planky felt his eyes grow heavier and heavier, until they could no longer stay open. The lagoon's secrets grew dimmer, the colors of the jellyfish fading into a soft, comforting darkness." The snores grew progressively, more regular. Krabs took a moment to appreciate his own cleverness before continuing the tale. "The sea creatures of the night, noticing Planky's peaceful slumber, decided to join him. They formed a living blanket of fish and algae, wrapping him in their gentle embrace, ensuring his sleep would be uninterrupted." Plankton's body grew slack, the tension in his muscles seeping away as he descended deeper into the realm of sleep. His snores grew more rhythmic. The light from the moon had been absorbed into his dreams, guiding him through a world of peace and contentment. Krabs watched his friend's sleeping form, noticing the way the shadows played across his tiny frame, Plankton's antennae twitching ever so slightly with every snore, mouth slightly open as he inhaled and then to let out the soft, rumbling sounds. The sight was peculiar, yet endearing in its own peculiar way. He had never seen Plankton so relaxed, so free. The crab felt a strange sense of accomplishment and allowed himself a brief moment of pride before remembering his own exhaustion. "Now, Sheldon," Eugene murmured, "Let your mind rest, and tomorrow we'll tackle the world anew."
"Hi, my boss Mr. Krabs told me I need to work on my people skills and to volunteer.." SpongeBob says in the surgery room before recognizing Plankton and Karen. Plankton lay on the operating table, a small tube delivering medicine that kept him asleep. Karen sat by him. "Plankton‽" "Plankton's had his wisdom teeth removed." She glanced at the sleeping Plankton with affection. Sponge Bob leaned closer. He poked Plankton gently. "Hey, Plankton; wake up, buddy!" No response. Plankton's breathing remained slow and even, the rhythm unchanged by Sponge Bob's nudges. Karen's robotic hand shot up to stop Sponge Bob's poking. "He's not going to wake up anytime soon, Sponge Bob. The anesthesia will wear off in a couple of hours," she explained in her usual monotone. Sponge Bob's bubbly demeanor deflated a bit. He had never seen Plankton so... peaceful. Usually the tiny villain was full of mischief and plotting his next Krabby Patty heist. But the sight of his arch-nemesis helpless and snoring? "Karen, do you think a little light chat would help him wake up?" "Sponge Bob, the purpose of anesthesia is to keep him unconscious during surgery and ensure a painless recovery. Your efforts are futile." Undeterred, Sponge Bob leaned in closer. "Come on, Plankton. Time to wakey-wakey!" He waved his hands in front of Plankton's face, creating a gentle breeze that tickled his antennae. Still, Plankton remained steadfast in his slumber, oblivious to the world around him. Karen sighed again, the closest she ever got to expressing exasperation. "As I said, Sponge Bob, he's under the effects of anesthesia. There's nothing you can do to wake him up." She went back to reading her magazine, the glow from her screen casting a soft blue light on her metallic features. Sponge Bob studied Plankton's sleeping features. His mouth was open just enough to reveal his top row of teeth, and Sponge Bob had to stifle a giggle when a small bubble of drool formed at the corner of his mouth. "You know," he mused aloud, "I never realized Plankton had such a... cute snoring sound." The statement hung in the air, and even the normally stoic Karen couldn't resist cracking a smile. "Cute is hardly the word I'd use," she murmured, but the warmth in her voice belied the affection she had for her partner. Sponge Bob's curiosity grew as he continued to gaze at the unconscious Plankton. He'd seen him in various states before—angry, plotting and occasionally defeated—but never so vulnerable. The sight was strange yet fascinating. He reached out and carefully wiped away the drool. Plankton's head lolled to the side, but he remained asleep. SpongeBob put his head back up on a pillow. Plankton's snores grew quieter as his head settled into the cushioned embrace. "Don't worry, Plankton," he whispered, patting the villain's arm gently. "I'll watch over you." Sponge Bob's curiosity grew stronger as he watched the drool form at the side of Plankton's mouth. He leaned in closer, studying the phenomenon. He'd never noticed Plankton drool before. "It's like a tiny river," he said to himself. What would happen if he tried to touch it? He tapped it lightly. It wobbled, bulging slightly before collapsing back into its original state. He poked the drool again. This time, it grew slightly larger before popping, leaving a tiny, wet splatter on the pillow. Plankton's snores grew louder for a moment, but didn't stir. Sponge Bob couldn't resist a grin spreading across his face. "Looks like he's enjoying his nap," he whispered to Karen who remained engrossed in her magazine. The drool was fascinating—like a living organism, pulsating with every one of Plankton's breaths. He poked it again, gently this time. The drool grew larger, stretching out like a bubble of gum. It was almost mesmerizing. "I wonder if I can make it pop," he thought, eyes gleaming with child-like excitement. Slowly, Sponge Bob poked the drool bubble once more. It grew to the size of a marble before it burst with a tiny splat, splattering on to the pillow. Plankton's snoring remained undisturbed. Sponge Bob could see the light from the ceiling reflecting off the droplet's surface. He waited, the anticipation building, eyes fixed on the wobbling mass. At the last second, he poked it. The bubble popped with a sound that echoed through the quiet room. Plankton's snore caught in his throat for a split second, then resumed with renewed vigor. The splatter was more substantial this time, leaving a wet spot on the pillow. The sudden noise made Karen look up from her magazine. "What on earth are you doing, Sponge Bob?" she asked, voice a mix of annoyance and amusement. "Just... science," Sponge Bob said, his grin unabated. "I'm studying Plankton's snoring pattern... and drool." Karen rolled her digital eyes. "Fine. Just don't wake him. And for the love of Krabby Patties, please don't make a mess." She returned her focus to her magazine, seemingly unfazed by the sight of her arch-enemy playing with drool. Sponge Bob nodded solemnly, his eyes lighting up with newfound purpose. He decided to be more strategic in his scientific endeavor. He would need precision and timing. The drool bubble grew again, this time larger and more robust. Sponge Bob waited, his heart beating faster with every pulse of Plankton's snore. He took a deep breath, held it, and at the peak of the snore's crescendo, poked the bubble with a controlled flick. It exploded with a sound like a miniature water balloon, splattering across Plankton's cheek. The pillow was now a Jackson Pollock canvas of drool. Plankton's snoring hitched but he didn't wake. "Oops," Sponge Bob whispered, giggling quietly. He reached for a near by tissue to clean up the mess, his eyes glancing nervously at Karen. She peeked over her magazine, the corners of her robotic mouth curving upward slightly. "If you're going to play, at least be tidy," she said, voice a blend of reprimand and amusement. Sponge Bob nodded, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Of course, Karen," he whispered back, dabbing at Plankton's cheek with the tissue. The drool was sticky and clung to the fabric but Sponge Bob managed to clean when Plankton's snoring hitched. This time, Plankton's eyes opened a crack, his single eyelid revealing a sliver of his iris before dropping shut again. "What's going on?" he mumbled sleepily. Sponge Bob froze, tissue in mid-air. "Oh nothing," he said quickly, trying to sound nonchalant. "Just admiring your snoring." Plankton's eyelid quivered but remained shut. "Mmph." His mouth moved around the word. "Don't worry, buddy," Sponge Bob said softly patting Plankton's arm. "You're just resting. Nothing to worry about." The half-awake Plankton mumbled something unintelligible, and Sponge Bob took it as a sign to back off. He retreated to his chair, watching as Karen put down her magazine and began to fuss over Plankton, checking his vitals and making sure he was comfortable. For once, he wasn't at odds with Plankton.
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS x (By NeuroFabulous) Rachel's gaze flicks to the x-rays now in her hand, her eyes widening slightly. "Everything looks... mostly good," she says, her voice measured. "But we've noticed something with your wisdom teeth." Plankton's antennae spike in alarm. "What is it?" he asks, his voice tight. Karen's hand squeezes his shoulder, her eyes on Rachel's face. Rachel's eyes scan the x-ray, her brow furrowed. "It appears your wisdom teeth are impacted, Mr. Plankton," she says, her voice soft. "They'll push against your other teeth as we feared." Karen's eyes dart to her husband's, watching the panic flicker across his face. "What does that mean?" she asks, her voice tight. Rachel swallows, her expression sympathetic. "It means, Mrs. Plankton, that your husband will need to see our oral surgeon to have them removed," she says gently. "They can't wait much longer. The surgeon is actually open right now, if... Plankton?" Rachel notices his sudden stillness. Plankton's antennae quivered, his gaze unfocused. "What's the matter?" Rachel asks, her voice filled with concern. Karen quickly explains the situation. "He's autistic," she murmurs. "He can get overwhelmed easily." Rachel nodded, her expression understanding. "Ah," she said, her tone gentle. "Well, let's go slowly. We know that the wisdom teeth are causing problems, and they need to come out. But we can work with you to make it as comfortable as possible. You both follow me to the surgery." They follow Rachel down a hallway, the walls a soothing blue, the floor a muted grey. Plankton's antennae twitch with each step, his eye darting from side to side. Karen squeezes his hand, her eyes never leaving his face. The surgery room loomed ahead, its door open just a crack, a glimpse of gleaming instruments and the smell of antiseptic wafting out. Rachel notices Plankton's anxiety and stops, turning to face them. "Let's go over what will happen during the surgery," Rachel says, her voice measured and calm. "First, let's go in the room and meet our surgeon." Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye flicking to Karen's hand still holding his. She nods, her smile encouraging. "We can do this," she whispers. They enter the surgery room, the coldness of the air making his antennae stand on end. The surgeon, a squid named Dr. McSquinty, greets them with a friendly smile. His tentacles wave in a non-threatening way. "Hi, I'm Dr. McSquinty," he says, his voice a soothing baritone. "We're going to make sure this is as easy and painless as possible for you. I'll take it from here, Rachel." Rachel nods, her eyes lingering on Plankton's anxious form before exiting the room. The surgeon's tentacles move in a gentle, calming wave. "Now, I know this can be a bit overwhelming, Mr. Plankton," he says, his eyes kind. "But I promise we'll explain everything before we do it." Plankton's antennae quiver, his gaze fixed on Dr. McSquinty. Karen squeezes his hand, her voice soft. "It's okay, Plankton," she murmurs. "He's autistic, and sensitive, Doc..." Dr. McSquinty nods, his tentacles waving gently. "I've had patients with special needs before," he says, his tone calm. "We'll take it slow, and I'll make sure to explain everything step by step." Both their eyes searched Plankton's face, his antennae still quivering. "Okay, Plankton," Dr. McSquinty began, his voice calm and measured. "We're going to talk about taking out your wisdom teeth." Plankton's antennae twitched, his gaze fixed on the surgeon's tentacles. Karen could see the fear in his eye. Dr. McSquinty continued, his tentacles moving in a slow, methodical pattern. "We'll use a local anesthetic to numb the area. You won't feel a thing, I promise." He grabs a syringe, which ends up being to much for Plankton. Plankton's antennae shot up, his body stiffening. Karen's hand tightens around his. "It's ok," she whispers. "It's just to help with the pain." But Plankton's gaze remained fixed on the syringe, his breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. Dr. McSquinty notices. "We need to, Plankton. Now, do you know why we need to have your wis..." Plankton's antennae quivered uncontrollably, his eye wide with fear. "Breathe with me, Plankton," Karen whispered, her grip steady. She watched as Dr. McSquinty approached. Yet Plankton's body started to shake, his antennae quivering wildly. The thought was too much, and he uncontrollably began to shut down again. "It's okay," Karen murmured, her voice a lifeline in the storm of sensory overload. "Let's take a step back, Doc." Dr. McSquinty nodded, his tentacles stilling. "Of course," he said, his voice gentle. "Let's talk it through, Karen. Tell me what Plankton needs fo..." But Plankton's antennae were already drooping, his body shutting down again. The fear had become too much. "Plankton," Karen's voice was calm and firm. "Look at me." She waited until his gaze met hers. "We need to do this, okay? For your mouth to feel better." But all that did was make him shake more violently, his breaths shallower. Dr. McSquinty's tentacles stayed still. "How about I show you first?" He gestured to a model of a mouth, complete with wisdom teeth. "This way, Plankton can see without it being a direct threat to him." Karen's eyes searched Plankton's, his antennae still twitching in distress. "Okay," she murmured, her voice tight. "Let's do that." Dr. McSquinty nodded, his tentacles moving to the model. "This is your mouth, Plankton," he began, his voice calm. "And these are your wisdom teeth. First, we'll make sure you're numb, okay?" He pointed. "We'll use a gel that tastes like bubblegum, and then we'll put in a tiny lit..." But Plankton's body convulsed, his eye starting to roll back into his head. "No, no, no," Karen whispered, her voice trembling. "Not again." Plankton's body stilled, his antennae drooping as his mind retreated. "It's okay," Karen whispered, her eyes never leaving his face. She turned to Dr. McSquinty, her voice steady despite her own fear. "We need to find another way?" The surgeon nodded, his tentacles still. "Let's talk about options," he said, his voice calm. "We can try sedation, or perhaps a different approach; we can even anesthetize him." Karen's gaze never left Plankton's shaky form. Dr. McSquinty's tentacles moved in a comforting wave. "Well, considering his sensitivity to pain and the potential for overstimulation, I'd suggest anesthesia. It'll keep him calm, and he won't be awake at all. It's safe." Karen's eyes searched Plankton's form, her grip tightening on his hand. "But he's never been under anesthesia before," she said, her voice tight. Dr. McSquinty nodded, his tentacles waving reassuringly. "It's completely safe," he said. "We'll monitor his vitals closely the entire time." Karen's gaze remained fixed on Plankton's form, his antennae drooping. "Okay," she whispered. "Plankton baby, can you listen to me?" Her voice was gentle, her tone measured. Plankton's eye slowly focused on her screen, his body still trembling. Her thumb traced circles on the back of his hand. "We're going to have to put you to sleep so you don't feel any pain. Can you do that for me?" Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, his gaze on Karen's screen. He nodded, his voice a faint whisper. "Okay." Karen felt the tension ease from her shoulders. "Good," she murmured, her voice soft. "We're going to take care of this together." Dr. McSquinty nodded, his tentacles moving in a slow, calming pattern. "I'll make sure you're both as comfortable as possible," he assured her, his gaze shifting to Plankton. Karen texts Sandy, "Plankton's getting his wisdom teeth out 🦷" Sandy replies, "Good luck! Chip's fine, don't worry 👶💨" The room was prepped, the smells and sounds minimized to prevent overstimulation. Plankton was laid on the chair, his antennae twitching nervously. Karen stood by his side, her hand on his. Dr. McSquinty approached, his tentacles moving with precision. He held up a mask, the sweet smell of gas wafting gently. "This is the anesthesia," he explained. "It'll help you sleep before we put the Iv in. The Iv will continuously administer anesthesia to keep you asleep." Plankton's antennae quivered, his gaze flicking to Karen's screen. She nodded, her smile reassuring. "It's okay, love," she whispered. "You'll be fine." Dr. McSquinty's tentacles moved with a gentle rhythm as he placed the mask on, and Plankton's eye grew heavy. Karen's hand stayed on his, her thumb rubbing small circles into his palm. The room grew fuzzy around Plankton as the anesthesia took hold. His antennae stopped quivering, his body relaxing into the chair. As the world faded to black, his last thought was of Karen's hand in his. A gentle squeeze, and he was adrift.
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS ii (By NeuroFabulous) "What causes this, Mom?" Chip asked, his voice quieter now, more contemplative. Karen sat beside Plankton, still stroking his arm. "Sometimes, sweetie, when people have brains that work differently, like Daddy does, they can get overwhelmed." She spoke slowly, choosing her words with care. "It's a type of 'neurodisability' he has." Chip's still confused. "But why didn't you tell me before?" his voice barely above a whisper. Karen's hand stilled on Plankton's arm as she took a moment to gather her thoughts. "Well, Chip, sometimes parents want to protect their kids from things they think might be too much for them to understand. But now that you're a little older, it's important you know about your dad's... condition." Chip looked at her with wide eyes, processing this new information. "Is it because of his inventions? Does he think too much?" Karen's gaze remained on Plankton, her thumb still making circles on his skin. "No, honey, it's not because of his inventions. It's just his disability. Some people's brains work differently, and that's okay." Chip's eyes darted back to his father, who was still as a statue. "But what does it feel like?" Karen took a deep breath. "It's hard to say, because everyone's experience is unique. For Daddy, it might be like being in a really quiet room where everything is far away and muffled." Chip nodded slowly, his gaze still on Plankton. "So, it's like he's not here, but he kind of is?" Karen nodded, her screen never leaving her son's. "In a way, yes. It's like his brain has gone until it's ready to come back and get unstuck." Chip's screen searched his mother's screen for any sign of fear or sadness, but she was calm, a rock in the storm of his confusion. "How long will he be like this?" Karen's gaze never left Plankton's still form. "It could be a few minutes or hours. We just have to wait it out." Chip nodded, his curiosity still burning. "Does he know we're here?" Karen offered a small, sad smile. "I think he can feel us, but he's not really with us right now." Chip nodded, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his camp t-shirt. "But how do we know when he's... not stuck anymore?" Karen looked up at him, her screen filled with a gentle wisdom. "You'll know, Chip. He'll blink, or twitch, or maybe even say something. It's like he's in a deep sleep, and we have to let him wake up on his own." Chip sat cross-legged on the floor next to the bed, his hands folded in his lap. He had so many questions, so much he wanted to share with his dad. "Does he remember stuff when he's like this?" he whispered. Karen's eyes remained on Plankton, her voice low and soothing. "It's complicated, Chip. Sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn't. But it's like his brain is playing backup right now." Chip nodded, his thoughts racing. "But how do we help him?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency. Karen turned to her son. "We just have to be patient, Chip. And keep the room calm." Chip nodded, his curiosity now muted by the gravity of the situation. He watched his mother closely, studying her calm demeanor, the way her hand continued to move in gentle strokes on Plankton's arm. He wanted to be like her and help. "What can I do to make him feel better?" he asked, his voice quieter than his racing thoughts. Karen's eyes flicked to his, a gentle smile playing on her screen. "You're already doing it, Chip. Just being here, keeping the room calm, is helping." But Chip's mind was still whirring with unanswered questions. "But what causes this?" he pressed. Karen sighed, her gaze still focused on Plankton. "It's a disorder, sweetie. It's a neurological condition that makes his brain process things a bit differently. Sometimes, when his senses get overwhelmed, his body does this to protect him." Chip's brows furrowed. "But why didn't he tell..." "Because," Karen interrupted, "it's hard for some people to explain things like this, even to those they love most. Your dad's been dealing with this and it's not always easy to talk about." Chip nodded, his curiosity still not fully satisfied. "How will he feel whenever he wakes up?" Karen took a deep breath. "It can vary, Chip. Sometimes he's groggy, like waking up from a deep sleep. Other times, he's just tired, but he'll be okay. He might need some space, some quiet, and maybe a little time alone." Chip nods. "Mom, ca--" Plankton's antenna twitches suddenly. Karen's puts her hand up to silence Chip. "Shh," she whispers. Slowly, Plankton's eye begins to focus, the vacant stare shifting as he blinks, his pupil slowly coming into focus, as if surfacing from a deep sleep. He looks up at Karen, not recalling her coming in here. "Wh...what's going on?" he stammers, his voice rough from disuse. Karen's hand tightens on his arm, her voice a whisper. "You had a shutdown, sweetie." He figured that. He remembers Chip bombarding him before going dizzy/lightheaded as Chip kept prodding him, his son's gaze unwavering. Plankton's antennae droop slightly, his body still sluggish from the shutdown.
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS iii (By NeuroFabulous) Plankton feels a wave of self-consciousness crash over him. He's always been different, and now his son is seeing him at his most vulnerable. He doesn't look at Chip, focusing instead on the ceiling above. Chip stares at him, his face a mix of confusion and concern. "Dad, are you o..." But Plankton snaps, cutting his son off with a harsh tone that slices through the tension in the room. "The show's over, Chip; you can leave now!" Chip's eyes widen in shock, his screen flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and hurt. He had never seen his father like this before. Karen intervenes gently. "Chip, your dad's just tired. Why don't you go play in your room for a bit?" Her voice was calm, but there was a firmness that Chip knew meant business. He nodded, feeling the weight of the situation settle on his small shoulders. As he turned to leave, his gaze caught the sadness in his father's eye, a look that seemed to apologize without words. The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence was deafening. Chip sat on his bed, his mind racing with thoughts about his father. He knew Plankton was different, but seeing him like that... it was like looking at a robot that suddenly turned off. It was scary, but also fascinating. He had so many questions, but his mother's words echoed in his mind: "Give him some space." He'd have to be extra careful around his dad from now on. Back in their own room, Karen sat beside Plankton, still stroking his arm. "I'm sorry, Plankton," she murmured. "I know it's hard for you." His eye searched hers, filled with a quiet desperation. "It's not your fault," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... sometimes it's too much." Karen's gaze softened, and she leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I know," she whispered, her thumb continuing its soothing motion on his arm. "We'll get through it together." Plankton's antennae twitched again, and he took a shaky breath. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice still hoarse from his self-imposed silence. "I know it's scary for you, for Chip." Karen's eyes remained on his, filled with love and understanding. "You have nothing to apologize for," she said firmly. "You're doing the best you can." Plankton managed a weak smile, his body slowly starting to uncoil from the tight knot it had formed during his shutdown. Karen's gentle touch was like a warm blanket, wrapping him in a cocoon of comfort. "Thank you, Karen," he whispered, his voice still shaky. "I'm just so tired." Karen nodded, her hand never leaving his arm. "You've had a long day," she said, her voice a soothing balm. "Why don't you rest a bit?" Plankton nodded, his energy depleted. He managed to get himself into a lying position, the bed creaking beneath him. Karen pulled the covers over him, tucking him in. Her voice was a lullaby in the quiet room. "Close your eye, Plankton. Take deep breaths. I'm here." Her hand remained on his arm, her thumb tracing the same comforting pattern. Plankton's breaths grew even, his body slowly relaxing into the mattress. The tightness in his chest eased with each exhale, and his antennae drooped slightly as he succumbed to his body's needs for rest. Karen watched over him, her screen never straying from his face. "Rest, love," she whispered, the words carrying a gentle lilt of reassurance. She knew the battle he faced every day, how hard he tried to fit into a world that didn't quite understand him. She felt a surge of admiration for his strength and resilience.
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS iv (By NeuroFabulous) Plankton's face was now slack with sleep. Karen moved silently, not wanting to disturb him. She knew how important this time was, how much he needed it. The house felt heavier with quiet, but Chip's door was open a crack, a sliver of light spilling into the hallway. Karen peeked in. He looked up, seeing her in the doorway. "Mom?" his voice was small, his screen searching hers. Karen walked over, sitting beside him on his bed. "Yes, Chip?" He looked up at her, his eyes filled with unshed tears. "Is Dad okay?" Karen took his hand, giving it a squeeze. "He will be, sweetie. Sometimes, people with disabilities have moments like this. It's part of who he is." Chip nodded, his throat tight. "But why's he..." Karen pulled him into a warm embrace. "It's okay to feel scared or confused. But remember, Dad's still in there. He loves you so much, and he's doing his best." Chip nodded, his throat tight with unshed tears. "Does he know when it happens?" Karen's gaze remained steady. "Sometimes he does, sweetie. It's like when you get tired and need a nap. His brain just needs to recharge." Chip thought about that for a moment, his thumb playing with a loose thread on his blanket. "Does he remember what happens?" Karen's hand stilled on his back. "It's like a dream, Chip. Sometimes he remembers snippets, sometimes it's all a blur." Chip sat up, his eyes bright with questions. "Does he see us when he's like that?" Karen shrugs. "He might feel us, but his brain isn't fully here." Chip's mind raced with questions. "Mom, how did Dad get this... this... brain thing?" his voice cracked. Karen took a deep breath, her hand still warm on his back. "Well, sweetie, it's something he was born with. It's called autism, and it's a part of him." Chip's eyes widened. "But why? Did he do something wrong?" Karen sighed, her grip tightening around him. "No, Chip, it's not like that. It's just how his brain was made. Some people have different brain wiring, and that's okay. But in his specific circumstance, he was born posthumously, after his mum passed away.." Chip's eyes grew wider still, his curiosity piqued. "But, what? How..." he whispered, his voice barely audible. Karen took a deep breath, preparing herself for the explanation she had never thought she'd have to give. "Your dad's mum, she had him after she... passed away," she said, her voice gentle. Chip's eyes grew as big as saucers. "What do you mean, 'after she passed away'?" he whispered, his voice filled with disbelief. Karen took a moment, swallowing hard. "Well, sweetie, you know how babies are usually born when their mommies are alive and well, right?" Chip nodded, his eyes fixed on her face. "Yeah, of course," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But how's that even physically possible?" Karen took a deep breath. "It's a rare procedure, Chip. When his mum was very sick, the doctors did everything they could to save her. But when she passed away, they realized his heart was still beating inside her." Chip's eyes were wide with horror and fascination. "But how did they get him out?" he asked, his voice trembling. Karen's eyes grew misty as she recounted the story, her voice soft and gentle. "They performed an emergency procedure called a post-mortem 'coffin birth'. It's very rare, Chip." Chip's eyes were like dinner plates, his mind trying to grasp the concept. "But how?" he breathed, his voice barely a whisper. Karen took a moment to collect her thoughts, the story weighing heavily on her. "The doctors had to be very quick and careful, Chip. They knew Plankton had a chance, so they did what they could to save him. It was a miracle he made it out alive," she said, her voice filled with wonder and a hint of sadness. "Yet, because of the way he was born, his brain developed differently. That's what caused his autism. His brain was deprived of oxygen for a short time, which can lead to such conditions." Chip's hand went to his chest, his heart racing with the realization. "But does that mean he's... not like other dads?" Karen wrapped her arms around her son, holding him close. "Chip, your dad is unique, just like you. And yes, his brain works differently, but that doesn't mean he loves you any less. He might just show it in his own way." Chip sniffled, trying to make sense of everything. "But why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asked. Karen stroked his back, her heart heavy. "Because, sweetie, it's a hard thing to explain. And we didn't want to scare you or make you feel different about him. We wanted you to understand his quirks as part of who he is, not because of some label. And he's a good dad in his own way, even if he doesn't show it like other dads. Yet he also has his challenges, like with his sensory issues." Chip nodded slowly, his mind racing with the new information. He had noticed how his dad sometimes flinched at loud noises or avoided crowded places.
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS v (By NeuroFabulous) "You know how sometimes, Dad gets overwhelmed with too much going on around him?" Karen began, her voice gentle. "It's because his brain processes things differently. He's sensitive to sounds, lights, even touch. That's why he can seem a bit... reserved, other than the fact that he's just shy about it." Chip nodded, his mind still racing with questions. "But why's he shy about it?" Karen took a deep breath, wiping a stray tear from her eye. "Because, Chip, your dad's always been self-conscious. He's aware of how he's different, and sometimes, he just needs his space." Chip nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving his mother's face. "Does he ever get mad about it?" Karen's gaze was steady, her voice gentle. "Sometimes, Chip. But it's not at you. It's his way of dealing with the overstimulation." Chip nodded, his curiosity morphing into understanding. "So, his brain needs a time-out?" Karen nodded, her voice soft. "In a way, yes. It's his body's way of telling him to slow down and take a break. Sometimes, when things get too much for him, he just needs to be alone, without any noise or distraction." Chip looked at his mother, his eyes brimming with emotion. "But what about when he has these... episodes? Will he always be like this?" Karen squeezed his hand, her gaze never leaving his. "Sweetie, we can't predict the future, but we can help him. He's gotten better at managing his overstimulation over the years, but sometimes it still happens. It's part of who he is." Chip nodded, his mind still racing. He looked towards the door, his curiosity about his father's condition growing. He wanted to check on him, to make sure he was okay. With Karen by his side, they tiptoed into the dimly lit room. Plankton was now fast asleep, his chest rising and falling evenly beneath the covers. The room was silent except for the steady rhythm of his breathing. Chip felt a pang of sympathy for his father, his mind still racing with questions about the condition he had just learned of. He studied Plankton's face, now peaceful in slumber. His antennae lay flat against his pillow, no longer twitching with the stress of the shutdown. Karen put a finger to her lips, reminding Chip to be quiet as they approached the bed. Plankton's chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his face finally relaxed, free from the tension that had held him captive earlier. The room was dim, the only light coming from the hallway. Karen watched her son studying his father, her heart swelling with pride. Chip was growing up so fast, and now he was facing something so complex. She knew he was strong enough to handle it, though. They stood there in silent vigil for a moment, until Chip finally whispered, "Can I talk to him?" Karen nodded, her screen never leaving Plankton's peaceful face. "Just keep your voice low," she advised. Chip leaned over, his whisper a gentle breeze. "Dad, I'm here," he murmured. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but he remained asleep. Karen's hand rested on Chip's shoulder, guiding him to sit in a chair beside the bed. Chip's eyes remained fixed on his father, his mind racing with questions and fears. Yet, there was also a newfound respect for Plankton's silent battles. He watched his chest rise and fall, the steady beat of his heart a testament to his resilience. "What do we do now?" Chip asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen's eyes never left Plankton's sleeping form. "We give him time," she said, her voice soothing. "And when he wakes from his nap, we'll be here."
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS vi (By NeuroFabulous) They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, the only sound being Plankton's even breathing. Then Chip spoke up, his voice tentative. "Mom, can you tell me more about autism?" Karen nodded, her hand still resting on Plankton's arm. "Autism is a spectrum, Chip. It means that no two people experience it the same way. Some have a harder time with it than others. For your dad, it's mostly about his senses. They can get overwhelmed easily." Chip leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued. "What do you mean, 'overwhelmed'?" Karen took a moment to gather her thoughts. "It's like his brain can't filter out the extra information." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving his dad's face. He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering above Plankton's antennae. Karen's hand shot out, her grip on Chip's wrist firm but not painful. "Remember, sweetie, his senses are heightened." Chip's hand froze, his fingers curling slightly. "Does that mean he doesn't like to be touched?" he asked, his voice quivering. Karen's grip loosened, her eyes meeting Chip's. "It's more that certain touches can be too much for his brain to handle." Chip nodded, his gaze still on Plankton's antennae. "But what if I just..." his voice trailed off, his hand hovering. Karen's eyes searched his, understanding dawning. "If you want to touch him, Chip, do it gently. Use the back of your hand, like this." She demonstrated, her hand gliding softly over his antennae. "It's like you're saying 'hello' without disturbing him." Chip nodded, his hand trembling slightly. He mimicked her movements, his touch as light as a feather. Plankton's antennae quivered under his touch, but he remained asleep. Karen gave him a small smile of encouragement. "Mom, does he like it when I touch him like this?" Chip asked, his voice filled with hope. Karen watched her son, his hand hovering over Plankton's antennas with such care. "It depends," she said, her voice soft. "Sometimes, it can be soothing for him. Other times, it can be too much." Chip nodded, his eyes still on his father. "But how will I know?" he whispered, his voice filled with concern. Karen's eyes searched his, understanding his desire to connect. "You'll have to watch him, Chip. Look for signs. If he tenses up or pulls away, that's his way of saying 'stop'. And if he seems calmer or his breathing slows, that's his way of saying 'ok'. It's about reading his body language." Chip nodded, his hand still hovering over Plankton's antennas. He took a deep breath, and then, as gently as he could, he let the back of his hand graze the antennae. Plankton's body remained still, yet his antennae twitched slightly. Karen gave a nod of approval. "Remember, Chip, everyone's touch is different to him," she said. "Some days, he might not even want to be touched." Chip nodded solemnly, his hand hovering over his father's antennae. "Does he like it when I hug him?" he whispered. Karen's smile grew. "His favorite person to be touched by is me. But even with me, he has his limits. Sometimes, he just needs his space." Chip nodded, his gaze never leaving Plankton's face. "Does he like it when other people touch him?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen's eyes searched his, knowing this was a delicate topic. "Well, Chip, it's different with everyone. Some days, your dad can tolerate more than others. But generally, it's people he's comfortable with, like me." "But what about me?" he asked, his voice quivering slightly. Karen's smile was sad. "It's going to take some time, Chip. You'll have to learn his signals, his boundaries.." Plankton's body began to stir, his antennae twitching more frequently as he shifted in his sleep. Chip watched, his hand hovering over his dad's head, unsure if he should risk disturbing him. Karen's eyes followed the movement, her gaze filled with a quiet sadness. "It's okay, Chip," she whispered. "He's just waking up." Plankton's antennae twitched again, more quickly now. His eye flickered open, his pupil expanding as he adjusted to the dim light. He looked around, his gaze landing on Karen and Chip. "Hey, buddy," Karen whispered, her voice a balm to his frayed nerves. Plankton's eye focused on Chip, who was staring at him with a mix of fear and fascination. He knew that look, had seen it in others' eyes before. But coming from his son, it hit him harder than he'd ever expected. He took a deep breath, his body still feeling like he'd run a marathon. "Hi," he said, his voice hoarse from disuse. Chip's hand jerked back, his heart racing. "Dad," he whispered, his voice shaking. Plankton's antennae twitched again, this time in acknowledgment. "Hi, Chip," he rasped, his voice sounding neutral. Chip stared, his thoughts racing. He had so many questions, so much he wanted to say, but the words got caught in his throat. Plankton looked at his son, his antennae drooping. He could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken worries and fears. He took another deep breath, his body still feeling the toll. "How are you feeling, Plankton?" Karen's voice was a gentle caress in the silence. He swallowed, his throat dry from his ordeal. "Tired," he murmured, his antennae twitching slightly. "But better." Karen's hand found his again, her touch a lifeline. "Do you remember what happened?" she asked gently. Plankton's antennae drooped. "I... I think so," he murmured, his voice still shaky. "I had a... a shutdown, with Chip." Chip's eyes widened, his heart racing. He'd never heard his dad talk about his episodes before. It was like a door had been opened to a part of Plankton's life that had always remained closed to him. "It's okay, Dad," he whispered, his hand reaching out tentatively. "You can tell me." His hand barely grazed Plankton's arm... Plankton flinched at the touch, his antennae twitching erratically. Chip's heart skipped a beat, his hand retreating as if burned. Karen offered a gentle smile, her gaze meeting Plankton's. "It's okay, honey," she said softly. "Chip's just trying to understand." Plankton took a deep breath, his antennae slowly calming. "I know," he murmured. "I, I'm s-sorry." Karen's hand tightened on his, her eyes never leaving his face. "Don't apologize, love," she whispered. "You didn't do anything wrong." Plankton nodded, his throat tight with emotion. He knew she was right, but the fear of losing his respect was palpable. His antennae twitched again, the overstimulation of the day still lingering.
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS vii (By NeuroFabulous) "Chip," he began, his voice cracking. "I have something important to tell you." Chip leaned forward, his heart racing. "What is it, Dad?" Plankton's antennae twitched again, his eyes meeting his son's with a meld of love and apprehension. "I'm autistic," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Chip thought back to what his mom had told him about his father's unique way of being born, and how it had affected his brain. He remembered the awe in his mother's voice as she recounted the story of Plankton's birth, the way she'd spoken with a mix of wonder and sorrow. It was a lot to take in, but it made him feel closer to his father somehow. "Dad?" Chip's voice was tentative, his hand still hovering over his father's arm. "What's a... coffin birth?" Plankton's antennae stilled, his eye flicking to Karen's. She gave a tiny nod, understanding the need for honesty. "It's a rare event, Chip," Plankton began, his voice steadier now. "It's when a baby is born after their mother has... passed away." Chip's eyes searched his father's, trying to make sense of the words. "But how?" Plankton took a deep breath, his antennae flattening slightly. "The doctors had to be... quick," he said, his voice filled with awe. "They knew I was still alive, and they did everything they could to get me out." Chip's eyes grew even wider, his imagination running wild. "But Dad, how does that even work?" he whispered, his voice filled with wonder and horror. Plankton took a deep breath, his antennae twitching slightly. "It's... it's a difficult thing to explain, Chip," he said, his voice strained. "But basically, when a mom's body isn't alive anymore, but the baby's heart is still beating, the doctors do an emergency procedure to get the baby out." Chip's eyes were like saucers, his mind racing. "But how is that possible?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. Plankton sighed, his antennas drooping slightly. "The doctors try to induce labor in mum's body after she... after she's gone," he said, his voice strained with the difficulty of the memory. "It was a delicate process, and not always successful. In my birth, there was a moment where my brain didn't get enough oxygen," he murmured. "When I was still inside mum." Chip's unsure how to react. "And how'd it give you autism?" Plankton's antennae twitched again, his gaze dropping to the bed. "Well, it's something that can happen when a baby's brain doesn't get enough oxygen during birth, Chip," he said, his voice quiet. "It's like a... hypoxic-ischemic event. It can lead to... complications. For me, it was autism." Chip nodded, his hand still hovering over his father's arm. "But how did your mum... die?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Plankton's antennae drooped further, his gaze going distant. "It was an accident," he murmured. "Her heart... it just stopped. Bled out, the doctors said." Chip's hand hovered over his dad's arm, his mind racing with the implications. "But why?" Plankton took a moment, his antennae flicking slightly. "It's complicated, Chip. My mum... she had a rarity. Her heart was weak, and it couldn't handle the stress. It went undiagnosed back then." Chip's hand hovered still, his heart breaking for his dad. "But Dad, why didn't anyone know?" Plankton's antennae twitched, his gaze going to the floor. "They did, eventually," he murmured. "But by then, it was too late. My mum was gone." Chip's eyes filled with sympathy, his hand resting on the bed. "I'm sorry, Dad," he whispered. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, his gaze meeting his son's. "It's okay, Chip. It's not something you could've known. I obviously didn't know her to well, but thank you." Karen was glad to see them connecting. "So Chip, you can ask us questions if you want." Chip looked from Karen to Plankton, his curiosity piqued. "Dad, is there anything you really hate that makes you have these... shutdowns?" Plankton's antennae twitched nervously, his eye darting between them. "Well, Chip, it's not always just one thing. It's mostly like... a buildup. Loud noises, too many people, bright lights," he listed off. "They can all make it harder for me to focus, to filter out the extra stuff my brain's taking in." Chip nodded, his eyes never leaving his dad's face. "What about touch?" he asked, his voice tentative. "Does it bother you?" Plankton's antennae twitched, his gaze flicking to Karen's comforting hand. "It depends," he said slowly. "Some days, I crave it. Other days, it's too much." Chip nodded, his mind racing. "What about hugs?" he asked, his voice hopeful. "Does it help you feel better?" Plankton's antennae quivered, his eye searching his son's face. "Sometimes," he said, his voice tight. "But not always." Chip nodded, his hand still hovering. "Can I... ca--" Plankton's antennae shot up, his eye widening. "No!" The suddenness of his reaction made Chip's hand jerk back, his eyes wide with shock. "I'm sorry, buddy," Plankton said, his voice softening as he saw the fear in his son's eyes. "It's just that, sometimes, hugs are too much. I need... space, like I told you. But only if I know they're coming, and only from people I trust. I'm still recovering right now." Chip's hand hovered in the air, unsure of what to do. "Can I... I don't know, maybe just pat you on the shoulder?" he asked, his voice hopeful. But Plankton shook his head. "No, Chip," he murmured. "I do not want my shoulders to be patted. That's too much." Chip nodded, his gaze on Plankton's. "How about a high five?" he asked, his hand still hovering. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, his eye narrowing as he considered his son's question. "Maybe," he murmured. "But only if you're gentle." Chip nodded eagerly, his hand slowly descending towards his dad's hand. He hovered for a moment, his heart racing. Then, with all the gentleness he could muster, he tapped his father's hand with his fingertips. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but his eye remained focused on Chip's. "Good job," he murmured, his voice a quiet praise. "That was... perfect."
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS viii (By NeuroFabulous) Karen's gaze searched both of their faces, seeing the tentative connection forming. "Why don't we let Daddy rest now?" she suggested softly, her eyes on Chip. "It's getting to be bedtime. You head to bed, Chip." she said gently. Chip nodded, his hand still hovering over Plankton's. He knew his father needed his space, especially after such an ordeal. "Goodnight, Dad," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of fear and love. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, his eye still focused on Chip. "Goodnight, buddy," he murmured, his voice exhausted. "I-I-I-I… lo-ove y-you." The words hung in the air, a declaration of his feelings despite his condition. Chip felt his heart swell with a mix of emotion, his hand falling to his side. "I love you too, Dad," he whispered back, his voice trembling slightly. The next morning, Karen hears a ding vibrate on her phone, waking her. She sits up and looks over at Plankton, who's still sleeping. She smiles softly at the sight of her snoring husband, his antennae twitching slightly with each breath. Gently, she slides out of bed, careful not to disturb his rest. She grabs her phone, checking the text. Her heart skips a beat at the sight of the message: "Plankton: Dental Appointment to discuss his latest x-ray. We open in 1 hour." It was from Plankton's dental office. Karen sighed, setting her phone on the nightstand. "Plankton, love," she whispered, carefully shaking his shoulder. "Wake up, we have a dental appointment." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, his eye opening. He took a moment to process the information, his brain slowly coming online. "Dentist?" he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. Karen nodded, her voice steady. "Yes, honey. We need to talk to the dentist about your latest x-ray." Plankton's antennae twitched. Karen knew that dental appointments were a particularly tough challenge for Plankton due to his sensory sensitivities. With a sigh, Plankton nodded, his antennae drooping. Karen could feel the tension in the room, so she took Plankton's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'll call Sandy" she said, her voice calm. "She'll look after Chip." Plankton nodded, his antennas still twitching nervously. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely audible. Karen quickly dials Sandy's phone number. The phone rings, a distant melody in the quiet room. Plankton's antennae twitched with every ring, his nervousness palpable. "Sandy, it's Karen," Karen's voice was a comforting balm over the line. "Could you possibly watch Chip today? We've got a dental appointment for Plankton, and it's... sudden, I know." Sandy's voice came through the speaker, warm and understanding. "Of course, Karen. Right now? I'll be heading on over!" Karen breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much, Sandy," she whispered, then hanging up. She went to Chip's room. The light from the hallway spilled into his room, casting long shadows across the floor. Chip stirred in his bed, his eyes blinking open sleepily. "Huh?" he mumbled. Karen's smile was gentle as she leaned over him. "Hey, buddy," she whispered. "Sandy's here to watch you while I take Daddy to a dentist appointment." Chip's eyes widened, his mind still foggy with sleep. "Dentist?" he repeated, sitting up. "Don't worry, Chip," Karen assured him, her voice soft. "You can stay here with Sandy. She'll take good care of you." The sound of the doorbell rang through the house, a sharp, piercing noise that made Plankton's antennae twitch. Karen's eyes darted to his face, but his expression remained stoic. She knew his hearing was sensitive, but she didn't have time to fuss over it now. "It's just Sandy," she assured Plankton with a smile, patting his hand before heading to the door. "It'll be okay, honey." The door opened, and Sandy's cheerful face appeared. "Howdy, Karen!" she chirped, her eyes scanning the room. "Hi, Sandy! I don't know how long we'll be gone but I can keep you updated. It's to review an x-ray from Plankton's last x-ray they said they'd keep an eye on, and they notified us to come in today." Sandy nodded, her smile warm and reassuring. "Don't worry, I've got this. I'll keep Chip busy and entertained," she promised. "But he can also sleep in.." Karen's eyes searched Plankton's, his antennae twitching slightly. "It's okay, love," she murmured, squeezing his hand. "We'll be going now." Plankton nodded, his antennae drooping. Karen knew he was scared, but she also knew he'd get through it. "Come on," she whispered, her voice soothing. "Let's go to the car."
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS ix (By NeuroFabulous) The drive to the dentist was silent, the tension in the air thick. Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye on the passing scenery outside the window. "You okay?" Karen asked, her voice soft. She reached over, her hand hovering. Plankton's antennae quivered. "Just... I'd prefer quiet, alone... and no touching," he murmured, his voice tight. "Please, for now." Karen nodded, her hand retreating to the steering wheel. "Okay, Plankton," she said, her voice gentle. "I'll give you space.." The car was a cocoon of quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound to break the silence. Plankton sat in the passenger seat, his body tense, his antennae twitching slightly as he took deep, shaky breaths. Karen knew her husband was trying to prepare himself for the possible onslaught of the dentist's office. When they arrived, Karen parked the car and turned to him. "Ready?" she asked, her voice gentle. Plankton's antennae twitched, his gaze darting to the bright building ahead. "As ready as I'll ever be," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen nodded, her expression understanding. "Let's go, love," she whispered, reaching for his hand. But Plankton's body tensed, his antennae shooting up. "No touching right now," he murmured, his voice tight. They approached the dental office with slow, measured steps. The bright lights and the smell of antiseptic made Plankton's antennas quiver, but he pushed through, his gaze focused on his wife's calming presence. Inside, the receptionist's cheery greeting was almost too much for Plankton, his antennae twitching erratically. The hum of the office was a cacophony to his sensitive ears, but he took deep breaths, his gaze never leaving the floor. Karen's voice is low and soothing. "It's okay, honey," she murmured. "We're just here for a quick check-up." Plankton nods, his antennae still quivering. They take their seats in the waiting room, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Each tick of the clock echoes in the silence, a stark contrast to his racing thoughts. He focuses on his breathing, in and out, trying to calm his nerves. Karen notices the way his antennae twitch in agitation, her hand hovering close to his. But he shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the floor. The wait seems eternal, but finally, the hygienist calls Plankton's name. He stands, his antennae quivering slightly. Karen follows him into the room, her eyes scanning the environment for potential triggers. The hygienist, noticing Plankton's discomfort, speaks in a soft, even tone. "Hi, Mr. Plankton," she says, her voice calm. "I'm Rachel. We're just here to check on the teeth we saw last time. So we're gonna take another x-ray and compare them, okay?" Plankton nods, his antennae still quivering. Rachel's gentle touch as she leads him to the chair is almost too much for him. Karen can see the effort it takes for him to stay still, his body tense as a bowstring. The sound of the x-ray machine whirring to life makes Plankton's antennas twitch. "It's okay," Karen whispers, her hand on his shoulder. "It'll be quick, just hold still." Plankton nods, his antennae still quivering. Rachel places the film in his mouth, the cold metal sending shivers down his spine. He closes his eye, his breaths coming in short bursts. Karen's hand rests gently on his shoulder, her thumb rubbing circles. She whispers, "We've done this before," her voice like a balm to his frayed nerves. Plankton nods, his antennae twitching slightly. Rachel, the hygienist, notices his discomfort and dims the lights slightly. The sudden change makes his antennae still, his breathing evening out. "Alright, Mr. Plankton," Rachel says, her voice calm. "This won't hurt a bit. Just keep still and we'll be done in no time." Plankton nods, his antennae quivering slightly as Rachel steps away to take the x-ray. The room goes dark, the machine's buzz piercing the silence. Plankton's breath hitches, his eye squeezed shut. When Rachel returns, she's careful to avoid sudden movements. "Alright, Mr. Plankton, we're all done," she says, her voice soothing. Plankton's antennae still as he opens his mouth, allowing Rachel to remove the film. He swallows hard, his eye never leaving Karen's.
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS xi (By NeuroFabulous) Karen watched, her hand tightly gripping his, her breath shallow, as the surgeon worked with a precision that could only come from years of practice. Plankton remained still under the anesthesia, his antennae completely at ease. Rachel, the hygienist, hovered nearby, her eyes always on Plankton, ready to assist if needed. The surgery felt like eternity, but it was over sooner than she had feared. Plankton's antennae remained still, his breathing deep and even. Dr. McSquinty finished the last stitch, his tentacles moving with a sureness that was almost hypnotic. "We're all done," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. Dr. McSquinty's tentacles moved quickly and deftly, his focus on the task at hand. Karen watched as the surgeon's tentacles gently placed the gauze into Plankton's mouth. The room was silent except for the steady beep of the heart rate monitor and the slight snores from Plankton's relaxed form. Rachel, the hygienist, checked the gauze's placement, her eyes meeting Karen's. She nodded, her expression serene. Karen takes a picture and sends it to Sandy. "He's doing well," Rachel whispered, her eyes on the monitor. "His vitals are all normal." Karen nods, her throat tight. "Thank you," she murmurs. Plankton's antennae lay still, his chest rising and falling evenly. The anesthesia had worked its magic, his mind now free from the storm of sensory input that had once threatened to consume him. Karen watched as Dr. McSquinty removes the Iv, but Plankton was oblivious, his sleep deep and peaceful. The anesthesia had done its job, and Rachel, the hygienist, remained there to wake him. "Plankton, Plankton," Rachel's voice was a lullaby, her hand light on his shoulder. His antennae twitched slightly, his eye flickering open. "You're all done, sweetheart," she murmured. Plankton blinked, his gaze unfocused. The room was dim, his mouth feeling peculiar. "Whath's happen'd?" he mumbled, his voice slurred. Karen's screen swam into view, her smile a beacon in the fog of confusion. "You had your wisdom teeth out," she said gently, her hand still in his. "You're okay, Plankton." Her voice was a balm to his fuzzy mind. His antennae twitched slightly, trying to process the information. Plankton's gaze flickered around the room, the shapes and sounds familiar yet foreign. He felt groggy, his body weighted down by the anesthesia. Rachel smiles. "You'll be tired and a little numb for today Mr. Plankton, but you can nap once Karen takes you home!" Karen's eyes searched his, their depths filled with love and concern. "How do you feel?" she asked, her voice low and gentle. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, his gaze unfocused. "Tiwed," he murmured, his voice slurred by the aftereffects of the anesthesia. "But... it's done?" Karen nodded, her smile gentle. "Yes, it's done," she said, her voice a soothing lilt. "You're so brave." Plankton's antennae quivered slightly as he tried to sit up, his body protesting the sudden movement. Karen's hand was a steady anchor, helping to ground him in reality. The world spun for a moment, but soon the fog began to clear. "Easy," she murmured, her voice a lifeline in the haze. "Take your time, Plankton." Her eyes searched his, looking for signs of distress. His antennae drooped slightly, his gaze drifting to the ceiling above. The lights were dimmer now, the sounds of the office muffled. With Rachel's help, they managed to get Plankton to his feet, his legs wobbly. Karen wrapped an arm around his waist, supporting him as they made their way out. "We'll take it slow," she murmured, her voice gentle. His antennas twitched in sleepy agreement, his eye half-lidded. The world felt thick and slow, each step an effort. The pain in his mouth was distant, muffled by the fog of anesthesia. Plankton leaned into Karen, his antennae drooping with grogginess. The gentle pressure of her arm around his waist was the only thing keeping him upright. They moved through the office, his sluggish steps echoing in the silence. Rachel held the door open for them, her smile warm. "Take care of him, he'll be sleepy," she said, her voice soft. Karen nodded, her gaze never leaving Plankton's face. The cool air outside was a sharp contrast to the sterile environment of the dental office. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly as he took in the world around him, his senses still dulled by the lingering anesthesia. Karen's arm remained steadfast around his waist, guiding him through the parking lot. The sound of gravel crunching underfoot was oddly soothing, his mind still fuzzy from the remaining effects of the surgery. The car was a familiar sanctuary, and Plankton collapsed into the passenger seat with a sigh, his antennae drooping. Karen buckled him in with gentle care, her eyes searching his for any signs of pain or discomfort. "Alright, love," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm. "We're going to get you home, and you can sleep it off." Her hand rested on his shoulder, her eyes on his sleepy gaze. But Plankton's eye kept drooping, his antennae quivering with the effort to stay conscious. "Karen," he slurred, his voice barely audible. "I'm... I'm tiwed." "I know, sweetie," she said, her voice soothing. "You just had surgery. You need to rest. Now let's get home!" But Plankton's body had other ideas. His eyelid fluttered closed, his antennae barely twitching. Karen chuckled softly, her heart swelling with affection. "You can sleep in the car," she assured him. "But try to stay awake for a little while longer." Plankton's antennae shot up with a valiant effort to comply, his eye opening wide for a moment. But the warmth of the car and the gentle hum of the engine were too much for him to resist. Within seconds, his head was lolling to the side, his antennae drooping in defeat. "Plankton," Karen whispered, her voice a gentle prod. His antennae twitched, his eye fluttering open. "Stay with me, okay?" Her smile was tired but filled with love. He nodded, his antennae drooping again. "M'trying," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. Karen chuckled softly, starting the car. The engine's hum was lulling, the vibrations soothing to his overwhelmed senses. As the car pulled out of the parking lot, Plankton's antennae twitched, trying to keep alert. But the warmth of the car and the gentle sway of the seat were too much. His eye closed again, his head lolling back against the headrest. Karen's voice was a steady companion, her words a gentle reminder of reality. "Stay with me, Plankton," she said, her tone filled with love. Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye sliding open with difficulty. "M'trying," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. The car's gentle rocking lulled him back into slumber, his antennae drooping against the headrest. Karen's voice was a soft melody, her words a gentle nudge to stay conscious. "Wake up, Plankton," she whispered. "We're going home, and you can sleep there." With each word, his antennae wobbled in protest, his eye fighting to stay open. "Mm," he mumbled, his voice a sleepy whisper. "Home." He was so tired, his body begging for rest. Karen's voice was a gentle reminder of the world outside his sleep-filled haze. "We're almost there, Plankton," she soothed, her eyes never leaving the road. "Just stay with me a little longer." But the siren call of sleep was too strong. His antennae twitched one last time before going still, his breathing evening out as he gave in to the warm embrace of unconsciousness. Karen watched him with a mix of concern and affection, his peaceful expression a stark contrast to the fear from before. "Looks like you've had enough," she whispered to herself, a hint of a smile playing on her screen. She drove with care, his head leaning against the window, the soft snores echoing in the quiet car. The scenery outside the window was a blur, the world moving too fast for his sleep-laden brain to process. Each bump in the road jolted him slightly, his antennae twitching in protest. "Wake up, Plankton," Karen said, keeping her voice low and calm. He stirred, his antennae perking up slightly. "We're almost there." But the lure of sleep was powerful, pulling him back into its embrace. His antennae drooped, his breaths growing even deeper. "Mmph," he mumbled, his voice muffled by the gauze still in his mouth. "Just a few more minutes, Plankton," Karen coaxed, her voice soft. The car's gentle motion was hypnotic, each turn and bump in the road a siren's song to his weary mind. "You can sleep when we get home." Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye fluttering open. He nodded slightly, his head lolling to the side. "M'trying," he murmured, his voice barely audible. The anesthesia still had a firm grip on his consciousness, his body craving the oblivion of sleep. Karen's hand remained steady on his shoulder, her voice a gentle coaxing. "Look, Plankton," she said, her tone soft. "We're almost home. Stay with me." The world outside was a blur of colors and shapes, each passing tree and building just another obstacle in his battle against the dragging weight of sleep. Plankton's antennae quivered slightly, his eye trying to focus. "Mmhmm," he mumbled, his voice thick with grogginess. Karen's gentle voice was his tether to reality, her soothing words a lullaby guiding him through the hazy fog of anesthesia. "You're doing so well, Plankton," she murmured, her grip on his shoulder firm yet comforting. "Almost there, buddy." Plankton's antennae twitched in response, his eye opening briefly to meet hers. He nodded, the effort to stay awake etched on his face. The world outside the car was a blur of greens and blues, the sun casting a warm glow over everything. His body felt heavy, each breath a struggle against the weight of his eyelid. "Look, Plankton," Karen said, her voice a whisper in the quiet car. "We're home."
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS xii (By NeuroFabulous) Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye opening slightly to see the familiar sight of their front door. The house looked warm and welcoming, a haven from the overstimulation of the outside world. He nodded, his antennae drooping. "Home," he murmured, his voice still slurred. Karen helped him out of the car, his legs wobbly under the weight of his still-sluggish body. The fresh air was a shock to his sensitive system, his antennae quivering at the sudden change. "Come on," she urged gently, her arm around his waist. "Let's get you inside." Plankton leaned heavily on Karen as they made their way up the path to the house. The brightness of the sun was almost painful, his eye squinting against the light. "I'm shorry," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. "Soo tired..." Karen chuckled softly, her arm tightening around him. "It's okay, Plankton," she said, her voice a gentle breeze. "You can sleep as soon as we..." But her words were lost as his antennae drooped, his body giving in to the siren call of sleep. His eyelid fluttered closed, his head lolling forward. "Plankton," she whispered, her voice a gentle nudge. But his body was heavy, his antennae still. With a sigh, Karen picked him up, cradling him against her chest. His antennae twitched slightly at the sudden motion, his eye opening to slits. "Wha..." he mumbled, his voice barely audible. "You're okay, Plankton," she soothed, her voice a gentle whisper. "We're going inside." Her arms were strong, her movements slow and steady, carrying his weight with ease. The world outside faded away, replaced by the warmth and comfort of their home. Inside, Sandy and Chip played chess, the only other sounds the soft footsteps of Karen's feet and Plankton's muffled snores. Sandy looked up as Karen carried in the sleeping Plankton, his antennae drooping like wilted flowers. "How's he doing?" she asked, her voice low. Karen nodded. "The surgery went well," she murmured. "But he's still out of it." Chip looked up from his chess board, his eyes wide as his mom carried his dad. Sandy quickly set aside the chess pieces and rushed to help. Karen set him on the couch, his antennae brushing the fabric as he was laid down. "Just rest here for a moment," she murmured, her hand smoothing his antennae. Chip watched, his curiosity piqued by his dad's vulnerable state. "Is he okay?" he whispered, his eyes searching Karen's face for answers. "He's fine," she assured him, her voice soft. "He's just really tired from the surgery. The anesthesia makes it hard for his brain to stay awake." Chip nodded, watching as Karen tucked a blanket around Plankton's form, her movements gentle and careful. "Why does Dad snore?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. "It's just his body's way of getting the air it needs," Karen explained, her voice a soft mumble. The living room was bathed in dim light, the curtains drawn to keep the world at bay. Plankton's snores grew louder, his antennae twitching with each inhale. Sandy's filled with concern. "Do you want me to stay?" she asked, her voice hushed. "Help with Chip?" Karen's smile was filled with gratitude. "That would be amazing," she murmured. "I need to keep an eye on Plankton." She gestured to the sleeping form on the couch. Sandy nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. "Of course," she said. "I'll watch Chip." Her voice was a gentle whisper, not wanting to disturb the fragile peace that had descended upon the house. With Plankton safely on the couch, Karen turned to face Sandy. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice carrying the weight of the day's events. "I don't know what I'd do without you." Sandy waved a dismissive hand. "It's what friends are for," she said, her smile soft. "Now, go take care of Plankton. I've got this." Karen nodded, her eyes filled with gratitude. She knew she could trust Sandy with Chip, especially in a time like this. She bent over Plankton, her hand brushing his antennae gently. "Rest," she whispered, her voice a soothing caress. "You're safe." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, his sleep-laden eye sliding open. The room spun around him, the edges soft and fuzzy. "Karen?" he mumbled, his voice thick with slumber. Karen's face appeared above him, a soft smile playing on her lips. "You're okay, Plankton," she whispered, her hand stroking his antennae gently. "You're safe." The words washed over him like a gentle wave, the warmth of her voice seeping into his bones. His antennae quivered slightly, his eyelid flickering. The room spun, his body heavy and sluggish. "Home," he murmured, his voice a sleepy echo of his earlier sentiment. Karen's smile grew, her eyes soft with affection. "Yes, we're home," she said, her voice a lullaby. "You can rest now." Plankton let out a contented sigh, his antennas drooping with exhaustion. The gentle stroking of Karen's hand on his antennae was the last thing he felt before his mind slipped fully into the abyss of sleep. His snores grew deep and even, his body finally at peace.
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS xiii (By NeuroFabulous) Chip and Sandy hovered at the edge of the room, their eyes wide with curiosity. "What happens when you have your wisdom teeth out?" Chip asked, his voice a soft whisper. Sandy shrugged, her own interest piqued. "They take them out so they don't hurt you," she said, her voice thoughtful. "But I don't know what it's like." Karen's eyes remained on Plankton's face, her thumb tracing gentle circles on his palm. "It's not always easy," she murmured. "Especially for someone like him." Her gaze flickered to Chip, her expression serious. "Remember, buddy, everyone experiences things differently. We have to be patient and understand." Chip nodded, his gaze never leaving Plankton's sleeping form. He was fascinated by his dad's autism, the way it made him see the world so uniquely. He was eager to learn more, to be there for him in ways he never knew were needed. Sandy sat beside them, her eyes on the chessboard, lost in thought. "I've heard of autism before," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I didn't know it could affect Plankton." Karen nodded, her eyes never leaving her husband's face. "It's part of who he is," she murmured. "It's not always easy, but it's what makes him special." Her gaze softened as she looked at Chip. "And it's important we learn to support each other, especially when things are tough." Karen stands up, getting vanilla ice cream from the freezer. With a spoon in hand, she wakes Plankton up gently, her touch featherlight on his shoulder. "Hey," she whispers, her voice a gentle nudge. "You need to wake up for a moment." Plankton's antennae twitch, his sleepy eye opening to find Karen's smiling face. "Wha?" he mumbles, the gauze in his mouth making his words indistinct. "Ice cream," she whispers, holding up the bowl. His eyes widen slightly, the mention of the cold, soothing treat cutting through the haze of his anesthesia-induced sleep. "For the swelling," she reminds him gently, her voice a soft caress. "Let's get rid of the gauze first.." With trembling hands, Plankton reaches for the gauze in his mouth, his antennae quivering slightly. Karen's hand guides his, her touch a gentle reminder of her presence. He pulls it out with a grimace, his mouth feeling strange without the pressure. The formerly white gauze is stained pink. Karen takes it from him, her movements swift and efficient. "Here," she says, her voice a soft whisper. "Let's get you some ice cream." She brings the spoon to his mouth. Plankton's eye widens. He opens his mouth, his antennae drooping with exhaustion. He makes a contented noise, his antennae twitching slightly. "Mmm," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. Karen feeds him another spoonful when his antennae perk up slightly, his sleepy gaze locking on hers. "It's okay," she soothes, her voice a gentle whisper. "You can eat." "Mmph," he mumbles. The coldness of the ice cream is a shock to his sensitive mouth, but the sweetness soon overpowers the discomfort. His antennae twitch with each spoonful, his eye slowly focusing. "Manilla cweam," he murmurs, the words barely coherent. Karen smiles, her eyes shining with relief. He takes another bite, the creaminess of the ice cream coating his tongue. "Mmph," he sighs, his antennae drooping with contentment. Karen chuckles softly, her hand steady as she feeds him. Chip watches as Plankton's eyelid flutters. "He's really tired, huh?" he says, his voice small. Sandy nods, a knowing smile on her face. "Yeah, but the ice cream will help with the swelling," she assures him. Karen nods, her movements careful as she feeds Plankton another spoonful. "It's important to stay ahead of the pain," she whispers. "And I think he enjoys it too." Her eyes sparkle with mirth, the tension of the day briefly forgotten as they watch Plankton's sleepy indulgence. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye half-lidded as he savors the ice cream. The sweetness of the vanilla is a soothing contrast to the metallic tang of his mouth, the coldness a gentle reprieve from the surgery. Each spoonful is a battle against his need for sleep, his body demanding rest while his taste buds revel in the creamy delight. Karen's hands are gentle, her touch steady as she feeds him, her eyes always on his face, watching for any signs of pain or distress. Chip sits beside them, his eyes widening with every spoonful. "Dad's really out of it, isn't he?" he whispers to Sandy. Karen nods, her smile soft. "The anesthesia can do that," she says. "But the ice cream will help with the swelling." Plankton's antennae twitch as his eyes struggle to stay open, the weight of sleep crushing down on him. Each spoonful of ice cream is a tiny victory, a brief reprieve from the siren's call of his bed. He mumbles something incoherent, his antennae drooping. "What was that?" Karen asks, leaning closer to hear him better. "M'tired," he manages, his voice slurred. Chip giggles softly at his father's sleepy state, his own energy a stark contrast to the slumber that threatens to consume Plankton. "You can sleep soon," Karen soothes, her voice a gentle reminder. "But let's fi-" But Plankton's antennae droop, his eye slipping closed once more. His snores fill the quiet room, a comforting rhythm that speaks of his deep rest. Karen sighs, her hand pausing mid-air with the spoon of ice cream. "C'mon, Plank..." He stirs slightly, his antennae twitching. "Mmh?" he mumbles, his voice a sleepy whisper. Karen's smile is patient, her love for him shining through her eyes. "Just a little more," she coaxes, her voice gentle. "For the swelling." She helps him sit up straighter. The coldness of the ice cream is a jolt to his senses, his eye opening wider. He nods, his antennae perking up slightly. "Okay," he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep. Karen continues to feed him, her movements slow and deliberate. Each spoonful is a battle won, his eyelid fighting to stay open. "You're doing great," she whispers, her thumb brushing his hand. Sandy and Chip watch Plankton's struggle. Chip's eyes are wide, taking in every detail. Karen's hand is a steady presence. But Plankton's body fights back, each spoonful a challenge to stay awake. He takes a deep breath, his antennas fluttering as he tries to focus on the taste of the vanilla ice cream. "M'okay," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. But his eyelid droops, the weight of sleep too much to resist. Karen's eyes fill with determination. She'll get him through this. She feeds him another spoonful, her voice a gentle chant. "Keep going, Plankton. You can do it." His antennae quiver slightly as he tastes the ice cream, his eye blinking slowly. "M'tryin'," he whispers, the words almost lost. Karen's voice is a soft mantra, her words a gentle push to keep him conscious. "Just a little more," she coaxes, her hand steady as she brings the spoon to his lips. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye sliding closed again. "Mmph," he protests, his voice a sleepy mumble. The coldness of the ice cream is a jolt to his sluggish system, his body instinctively swallowing. Karen's voice is a gentle coax, her touch a comforting presence. "You can do it," she whispers, her eyes filled with love and determination. "Just a few more bites." But Plankton's body has other plans. His antennae twitch with each spoonful, his eyelid a battleground between staying awake and giving in to sleep. "Mmh," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. "Tired." Karen's eyes never leave his face, her smile filled with compassion. "I know, Plankton," she whispers. "But we need to finish this." She holds the spoon to his mouth, her eyes filled with understanding. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his eye opening with difficulty. "Mmh?" he mumbles, his voice a sleepy echo of his exhaustion. Karen's voice is a gentle reminder. "Just a little more, sweetie," she says, her tone filled with love and concern. She holds the spoon to his mouth again, her expression a silent plea for his cooperation. Plankton's antennae wobble, his eye barely open. He takes another bite, his antennae drooping with each spoonful. "Almost done," she whispers, her hands steady. "You're doing so well." He nods slightly, his antennae twitching with the effort to stay awake. "Mmph," he mumbles, his voice a sleepy grumble. The ice cream is a sweet torment, his mouth watering with each tiny bite. "M'tired," he whispers, his antennae quivering. Karen's eyes are soft with understanding. She knows the struggle of his autistic brain to process the world, even in sleep. "Just a little more," she soothes, her voice a whispered promise of rest. She feeds him another spoonful, his eye fluttering shut again. The sweetness of the vanilla ice cream is a siren's call to his senses, briefly keeping his consciousness afloat. "Mm," he murmurs, his antennae twitching slightly. The coldness of the treat is a stark contrast to the warmth of his sleepiness. Karen's voice is a gentle guiding light, her words a soothing melody to his sluggish mind. "You're doing great," she whispers, her smile a soft ray of comfort in the dimly lit room. "Al-" But Plankton's antennae droop, his eye slipping closed once more. His snores return, deep and rhythmic. Karen sighs, her eyes soft with love. "Okay," she whispers, setting the spoon aside. "You've had enough." Her voice is a gentle goodbye to the waking world as she helps him lie down, his body a deadweight against the couch cushions.
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS xiv (By NeuroFabulous) Sandy and Chip watch as she tucks the blanket around his form, her movements careful not to disturb his slumber. "Let him sleep," she murmurs, her voice a caress. "He'll wake when his body's ready." The two of them nod, understanding in their silent gazes. They sit quietly, the only sound the ticking of the clock and Plankton's deep snores. Sandy glances at Karen, her eyes filled with concern. "Is he okay?" she asks in a hushed whisper. Karen nods, her expression calm. "It's normal after surgery. He'll be fine." Chip's gaze is glued to his father, his curiosity piqued by the unfamiliar sight. "What happens now?" he asks, his voice small in the quiet room. Karen sits back, her hands folded in her lap. "Now, we wait," she murmurs. "Let him rest." Sandy nods, her eyes flickering to the clock on the wall. "It's late," she says, her voice low. "Should I stay?" "You can sleep in my bed Sandy," Karen says. Sandy nods, her eyes on Plankton. "Thank you," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to leave you alone." Karen smiles, her gaze on Plankton's peaceful face. "You won't," she says. "We're all here." Sandy nods, a soft smile gracing her features. "Thank you," she says, her voice a gentle echo in the silent room. She takes the offered space, her eyes never leaving her friend's sleeping form. Karen watches Plankton sleep, his antennae twitching slightly with each snore. Her thoughts are a whirlwind of emotion, a mix of worry and love. She knows the road ahead won't be easy, but she's determined to navigate it with patience and care. The next morning, the sun peeks through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the living room. Plankton stirs, his antennae twitching as the world intrudes on his slumber. The room is quiet, the remnants of the previous day's events a fading memory. He opens his eye to find Karen asleep in the chair beside him. Her hand is curled around his, a silent promise of support. Plankton's mouth feels swollen, the tender reminder of the surgery yesterday. He sits up slowly, his body protesting with a soft groan. The house is still, the only sounds the distant chirps of early morning scallops. Chip is probably still asleep, Sandy in the other room. Plankton's antennae quiver as the pain of the surgery starts to make itself known, a dull throb that echoes through his body. He reaches up to his mouth with tentative fingers, the swollen flesh meeting his touch with a sharp sting. He winces, his body tensing in response. Karen's eyes open. "You're ok," she whispers, her voice a gentle balm. She takes his hand, guiding it away from his face. "Le..." But Plankton's antennae are already twitching with discomfort, his eye wide with pain. "M'hurt," he mumbles, his voice a hoarse whisper. Karen's expression softens, her eyes filled with sympathy. "I know," she says, her voice soothing. "It's from the surgery." Plankton nods, his body stiff with discomfort. Karen stands, her movements fluid. She fetches a cold compress from the kitchen, the fridge's hum a gentle reminder of the world outside their quiet bubble. "Here," she murmurs, her touch featherlight as she places the compress gently against his cheek. The coldness soothes the ache, his antennae quivering with relief. Plankton's eye closes, his body sagging into the couch cushions. The pain is a dull throb, a constant reminder of his surgery. Karen sits beside him, her hand resting lightly on his, her presence a comforting weight. "What else can I do?" she whispers, her eyes filled with concern. He mumbles something incoherent, his antennae twitching. Karen frowns, her brow furrowed. "What was that, Plankton?" He opens his eye slightly, his voice thick with pain. "M'hurt," he whispers. Karen's heart clenches. "Your teeth?" she asks, her voice a soft concern. Plankton nods, his antennae drooping. "Mmh," he confirms, his hand moving to his swollen cheek. The coldness of the compress is a small mercy, but the throb persists. Karen's gaze is filled with determination as she looks for more ways to ease his discomfort. She remembers the pain medication from the doctor, quickly retrieving it from the kitchen counter. The bottle rattles slightly in her hand, each pill a potential lifeline. Plankton's eye widens slightly at the sound, his antennas twitching with anticipation. She opens the bottle with a soft click, the smell of mint wafting upwards. "Take one," she instructs, her voice a gentle guideline through the fog of his pain. He nods, his hand shaking as he takes the pill. The water is cold on his swollen tongue, the liquid a sweet reprieve. Karen watches as he swallows, her face etched with care. "There you go," she whispers, her hand never leaving his. The pain medication takes effect slowly, the throb easing into a dull ache. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his breathing evening out. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice a hoarse whisper. Karen's smile is a soft reassurance. He sinks back into the couch cushions, his antennae drooping with relief. The cold compress is a steady presence, her hand in his a warm reassurance. "You're welcome," she whispers, as Chip follows his mom's friend Sandy to them. Sandy's eyes are filled with curiosity and a hint of concern. "How's he doing?" she asks, her voice a soft question in the early morning silence. Karen looks over back at Plankton. "He's in a bit of pain," she says, her voice a gentle sigh. "But the medication should kick in soon." Sandy nods, her eyes filled with understanding. "I can stay and help," she offers. "If you need anything, just let me know." Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his eye opening to meet her gaze. "Mmph," he mumbles, his voice still slurred. Karen nods, her smile gentle. "You're doing great," she whispers. Chip sees his dad's swollen cheeks and his antennae drooping. "Does it hurt a lot, Dad?" he asks, his voice filled with a newfound compassion for the man he's often seen as just his quirky father. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his eye blinking open. "Mmh," he mumbles, his voice a hoarse echo of his pain. "A little." Karen's smile is filled with empathy as she squeezes his hand. "It's okay, I'm here," she whispers. She knows the pain of his autism, the way it can magnify the smallest of discomforts into a symphony of sensory overload. She gently places the compress back on his cheek, her eyes never leaving his face.
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS xv (By NeuroFabulous) Plankton's antennae twitch. "M'sorry," he murmurs, his voice a weak apology for his condition. Karen's hand is a steady presence, her grip reassuring. "You have nothing to apologize for," she says, her voice a soft whisper of comfort. Chip watches his father, his curiosity piqued. "Hey, Dad," he says, his voice a gentle reminder of the care and understanding that now exists between them. Chip sits on the edge of the couch, his hand reaching to touch Plankton's shoulder... Plankton's antennae shoot up, his eye snapping open in alarm. His hand shoots out, batting Chip's arm away. Chip recoils, his eyes wide with surprise. "It's okay, Dad," he says quickly, his voice low. "I wa-" But Plankton's antennae are quivering with agitation, his body tense. "Don't," he snaps, his voice sharp. Karen's eyes dart to her son, her expression a silent apology. She knows Plankton's autism makes him hypersensitive to touch, especially when in pain. Chip's hand hover in mid-air, his eyes wide. "Why'd yo-" Plankton's voice is a harsh interruption, his antennae twitching erratically. "I said don't," he repeats, his voice a firm command. Chip's hand drops to his side, his expression one of confusion and hurt. "It's okay," Karen says quickly, her voice a gentle reminder. "He's just sensitive." Sandy nods, her eyes on Plankton's face. "It's okay, Chip," she says softly. "Let's just give him some space." Chip nods, his gaze on his father's tense form. Karen's eyes are filled with compassion as she watches Plankton, his antennae still twitching with agitation. "It's all right," she whispers, her voice a gentle balm. "Your body's just healing." The silence stretches between them, a soft acknowledgment of his pain. The compress feels cold against his cheek, the medication a distant promise. His antennae droop slightly, his body beginning to relax. Karen watches him closely, her eyes a map of his comfort. "It's okay, Plankton," she whispers. "You just need to rest." His antennae twitch in response, his breathing evening out. The medication starts to kick in, the pain a distant memory. Plankton's antennae droop with the weight of his exhaustion. Karen's hand remains in his, a silent promise of support. She knows that his autism means that even the smallest touch can be too much, yet she also knows the comfort of familiarity. Chip's eyes are wide, taking in the scene before him. He wants to be near his dad! Karen's eyes are on them both, her heart a silent prayer. She knows how much Chip wants to comfort Plankton, to bridge the gap that autism often forces between them. Chip tries to keep his moves calm, but his heart races with concern despite his efforts to hold back. He also sees the way Karen's hand rests on Plankton's, a silent offer of comfort, and wonders if he could do the same.. So Chip takes a deep breath, his finger tentative as it reaches out to his father's shoulder, his touch immediate... Plankton's body twitches right at Chip's contact, his eye snapping open. "Mmph," he mumbles, his antennae shooting up in a defensive stance. Chip's hand freezes, his eyes filled with uncertainty. "It's okay, Da-" Yet Plankton's antennae droop again, his eye falling closed. "Mmh," he mumbles. But Chip takes this as a green light. He leans in closer, his finger brushing Plankton's cheek... "Don't touch me!" Plankton's voice is a whipcrack, his antennae twitching angrily. His hand shoots up to swat Chip's touch away. "M'fine!" he snaps, his body trembling with pain and frustration. Karen's heart aches, caught between her son's well-meaning concern and Plankton's desperate need for space. "Chip," she says gently, her voice a calming force. "Remember what we talked about.." Yet Chip wants to ask questions about his dad's dental surgery. Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye opening to slits. "What?" he snaps, his voice a sharp edge. Chip's eyes are wide with curiosity. "What was it like?" he asks, his voice eager. "The surgery, I mean." Karen's smile is a soft explanation. "It was like a long nap," she says, her eyes on Plankton. "They gave him medicine to make him sleepy, so he wouldn't feel anything." Chip's eyes light up with interest. "What happened to make him asleep?" he asks, his voice filled with eagerness to understand. Karen's smile is a gentle explanation. "They used anesthesia," she says, her voice calm and steady. "It's like a special kind of sleep that lets doctors work without you feeling anything." Chip's eyes widen, his mind racing with questions. "But how did they know he was asleep?" he asks, his voice a whisper of wonder. Karen's smile is filled with pride. "They used monitors, sweetie," she explains. "They keep track of his heartbeat and breathing, so they know he's okay." Chip's gaze is riveted on Plankton's swollen cheeks. "But his mouth?" he presses. "What did they do?" Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his discomfort visible. Karen's voice is a soft guide. "They took out his wisdom teeth," she says. "They were gonna cause problems." Chip's curiosity is a whirlwind of questions. "How do they know when you're asleep?" he asks, his voice filled with awe. Karen's smile is a gentle teaching tool. "They watch his brain waves," she says, her words a soft explanation. "They use a machine that shows them how much he's sleeping." Chip nods, his eyes absorbing the information. "And how'd dad woke up?" Karen's eyes are filled with patience. "They stopped the medicine," she says. "And when he was ready, his body woke up." Chip's mind is a storm of curiosity. "But what was it like?" he asks again, his voice a persistent wonder. "Being asleep like that?" Karen's eyes hold a hint of amusement. "It's like a very deep sleep," she says. "You don't dream, you don't feel, you just rest." Chip's curiosity is a tiny flame, flickering brightly in the quiet room. "But what about when he woke up?" he presses, his voice filled with a child's need to understand the world. Karen's smile is a gentle nod. "When you wake up from surgery, it's a little different," she explains. "The body's still sleepy, and his mouth was numb." Chip's eyes are wide with understanding. "Oh," he says, his voice a soft wonder.
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS xvi (By NeuroFabulous) "Could Dad feel anything?" Karen's gaze is filled with compassion. "No, sweetie," she says gently. "That's the point of the medicine. He didn't feel anything." Chip nods, his eyes still on Plankton. "What's it like when Dad woke up?" he asks, his voice a soft curiosity. Karen's voice is a gentle narrative, her words painting a picture of Plankton's recovery. "He was a bit confused at first," she says, her eyes on Plankton. "But he quickly understood where he was." Chip's eyes are a mirror of his mother's, his curiosity a living entity. "But his mouth?" he asks, his voice a quiet probing. Karen's smile is a soft reassurance. "They gave him something to make it numb," she says, her words a gentle explanation. "So he couldn't feel the surgery." Chip's eyes are a swirl of understanding. "What was it like when it was over?" he asks, his voice a whisper of fascination. "Before he awoke from it? After they finished while you waited for him to wake up, what'd his face and mouth look like?" Karen's gaze is a silent answer, her eyes a soft story of the surgery's aftermath. "His cheeks were a bit puffy," she whispers, her voice a gentle narrative of the scene she'd witnessed. "And there was a bit of blood, but the doctors cleaned him up. As he slept, I could see his chest rise and fall, and I knew he was okay." Chip's eyes are wide with interest. "And then?" Karen's voice is a soft narrative, her words painting the picture of Plankton's recovery. "After they took his teeth out, they put in stitches," she says. "And now his mouth needs time to heal." Chip's eyes widen, his mind racing with images. "Stitches?" he repeats, his voice a mix of fascination and horror. "How'd they put in stitches while he was sleeping?" Karen's smile is a gentle explanation. "They're very careful," she says, her voice a calm lake. "They use a special thread that dissolves so he doesn't need to come back to have them removed." Chip's eyes are a mix of wonder and concern. "How'd he not bite the dentist?" Karen laughs softly, a warm sound in the quiet room. "They gave him more medicine," she says, her voice a gentle guide. "So his mouth was completely relaxed." Chip's eyes are wide with wonder. "How did it feel to wake up?" he asks, his voice filled with innocent curiosity. Plankton's antennae quiver slightly, his eye opening to look at his son. "It was... strange," he murmurs, his voice a distant echo of his experience. "Everything was blurry, and my mouth felt funny." Chip nods, his eyes wide with interest. "But it's better now?" he asks, hope coloring his voice. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly. "Mmh," he mumbles, his voice a hoarse affirmation. "It's okay; still healing.." "How about we watch a movie?" Karen suggests, her voice a gentle distraction from the pain. "Something fun, to take your mind off it?" Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his interest piqued despite his discomfort. "The Dirty Bubble?" he murmurs. Karen's smile is a nod, her eyes filled with the promise of distraction. "Yeah," she says, getting up to grab the remote. "It's about the underwater world's biggest heist," she says, her voice a gentle coaxing. "I think you'll enjoy it, Chip." Plankton's antennae twitch with slight interest as he sits up more, his body protesting with a soft groan. Chip moves closer, his eyes on his father. Plankton's antennae twitch. Karen and Chip sit on either side of him. The movie's sounds fill the room, the images dancing across the television screen. As the film progresses, Plankton's eye grows heavier, his head slowly tilting towards Chip. Chip, lost in the story, feels the slightest pressure against his shoulder. He looks down to see his father's antennae quivering, his head leaning closer. Plankton's body is a silent admission of his exhaustion. He's trying to stay alert, but his eye keeps slipping shut, his antennae drooping slightly. The movie plays on. Chip feels the weight of his father's head, a warmth that spreads through his body. Plankton's antennae are a quiet whisper, his breathing even. Karen's gaze flits from the TV to the two of them, her heart swelling with gratitude. This is progress. Chip feels his dad's antennae brush against his arm, the sensation a soft reminder of his presence. The movie's end credits roll, the room bathed in the soft glow of the TV. Sandy's hand is warm on the remote, turning off the film. Chip then hears a gentle snore against his shoulder, his dad's antennae lying limp beside him. He looks down to see Plankton's eye closed, his head resting heavily. Karen's smile is a quiet celebration. "Looks like he's asleep," she murmurs, her voice a soft whisper. Chip's eyes are wide with surprise. "On me?" he asks, his voice filled with disbelief. Karen nods, her smile a warm embrace. "It's okay," she whispers, her eyes on Plankton's sleeping form. "He's just really tired." Chip's heart swells with pride. It's the first time his dad's ever fallen asleep on him, a silent testament to the trust building between them. He carefully shifts his shoulder, making room for Plankton's antennae. Karen's eyes are a gentle nod of understanding. "Let him sleep," she whispers. The room is a soft symphony of Plankton's snores and the distant hum of the refrigerator. Chip watches his father, his expression one of wonder.
CHIP ON THE SHOULDERS xvii (By NeuroFabulous) Chip's never felt so close to his dad, not even when they used to build sandcastles on the beach. Plankton's antennae tickle his neck, a gentle reminder of the trust that's been slowly building between them. The snores are a comforting background to the quiet evening. "Can I sleep out here, next to Dad?" Chip asks. Karen nods, her eyes filled with understanding. "Of course," she whispers, her voice a soft caress in the darkness. "Just be careful not to disturb him. Let's get you both set up." They work together, moving pillows and blankets, careful not to jostle Plankton. Chip watches as his mother gently lifts his father's head, placing it gently on his own pillow as Chip stands up. They move a soft foot bench for Chip to sleep on next to Plankton. Karen pulls a blanket over both of them, tucking it around them both. Chip's heart races with excitement, his mind racing with the newfound connection. He lies down on the foot bench, his body tense with anticipation. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly as he shifts, but he doesn't stir. Karen's eyes are a soft moon, her gaze a gentle reminder of the night ahead. "Remember," she whispers. "Don't move too much. He needs his space." Chip nods, his eyes filled with understanding. He watches as Karen disappears upstairs, the light flickering before going out. The room is a canvas of shadows, Plankton's snores a soft metronome. He lies still, his mind whirling with thoughts. It's strange, feeling his dad's body so close. He's always been the one to move away, the one to hide. But here he is, sleeping. The room is quiet, save for Plankton's snores. Chip swallows, his heart thumping. He reaches out his hand, his fingers trembling slightly. He's never felt so nervous about something so simple. He touches Plankton's antennae, his heart in his throat. They twitch slightly at the contact, but Plankton doesn't wake up. Chip's breath escapes in a silent whoosh. He holds his hand there, his fingertips exploring the softness of his father's antennae. They're so delicate, like tiny whiskers. Plankton's breathing doesn't change. Encouraged, Chip slides his hand further up, his heart racing. He's never felt so close to his dad, not even during those rare moments when Plankton allows a brief hug. His hand comes to rest on Plankton's shoulder, his father's arm lying limp. Plankton's snores hitch for a moment, his antennae twitching erratically. Chip's heart leaps into his throat, but then Plankton relaxes again, his snores resuming their comforting rhythm. Chip's hand remains on his father's shoulder, his mind racing with thoughts of all the times he's wanted to be closer. He's never dared to touch him like this before, afraid of setting off a storm of sensory overload. But now, as Plankton sleeps, his antennae lying still against his head, Chip feels a strange sense of peace. He watches his father's chest rise and fall, his snores a soothing lullaby. He's always been so quick to retreat into his shell, but here, in this quiet moment, he's vulnerable, his defenses down. Chip's hand remains on his father's shoulder, his thumb tracing gentle circles. He wonders if Plankton knows how much he's wanted to connect like this. How much he's longed for the kind of closeness that other kids share with their dads. The antennae on Plankton's head twitch slightly, and Chip holds his breath. But Plankton's snores remain steady, his body relaxed. A smile tugs at the corner of Chip's mouth. He's never felt this level of acceptance from his father, not even during their rare moments of physical contact. He leans closer, his eyes studying Plankton's sleeping face. His father's cheeks are still a bit puffy from the surgery, but there's a peace to his expression that Chip hasn't seen in a long time. His antennae lie still, no longer twitching with pain or irritation. Chip's hand on his shoulder feels like an anchor, a connection he's longed for. He wonders if Plankton's dreams are filled with the colors and shapes of their underwater world, or if he dreams of a place beyond the reef, a place where his inventions come to life. Chip simply watches him sleep, his own eyes drooping with exhaustion. As the night stretches on, the snores become a lullaby, a rhythm that soothes Chip's racing thoughts. He's so close to his dad, closer than he's ever been. The room feels smaller, yet somehow more expansive, like the ocean outside their door. He watches Plankton's chest rise and fall with each breath, his antennae lying still against his forehead. It's strange, seeing his father so vulnerable, so open to the world. In sleep, Plankton's usual defensive posture has melted away, leaving behind a softness that Chip has never seen before. He tentatively reaches out his other hand, his fingers sliding under the blanket to rest lightly on Plankton's hand. It's a small gesture, but it feels like a monumental step forward. Plankton's hand twitches, but doesn't pull away. Chip's breath catches in his throat, his heart racing. He holds his breath, waiting for a reaction. But Plankton's snores remain steady. Chip's heart thumps in his chest. He's never felt this close to his father. It's like they're sharing a secret, a quiet moment of understanding. He squeezes Plankton's hand gently, his thumb tracing the outline of his father's palm. Plankton's antennae twitch again, his hand moving slightly under Chip's. Chip's heart leaps, his eyes widening. Did he feel that? A soft squeeze from Plankton's hand, a silent communication. He squeezes back, his grip gentle. Plankton's snores continue, his hand relaxing into Chip's. The moment stretches, a warm band connecting the two of them. Chip's heart is a caged bird, fluttering with excitement. He's never felt so close to his dad, never thought this was possible. He watches as Plankton's snores deepen, his hand in his father's a silent promise of support. The room is a symphony of quiet moments, each breath a note of peace. Chip's lulled by the steady beat of his father's snores. His eyes drift shut, his mind a kaleidoscope of thoughts. He dreams of a world where Plankton's antennae don't twitch with fear, where the shutdowns don't steal him away. He dreams of a future where they can share laughter, not just the quiet moments like this. Hours later, Plankton's snores have turned into soft, even breaths. The room is bathed in the gentle glow of early morning, the sun peeking through the curtains. Plankton stirs, his antennae twitching as he awakens to a new day. He blinks slowly, his eye adjusting to the light. And then he sees it. Chip's hand, curled around his own, a warm pressure that grounds him. His son's body, curled into the foot bench, his chest rising and falling silently with sleep. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly as he blinks, his mind foggy with the remnants of sleep. He tries to sit up, to pull away, but his body protests, a dull throb in his cheeks reminding him of the surgery's aftermath. He feels a warmth beside him, his son's hand in his own, a gentle reminder of the night's unexpected intimacy. His heart thumps in his chest, the realization hitting him like a gentle wave. Chip had been there, holding on, a silent support through his slumber. Plankton's antennae quiver, his brain slowly waking up. He's not used to this, to being touched so casually, so openly. It's a foreign sensation, but not entirely unpleasant. He looks down at their joined hands, his son's thumb resting against his palm. He's torn between retreating and embracing the moment, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts. But his son's gentle breaths, the weight of his body against his side... He feels a strange warmth, a feeling he's often chased away. But here, in the quiet pre-dawn light, he lets it in. Plankton's antennae twitch, a quiet acknowledgment of his son's presence. He doesn't pull away, his hand still in Chip's. His mind is a tornado of thoughts, spinning with the realization that he's allowed this unsolicited closeness with Chip. Plankton's heart beats faster, his antennae quivering slightly. He's not used to this, the unexpected warmth, the silent comfort of his son's touch. But as the moments stretch into something more, he finds that he doesn't want to pull away.
"Honey, did you take out the trash?" Karen called out to the living room. The only reply was the distant sound of the TV playing a sitcom laugh track. She sighed. Going into the living room, Karen found her husband, Plankton, sprawled out on the couch, snoring lightly. The TV's blue light flickered over his face. She looked around the room, the piles of laundry, the dusty bookshelves, and the half-eaten sandwich on the coffee table. It was a mess, but she knew better than to wake him. Plankton had been working long hours at the chum factory lately, trying to make ends meet. His snoring grew louder, and she felt a wave of affection mixed with concern. Gently, she covered his legs with a blanket and bent to kiss his forehead. He stirred slightly but didn't wake up. In the kitchen, Karen grabbed a cup of coffee, the warmth and aroma grounding her for the evening ahead. The fridge hummed a low lullaby, reminding her of the chores left to do. The sink was full of dirty dishes, remnants of dinner. A pot with half-eaten chum congealed on the stovetop. Karen rolled up her sleeves, determined to tackle the chaos. She knew Plankton was exhausted from work. The clanking of pots and pans echoed through the tiny kitchen as she washed and sorted, her mind racing with thoughts of their future. A knock at the door startled her. She dried her hands on a towel, leaving wet spots like tears on the fabric. It was Hanna, her best friend since high school. Karen had not seen Hanna in weeks, and the sight of her brought a smile. Hanna was a burst of energy. "Hi, Karen! How's it going?" Hanna's voice was a mix of sweetness and the sharpness of someone who had seen too much of the world. She scanned the room, taking in the clutter, the stale smell of overworked air, and Plankton's snoring. "Hey, Hanna," Karen managed, her voice soft to not disturb his sleep. "It's been a bit hectic, but we're making do." Hanna stepped in, eyeing the mess sympathetically. "Looks like you could use a hand," she said, already grabbing a dish towel. Karen's smile grew. "You read my mind. Thanks." Hanna tossed the towel over her shoulder, ready to jump into the fray. "You know me," she said with a wink. "I've never been one to shy away from a mess." The two of them worked side by side, the rhythm of their movements harmonizing as they cleared the kitchen. Karen felt the tension in her shoulders begin to ease as Hanna filled the room with stories of her latest adventures, a welcome distraction from the monotony of chores. As the last plate was put away, the fridge closed with a satisfying click, Karen leaned against the counter. Hanna looked at her. "You've been carrying a lot, haven't you?" she asked, her voice gentle. Karen nodded, her eyes welling up. "It's just that with Plankton's job, and the bills..." Hanna pulled her into a tight hug. "I know, sweetie. You're doing the best you can." They sat down in the living room, the clean kitchen a testament to their friendship's strength. Hanna's screen searched Karen's for a sign of the spark that used to be there. "I can't remember the last time we went out together," Hanna said. "You two deserve a break." Karen's screen lit up at the suggestion, but quickly dimmed. "We can't afford it," she said, sighing. "Not with the overtime Plankton's been doing." Hanna leaned in, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Well, I might have a little surprise for you," she said. Karen looked up, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?" Hanna pulled out a small envelope from her pocket and handed it to her friend. "A gift," she said with a sly smile. "A check from my winning lottery ticket." Karen's eyes widened as she opened the envelope. "Hanna, no!" she protested. "You can't just give us your winnings!" Hanna's smile didn't waver. "I can, and I want to. You've been there for me through everything. It's about time I returned the favor. Besides," she said with a wink, "what's a little chum between friends?" Karen's hands trembled as she read the check. It was more than enough to cover their rent and bills for several months. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she hugged Hanna tightly. "Thank you," she whispered. The weight of financial stress lifted slightly from her shoulders, replaced by a warmth that spread through her chest. For a moment, the world didn't seem so overwhelming. Hanna pulled back, her own eyes shining with unshed tears. "Now, don't spend it all in one place," she teased. Karen laughed, the sound small but genuine. "I won't," she promised, the check clutched in her hand. "We'll use it wisely." The two of them sat quietly for a while, enjoying the rare moment of peace. The TV had switched to the news, and the low murmur of the anchor's voice filled the room. Plankton's snoring had become a comforting white noise. Hanna looked at Plankton, her expression thoughtful. "You know, I've always admired the way you take care of him," she said. "It can't be easy." Karen nodded, her thumb tracing the edges of the check. "It's not," she admitted. "But he's my Plankton. I love him, even when he's exhausting." Her gaze drifted to the sleeping form of her husband. Plankton's snores grew more even, his face finally relaxed. The lines of stress that usually pinched his features had smoothed out in sleep. Karen knew that Plankton had always dreamed of more than his life at the chum factory could offer. He was a man of ambition, his spirit too large for the cramped quarters they called home. Her thoughts turned to the gift from Hanna. The check represented more than just money; it was a beacon of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could finally start working towards those dreams.
"You're going to be okay," Karen assured Plankton. He clutched her hand. "I'm right here." The receptionist's voice echoed through the large waiting room. "Plankton?" Karen's heart jumped. She squeezed her husband's hand. They walked down the hallway, Plankton's breaths shallow, eye darting around the white, sterile walls. The nurse led them to a small room. "Just a few questions," the nurse smiled, her voice soothing as she helped him in the recliner. The nurse, noticing his agitation, spoke slowly and clearly. "We're just going to take your blood pressure, okay?" The nurse wrapped the cuff around his bicep, her movements gentle. The hiss of the air pump filled the tense silence. "Look at me, Plankton," Karen whispered, her calming gaze meeting his. "Take deep breaths." He inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling in a deliberate rhythm. The nurse waited patiently, giving them space. As the cuff tightened, Plankton's eye squeezed shut. The nurse completed her task quickly, her voice steady. "Good job," she said, patting his hand. Karen felt his fear spike, but his grip on her hand remained firm as the oral surgeon walked in. Dr. Marquez nodded at them, his demeanor calm and professional. "Hello, Plankton. I see we're getting ready for your wisdom teeth." He noticed Plankton's tension and turned to Karen. "You earlier mentioned his neurodisability. Is there anything special we can do to help make him comfortable?" Karen's screen lit up with gratitude. "Yes, thank you." She explained his need for calm and his sensory sensitivities. Dr. Marquez nodded thoughtfully. "We can use a weighted blanket to help with that. It provides a gentle pressure that can be quite comforting for some of my patients." He turned to the nurse. "Could you please bring one?" The nurse nodded and left the room. When she returned, she carried a soft, blue weighted blanket they warmed. They placed the blanket over Plankton, the weight evenly distributed. His body visibly relaxed under its soothing embrace. "It's okay," Karen whispered, stroking his antennae. "This will help." Plankton felt the warmth of the blanket, the weight of it pressing down on his shoulders and chest. But it did little to ease his dread. "Thank you, Dr. Marquez," Karen managed a smile, relief washing over her. She knew how important these accommodations were for her husband. The doctor explained the procedure, using simple terms that Plankton could understand. Karen noted how he tailored his explanation to avoid overwhelming details that might trigger anxiety. The anesthesiologist entered, her smile kind. "We're going to give you some medicine to help you sleep," she said gently, "and then you'll wake up without feeling a thing." Plankton nodded, his eye wide. Karen leaned in, her voice low. "You can hold my hand as you fall asleep." The anesthesiologist prepared the IV, but Plankton's grip on Karen's hand grew tighter. Dr. Marquez noticed his distress and suggested a different approach. "How about some laughing gas first?" he offered. "And perhaps a topical numbing agent.." The nurse quickly set up the gas mask, explaining each step. "This will help you relax," she said, placing it over him. "Just breathe normally." The sweet smell of the nitrous oxide filled him, yet he still remained awake. "It's okay, Plankton," Karen said soothingly. "Just keep breathing." He took a tentative breath, feeling the gas fill his lungs. The room began to spin, but not in the scary way he'd feared. It was more like floating. The weight of the blanket now felt like a gentle hug from the ocean depths, a warm embrace from his childhood home. Dr. Marquez waited until Plankton's breathing steadied, each gesture carefully calculated to avoid any sudden movements that might startle his patient. "You're doing great," he assured Plankton, his voice a gentle wave lapping at the shore of his anxiety. "You're almost there." Plankton inhaled another lungful of gas, his eye fluttering closed. The nurse gently began applying the topical numbing agent, her movements carefully choreographed to avoid any sudden jolts. Karen held his other hand, her thumb tracing comforting circles on his palm. "You're safe," she whispered. "I'm here." The gas grew heavier, his mind drifted further from the cold reality of the room. He felt himself sinking into the chair, the weighted blanket now a warm sea of comfort. His grip on Karen's hand grew looser, his breaths deepening. The doctor nodded to the anesthesiologist, who began the IV drip after using the topical numbing agent. Plankton's fear didn't vanish, but it became manageable, a distant thunderstorm rather than a hurricane in his face. His eye closed completely, his body going limp under the blanket. Karen watched as the surgical team moved with precision, their masks and caps dancing in her peripheral vision. The beeping of machines and the murmur of medical jargon filled her ears, but all she focused on was the rhythm of Plankton's breathing. The anesthesiologist checked the monitors and gave a nod. "He's ready," she said quietly. Dr. Marquez took his position, his gloved hands poised over Plankton's now open mouth after removing the gas mask. Karen's gaze was steady, her love and support unwavering as the surgical team moved in unison. The whirring of the instruments began, a soft mechanical lullaby to the background of Plankton's deep, even breaths. The surgery itself was a dance of precision, each gesture a step carefully choreographed to minimize discomfort. The doctor's hands were steady as he removed the wisdom teeth. Karen could see the tense lines in Plankton's face soften under the influence of the anesthesia. The anesthesiologist checked the monitors continuously, ensuring his vital signs remained steady. The nurse offered Karen a chair, but she chose to stand, her eyes never leaving Plankton's face. As the surgery progressed, Karen felt the tension in the room ease. The surgical team worked with efficiency, their movements synchronized like a well-oiled machine. Dr. Marquez spoke in hushed tones with his assistants, each word a gentle whisper in the symphony of medical sounds. Plankton's breaths steadied, the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor a soothing reminder that he was still with her, that his anxiety had been replaced by the peacefulness of deep sedation. The doctor's instruments continued to dance, a silent ballet of precision and care. The nurse occasionally glanced at Karen, offering a reassuring smile as they suture his gums with dissolving stitches. "Alright, we're all done," Dr. Marquez announced, his voice a gentle interruption to the symphony of beeps and whirs. "Let's wake him up slowly." Karen felt her own heart rate spike as the anesthesiologist began reversing the medication. They removed the IV drip and the nurse wiped Plankton's mouth with a soft cloth, her touch as gentle as a sea anemone caressing his skin. His eye flickered open, unfocused and hazy. He blinked slowly, taking in the surroundings. Karen's screen was the first thing he saw, a beacon in the medical fog. "You're okay," she murmured, her voice the gentle hum of a distant lighthouse guiding his consciousness back to shore. Plankton blinked again, his vision swimming into focus. The weighted blanket was still wrapped around him, the comforting pressure now a grounding reminder of her presence. His mouth felt foreign, as if it belonged to someone else. The nurse offered him water, and he sipped it slowly, feeling the coolness soothe his throat. "How do you feel?" Dr. Marquez asked, his voice a soft wave breaking over the shore of Plankton's awareness. Plankton nodded, his grip on Karen's hand firm. "Good," he managed to murmur, his voice thick with the aftermath of the anesthesia. Karen could see the relief in his eye, the storm of fear now a distant memory. ( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous )
(Autistic author) Plankton has autism, which only he and Karen know about. They're able to keep it a secret, per Plankton's request, even from their son Chip. So when Chip comes home early from football, he's surprised to see his dad staring at the blank wall as his mom rubs his back. "Is everything okay?" he asks, stepping into the room. Plankton's eye is unfocused, his body rigid, like he's stuck in some invisible vice. Karen's hand pauses on his shoulder, and she turns to face Chip, her smile forced. "Yeah, just a little...spell," she says. Plankton's absence seizure has struck without warning. It's like a silent storm passing through the room, leaving no trace except the vacant look in his eye. The room seems to shrink around them as Chip takes in his dad's unblinking stare. He's never seen this. "Should I get help?" Chip's voice cracks. Karen shakes her head quickly, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. "No, it's fine. Just...give us a minute." She waves a hand, trying to dismiss the concern that has etched itself on Chip's features. But Chip lingers, his gaze flickering between his parents. "What's happening?" he whispers. Karen sighs, her hand dropping to her side. She looks at Plankton. "It's just something your dad has," she says, choosing her words carefully. "It's like his brain goes on pause for a bit." Chip watches as his dad's chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, the only indication that he's still present in the physical world. "But what do you mean?" his eyes search hers for understanding. Karen's eyes flit to Plankton before returning to Chip's. She takes a deep breath, bracing herself. "It's not dangerous, just a little scary-looking." The silence stretches until it feels like a rubber band about to snap. Chip's curiosity overpowers his fear. He takes a tentative step closer. "Does he know we're here?" Chip whispers. "Not really," Karen murmurs, "But he'll come back to us." Chip reaches out, a tremor in his fingertips, and touches Plankton's arm, but the seizure doesn't seem to notice. "Dad?" Chip whispers, his voice a soft echo in the stillness. Plankton's body remains stiff as a statue, his gaze fixed on a spot somewhere beyond the wallpaper's pattern. Karen's hand moves to cover Chip's, her touch warm and reassuring. "It's okay," she whispers back, "It's part of him. Don't poke or shake him, just let it pass." The seconds tick by, each one feeling heavier than the last. Chip's heart thuds in his chest, his mind racing with questions and fear. He's never seen his dad like this before, so...so vulnerable. As the seizure slowly releases its grip, Plankton blinks, his eye refocusing on the room. He looks confused, like he's waking from a deep sleep. Karen's smile relaxes, the tension in her shoulders easing. Plankton turns to her, his gaze flickering with recognition before falling on Chip. "Chip?" His voice is raspy. Karen nods at Chip, silently urging him to speak. "Yeah, Dad, it's me." Plankton's expression shifts. "What...what happened?" his voice is frail. Chip opens his mouth, but Karen steps in quickly. "You had a little moment, that's all. Nothing to worry about," she says, her tone light. But her hand is still on Plankton's back, ready to provide support if needed. Plankton's eye darts around, his hands clenching and unclenching as if trying to remember how to interact with the world again. He notices Chip's hand reaching out and flinches slightly, his discomfort with physical contact clear. Chip, sensing this, pulls his hand back, his cheeks flushing. He's always known his dad was a bit...different. Quirky. But he's never seen this side of him. "It's okay," Karen says, her voice soothing as she squeezes Plankton's hand. "You're okay." Plankton nods, his mind slowly untangling from the cotton wool fog of the seizure. He looks around the room, familiar objects snapping back into focus. His eye lands on Chip, who's watching him with a mix of worry and curiosity. He clears his throat. "Just a...moment. I'm fine now." He tries to smile, but it feels awkward and forced. Chip's eyes don't leave him. "What was that?" he asks, his voice still low. Karen looks at Plankton. It's time. "Your dad has something called autism, Chip," she says. "It's like his brain works in a special way." Chip's eyes widen. "What does that mean?" Karen sits down beside Plankton, who's still gathering himself. "It's like...sometimes, his brain takes a little break from the world," she explains gently, her hand still on his shoulder. "It can be overwhelming, with all the sounds, sights, and people around." Chip nods slowly, trying to grasp the concept. Plankton swallows hard, his mind racing. He's always been so careful to hide this part of himself, not wanting to be seen as less than or weird. But as he looks at Chip, his heart swells with a mix of fear and hope. What if his son can't understand? What if this changes everything? Karen gives him a nod, encouraging him to go on. With a deep breath, Plankton starts to speak. "You know how sometimes you get really focused on something and the world just fades away?" Chip nods. "Well, for me, it's like that," Plankton says, his voice steadying. "But sometimes, my brain does it without me asking. It's like my thoughts are a TV with too many channels playing at once, and it just...shuts off for a bit to give me a break." Chip nods, trying to imagine what that's like. "Does it hurt?" Plankton shakes his head. "Well, it's just...different. Sometimes I don't realize, sometimes it's tough." Chip looks up at him, his eyes full of questions and a nascent empathy. "Can you control..." "No Chip, I can't 'control' it!" He snaps back. "Hey hey, it's okay," Karen whispers, meeting his gaze. "He's not judging you, Plankton." Plankton takes a deep breath, his eye fluttering shut. "I know," he murmurs, but his tone is anything but convinced. Chip's gaze softens, his fear replaced with a determined curiosity. "What's it like?" he asks, his voice gentle. Plankton's shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. "It's like being in a little bubble," he says, his eye distant. "Everything's far away, muffled. And when it's over, it's like...like popping back into reality." Chip's curiosity grows, his mind racing with questions. "But why do you keep it a secret?" he asks, his voice tentative. Karen looks to Plankton, who's still visibly shaken. "We didn't want it to define you," she says softly. "We wanted you to see him as just your dad, not as someone with a label." Plankton nods. "And I didn't want to be different," he adds, his voice barely above a whisper. Chip considers this, his gaze flitting from his dad to the ground. "But you are," he says, his voice earnest. "You're my dad, even with your..." He stumbles over the word "...seizures." Karen's eyes fill with pride at her son's acceptance. Plankton's tension how ever, heightens at Chip's description. "It's not a seizure," he corrects, his voice slightly defensive. Chip looks confused. "But it looks like it," he says, frowning. Karen nods. "It's similar, but not the same," she explains before Plankton can interject. "It's part of your dad's autism." Chip looks at Plankton, his eyes searching for something he's never noticed before. "But why did you keep it a secret?" he asks again. Plankton's gaze drifts to the floor, his voice soft. "Because people can be cruel, son," he says, his words heavy. "They don't always understand." Chip nods, his eyes welling up with tears. "But I do," he says, his voice shaking. "I mean, I don't get it all, but I understand that you're still you." Plankton's expression softens, his fear of rejection dissipating slightly. He looks up at Karen, his gaze filled with gratitude. She gives him a small smile, her eyes telling him it's okay to be his true self.
WHEN THE CHIP FALLS i/ii (Autistic author) Karen picks up her son, Chip, from a friend's house. "Hi, mom! Where's dad?" He asks her. "Don't worry, we'll see him soon." They return home. Once inside, Chip throws his book bag on the couch, his sneakers thumping. Karen finds Plankton in his lab, his eye glued to a book. She knows that look, it's his way of hyperfixating. She approaches carefully. "Plankton?" she says gently. He jumps a little, his hands fidgeting with the pipettes. "Chip's home," she continues, watching his eye flicker to the doorway, then back to the beakers. Chip's footsteps echo down the hall, and suddenly, he's there, his body crashing into his father's in a tight, unexpected hug. Plankton's arms hang at his sides. "I missed you," Chip whispers into his father's chest. Plankton's body tenses, his mind racing with unexpected sensory input. He tries to focus on his breath, to slow it down, but it's like trying to swim through a tornado of stimuli. Karen gently pries Chip away, leading them both to the living room. "Is everything ok, Dad?" Chip asks, his face scrunched in concern. Plankton follows them, his movements mechanical. "Just... working on something important," Plankton mutters, his eye dodging Chip's gaze. "I'm fine.." Chip senses the distance, the walls Plankton's put up around himself. He's seen it before, but it still stings. What Chip doesn't know is that his dad's autistic. Plankton fidgets, avoiding his son's gaze. "What's going on?" Chip asks. "Dad's just a little stressed with work." But Chip's not buying it. He notices the way his father's fingers tap a staccato rhythm. Chip tries to hug Plankton again, his arms reaching out like a lifeline. Plankton flinches, the touch sending a jolt of discomfort through his body. He can't help it; his senses are already overwhelmed. "Chip, please," Plankton says, voice sharp as a tack. Chip turns to his father. "What's wrong, Dad?" he asks again, his voice small. He can't find the words to explain. Instead, he does the only thing he can think of to relieve the tension: he prys Chip's arms away, his movements abrupt. "Dad?" Chip's voice is tiny, confused. Plankton's voice booms through the room, sharp and loud. "I said I'm fine!!" The echo of his words hangs in the air, and Chip shrinks back, his arms falling to his sides. Karen sighs, knowing it's time to explain. "Chip," she starts, "Your dad has something that makes him..." "I know, I know," he interrupts, his voice tinged with frustration. "Dad's always like this. Always lost in his own world, never..." "What do you mean 'always like this'?" Plankton demands, the words sharp and pointed. Chip takes a step back. "It's just... you're always so busy with work," he stammers. "I just... I want to spend time with you." Plankton's eye widens, accusation stinging him. He tries to find the words to explain, to bridge the gap between his autistic brain and his son's need for connection. But his thoughts are a jumbled mess of frustration and guilt. He loves, but sometimes, his condition makes it hard to show it. "I'm not 'always like this,'" Plankton snaps, his voice cracking like a whip. "You don't understand!" He slams his fist on the table. "I'm sorry," Chip murmurs, "I didn't mean..." But his words are drowned out by the storm of emotion raging within his father. "You think I choose this?" He gestures wildly. "I'm not 'always like this'! You think it's easy?" Karen's heart aches as she watches the raw pain flash across Plankton's face. Chip takes a tentative step forward. "I just want to understand," he whispers. He reaches out and gently places his hand on Plankton's arm. Plankton's rage doesn't abate, his arm jerking away as if burned. "You think you can just fix me with a pat on the back and a sad puppy look?" He spat out the words. "I'm not something to be fixed," Plankton says, his voice low and dangerous. His fist slams into the table again. Chip's hand retreats to his side. "I didn't say you were," he manages to reply, his voice shaking. "I just want to be with you." "You don't get it," he seethes, his voice rising. "You can't just come in here and demand I change for you!" His fists clench, and the pipettes in his lab coat pockets clink ominously. "Dad I don't know what you're talking about.." Chip's voice is a mere whisper, his eyes brimming with tears. Plankton's anger doesn't waver. His body shakes with the intensity of his emotions, his face a mask of fury and pain. "You think you know me?" Plankton's voice is like thunder, his words a torrent of accusation. "You think you can just waltz in here and tell me how to feel, how to act?" Chip takes a step back. "I just want to help," he says, his voice a barely audible whisper. Plankton's sarcasm is bitter. "Oh, help," he mocks, his voice a parody of sweetness. "You're so helpful. You know what help would be? Leaving me alone!" "But Dad," Chip starts. "I don't know what I did wrong." Plankton's lashing out at Chip. "Oh, you're just the picture of innocence, aren't you?" he says, his tone a toxic mix of anger and patronizing. "Coming in acting like you know everything, thinking you can just fix me with a hug and a sympathetic look." Chip feels his cheeks burn. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice cracking. "You're sorry?" Plankton repeats, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're sorry? What good is sorry?!" Chip shakes his head. "You think I don't know what you're thinking? That I can't feel your pity?" He scoffs, a cold, brittle sound. "You think I don't know when you look at me like that?" Chip's meeting his father's furious gaze. "I don't..." But Plankton cuts him off, his voice a sneer. "Don't lie to me. I can see it in your screen. You think I'm some thing to be fixed, like one of your toys." Chip feels like being crushed by a heavy weight, his chest tightening with each of his father's words. "That's not what I meant," he stammers. "You think it's easy for me, don't you?" He sneers. "You think I don't wish I could just turn it off, be 'normal' for you?" "No, Dad, I... I just want to understand. And, turn what off?" Plankton's eye narrows, his jaw clenching. "You don't get it, I can't just turn off who I am. I'm not some broken toy!" "I just want to be with you," he repeats, his voice shaking. "I don't care if you're not... like other dads or whatever you're saying.." Plankton's anger doesn't abate, his body stiff as a board. "You think that's it?" he sneers. "You think it's just a matter of me snapping out of it?" "I don't know, Dad," he admits, his voice breaking. "I just... I want to spend time with you." Plankton's face contorts further, his frustration boiling over. "You think that's all it takes?" he shouts. "You want quality time?" His voice cracks. Chip nods, desperate for a connection. "Yes," he whispers. "Quality time," Plankton repeats, his voice dripping with scorn. "You think that's all I need, a little 'quality time' and everything will be fine? You have no idea what I go through every day just to pretend to be like them, for you, for your mother!" Chip's in shock. He's never seen his father like this, so raw and exposed. The room seems to pulse with Plankton's anger, each beat a reminder of the distance between them. "I don't know," Chip says, his voice barely above a whisper. "You don't know," Plankton mimics, his voice dripping with contempt. "You think it's just a matter of trying harder, don't you? Like it's a switch I can just flip?" He starts to pace the room, his footsteps heavy and punctuated by his frustration. "You think I enjoy your pity parties?" "Dad, I..." he whispers, but his voice is lost in the tempest. "You think you know what it's like to be me?" he snarls. "You have no idea. You're just a child, playing at being an adult with your little 'I want to understand' nonsense." Karen can't take it anymore. With a gentle but firm voice, she steps between them. "Plankton," she says, her tone a warning. "That's enough." Plankton's rant falters, his eye meeting hers. For a moment, he seems lost, his anger flickering out like a candle in a gust of wind. "You don't know what it's like," he repeats softer, anger morphing into a deep sadness that seeps into the fabric of the room. Chip looks up, his screen glistening with unshed tears. "Tell me," he pleads. "Help me understand." Karen's gaze softens, and sighs heavily. "Your dad has something called Autism," she says gently. "It's like his brain is wired differently. It's not good or bad, it just makes things harder for him sometimes." Chip looks up, his face a canvas of confusion. "Does that mean he can't love me?" he asks, the fear in his voice like a knife. Karen kneels beside him, taking his small hand in hers. "No, baby," she says softly. "It means his love might look different. He feels it just as much, but shows it in his own way." Plankton stands there, his body rigid, his eye darting between Karen and Chip. "I don't know how to do this," he says finally, his voice cracking with emotion. "I don't know how to be what you want." "What do you mean?" he asks, his voice trembling. Plankton's eye narrows, his voice like shards of ice. "This," he says, gesturing to his head. "This... thing inside me that makes everything so hard." His hand gestures to his forehead as if to punctuate his words. "This autism!" Chip looks up with confusion and a touch of fear. "But Dad," he says softly, "I don't see it like that. I don't even know what Autism is!" Karen's gaze flickers to Plankton, who stands motionless, his jaw clenched. "It's ok," she reassures her son. "It's not something you can see, Chip. It's just how Daddy's brain works."
WHEN THE CHIP FALLS ii/ii (Autistic author) Karen takes a deep breath, preparing to explain. "You know how sometimes, when somethings made, things don't always develop as planned?" she starts, her eyes never leaving Chip's. "Well, Daddy's brain is like that. It's just how he was born." Plankton's shoulders slump, anger dissipating into a heavy sadness. He looks at his son, his heart aching. "It's hard for me to express how I feel," he says. "But that doesn't mean I don't feel it." Chip stares up at his father. "But why can't you just tell me?" he asks, trembling. "Why can't you just be like... normal dads?" The word "normal" hangs in the air and Plankton feels his rage reignite. "Don't you dare," he growls, his eye flashing with anger. "Don't you ever say that again." Chip takes a step back, his body shaking. "What did I say?" he whispers. But Plankton doesn't answer. He turns away, his movements stiff and jerking, as if he's fighting against invisible chains. Without a word, he storms out of the living room. The bedroom door slams shut with a finality that echoes through the house. Karen's gaze follows him, her heart heavy. Then she looks back at Chip, her eyes filled with a mix of love and disappointment. "Chip," she says firmly. "You can't just... expect him to change like that." Chip's eyes fill with understanding, his body slumping. "I didn't mean to..." he starts, his voice trailing off. "But I just want to spend time with him," he says, his voice small and defeated. Karen sighs, her gaze softening as she looks at her son. "I know, sweetie," she says, her voice gentle. "But using the word 'normal' doesn't help. It makes Daddy feel like something's wrong with him, like he's not good enough." Chip's eyes widen, realizing his mistake. "I didn't mean it like that," he stammers, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I just want us to be happy together." Karen nods solemnly, her eyes holding his. "I know you do," she says, her voice gentle. "But words can hurt, especially when we don't understand the full weight they carry. Your father's not 'normal' in the way you think, but that doesn't mean his love for you is any less." Chip bites his lip, his eyes glued to the floor. He feels a pang of guilt, knowing he's hurt his dad. With a heavy sigh, Karen stands up. "Let's go talk to your father," she says, placing a comforting hand on Chip's shoulder. They walk down the hallway to Plankton's bedroom. The door is ajar, and through the crack, Karen can see Plankton's hunched form on the bed, his face buried in his hands. His shoulders shake with silent sobs. Her heart aches for his pain. With Chip in tow, she pushes the door open. Plankton doesn't look up, his body wrapped in a cocoon of self-loathing. The room is a mess of discarded lab equipment and half-finished experiments, a visual representation of his tumultuous thoughts. "Plankton," Karen says softly, her voice a lifeline thrown into the sea of his despair. He doesn't move, his body rigid with the weight of his own emotions. Chip takes a tentative step forward, his hand reaching out to touch his father's shoulder. "Dad?" he whispers. Plankton's body jolts, his sobs growing louder. Karen's heart clenches at the sound, knowing the depth of his pain. "Dad?" Chip's voice is tiny, his hand hovering over his father's back. He's never seen his dad like this, so vulnerable and broken. Plankton's sobs fill the room, each one a shard of pain that penetrates Karen's soul. Her heart breaks for her husband, for the struggle she knows he faces every day. Chip's hand shakes as he touches Plankton's shoulder, his voice a tiny thread of hope woven through the storm of emotions. "Dad, I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely a whisper. Plankton's sobs intensify, his body wracking with the weight of his sorrow. Karen moves to the bed, sitting down beside him, her hand on his back. "It's okay," she whispers, her voice a gentle breeze in the storm of his grief. But Plankton is beyond consolation. His sobs are like waves, crashing against the shore of his pride, eroding the barriers he's built up over the years. He can't speak, can't even look at his son. Chip's touch is a soft whisper in the hurricane of his father's pain, but it's enough to make Plankton's shoulders shake even harder. The weight of his emotions is too much, his body unable to contain the torrent. Karen wraps her arms around him, trying to soothe the storm within. She knows the feeling all too well, having been his anchor through so many of these moments. Plankton's sobs are like a language only she can understand. Chip watches, feeling helpless, his hand still hovering over his father's back. He's seen his dad upset before, but never like this. It's like looking into the eye of a hurricane and wishing you could stop it from spinning. "Daddy," Chip says again, his voice tiny, hopeful. Plankton's body tenses under his touch, and for a moment, it seems like the storm might abate. But the sobs only get louder, the tremors more violent. Karen's heart breaks as she sees the hurt in her son's eyes. "Let's give him some space, okay?" she says gently, her hand on Chip's shoulder. "Go wait, I'll take care of him." With a nod, Chip retreats, his eyes never leaving his father's bent form. Once he's gone, Karen wraps her arms around Plankton, holding him tightly as he cries. "Shh," she whispers, stroking his back in soothing circles. "It's okay. I'm here." Her voice is a lullaby in the tempest of his emotions, a beacon of calm in the chaos. Slowly, Plankton's sobs begin to subside, his body unclenching from its self-imposed prison. He lifts his face, eye red and wet with tears. "I just want..." he whispers, his voice raw with pain. Karen's eyes well up with tears, her heart aching for his suffering. "You are normal, Plankton," she says softly. "You're just different." Plankton's body quakes, his sobs subsiding into hiccups. "But Chip..." he chokes out. "He thinks... he thinks..." Karen's grip tightens, her voice firm and loving. "Chip's young," she says. "He doesn't understand yet. But we'll teach him." Plankton's sobs slowly ease, his breaths coming less ragged. He nods, his body still tense. "I know," he says, his voice a whisper. "But it hurts." Karen pulls him closer, aching for his pain. She kisses his cheek, her touch gentle the way she knows he likes it. "You're a good dad," she whispers, her voice the calm after the storm. "You show Chip that you're here for him, in your own way." Plankton's eye meets hers, his gaze searching for truth in her words. He nods slowly, his shoulders slumping as he takes a deep, shuddering breath. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice still thick with emotion. Karen nods, her heart full of love and sorrow. "Let's go talk to Chip," she says gently, standing up. Plankton wipes his eye, his body still trembling. He nods, following her out of the room, each step a monumental effort. In the hallway, Chip is sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. He looks up as they approach, his eyes red and swollen. "Dad," he says, his voice cracking with emotion. Plankton's steps falter, his heart in his throat. He forces himself to meet his son's gaze, the weight of his guilt a heavy burden. "I'm sorry," Chip says, his voice shaky. The words are a balm to Plankton's soul, his anger and pain receding like a retreating tide. He looks at Chip, his eye swollen with unshed tears, his heart heavy with regret. "I didn't mean to... I just..." Chip's eyes are red, his cheeks stained with tears. "Dad, I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice a mere thread of sound. Plankton's heart clenches at the sight of his son's pain. He sits down next to Chip, his movements slow and deliberate, not wanting to startle him. "It's okay," he says, his voice shaky. "I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm not..." Chip looks up, his eyes swimming with tears. "You're not what?" he asks, his voice hopeful. Plankton sighs, trying to find the words. "I'm not like other dads," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "But that doesn't mean I don't l-love you, or that I don't want to be with you." Plankton's gaze drops to his son's small, trembling hand. "It's hard," he says, his voice tight with emotion. "I... I don't always know how to make you feel what's inside." Chip looks up at him, his eyes searching. "What's inside?" he asks, his voice tiny. Plankton's gaze meets his son's, and he sees the flicker of hope. "Love," he says finally, his voice cracking. "It's just... different." Chip's eyes widen with understanding, the fear fading from his eyes. "Can you show me?" he asks, his voice small but steady. Plankton nods, his body still tense with emotion. He thinks for a moment, trying to find a way to bridge the gap between his love and his inability to express it. "Look," he says, pointing to a jar on the shelf. "I only like certain touches from certain people. But I'm the one who recommended we get that ice cream yesterday, right?" Chip nods, his eyes glistening with hope. "Yeah, you always know the perfect flavor." Plankton's smile is forced, but it's a start. He takes a deep, shaky breath. "And remember when you had that science fair project, and I helped you?" Chip nods, his eyes lit with memory. "You stayed up all night, making sure I got it just right." Plankton's smile is a little more genuine this time. "I did that because I care about you. I want you to be happy, even if I can't show it like everyone else." He reaches out tentatively, his hand hovering near Chip's. For a moment, it seems like he might withdraw again, like a snail retreating into its shell at the first sign of danger. But then, with a deep breath, he touches his son's shoulder, his fingers light and unsure. Plankton's hand trembles, his touch as gentle as a feather landing on Chip's shoulder before retreating. "Normal is over rated," he whispers, the word a promise. "But I do, in my own way."
Dr. McDermott's dental office. Plankton had been in surgery for wisdom teeth. The receptionist, a young woman named "Samantha," was going up to Karen. "Your husband is to be taken to the recovery," she said, her voice gentle and soothing. Karen nodded. Samantha led her down. Plankton was laid out on a narrow bed, his mouth open slightly. "He's still under," Samantha whispered, "but going to start bringing him out of it now. Waking is a gradual process so.." Karen nodded. She watched as a nurse approached, deftly adjusting tubes and machines connected to him. The nurse flicked a switch and began to decrease the flow. The anesthesia diminished. Plankton's chest continued to rise and fall rhythmically, his eye remained closed. Karen reached out and took his hand, her thumb brushing against his. She squeezed gently, hoping it might provide some comfort, or at least a thread of familiarity, as he began his journey back to consciousness. A few moments later, Plankton's hand twitched ever so slightly in response. "It's ok honey," she whispered, though she knew he couldn't hear. A nurse, named Margaret, offered an assuring smile. "It's normal for it to take time. Just keep talking to him, it'll help." Karen leaned closer, her voice barely above a murmur. "Remember our first date?" she began. Plankton's snore was the only response. "Don't worry, he'll come around soon. Anesthesia can take a while to wear off. And when he does, he'll be groggy. It's like waking up from a deep sleep." Her thoughts drifted to Plankton's snoring, a comforting sound. She squeezed his hand again, trying to will him to wake with her touch. Then, to her surprise, she heard a murmur. "Mm, chum... so... much... chum..." The nurse, Margaret, gave her a knowing look. "It's common for patients to talk in their sleep as they come out of it. Sometimes they say the darndest things." Karen smiles. "Chum?" she repeated, "Is that what you're dreaming about?" "Needff... chum..." "You're ok," she whispered, her voice filled with relief. "You're just dreaming, sweetie." "Chum... I... I nee to... get ith," he slurred. Karen's smile grew, his nonsensical words bringing a small spark of comfort. "You're dreaming about work," she said, stroking his forehead with the back of her hand. The nurse, Margaret, checked the monitors and nodded. "His vitals look good. He'll be fine," she assured. "Remember the first time you made me a Patty?" she asked, her voice soothing. Plankton's grip on her hand tightened slightly, his chest rising and falling with even breaths. "Ith... Ith was’at..." he mumbled. It wasn't often she heard him express his feelings so openly, especially not about her. "What was it, honey?" she prompted, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Youw... youwre the... the besht... the... besht..." his voice trailed off again into snores. Karen chuckled with affection. It was clear he was talking about her, despite the garbled speech. She leaned in closer. "I'm right here," she whispered. Plankton's sleep-talk grew, his grip on her hand tightening. "Pro-tec... the secret... chum... fwom... Plankton..." "You're safe," she said, her voice a soothing whisper. "You don't have to worry about the recipe now." Plankton's slurred words continued. "Fwom... Plankton... ith... ith... my... my... hearth..." It was almost as if he was speaking to it, whispering sweet nothings in his sleep. "Your... your heart?" she repeated uncertainly, trying to make sense of his words. Plankton's chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, his hand still clutching hers tightly. A faint moan escaped Plankton's lips, and his eye began to flutter open. His eye searched the room, unfocused and glazed. He blinked slowly, a look of confusion spreading across his face. The nurse stood by, monitoring, ready to intervene if needed. "Karen?" he croaked, his voice slurred from the anesthesia. She squeezed his hand tighter and leaned in, her voice as gentle as a lullaby. "Hi, sweetie. It's all over now. You're in the recovery room." Plankton's eye searched hers, still clouded with sleep. "Wha... wha' happen'd?" he managed to ask. "You had your wisdom teeth removed," Karen said softly. "You're ok now." Plankton's eye grew clearer as his mind slowly surfaced from the depths of unconsciousness. He blinked again, looking around the room. "Why... why awe youw smiling?" "You were talking in your sleep," she said, trying to keep the amusement out of her voice. "It was just sweet." Plankton's eye searched hers. "Wha'did I shay?" "You said a lot of things," she replied, her smile lingering. "But the most important part was that you said I was the best." The corner of Plankton's mouth twitched into a weak smile. "Yeah?" he murmured, his voice still slurred. "Well, thath's twue." With Margaret's help, Karen managed to get Plankton into a more upright position. His head lolled slightly before he found his bearings, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. "How do you feel?" Karen asked, her voice full of concern. "Woozy," Plankton mumbled. With Margaret's guidance, Karen helped Plankton to stand, his legs wobbly. He leaned heavily on her, the anesthesia still clouding his movements. She felt his weight and knew that he would need her support to navigate the short walk to the car. "Let's go slow," she said, her voice steady and calm. Plankton nodded, his eye still half-lidded with sleep. They shuffled along the hallway, each step a victory over his grogginess. As they approached the door leading to the parking lot, Plankton swayed. Karen tightened her grip, for his head lolled to the side, and she caught him. "Whoa, honey," she said. Plankton's legs buckled slightly, and his head dropped to her shoulder, his weight pressing against her. Karen steadied him, her arms wrapping around to keep him upright. His breathing was deep and even, eye fighting to stay open. "You can't sleep now," she said, trying to keep the laughter from her voice. "We're not even home yet." With Margaret's help, they made their way to the car, Karen's arm supporting Plankton's weight. "Let's get you buckled in," she said, guiding him to the passenger seat. Plankton complied, his movements still sluggish and uncoordinated. With a gentle push, Karen secured the seatbelt across his chest. His head lolled back against the headrest, and for a moment, she thought he might fall back asleep, but managed to keep his eye open as she starts the engine. As she pulled out of the parking lot, Plankton's eye drifted shut. "We're almost home." Karen says as Plankton's head lolled back against the headrest. She took a hand off the wheel to pat his leg reassuringly. "You can sleep when we get there." Yet Plankton's snores filled the car, punctuating the silence. Karen couldn't help but look over at him, his face relaxed and peaceful in sleep. "Wake up, sweetie," Karen whispered, gently shaking Plankton. He stirred, his eye blinking open with difficulty. "We're home," she said. Plankton groaned. "Careful," she warned. They shuffled inside, Karen guiding him. The smell of home hit them, a mix of saltwater and the faint scent of cooking from the restaurant next door. "Come on, honey," she said, half-guiding, half-carrying him to their bedroom. Karen helped him lie downs. He let out a deep sigh. "Thathks," he murmured, his voice barely audible. Karen settled Plankton into bed, his head resting on the soft pillows, his body limp and heavy with the weight of the anesthesia. She took his other hand and squeezed gently. As they lay there, she noticed a small pool of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. Karen couldn't help but laugh softly, the tension of the day dissipating. She reached for a tissue from the bedside table and gently wiped the drool away. Plankton snuffled, his eye shooting open for a moment before closing again. "Don't worry," she whispered, stroking his forehead. "You're safe. You can go back to sleep now." Plankton's head lolled to the side, and drool grew more insistent, a silent testament to his deep slumber. Karen grabbed another tissue, wiping the saliva that trickled down his chin, his snores rumbling. With each tissue, the intimacy grew, the act of caring for him in this vulnerable state somehow endearing. She felt a tenderness for him that was usually overshadowed by their daily squabbles and the relentless pursuit of the Krabby Patty's secret recipe. As Plankton's snores grew softer, his grip on her hand loosened. Karen gently pulled her hand free and covered him with the blanket. She took a moment to gaze at his peaceful face. It was a side of him she rarely saw, and she found it surprisingly comforting. She leaned over and kissed him softly on the forehead, whispering, "I love you, even when you're drooling." Karen knew Plankton would be out for hours, so she decided to use the time to prepare a light meal for when he woke. She moved quietly to the kitchen, not wanting to disturb him. She rummaged, looking for something soft that wouldn't irritate his sore mouth. In the fridge, she found a bowl of Plankton's favorite jellyfish jello, a treat she had made the night before knowing he wouldn't be able to eat much solid food. Then, she pulled out a loaf of bread and a jar of jelly, carefully making a few soft, fluffy sandwiches that she hoped would be easy for him to chew. Next, she grabbed a few of Plankton's favorite books from the living room. She placed them on the bedside table, along with a glass of water, within arm's reach. She took a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace settle over her as she listened to his rhythmic snores. Despite the stress of the day, she was grateful for the quiet moments like these.
A LIFE OF DIVERSITY i (Autistic author) "You know, Shel, just put yourself out there. You think to much! Just steal a patty from the krusty krab, and bring it back. No inventions, just believe. I'll wait out front." Karen says. Sheldon Plankton, whose ambition often outstripped his grasp, took a deep breath and nodded. It was a simple enough plan, he thought, and maybe, just maybe, it would be enough. For years he'd been trying to outsmart Mr. Krabs, crafting ingenious contraptions and elaborate schemes to swipe the Krabby Patty secret formula. Yet here he was, standing in the shadow of the gleaming neon sign of the Chum Bucket, his own restaurant, contemplating the unthinkable: a straight-up heist. He tiptoed to the Krabby Krab, eye darting back and forth for any signs of movement. Karen, ever the impatient one, was pacing back and forth outside the Chum Bucket. She had been waiting for what felt like an eternity. "What's taking him so long?" she murmured to herself, her frustration building. Meanwhile, Plankton took a final shaky breath and slid open the kitchen window, his heart racing. The scent of greasy fryers and salty ocean air filled his nostrils. He reached out, his tiny hand trembling, and snatched the Krabby Patty that lay unguarded on the counter. With the stolen patty in hand, Plankton's confidence grew. He had done it; the secret was within his grasp! He turned to leave, but his elation was cut short when a shadow fell over him. He looked up to find Mr. Krabs standing there, his eyes narrowed and his claw raised. "Plankton, I knew it was you!" he bellowed. Plankton froze. Mr. Krabs lunged at him, but Plankton was quick. He dashed under the cash register, the Krabby Patty clutched to his chest like a football player crossing the finish line. "You'll never get me!" he yelled, his voice echoing in the quiet restaurant. But Krabs was persistent, his claws snapping shut just millimeters from Plankton's antennae. With a cunning smile, Mr. Krabs stepped back eyeing the cash register. "Maybe not," he said reaching over the counter and hoisting the heavy metal contraption off its stand. Plankton's eye went wide with horror as he realized what Krabs intended to do. He tried to dodge, but the space was too cramped, and the cash register came down on him like a guillotine blade. The sound of metal on metal reverberated through the kitchen, and the Krabby Patty went flying out of his grasp. Mr. Krabs' victory roar filled the room as Plankton crumpled to the floor, stars dancing in his vision. The impact had been tremendous, and for a moment, he lay dazed and defeated. The cash register's heavy weight had not only knocked him out cold but also left a sizable dent in the floorboards. Outside, Karen's pacing grew more erratic. as "What's keeping him?" she groused. Just as she was about to storm inside, she hears the cash register, which hit Plankton's head. Peering in she saw Plankton lying on the floor. "Plankton?" she shrieked, her voice cracking with panic. Karen opens the door and goes to him. "Plankton! Oh no!" she screamed, voice shaking the very foundation of the Krabby Krab. She rushed over to him, shaking with fear. Plankton's eye closed, and his body was completely still. The Patty lay forgotten. Panic set in, and she began to pat his face. "Plankton, wake up!!" she yelled, echoing through the deserted kitchen. She knew that Plankton could be dramatic, but this was unlike him. He'd always bounced back from Mr. Krabs' traps before, albeit with a bruised ego. There was a pulse, faint but steady. "Thank Neptune," she whispered, her relief palpable. "Plankton, please," Karen begged, a mix of desperation and fear. She knew she had to do something, and fast. But what? Her medical expertise was limited to patching up her husband's bruises from past failed schemes, not dealing with a concussion from a cash register to the head. She then managed to scoop up her unconscious husband and sprinted to the Bikini Bottom Hospital. Once inside the hospital, she explained what happened with the cash register. "We'll do a brain scan." They said. Karen laid Plankton on the hospital bed. Finally a doctor approached with a solemn expression. "The brain scan results are in." Karen nodded for him to go on. "It seems your husband has suffered significant brain damage from impact," the doctor continued, fidgeting with a clipboard. "The good news is that he will wake up, but... your husband has experienced severe brain trauma. While he will regain consciousness, it appears that he may have developed permanent autism." "What does that mean?" she managed to whisper. The doctor explained that while Plankton would still be able to talk and/or communicate, his interactions and reactions to sensory would be significantly affected. "But he'll still be the same Plankton?" The doctor nods. "In many ways, yes. His personality, his memories, they should all be intact. But his ability to process, to understand and respond appropriately... those might be altered. It's a complex condition, Mrs. Plankton. He can go home whence he wakes up." Karen nodded numbly, mind racing with the implications. As she sat by Plankton's bedside the hospital lights flickered, and the constant beeping of the heart monitor was the only company she had. The quiet was broken her husband's eye fluttering open. "Karen?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from the trauma. Her heart leaped at the sound, and she took his hand, squeezing it tightly. "I'm here," she said, her voice cracking. "How do you feel?" Plankton's gaze darted around the room. "Where am I?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and fear. "You're at the hospital, sweetie," Karen replied, voice gentle and soothing. "You had hit your head on the cash register at the Krabby Krab." Karen said, her voice shaking slightly. "Mr. Krabs hit you." Plankton blinked rapidly, trying to process her words. "Cash... register?" he murmured, voice sounding distant and confused. Karen nodded, her eyes never leaving his. The room was a cacophony of sounds: the beep of the monitor, the rustle of nurses' shoes, and the distant wail of a siren. Plankton's senses seemed to amplify, each noise stabbing at his brain like a thousand tiny needles. "What happened to me?" he asked, voice small and scared. Karen took a deep breath preparing herself to explain the gravity of the situation. "You hit your head," she began, "and now, the doctor says you have... acquired a neurodisability." Plankton stared at her, his eyes unfocused. "Neuro... what?" he repeated. Karen took a deep breath, her heart heavy. "It's like your brain is wired differently now. You might see things, hear things, feel things more intensely. And sometimes, you might not understand people, or process differently." "Does it... does it mean I'm broken?" he asked, voice barely a whisper. "No, Plankton," she said firmly, "You're not broken. You're just... different. And we'll figure this out together."
NOTHING BUT THE WISDOM TRUTH vi "I... I just want to make sure he's ok," Krabs said. "He's not in a good place right now," Karen admitted. "Tell him... I didn't mean to embarrass him, that I'm sorry for... everything." "I'll let him know," she said. Heading into the bedroom she found Plankton fast asleep, his face a picture of peace amidst the chaos of his mind, a stark contrast to the turmoil she knew was churning within him. She knew waking him would only stir up more pain and anger, so she decided to let him rest. Karen sat on the edge of the bed, watching him sleep. His chest rose and fell with each breath, the gentle snores a soothing soundtrack to the quiet room. She reached out to brush his antennae, with love and concern. Karen knew this wisdom teeth extraction had taken a toll on him, but she had no idea the depth of his embarrassment til she saw the photo. The next morning, Plankton woke to Karen's gentle humming. The stiffness in his jaw had subsided to a dull throb. As he sat up, the events of the previous day crashed down on him like a tidal wave. Karen turned, her smile fading as she took in his expression. "You're up," she said tentatively. Plankton nodded, jaw still aching. "Krabs called," Karen said, breaking the silence. Plankton's eye snapped to hers, his body tensing. "What." Karen took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice calm. "He said he's sorry for everything," she replied, her voice measured. "And that he didn't mean to embarrass you." Plankton stared at her, his jaw clenched. Karen understood the depth of his pain. "Maybe it wasn't about embarrassment," she suggested gently. "Maybe he was just trying to help." Plankton snorted, but the anger in his eye was fading, replaced by something closer to defeat. "Help." he repeated. "From Krabs!" Karen nodded. "He seemed genuinely concerned," she said. "And he did bring over those jellyfish for you." Plankton's skeptical, but didn't argue. Mr. Krabs wasn't exactly known for warm and fuzzy moments. But the idea that he had shown any care was unsettling. He always seen Krabs as the epitome of greed and self-interest, this newer side as unwelcome as the pain in his mouth. But as the day wore on, Plankton couldn't shake the feeling there's more to the story. Despite pride, he was curious about what happened between them. He knew he had to confront Krabs to set things straight, to regain some semblance of control over. So, when Mr. Krabs appeared at the chum bucket door, unannounced and looking unusually nervous, Plankton's curiosity won over. He begrudgingly let him in, posture stiff. Mr. Krabs fidgeted, his claws twitching as he looked around the cluttered room. "Plankton," he began, his voice tentative. "I know I've not always been the... the most sensitive crab in the sea, but I never meant to cause ye distress." Plankton's eye narrowed. "What do you want?" he demanded, his voice gruff. Mr. Krabs took a deep breath, his claws fidgeting. "I just... I wanted to apologize," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "For the photo. For... everything." Plankton's eye never left Mr. Krabs' face. "You had no right," he said, his voice cold. Mr. Krabs swallowed. "I know," he admits. "But I didn't mean for it to go viral. Pearl... she's young, she doesn't understand the implications." Mr. Krabs shifted uncomfortably. "I don't expect anything," he said. "But I want to explain. You were in a lot of pain, and I just... I just wanted to help." Plankton's expression unyielding. "And what exactly?" Mr. Krabs took a step back, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. "Well, you were delirious," he began. "You talked a bit, but it was mostly nonsense." Plankton wasn't satisfied. "I want details?" Mr. Krabs sighed heavily, his shoulders dropping. "You talked about the good ol' days," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And how, despite our rivalry, we've always had a... a sort of respect for each other." Plankton felt a flicker of something in his chest, but pushed it aside. "Respect?" he sneered. "You expect me to believe that?" Mr. Krabs nodded, his eyes earnest. "It's the truth," he said. "You talked about how we've been through a lot together, even though we're enemies." Plankton felt his anger dissipate with a strange curiosity. "Why?" he asked, his voice softer. "Why would I?" Mr. Krabs shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe anesthesia brought out some hidden feelings?" Plankton's antennae quivered with irritation. "Hidden feelings!" he echoed. "You're telling me I have feelings for you?" Mr. Krabs' face flushed a deep red. "No, no, no!" he sputtered, holding up his claws defensively. "It's just... you were out of it, Plankton, unable to know what you were saying." But Plankton wasn't letting it go. "I need to know," he insisted, his voice low and intense. "What did I say to you?" Mr. Krabs squirmed, his eyes darting around the room. "It's... it's nothing, really," he stammered. "Just random, incoherent babble." But Plankton's gaze was unyielding. "Tell me," he demanded. Mr. Krabs took a deep breath, eyes downcast. "You called me your... your best friend," he murmured. "And you said you admire me." Plankton's eye bulged, his antennae standing straight up. "Admired you?" he echoed, his voice incredulous. Mr. Krabs nodded, his cheeks burning. "Yes," he said, his voice barely audible. "But it was just the medication, I'm sure." Plankton's mind reeled at the revelation. Best friend? Admired? Inconceivable. He had spent his life plotting against Mr. Krabs, trying to steal the Krabby Patty secret, and here he was, confessing his admiration and friendship? A nightmare. "Why would I?" he croaked, his voice a mix of disbelief and anger. Mr. Krabs shuffled his feet. "I told ya," he repeated. "You were out of it, babbling about all sorts of things." But Plankton's mind was racing, trying to piece together the puzzle of his subconscious. "What else did I do?" he pressed, his voice tight. Mr. Krabs fidgeted, his eyes darting around the room. "You... you also thanked me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "For being here." Plankton's jaw dropped, his arms flailing. "Thanked you?" he echoed, his voice filled with disbelief. "What, exactly?" Mr. Krabs squirmed, his eyes darting around the room. "You said I was a... friend," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "And that you were grateful for my help." Plankton quivered with rage. "Grateful?" he spat, his voice filled with revulsion. "To you?" Mr. Krabs looked down at his claws, his eyes pleading. "I know it's hard to believe," he said. "But you were in a lot of pain, and the medication can do funny things." Plankton's mind raced, trying to process this new information. He had always seen Mr. Krabs as the epitome of everything he despised: greedy, selfish, and always one step ahead in their eternal dance for the Krabby Patty secret. But here he was, describing a moment Plankton couldn't even remember. "What else?" Plankton demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "What other humiliating things?" Mr. Krabs took a deep breath, his eyes flicking up to meet Plankton's. "Well, you dozed off during my story," he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. "You leaned against me, and before I knew it, you were out cold." Plankton's tentacles stilled, his mind racing with the absurdity of the situation. "Story time?" he echoed, his voice laced with disbelief. "I fell asleep on your shoulder?" Mr. Krabs nodded, his face a picture of awkwardness. "It was quite... unexpected," he said, his eyes darting around the room. "But you seemed to enjoy it." Plankton stared at him, his mind reeling. "What was the story?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper. Mr. Krabs' cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red. "It was about... You, per your request." Plankton's eye widened. Mr. Krabs nodded, turning a shade of red that matched his shell. "Yeah," he said, his voice small. "You said you liked the sound of my voice. It's the anesthesia," he said, his voice gentle. "It can do funny things to a body, make 'em say and do things they wouldn't normally." Plankton tightened around the ice pack, his mind racing. He had always seen Mr. Krabs as his sworn enemy, the one who stood between him and the Krabby Patty secret. But here was Krabs, describing a moment of intimacy that was as far from their usual interactions as the moon was from the ocean floor. Mr. Krabs cleared his throat, in discomfort. "It's alright, Plankton," he said, his voice gruff. "It's not something anyone needs to know about." But Plankton was insistent, his curiosity piqued. "I need to know," he said, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. "How did it happen?" Mr. Krabs sighed, eyes dropping to the floor. "Well," he began, his voice halting. "You seemed to get tired," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your eye closed, and your head just... kind of fell onto my shoulder." Plankton's antennae twitched with discomfort, his cheeks burning. "And?" "Well, you were in pain," he said, his voice gruff. "I didn't want to disturb you ." Karen watched the exchange from the doorway. She knew Plankton was tough, but this was a side of him she had never seen before. Vulnerable and exposed. "Mr. Krabs," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "Thank you for coming over." Mr. Krabs looked up, his eyes darting to her before returning to Plankton. "It's no trouble, Karen," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I just wanted to make sure he's okay." Karen nodded, her gaze never leaving Plankton's face. "I think we can handle it from here," she said, her tone firm but not unkind. Mr. Krabs' eyes darted between the two of them, fidgeting. "If... if there's anything I can do," he offered, his voice trailing off. Karen gave a small smile filled with gratitude. "I think we got it from here," she said. "But thank you for caring."
CHIP AND FAIL vii (Autistic author) Plankton's body tensed, his eye squeezing shut as he tried to block out the onslaught of sensations. "Chip," he murmured, his voice strained, "I can't." "What do you mean?" He didn't know his touch, his words, his very presence was a storm in Plankton's mind. He just wanted to share his week, his joy, with his dad. Plankton took a deep, shaky breath, his antennae twitching. "I have... I have something that makes it hard for me to... to handle..." But Chip's excitement was unable to comprehend the distress he was causing. "Handle what, Dad?" he asked, his voice filled with eagerness. "You can tell me anything!" Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye flickering with pain. He knew he had to find the words, to explain the storm that raged in his mind, his voice trembling. "I can't... I just..." Chip's eyes searched his father's, his hands reaching out again. But Plankton was already slipping away, his mind a tornado of sensations. He couldn't find the words, the storm too loud. Chip, oblivious to the turmoil, pressed on. "Dad, you can tell me anything," he said, his voice bubbling over with eagerness. His hands reached out again, his touch like a lightning bolt in Plankton's overstimulated world. Plankton's antennae quivered with the effort of maintaining his composure. He didn't know how to explain the maelstrom that was his mind, the way each touch and sound felt like a thunderclap. "Chip," he began again, his voice strained, "I'm..." But Chip was a hurricane, his enthusiasm unyielding. "Is it because of the college?" he asked, his screen sparkling. "Or Nutmeg?" He didn't realize that his words, his touch, were the fuel for the storm. Plankton's eye searched his son's, desperate for a moment of calm. "Chip, no, it's not about..." His voice was a whisper, lost in the wind of his son's excitement. But Chip didn't hear the desperation, his mind a kaleidoscope of thoughts and memories. He didn't see the pain he was causing, only his own need for connection. "But Dad, I just wanted to..." Plankton's antennae shot up, his body tensing like a bowstring. "Chip," he said, his voice a whipcrack of agony. "P-please." But Chip was in his own world, racing with the excitement of his week. "Come on, Dad," he said, his voice filled with cheerful oblivion. "It's so cool, you've gotta see it!" He grabbed Plankton's hand, pulling him to hard. Plankton's body jerked, his eye wide with pain. The sudden contact was like a sledgehammer to his overstimulated mind, his thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm. "Chip," he managed, his voice strained, "please." But Chip's excitement was a freight train, barreling forward without a care for the tracks. He didn't see the agony etched in Plankton's features, didn't feel the tension in his father's body. "Come on, Dad," he said, his grip tightening. "It's going to be amazing, I..." Plankton's body spasmed at the contact, his antennae vibrating wildly. The room grew too bright, the sounds too loud, the air too thin. He couldn't move, couldn't think. His mind was a cacophony of sensations, a symphony of overload. "Chip," he choked out, his voice a plea. "I... I can't." Chip's face fell, not realizing how angry his dad's getting. "What do you..." But Plankton was already spiraling, his mind a tornado of sensory assault. He didn't know how to make Chip understand, his voice a thunderclap of despair. "I CAN'T!" he shouted, his antennae waving erratically. Chip's smile faltered, his eyes wide with shock. He had never seen his dad like this before, his touch a match to a fuse. He took a step back, his hands up in surrender. "You mean, you won't!" he asked, his voice shaking. Plankton took a deep, shuddering breath, his antennae drooping. "Chip," he said, his voice tight with frustration. "I can't. Not right now. I need..." But Chip's crashing over the delicate barriers Plankton had built to keep his world in order. "But Dad, it's just a story!" he exclaimed, his voice booming in the quiet living room. "It's not a big deal, you're just being..." The room grew smaller, the walls closing in on Plankton as Chip's words echoed in his mind. Just a story? To Chip, it was a simple tale of adventure, but to Plankton, it was a minefield of sensory input his brain couldn't process. "Chip, please," he murmured, his antennae twitching wildly. "I'm trying..." "You're not trying hard enough!" Chip said, his voice filled with the kind of innocent exasperation that only a child can muster. "But if you're trying to break our family, congratulations! You..." Plankton's antennae shot up, his body rigid with tension. The accusation hit him like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him under the weight of his own failure. "Chip," he said, his voice a desperate plea. "It's not..." But Chip's screen filled with accusation, his voice loud in the suddenly too-small room. "Why can't you just be normal?" he demanded, his grip on Plankton's hand tightening. Plankton's antennae quivered, his eye squeezed shut against the assault. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm not... I'm not like other dads." "Well DUH! You just can't handle it, can you?" Chip said, his voice filled with frustration. He didn't see the pain in Plankton's eye, the way his antennae drooped with each accusation. "But it's just a story, Dad. It's not that..." Plankton's antennae twitched, his body trembling with the effort to stay calm. "Chip, you don't understand," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "My mind is like a... a... " Chip's eyes searched his father's, his expression a mix of confusion and anger. "What? What's wrong with you? Let me guess, you're just being dramatic again," he said, his voice harsher than he intended. Plankton flinched at the accusation, his antennas stiffening. Karen watched from the sidelines, aching. She knew this moment was inevitable, but seeing the pain was like a knife to her. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation that needed to happen. "Chip, sweetie," she began, her voice soft and gentle, "Dad's not being dramatic." She took a step forward, placing a hand on her son's shoulder, feeling the tension beneath his skin. "Your dad has..." "Mom, my 'dad' has no place in OUR family! Your life is a lie!" Chip's words, fueled by confusion and hurt, echoed through to Plankton, his voice shaking. Karen's hands shook as she reached for Chip. "No, honey," she said, her voice trembling, "it's not that simple." But Chip was already storming out of the room, his footsteps like thunder in the quiet hallway. Plankton slumped back against his chair, his antennae drooping. He had hoped Chip would never have to know, never have to feel the way he did. The way his mind was like a cluttered room, with no way to organize the chaos. He closed his eye, the weight of his secret heavy on his shoulders.
CHIP AND FAIL viii (Autistic author) Karen's hand was a lifeline, her voice a gentle guide. "Chip," she called out. "We need to talk." Chip stopped in the hallway. Why was Dad acting so weird? He turned to face his mother, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "What's wrong with him?" he demanded, his voice filled with accusation. "He doesn't deserve to be called my dad if he can't even..." But that's when it happens. That's when Plankton started hyperventilating, and that's when Plankton can't take anymore. That's when it happened. Chip's words were like a match striking too close to a powder keg. Plankton's breath hitched, his antennae twitching erratically. Karen rushed to his side, her screen wide with concern. "Babe, you okay?" she asked, her voice a gentle caress. She holds her arms out to catch Plankton. But Plankton's mind was a whirlwind, his body a live wire. He couldn't answer, couldn't find the words to explain the chaos that was his reality. His antennae trembled as he struggled to breathe, his body rigid with fear. He had hoped to keep this hidden, to protect Chip from the truth, but it was too much. The storm inside him grew wilder, each breath a battle. Chip's eyes searched his father's, his own confusion mirroring the chaos in the room. "What's wrong with you?" he repeated, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. But Plankton's mind was a tornado, his thoughts swirling too fast for words. He could feel his chest constrict, his heart pounding like a drum. Karen watched her son's screen, seeing the hurt in his eyes, the misunderstanding etched deep. She took a deep breath, knowing the moment had arrived. "Chip," she began, her voice soft but firm, "there's something you need to know about your dad." Chip looked at her, his expression a mix of anger and confusion. "What could possibly make him act like this?" he spat, poking Plankton hard. "Why did you marry him? He's just nothing but..." "Chip," Karen said firmly, taking his hands in hers, when Plankton starts to wheeze heavily, his body constricting with each shallow breath. Chip's anger faded, replaced with fear as he watched his father's distress. "Dad?" he whispered, his voice shaking. Plankton's body trembled as his legs gave out, collapsing into the embrace Karen had been ready to offer. "Dad?" Chip's voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. He had never seen his father so overwhelmed, so vulnerable. Karen knelt beside Plankton, her hands gentle on his trembling body. "It's okay, love," she whispered, her voice a salve on his raw nerves. "Just breathe." Chip's eyes were glued to his father with fear. He had never seen him like this before, his body a stranger's under his own touch. "What's wrong with him?" he asked again, his voice shaking. Karen took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she smoothed back Plankton's antennae. "Chip, your dad was born with something..." Her voice trailed off, the words stuck in her throat like a piece of unchewed food. Chip's eyes searched hers, his confusion a storm cloud gathering. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice small and scared. Karen took a deep breath, her heart aching for both her son and her husband. "Your dad," she began, her voice shaking with the weight of her words, "was born different, Chip." Plankton's eye flickered open, filled with a mixture of fear and hope. "What do you mean, 'different'?" Chip asked, his voice small and scared. He had never heard his mother talk about his dad this way before. Karen took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in her throat. "When your dad was born, Chip," she began, her screen filled with a sadness that threatened to spill over, "his brain was injured during delivery. When the doctors pulled him out, they didn't realize how fragile he was and they..." Her voice trailed off, the memory too painful to recount. "They had to get him out and applied too much force on his head, which caused some damage. It gave him a type of condition, where he's on what's called autism spectrum." Chip's eyes widened, his grip on his shirt tightening. "But that's not his fault, right?" he asked, his voice a hopeful whisper. He didn't want to think of his dad as damaged or broken. Karen nodded, her screen filled with love for both her husband and her son. "No, honey, it's not his fault," she said, her voice steady. "It's just how he's. And it's not something you can see or touch. It's like having a radio in your head that's always tuned to the loudest station, and sometimes the static gets too much."
CHIP AND FAIL xi (Autistic author) Karen made chum for dinner and they all sat at the table. "Thanks," Plankton says to Karen as she hands him his plate. She sits down with her own plate after serving Chip his. "Hi, Dad," Chip said tentatively, his voice a whisper in the stillness of the room. Plankton's antennae twitched, but his eye remained fixed on his plate. The silence was a wall between them, thick as seaweed and just as impenetrable. Chip's heart felt like it was sinking into his stomach, the weight of his father's silence heavier than any words could have been. Karen's screen darted between them, a silent plea for peace. She knew this was Plankton's way of dealing with his overwhelm, but it was torture for Chip, who craved understanding and connection. "So, how's your friends?" Karen asks Chip. Chip shrugs, his screen darting to Plankton, who remains silent, his antennae still. "They're okay," he says, his voice lacking its usual enthusiasm. Karen sighs internally, the tension at the dinner table a heavy fog that seemed to smother their usual banter. "Karen, can you pass the napkins?" Plankton says. "Sure," she says as she puts them in the middle. "Dad, how do you feel about the food?" Plankton's antennae twitched but his gaze remained on his plate, his mouth a tight line. The silence was a thick stew that no one knew how to digest. Chip's eyes were filled with hope, searching for any sign of his father's usual playfulness, but all he found was a wall of quiet. Chip's voice was a feeble ripple in the vast ocean of their silence. "Dad, can I get you a drink?" he offered. Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but he remained silent, his eye never leaving his plate. The air was thick with tension, like seawater saturated with the weight of their unspoken words. Chip churned with anxiety, each bite of chum a reminder of the gap that had suddenly widened between him and his father. "Please, Dad," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the clink of their forks. Plankton's antennas remained still, his eye focused on the food before him. Karen's heart was a tight knot in her chest, her eyes darting between her husband and son. The silence was a living creature, a Kraken of tension coiled around them, squeezing the joy from the room. She took a deep breath, forcing a smile. "So, Chip, tell us about your week," she said, her voice too bright, too forced. Chip took a tentative bite of his chum, his eyes on Plankton's unmoving antennae. "Well, I had a good time at the carnival," he began, his voice a sad echo of his usual excitement. "I won at the ring toss." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but he said nothing, his silence a thick, unspoken wall. Chip felt like a deflated balloon, each of his words a futile attempt to pierce the silence. "And I met a new friend," Chip continued, his voice a feeble thread trying to weave through the stillness. "She's a dolphin. She was really cute." Plankton's antennae twitched again, just a little, but it was enough to keep Chip's hope afloat. Chip's voice grew stronger, his words a lifeline thrown into the turbulent sea of silence. "Her name's Daisy," he said, a tiny smile tugging. "We played in the bubbles." But Plankton's antennae remained still, his eye on his plate. It was as if Chip's words were bouncing off an invisible shield, unable to penetrate the fortress of his father's mind. Chip's smile faltered, his screen filling with unshed tears. He wanted so badly to share his joy with Plankton, but the wall of silence was too high, too thick. He took a deep breath, his hands clenching around his fork. "Dad, I know you're mad at me," he said, his voice trembling. "But I just want to understand." Plankton's antennae twitched slightly, but he said nothing, his face a mask of indifference. The silence grew heavier with each passing moment, weighing down on Chip like an oversized sponge soaked in regret. He knew he had to try again, to bridge the gap. "Dad," he began, his voice shaky but determined. "I know I messed up today, but I want to make it right." He took a deep breath, willing the words to come. "Can you tell me more about your...about what happened to you?" His voice was a tiny bubble of hope rising in the deep sea of their dinner. Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye flickering up to meet Chip's for a brief moment before dropping back to his plate. The silence stretched on like a tight rubber band, threatening to snap. Karen's screen a tempest of concern, torn between her love for her husband and her desire to help her son. She knew Plankton needed his space, but seeing the pain in Chip's screen was like watching a piece of coral being slowly eroded by the sea. Chip's words hung in the air, like a message in a bottle lost at sea. Plankton's silence was a reef that Chip's words couldn't navigate around. He took a deep breath, his heart a conch shell echoing with hope. "Dad, I know it's hard for you," he tried again, his voice a gentle wave. "But if you don't tell me, how can I understand?" The room was a pressure cooker of unspoken emotion, the tension rising with each passing second. Karen's screen pleaded with Plankton, willing him to respond. But he remained still, his antennae unmoving, his eye a storm cloud over their meal. Chip's heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice, his words falling on deaf antennae. "Dad, please," he whispered, his voice desperate. "I just want to help." But Plankton's antennae remained motionless, his eye averted. The silence was a deep-sea trench between them, vast and unbridgeable. Chip's shoulders slumped, his hope leaking away like water through a sieve. He took another bite of his chum, the taste of it suddenly bitter on his tongue. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second a tiny hammer on the anvil of his heart. Chip forced a swallow, his throat tight with emotion. "Dad," he said again, his voice a tiny ripple in the vast ocean of quiet. "I'm sorry." The room held its breath, waiting for a response, but none came. The silence was a thick kelp that choked, suffocating any attempt at conversation.
CHIP AND FAIL xii (Autistic author) Karen knew her husband's withdrawal was a defense mechanism, a way to cope with the sensory overload. But watching Chip's pain was like watching a school of fish caught in a net, thrashing against the confines of their misunderstanding. Chip pushed his chum around his plate, his appetite lost in the whirlpool of emotions. "Dad," he tried again, his voice a soft wave breaking on the shore of Plankton's silence. "I don't know what to do." Chip felt like a tiny fish adrift in the vast sea of his father's displeasure. "I just want to be there for you," he murmured, his words a desperate plea. But Plankton's antennae remained still, his eye unreadable. The silence was a dense fog, obscuring the usual warmth between them. Chip's heart felt like it was trapped in a fishnet of doubt and confusion. Karen watched the exchange with a heavy heart, her own plate of chum barely touched. She knew Plankton's silence was a form of self-protection, his way of reeling in the chaos that had engulfed him. But she couldn't help but feel the barb of it, stinging Chip with each unanswered question. "Dad," Chip whispered again, his voice now a soft ripple in the vast sea of their dinner. "I know you're upset, but I'm trying." He took another tentative bite, his screen never leaving Plankton's still form. "Can we talk about it? What part of today d..." But Plankton's antennae remained as stiff as coral, his eye unyielding. The silence was a thick kelp forest, entangling any attempt at communication. Chip didn't know what else to say, what else to do. Karen's screen searched the horizon of Plankton's face, looking for any sign of relenting. But he was an isolated island, unreachable. She knew the storm inside him was still raging, and she could feel the waves of pain crashing against the shore of her own. Chip's voice was a sad melody, his words a school of fish lost in a sea of misunderstanding. "Dad," he whispered again, his voice a soft ripple in the vast ocean of silence. "I know I said the wrong things, but I'm here. I'm listening." Plankton's antennae remained still, his eye a clouded pool. The dinner table was a coral reef of tension, their plates untouched. The only sound was the distant lapping of waves against the shore of their unspoken words. Chip's voice was a lone seagull calling out into the vast sea of silence. "Dad," he tried again, his voice a desperate cry. "I'm sorry for what I said." But the words fell into the abyss, unheard by the father who was deaf to his son's pain. Plankton's antennae remained still. The tension at the dinner table was thick, obscuring any chance of understanding. "Dad," he said. "I didn't mean to hurt you." Chip's hope was fading. "I'm sorry," Chip murmured again. He didn't know what else to say, his words a futile attempt. His father's antennae twitched slightly. The room was thick with unspoken words. Karen's screen flitted between them, her gaze a beacon of understanding for Chip in the abyss of Plankton's silence. She knew her husband's pain, had seen the storms he weathered in solitude. But she also saw the desperation in Chip's screen, the yearning for connection. "Dad," Chip whispered. "I know I don't understand it all, but I want to learn." Plankton's antennae remained unmoved, the silence a crushing weight that threatened to drown them both. Chip's voice was tiny. He took another bite of chum, his mouth moving mechanically, his screen never leaving Plankton's still form. "Dad," he tried again, his voice a soft whisper. "What can I do?" Plankton's antennae twitched once. He took a deep breath, his chest expanding then letting it out in a slow sigh. Chip was trapped. He had never seen his father so closed off, his usual vibrant spirit dimmed. Karen's eyes were a lifeline, her gaze a gentle nudge towards patience. She knew Plankton's silence was not rejection but a cry for space, a retreat into his own mind. "It's okay," she mouthed. Chip nodded, his screen never leaving Plankton's still form. He could see the pain etched in the lines of his father's face, the way his antennae drooped. He took a deep breath. "Dad," he said, his voice a soft current. "I just want to help." Plankton's antennae twitched, just once, but it was enough for Chip to hold onto. "I'll learn so I can be there to help during temper tantrums.." And there it is. His eye flinched, and suddenly, he was no longer in the quiet room with his son and wife. He was back in elementary school, the laughter of his classmates as they called his meltdowns "tantrums." The taste of the chum in his mouth turned sour. His school teachers had never understood, had never seen the silent storm that raged beneath his calm surface. "Plankton?" Karen's voice was a soft echo, reaching out to him. He blinked, coming back to the present, his gaze meeting hers. Her eyes were calm. Chip's voice was a gentle nudge. "Dad, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." But Plankton's mind was tangled within his thoughts of his past. The word "tantrum" echoed in his head, a reminder of his vulnerability. Karen's eyes searched her husband's, understanding. She reached over, her hand soft on his arm. "Take a moment," she whispered. "We're here for you." Plankton felt the warmth of her touch, grounding him. His antennae twitched slightly, acknowledging her support.
CHIP AND FAIL xiii (Autistic author) Chip's voice was soft. "Dad, I didn't mean to..." But Plankton was stuck. His antennae twitched, a silent signal of his distress. Karen's hand on his arm was a lifeline. She had seen the way the world had treated him, the way his own son didn't understand. "I mean, it's not like you can't just turn it off," Chip said, his voice naive and hopeful. "Why can't you just deal with it? Why do you always have to be so sensitive? You'll get used to it. If not, then you're just being dramatic. So just stop with the tantrums, and be normal." Plankton's unable to take it. "Chip, that's enough," Karen's voice was firm, cutting through the silence, but Plankton's already simmering emotions boiled over. "What?" Chip looked at her, confusion in his screen. "What's wrong with what I said? He's just overreacting.." Karen's eyes were a tempest of emotion. She knew Chip didn't mean to be hurtful, but his words cut through Plankton like a knife. Her hand tightened on his arm, a gentle reminder to think before he spoke. "Chip," she said, her voice firm but kind. "You need to understand that what you just said is not okay." But Chip was oblivious, his screen a puzzle of confusion. "What? I just want to know why you chose to be like a..." "CHIP," Karen interrupts. But Plankton's already in tears, as Chip's gotten to him. "Dad," Chip says. "You know I..." But Plankton can't take it anymore. "How could you?" he chokes out, tears flowing. Chip's eyes widened. He had never seen his father like this. "Dad?" He reached out, his hand hovering, unsure if he should touch him. Plankton looked up, his single eye brimming with sorrow. "Why? How dare you say that?" he whispered, now getting up from the kitchen table. Chip's hand fell to his side, his mouth a sad 'o' of regret. "Dad, no, that's not what I..." But Plankton was already retreating, his antennae drooping with each step. The kitchen door closed with a soft click, leaving Chip and Karen in the wake of his withdrawal. Chip's eyes were wide with disbelief, his heart heavy in his chest. "What did I do?" he asked, his voice breaking the surface of their shared shock. Karen's eyes were pools of disappointment and sadness. "You don't know what you just said," she murmured, her voice a gentle rebuke. "What?" Chip's voice was a sad echo, his confusion palpable. Karen's eyes were a tempest of frustration and sadness. "Chip, what you said was not only hurtful, it was ignorant," she said, her voice a soft wash of disappointment. "You can't tell someone to 'just deal with it' when it comes to autism." Chip's shoulders slumped, his face a mask of regret. "But I just want to understand," he mumbled, his voice a sad echo. Karen's voice tightens with emotion. "You have to learn to listen without speaking," she said, her words carefully chosen. "Your dad's autism is not something he can just 'turn off'." Chip's eyes were wide with shock. "I didn't know," he murmured. "I'm sorry." "You have to understand, Chip. Your father's not being dramatic. He's in pain," she said, her voice cracking. "You can't just tell him to 'deal with it'. That's not how this works." The words stung Chip. He had never seen his mother so upset. "But I didn't know," he protested. "You have to learn to listen," she repeated, her voice soft yet firm. "You can't just assume you understand because you want to." He had wanted to connect, but instead, he had only pushed his father further away. He took a deep breath, the weight of his ignorance heavy on his shoulders. "What can I do?" he asked. Karen took a moment before responding. "Give your father space," she said. "And ask about it first. Understand that his reactions are not his choice." Chip nodded, his eyes downcast. He knew he had messed up, but he didn't know how to fix it. Karen stood, her movements a gentle sway as she walked to Plankton's room, leaving Chip alone with his guilt.
CHIP AND FAIL xiv (Autistic author) Karen opened the door. Plankton's sobs filled the room. She approached him slowly, her movements careful not to startle him. "Plankton?" she whispered, her voice gentle. He was curled up on the bed, his antennae shaking with each gasp. His single eye looked up at her. "I'm sorry," he choked out. Karen sat beside him, her hand on his back in a comforting motion. "You have nothing to apologize for," she murmured, her voice soothing. "It's Chip who needs to understand." Plankton's antennae stopped shaking, his eye focusing on her. "Why doesn't he get it?" he whispered. "Why can't he see..." "Chip loves you," she said. "But he's never had to deal with this before. He's trying to understand." Plankton's antennae quivered. He knew she was right, but the pain of his son's ignorance... The door creaked open, and Chip's face appeared, his eyes red and swollen. "Dad," he began. "Can we talk?" Plankton felt a wave of anger crash over him. How could he forgive his son for not understanding? For not seeing the struggle he faced every single day? "What do you want, Chip?" he snapped. Chip took a tentative step into the room, his screen on Karen. "I just...I didn't know," he mumbled. "I'm sorry." Plankton's antennae shot up. "How could you not know?" he snarled. "How could you be so ignorant?" Chip took a step back. "I didn't mean to make it worse," he said, his voice shaking. "I just wanted to be close to you Dad, and have you..." Plankton's antennae trembled with frustration. "You think I don't want that?" he spat. "You think I enjoy being like this?" Chip's eyes widened. "No, Dad," he said quickly. "I just want to help you show..." But Plankton was drowning in anger. "You think you can help?" he sneered. "You think your naive attempts at bonding can fix what's broken?" Chip felt the sting of his father's words. "Dad, I didn't mean to..." But Plankton's antennae remained still. "Get out," he said, his voice cold. "Just leave me alone." Chip's eyes filled with tears. He had never heard such hostility from his father. "Dad," he pleaded. "I'm trying..." "I WON'T HAVE YOU PITY ME! I've lived with this my whole life, and you think you can just waltz in and 'help'? WELL, YOU CAN'T!" Plankton hissed. Karen can tell he's getting overwhelmed. With a gentle but firm tone, Karen stepped between Chip and Plankton. "Both of you, stop," she said. "This isn't helping." Her eyes met Chip's and then Plankton's. "Chip, your father is not mad at you, he's just overwhelmed," Karen explained. "And Plankton, your son is just trying to understand."
CHIP AND FAIL xv (Autistic author) "But Dad," Chip began, his voice trembling, when Plankton interrupts. "BUT DAD," Plankton mimics, his voice high-pitched and mocking. "You think you know how I feel, but you have no idea!" Karen stepped back. She knew Plankton needed to express his anger, and Chip needed to learn from it. "Dad, I'm sorry," Chip whispered, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean to make it about..." But Plankton's antennae were a flurry of agitation. "You think your stupid need to touch me can just make everything okay? WELL GUESS WHAT, CHIP? IT CAN'T!" He was shouting now, his voice echoing through the room. Chip's eyes filled with hurt. "Dad, I just wanted to tell you about my week," he said, his voice quivering. "I didn't mean to..." But Plankton's just starting. "You think your convenience more important than my comfort?" he snapped. "Dad," Chip says. "I just wanted to be close..." But Plankton's anger was a raging storm. "YOUR VERSION OF CLOSE IS Suffocation!" he yells, his antennae shaking violently. "You're nothing but a child. All you know is your own need for attention, yet you expect me to be fine with your constant poking and prodding?" Chip's cheeks burned with shame. "That's not fair," he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm trying to understand..." But Plankton's antennae were a blur of anger. "Understand? You can't even begin to understand what it's like!" he spat. "You live your life in a bubble, Chip. You've always had everything you've ever wanted, and now you want to 'understand' me? And don't come crying about fairness..." "PLEASE Dad..." But Plankton's anger was unstoppable. "You think you're so clever," he sneered with rage. "With your fancy friends and your easy life. You wouldn't know what it's like to have to fight for every little thing." Chip felt the sting. "Dad," he choked out, "That's not..." But Plankton's words were a tidal wave, crashing down. "You're selfish," he accused. "Always thinking of yourself." Now Chip's getting upset. "I'm selfish? At least I'm not the one who's too busy being a drama queen to see how much I care!" he retorts, his voice a mix of pain and anger. Plankton's antennae shot up. "You dare call me that?" he roared. "You have no idea what it's like to drown in sensory overload, to have your brain betray you every single day!" Chip took a step back, his cheeks red with anger. "You think because I don't understand, I don't care?" he yelled back. "You're the one who's never there for me because of your 'condition'! You're just a shallow, spoiled little..." "ENOUGH! Both of you, stop it right now!" Karen says. Her voice cuts through the argument like a knife, silencing the room. She could feel the anger, the frustration, the hurt in each of their voices.
CHIP AND FAIL xvi (Autistic author) "Both of you, sit down," Karen ordered, her voice firm but not unkind. They complied, their movements jerky with emotion. "Chip, your father's autism is not an excuse for this behavior, but it's also not something to mock," Karen began, looking at her son with serious eyes. "It's a part of him, and we need to respect it." Chip's anger subsided slightly. "But you saw what happened earlier," he said, his voice still shaking. "It's like he doesn't even want to be around me." But Plankton's not quite done. "Why do you think that is, Chip? Go on, smarty, enlighten..." Karen's patience had run out. "Plankton," she said, her voice stern. "That's enough." He glared at Chip, his antennae quivering with anger. Chip looked away from him. "And Plankton," Karen's voice was a gentle reprimand, "Your son's ignorance is not an excuse for anger. We all need to communicate better." Plankton's antennae drooped. "I know," he murmured, his anger easing slightly. "It's just..." Karen's voice was firm. "I know it's frustrating, but we need to work together." She turned to Chip. "And Chip, your father's feelings are valid. You can't ignore them." Chip looked at his father, his eyes filled with regret. "I'm sorry, Dad," he murmured. "I didn't mean to hurt you." Karen's voice was calm as she interceded. "Plankton, can you tell Chip what happened today? Help him understand?" Plankton's antennae stopped shaking. He took a deep breath. "When you touch me without asking," he began, his voice still sharp, "my body can't always handle what yours can." Karen's eyes were a gentle reminder of the lesson she had tried to teach earlier. She nodded for him to continue. "When you poke me or touch me without asking," Plankton said, "it's overwhelming." "I just barely touched you for one second, Dad!" "To you, it's one second," Plankton replied, his antennae drooping. "To me, it's an eternity of discomfort." Karen stepped in. "Chip," she said, "You need to understand that for him, it's not just about physical contact. It's about respecting his boundaries."
CHIP AND FAIL xvii (Autistic author) Plankton quivered with the effort to contain his anger. "Chip, your dad's right," Karen said, her voice a soft current of calm amidst the storm. "You have to learn to respect his boundaries." Plankton's antennae twitched. He looked at Karen, his eye filled with a mix of gratitude and pain. "It's not just the touch," he whispered, his voice raw. "It's the types of touch, the expectations... It's like I'm drowning every day." Karen nodded, her eyes never leaving Plankton's. "And Chip," she said, turning to her son, "you need to learn to swim without pushing him under." Chip's eyes were wide with understanding. "What can I do?" Karen took a deep breath. "Just ask before you touch," she said. "And if he says no, respect it. Give him space." Chip's eyes searched his father's. "Dad," he whispered. "I'm sorry." Plankton's antennae twitched, a sign of his internal struggle. Karen's hand squeezed his. "Okay, Chip," she said, her voice a gentle guide. "Ask your questions." Chip took a deep breath. "What do you mean by 'ask before I touch'?" he ventured, his eyes on Plankton, his antennae still a blur of agitation. Plankton took a moment before replying. "It means," he began, his voice still sharp, "that I need space. My brain can't handle what yours can!" "But Mom," Chip's voice was still tentative, "How do we know what touch..." But Plankton's antennae shot up, his eye a storm of agitation. "Just ask!" he snapped. "It's not rocket science, Chip. Just. Ask." Chip took a deep breath, his cheeks still flushed with anger. "I'm asking what types of..." But Plankton's antennae were already back to their usual calm state. "I know you're curious," he said, his voice softer. "But I can't just list them. It's different every day. Sometimes, a simple pat on the back is too much. Other times, I crave a hug." Chip nodded slowly, his mind racing with questions. "So, it IS a choice..." But Plankton's antennae drooped. "No, Chip," he said, his voice weary. "It's not a choice. It's survival." "Survival? Dad, a touch won't kill you.." But Plankton's antennae twitched again. "It's not just about living," he said, his voice sad. "It's about living without pain." Chip's eyes searched his father's, seeing the weariness and hurt. He took a step closer, his hand outstretched. "Can I?" he asked, his voice tentative. Plankton flinched, his antennae shooting up. "What are you doing?" he snapped, his voice tight with anxiety. "Just asking if it's okay," Chip said, his hand hovering in midair. "I don't want to..." Plankton's antennae stopped twitching. "If you're going to ask, make it genuine," he said, his voice softening. "Don't just do it because you think it's the right thing to do." Chip nodded, his hand still hovering. "I want to learn," he said, his voice earnest. "What can I do to make it better?" Plankton's antennae quivered slightly, a hint of softening. "You can start by listening," he said, his voice a little less sharp. "What do you mean?" Chip asked, his hand slowly lowering. "I mean," Plankton began, his antennae calming slightly, "that I need you to understand that my boundaries are not up for negotiation." "But what if I want to hug you?" Chip's voice was hopeful, his arms outstretched and already reaching him. Plankton's antennae shot up again. "Chip, I said no!" he yelled, his voice sharp with pain. "How many times do I have to tell you?" Chip's eyes widened, his hands falling to his side. "But I just..." But Plankton's antennae were a blur of agitation again. "You don't get it!" he shouted. "It's not about what YOU want, it's about what I need!" Chip's eyes searched his father's, his mind racing. "But Dad, I just want to show you that I care," he said, his voice quivering. "Is there no way to do that without making you uncomfortable?" Plankton's antennae twitched. "Chip," he began, his voice weary, "just because you don't see my struggle doesn't mean it's not there." Chip's eyes searched his father's, his hands clenched at his sides. "But how can I show you that I care?" "Sleep, for now," Karen says. "We're all tired. We can talk about this another time." Plankton's antennae dropped slightly, his body visibly deflating. Chip nodded, his eyes on the floor. "Okay," he murmured. "I'll just go to my room." Karen watched him go, her heart heavy with the knowledge that she had to be the one to mend the fracture between father and son. She turned to Plankton. "Bedtime," she said, her voice a gentle nudge. "We're all exhausted. It's late." The next morning, Chip awoke early. He could feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable. The house was eerily silent. He knew he had to make things right for his dad. Chip tiptoed to his parents's room, his heart racing. He pushed the door open. Karen was sitting on the edge of the bed. Plankton was curled up, his antennae twitching slightly. Chip swallowed his pride. "Mom, I'm sorry for what I said," he mumbled. "Can you help me talk to Dad?" Karen's eyes softened. "Your father's still sleeping," she said. "But I'll talk to him when he wakes up." Chip nodded. "I'll wait," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I'll do whatever it takes." Karen's eyes searched his, seeing the determination in them. "Alright," she said, her voice a soft caress. "But remember, it's not about fixing him. It's about understanding him." Chip nodded solemnly. "I know," he said. "I just want to be there for him." Karen's eyes filled with pride. "That's all we can ask for," she said. "But you have to be patient." Chip goes to his mom's bed, sitting down. "I'll wait," he says. "I'm not leaving until we talk." Karen nods, her eyes filled with understanding. "I'll stay with you," she says. "But remember, we have to give him space." Chip nods, his gaze never leaving his father's sleeping form. He studies Plankton, his antennae twitching slightly in his sleep. He tries to imagine what it's like for his dad, to live in a world where a simple touch could be torture. He watches the rise and fall of Plankton's chest, the gentle sway of his antennae. He notices how peaceful he looks when his mind isn't bombarded by the world's sensory assault, the way his mouth is slightly open. "Mom," Chip says, his voice barely above a whisper. "What does Dad's autism mean for his sleep?" Karen sighs, her eyes still on Plankton. "It means that his brain is always on alert," she explains. "Sleep can be elusive for him. Sometimes, the smallest sound can keep him awake for hours." Chip nods, his gaze still on Plankton. "What happened yesterday when I... Dad was unresponsive?" Karen sighs. "Sensory overload," she says. "It's like your brain has too much to process, so it just shuts down." Chip nods, his eyes still on Plankton. "Was he like, awake?" he asks. "Sort of," Karen replies, her eyes never leaving Plankton's restless form. "It's like he's trapped in his own head." "Could he hear me?" Chip's voice was a mix of fear and hope. "Could he feel anything?" Karen looked at her son, her heart heavy with the knowledge that she was about to reveal a painful truth. "He heard you," she said gently. "But his brain couldn't process it all." Chip felt a lump in his throat. "Could he see?" he asked, his voice tight with emotion. Karen nodded, her eyes still on Plankton. "He could see you," she said. "But it's like his brain was stuck in a loop, replaying the same scene over and over." Chip felt the weight of his father's pain, his own chest constricting. "How long do they usually last?" Karen's gaze remained on Plankton. "It varies," she said. "Sometimes just seconds, other times hours. It all depends on how overwhelmed he gets."
CHIP AND FAIL xviii (Autistic author) Chip's eyes grew wide with realization. "So that's why he..." But before he could finish, Plankton's antennae began to stir, his body shifting slightly in the bed. Chip's breath caught in his throat as he watched his father's face contort. "It's not uncommon for someone with autism to have trouble with sleep." Karen whispers. "He's okay." Chip's eyes remained glued to his father, watching as the twitching grew more pronounced. Plankton's antennae quivered and he let out a soft whine. Karen's hand reached for Plankton's, her thumb stroking his gently, her voice a gentle coo. "It's okay, Plankton," she whispered, her hand stroking his arm. Karen's voice remained steady, her hand never leaving Plankton's arm. "It's okay," she whispered, her eyes on Chip. "He's just..." Chip took a tentative step forward, his hand reaching out to mirror Karen's. His fingertips brushed Plankton's arm. "Dad?" he whispered, looming over him. With a gasped jolt, Plankton's eye flew open, his antennae shooting straight up with a yelp at the sight of Chip looking over him. "Don't touch me!" he screamed, his voice a mix of fear and anger. Chip's hand shot back as if burned. He stepped away quickly, his eyes wide with shock. "Dad," he began, his voice shaky. But Plankton's antennae were a blur of agitation. "I said no!" he shouted. "Can't you just leave me alone?" Chip's eyes filled with hurt, but he stepped back, his arms dropping to his sides. "I'm sorry," he whispered. Karen's voice was a soft whisper, trying to soothe Plankton. "It's okay, honey," she said, her hand still on his arm. "Chip's just trying to help." Plankton's antennae twitched, his eye darting from Karen to Chip and back again. "I don't want his help," he said, his voice tight with anger. "I just want to be left alone." Chip felt his heart sink. "But Dad," he protested, his voice cracking. Plankton's antennae stopped moving. He took a deep, shaky breath. "Chip, you have to understand," he said, his voice strained. "I need my space." Karen's eyes were filled with compassion as she turned to Chip. "Give him some time," she said gently. Chip nodded, his eyes still on his father. "But what if he doesn't want me to come back?" Karen's voice was firm. "He doesn't have to be ready right now," she said. "But we'll work on it." Chip's eyes searched hers, seeking reassurance. "But what if he never is?" Karen's voice was a gentle reminder. "He's your father, Chip. And you love him. Give him the space he needs, but don't give up." Chip nodded, his eyes still on Plankton's rigid form. "Okay," he murmured. "But how do I..." But Karen's voice was firm. "You'll learn," she said. "We'll all learn together." She stood, her hand sliding off Plankton's arm. "For now, let him rest. We'll talk more later." Chip nodded, his gaze lingering on his father's tense form. He turned to leave the room, his shoulders slumped with the weight of his newfound understanding. As he closed the door softly behind him, he heard Plankton's muffled sobs, and it was like a dagger to his heart. He leaned against the wall, his eyes brimming with tears. "What have I done?" he thought. Karen's hand was a warm comfort on Plankton's shoulder, guiding him back to the bed. "Let's sit," she said, her voice soft and soothing. Plankton's antennae slowly lowered as he sat down, his body still tense with emotion. "I just... I can't," he said, his voice breaking. Karen pulled him into a gentle embrace, her arms a warm cocoon around his trembling form. "You don't have to," she whispered. "You've been through enough." Plankton's antennae quivered against her shoulder. "But what about Chip?" he managed through his sobs. "He deserves better." "He deserves to understand," Karen said, her voice a gentle lullaby. "And we'll help him get there." Plankton's sobs quieted, his antennae still quivering against her shoulder. He took a shaky breath. "I don't know if I can," he said. "Every time I think we're making progress..." "Shh," Karen whispered. "We're getting there." She held him tighter. Plankton's antennae stilled, his body relaxing slightly into the warmth of her embrace. He closed his eye, his breathing evening out. Within minutes, his antennae were a gentle sway against her neck, a sign that sleep was claiming him. Karen held him tightly, her own body tense with the weight of his pain. She knew this was a small victory, but it was a step in the right direction. As she felt him drift off, she whispered, "We'll get through this together." Plankton's antennae stilled completely, his body finally giving in to the comfort of his wife's embrace. Karen's heart ached as she felt his tension melt away, his breaths evening into the rhythm of sleep. The room was a canvas of early morning light, casting soft shadows on their intertwined forms. Plankton's antennae had finally stilled, their gentle sway a testament to his deep slumber. His body was relaxed, no longer a battleground for sensory overload. Karen's arms remained wrapped around Plankton's shoulders, her grip gentle yet firm. His antennae, which had been a maelstrom of anxiety, now laid calmly against her neck, each twitch replaced by a steady breath. The room, bathed in the soft glow of early dawn, was a sanctuary of quietude. The tension from the previous night had been replaced by the serene rhythm of his snores, a melody that spoke of his body's surrender to rest. Chip tiptoed back to the bedroom door, his heart a drum in his chest. He peeked in, his eyes immediately finding his father, still asleep. Karen was there, her arms around Plankton's shoulders. The sight of them together, his mother's comforting embrace, his father's peaceful rest, was a stark contrast to the chaos of the night before. Chip's heart clenched in his chest, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. He wanted so badly to be a part of that peace, but he knew he had to earn it. He took a tentative step into the room, his eyes never leaving his father's sleeping form. Karen looked up, her eyes heavy with the weight of the night's events. She offered a small smile, a silent gesture of support. "How is he?" Chip asked, his voice a whisper in the early morning stillness. "As well as can be," Karen replied, her eyes never leaving Plankton. "But we need to talk." Chip nodded, his heart racing as he stepped closer to the bed. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his eyes on his father's still form. Karen's gaze met his, her expression a mix of love and concern. "We all are, Chip," she said, her voice a gentle breeze. "But it's important to learn from this." Chip nodded, his eyes still on his father. "What can I do?" he asked, his voice tentative. Karen looked up at him, her eyes filled with understanding. "For now, just give him space," she said. "He needs to wake up on his own terms. You've apologized," she said. "Now you have to show it." Chip nodded, his heart heavy. "What do you mean?" Karen took a deep breath. "It means," she began, "that you need to respect his boundaries. Ask before you touch him. Give him time to process what's happening. And when he says no, accept it." Chip nodded, his eyes still on Plankton. "But what if I accidentally..." Karen's voice was a firm, yet gentle, guide. "You'll learn," she said. "It's about paying attention, Chip. Watching his body language, his antennae. They'll tell you when he's reaching his limit." Chip nodded, his eyes still on Plankton's sleeping form. "But what if I miss the signs?" his voice filled with fear. Karen's eyes searched his, seeing the earnestness in them. "You won't always get it right," she admitted. "But the important thing is that you keep trying." Chip nodded, his gaze falling to his father's antennae. They were still, no longer a whirlwind of distress. "I will," he promised.
CHIP AND FAIL i (Autistic author) Chip, adopted at birth by Karen and Sheldon Plankton, had spent a week with some college buddies and is coming home! Getting off the bus, he goes to open the front door, eager to see his family. "I'm home!" he called out, going inside. The house was unusually silent, but Chip knew his mom was probably busy in the kitchen, and his dad, Plankton, was likely in their room, lost in his mechanical reveries. Chip dropped his backpack by the door to find his mom. "Mom! I'm back!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the hallway. Karen poked her head out. She looked surprised, then a bit nervous as she quickly turned off the oven. "Oh, Chip, sweetheart, I'm so glad you're home," she said, her smile forced and eyes darting towards the closed door of Plankton's bedroom. Chip noticed the tension and frowned. "Where's Dad?" Karen's smile faltered. "He's fine," she assured him, forcing a lightness into her tone. Karen never told Chip about Plankton being on the autism spectrum. It's something he never shares, and only Karen knew about it. They don't intend for Chip to know even though Karen feels bad about not saying anything. Chip thus didn't know that any sudden interaction could send him into a tailspin of sensory overload. "Dad?" he called out, his voice tentative. Karen's eyes widened. She moved swiftly, placing a hand on Chip's shoulder. "Why don't you go unpack?" she suggested, guiding him back to the living room. The tension in her voice was palpable, but Chip was too excited to question it. He sat down on the couch, his thoughts racing. It had been a week since he last saw his dad, and he had so much to tell him about his college adventures. He could almost hear the enthusiastic questions Plankton would ask about his studies and new friends! So Chip decides to go see him. Plankton was sitting at his bed. "Surprise!" Chip exclaimed, thrusting open the door and stepping in. Plankton flinched, but Chip doesn't notice. Chip was like a puppy eager to share love. Plankton's head felt like it was about to split open with the onslaught of stimuli. Chip didn't realize that the suddenness of his entry was a problem. Plankton's eye grew wider as Chip rushed over. "Whoa, Dad, guess what?" Chip asked, his voice full of life. He sat down beside Plankton, his heart thumping with excitement. Plankton's eyes darted around the room, his breaths shallow and quick. "I made friends with a squirrel! Her name's Nutmeg. She's the smartest animal on campus. And she loves physics! Can you believe it?" Plankton's condition meant that sudden noises and intrusions could overwhelm him. But the sensory assault was making it difficult to form coherent thoughts, let alone respond with the enthusiasm Chip deserved. He needed time to process his surroundings, to prepare for interaction. But Chip was always so full of life, so eager to share, and he had no way of knowing the effect his enthusiasm could have. He placed a hand on Plankton's shoulder, not knowing about his sensory disorder. "I've missed you so much, Dad," Chip said, leaning in to give his father a hug. The sudden contact was like a thunderclap in Plankton's mind, and he recoiled slightly. But Chip was already deep into his story about a physics experiment gone wrong that had left the lab in a tizzy. He talked with his hands, gesturing wildly as he described the chaos. Plankton sat rigidly beside him, trying to focus on the words, trying not to let the noise and motion consume him. "So, we had to build a catapult to launch a watermelon across the quad," Chip continued, laughing at the memory of the mess they had made. Plankton's face remained expressionless, his eye unfocused. "It was so cool!" Chip said, his hand landing on Plankton's knee. The sudden touch sent a jolt of sensation through Plankton's body, like an electrical current. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. "You should've seen it fly!" Chip, oblivious to his father's distress, just beamed wider, eager for more reaction. Plankton was battling to stay present, to connect with his son, but the environment was turning toxic for him, the sensory input bombarding. Chip's eyes lit up even more. "Oh, Dad, you won't believe it! There's this guy, Larry, he's like the human encyclopedia of comic books. And Sally, she's a whiz at chemistry, and she makes the best slime! We're going to start a science club together!" The colors in the room seemed to intensify, the sounds of Chip's voice and the rustle of his clothes like a symphony of chaos. Plankton felt the world closing in. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, trying to process the flood of new faces and names and ideas. He desperately wished he could share in Chip's excitement, but the effort was exhausting.
CHIP AND FAIL x (Autistic author) Plankton's antennae quivered, his body trembling. "You want to help?" he demanded, his voice a thunderclap. "Then LISTEN!" His antennae shot straight up, his body rigid with tension. "Just because I freeze up, it doesn't mean you get to paw at me like a sea urchin without a care in the world!" Chip's screen filled with hurt, his hands dropping to his sides. "But Dad," he began, his voice trembling. "I just wanted to make it better, seeing you're not acting like an adult or even a good dad with your dramatically fitful tantrum." His words were like salt on an open wound, but he didn't know better, his innocence a blunt weapon. Plankton's antennae snapped back, his eye narrowing. "Out," he said, his voice a glacial wind. "You don't get to be in here right now." Chip's eyes filled with shock, then hurt, as the reality of his father's words sank in. "But Dad, I didn't mean..." But Plankton was a wall of ice, his antennae stiff and unyielding. "No, get out," he repeated, his voice a chilling wind that sliced through Chip's protests. "I want you out of my sight, Chip. Just go." His eye was a storm cloud, threatening rain. Chip felt the sting of his dad's words, the coldness of his rejection. He took a step back, his hand dropping to his side. "But Dad, I just want to..." But Plankton's antennae remained stiff, his voice unyielding. "Out," he repeated, his eye a storm cloud ready to burst. "You don't get to stay here after saying that." Chip's eyes searched his father's, his own filled with a mix of hurt and bewilderment. "But Dad," he whispered, "I don't..." But Plankton's antennae remained rigid, his voice like ice. "I said, OUT." His anger was a palpable thing in the room, a force that pushed Chip backward, despite his father's physical stillness. With a final look of hurt and disbelief, Chip turned and left, his footsteps echoing down the hallway like the ghosts of all the moments he had hoped to share with his father. Plankton watched him go, his heart a leaden weight in his chest. Those words Chip used might as well be unforgivable. Karen's eyes were wide with concern, but she knew better than to push him in that moment. She knew his triggers, and how Chip inadvertently said the wrong thing. She knew he actually doesn't want to bring attention, and being told his pleas for boundaries have been called tantrums, by his own son, in his own room... Karen knew how his moments of 'twitching' and 'freezes' and 'mishaps' and 'venting' as he preferred to call them, being called tantrums... Plankton closed his eye, his body trembling with the effort of holding back his own tears. Karen approached him cautiously, her screen filled with worry. "Honey, are you okay?" she asked, her voice gentle as a summer breeze. Plankton's antennae drooped, his body slumped in the chair. "No," he murmured, his voice thick with pain. "But I will be." He took a deep, shuddering breath, his chest rising and falling like the tides. Karen watched him, her heart in her throat. She knew the storm would pass, but the wreckage it left behind was always the same. She reached out a tentative hand, her touch feather-light on his shoulder. "Do you want me to explain to Chip?" she offered, her voice a whisper. Plankton's antennae twitched, his body still trembling. "No," he managed to say, his voice a rasp. His eye remained closed, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. Karen's hand hovered for a moment before retreating, her heart breaking for her husband. "Okay," she murmured, giving him the space he needed. She knew the importance of respecting his boundaries now more than ever. "He just didn't know how much his wording hurt you.." "I know," Plankton said, his voice barely audible. "But that doesn't make it sting any less." He took another deep breath, his antennae twitching with the effort of calming his racing thoughts. Karen's hand hovered over him, wanting to comfort but knowing not to push. "If he asks, can I tell him? You know, so he doesn't..." Plankton's antennae twitched again, his eye finally opening. "Only if he specifically asks about it," he said, his voice stronger now. "Otherwise he needs to understand for himself and figure it out if he wants to help so bad." Karen nodded, her screen filled with understanding. She knew her husband's pride and the importance of their son coming to terms with his condition without being forced to. She gave him a gentle squeeze. "I'll be here," she said. "For both of you." The room remained silent for a long moment, the only sound the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Plankton took another deep breath, his antennae slowly unfurling. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice a whisper. Karen's eyes searched his, her hand still on his shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, her voice a gentle caress. Plankton took a moment to consider. The storm in his head was beginning to abate, the pain lessening with each passing second. "I'd just like some time to myself." Karen nodded, her screen filling with love and sadness. "I'll make sure he doesn't bother you," she promised, her voice a soft whisper. She knew how important it was for Plankton to have space. Chip stood in his room, the closed door a barrier between him and his father's pain. He felt like a sea urchin thrown onto the sharp rocks of misunderstanding, his spikes no match for the storm of emotions that had just erupted. He couldn't help but wonder if he had made things worse. He had wanted to connect, but instead, he had hurt the one person he loved most. His mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle of his father's behavior. The words "autism spectrum" echoed in his thoughts, a mysterious code he hadn't known existed. He had heard the term before, but it had always been a distant concept, not something that could affect his own life. He sat down on his bed, his hands shaking. He felt like he had just been handed a treasure map without knowing how to read it. His dad's condition was a treasure, a key to understanding the man he idolized, but the map was written in a language he hadn't learned. With each passing second, the weight of his father's words grew heavier. He had never thought about the world from Plankton's perspective, had never considered that his touch could be anything but comforting. The realization hit him like a tidal wave, knocking the wind out of him.
CHIP AND FAIL vi (Autistic author) Karen's eyes searched Plankton's, looking for the spark that meant he was coming back to her. Slowly, the panic in his gaze faded, replaced by the familiar look of love and confusion. "I'm here," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's okay." Plankton's body finally unclenched, his muscles relaxing under her gentle touch. The storm in his mind was receding, leaving behind a quiet beach of clarity. He didn't know what had happened, only that it was bad. Karen knew the routine, the dance of calming Plankton after a meltdown. But Chip didn't know. He was just trying to share his excitement, to reconnect with his father after a week apart. He didn't know that his touch, his laughter, his stories, were all too much for Plankton to handle. As Karen worked to bring Plankton back to reality, she couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow for Chip. He had no idea how his love was received, no way to understand that his actions could cause such pain. She had to find a way to explain, to help both her husband and her son find a way to connect without setting off the sensory bombs that lurked just beneath the surface. "K-Karen?" Plankton murmurs as he slowly returns to himself. The room stops spinning, the noises dulling to a gentle hum. He looks around, confusion etched in every line of his face. "You're okay," she whispers. Her heart breaks for her husband, for the silent battles he fights every day. She knows Chip doesn't understand, that his love and excitement are a minefield for Plankton's sensitive mind. But she also feels a pang of anger. How could she have let this happen? She had hoped that Chip's visit would be a celebration, a chance for them to bond. Instead, it had become a reminder of the chasm that sometimes separated them, a stark reality of Plankton's condition. Chip's sobs from the next room were a constant reminder of the pain he had inadvertently caused. Karen knew she had to talk to him, to explain. "Chip, sweetheart," she called, her voice carrying a gentle authority. "Can you come out here, please?" Chip's heart was still racing, his eyes red and puffy from crying. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and stepped out of his room, his gaze flickering to his dad, then back to his mom. "Is he okay?" he asked, his voice small and unsure. Karen nodded, her screen filled with a mix of love and exhaustion. "He's okay," she said, "Honey, it's time we tell Chip. Can I help you sit up, so you can tell him?" Plankton nodded weakly, his body still feeling like it was made of lead. Karen helped him into a sitting position, her eyes never leaving his. "You're okay," she repeated, her voice a gentle reminder. Chip stared at Plankton. "Dad?" he asked, his voice tentative. Plankton looked up at him, his eye still clouded with the aftermath of the storm. "Chip," he began, his voice weak, "I'm sorry." But Chip was already there, kneeling beside his dad, his screen wide with relief and confusion. "What happened?" Chip asked, his voice trembling. "Why didn't you answer me? You just ignored me!" Karen's screen filled with compassion as she placed a comforting hand on Chip's shoulder. "Your dad's not ignoring you," she said gently. "He has something to tell you." Plankton took a deep, shaky breath, the words sticking in his throat. He had always been afraid of this moment, of the day Chip would find out. "I... I, I just..." Karen squeezed his hand, her gaze filled with understanding. "It's okay," she said softly. "You can tell him." Plankton took another deep breath, his voice trembling as he began. "Chip, I'm... I..." "Dad?" Chip leaned in, his screen filled with hope and concern. Plankton swallowed hard, the weight of his secret heavy on his shoulders. "I have... I've got..." "Tell me, Dad," Chip said, his hands going to clutching his dad's arm. Plankton winced at the sudden contact, his body tensing again. Karen saw it, the brief flicker of pain in his eye. She quickly stepped in, placing a hand on Chip's arm. "Give him a moment, honey," she said, her voice filled with gentle guidance. Chip's screen searched hers. He slowly removed his hand, backing away slightly. "Dad, tell me," he said, his voice desperate. "What's wrong?" Plankton took a deep breath, his antennae drooping. "Chip," he managed, "I've..." But Chip was already there, his hands on his father's shoulder. "Dad, tell me," he said, his voice filled with urgency. Plankton's body tensed at the touch. Karen stepped in quickly, guiding Chip's hand away. "Let him speak, honey," she said softly. Plankton took another deep breath, his antennae quivering as he gathered his thoughts. "I have a..." "Dad, if it's something bad..." Plankton's antennae quivered, his face a mask of pained effort. "Chip..." Chip's eyes were glued to his dad, his mind racing with questions. Why can't Dad just tell me? He's always been so strong, so independent. Why is this so hard for him? Plankton took a moment, his eye searching for the right words. "It's just..." Chip leaned in closer. All he knew was that his father was in pain and he needed to fix it. "Just tell me, Dad!" he said, his voice earnest. "Whatever it is..." But Plankton was lost again, his mind swirling with sensations. He could feel Chip's screen on him, hear his desperate pleas, but the words remained trapped. He closed his eye, trying to gather his thoughts. "Chip," he finally managed, his voice a mere whisper. "I'm not..." "You're not what?" Chip's voice was filled with concern and a hint of impatience. Plankton opened his eye with a sigh, his gaze meeting Chip's. "Son..." "Dad, please, tell me!" Chip's excitement was palpable, his body vibrating with the need for connection. Plankton took a deep breath, his antennae drooping slightly. "Chip, I'm..." But Chip, fueled by his eagerness to connect, didn't give him the space. "Come on, Dad," he said, his hands landing on Plankton's shoulders again. Plankton flinched, his eye squeezing shut as the touch sent a shockwave through his body. "Chip," he groaned, his voice strained. "Please..." But Chip's enthusiasm didn't wane, his voice growing more desperate. "Dad, tell me!" He didn't understand the pain he was causing, his need for a response only adding to the pressure on Plankton, irritating his frustration as he squeezed his shoulders harder. "Just..." Plankton's eye snapped open, his body recoiling from the intensity of his son's touch. The words he had been trying to form shattered like glass under the weight of his sensory overload. "Chip, STOP!" he yelled, his voice cracking with frustration and pain. The sudden outburst shocked both Karen and Chip into stillness. His dad had never talked to him like that before. "What..." But Plankton's agony was like a dam bursting. He pushed Chip away, his voice a shout of desperation. "I CAN'T, CHIP!" Chip staggered back, his expression a mix of shock and hurt. "But why?" he asked, his voice trembling. Plankton took a deep, shaky breath, his body still reeling, his voice strained. "I have... I have..." Chip's eyes searched his father's. Why couldn't his dad just tell him what was going on? "What, Dad?" But Plankton was retreating back into himself, his mind a whirlwind of sensation and frustration. "It's too much," he managed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your..." "What's too much?" Chip interrupted, his voice rising with confusion. "My what?" Plankton's antennae drooped as he searched for a way to explain. He had always kept his condition to himself, fearful of the misunderstanding it might bring. "Chip," he began, his voice trembling with the effort of finding the words. "You..." But Chip's excitement was a wave, crashing over the delicate barriers Plankton had built. "You're not telling me something," he said, his voice filled with accusation. "What is it!" His touch was like sandpaper on sunburned skin, each word a jab at Plankton's already overwhelmed mind. Plankton's eye darted around the room, his antennae twitching wildly. The pressure was too much, the noise of Chip's voice like a siren. He could feel the beginnings of a panic attack, his chest tightening. "Chip, please," he managed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I need a moment." But Chip's excitement was a force of nature, unyielding and relentless. "But I just want to tell you about my week, about the robot and Nutmeg!" He didn't know that his words, his touch, were like a tornado in Plankton's mind, a storm he couldn't weather.
NOTHING BUT THE WISDOM TRUTH i "Why do we have to go so early?" he grumbled. "I know, sweetie," Karen said, patting his hand reassuringly. "But it's for the best. You'll be out like a light during the surgery, and you won't feel a thing." The nurse noticed his distress and offered a kind smile. "Don't worry, Mr. Plankton. We're going to make this as comfortable for you as possible. First things first, let's get you in and then we'll start with some anesthesia." Karen watched as Plankton reluctantly climbed into the chair. The nurse dimmed the lights and adjusted the chair's recline. She placed a warm blanket over him, and the softness enveloped him like a comforting embrace, the nurse preparing Plankton for the surgery. She chatted away, "So, any plans for the weekend?" "Not really," he said, "Just recovery." The nurse nodded. She began to insert the IV, talked him through each step, her voice a comforting lullaby guiding him into a state of relaxation. She continued to engage in light conversation, told about her weekend plans, a lifeline to the outside world that seemed so far away in the cold, clinical environment. As the anesthesia began to work, Plankton felt his body grow heavier, his eyelid drooping. "You're doing great," she said softly. "Just keep breathing, ok?" Plankton's thoughts began to blur together. The doctor's voice grew distant, his words melding into a comforting murmur as Plankton felt himself slipping away. The last thing he heard was Karen's voice, a gentle whisper in his ear. "I'm here," she said, her hand holding onto his with a fierce tenderness. "I love you." And then there was nothing, the last sensation he felt before everything went quiet. The anesthetist monitored Plankton's vitals, ensuring he remained safely asleep throughout the procedure. Plankton was a picture of peace, mouth agape as the anesthesia kept him blissfully unaware of the world around him. The nurse's eyes flick from the monitors to Plankton's serene face. Plankton's body didn't even flinch. Plankton's face remained relaxed, his breathing even, as the anesthetic kept him in a state of blissful unconsciousness, ensuring that his comfort remained top priority. Plankton's body remained still, his chest rising and falling in a rhythmic cadence that soothed the room. The nurse gently swabbed his mouth, keeping the area clean and clear. The doctor stitched up the small incisions with a gentle touch, while the nurse cleaned Plankton's mouth. The anesthetist monitored the levels, ensuring a smooth and safe emergence from the depths of unconsciousness. The doctor looked at Karen, his eyes weary but his smile reassuring. "It's all done," he said. "Everything went smoothly. He's still sleeping it off, but you can go in and see him." Karen rushed in, her screen searching for Plankton. He was there, lying back in the chair, his mouth slightly open, a line of drool escaping the corner of his mouth. He looked so peaceful, vulnerable. She reached out and touched his hand, for the surgery was over. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm as he slept. "He's doing great," she assured her. "The surgery went well." Karen leaned over Plankton, as she brushed his antennae with her hand. She took in the sight of him, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the soft snorish sounds escaping his mouth. His face was a portrait of peace, a stark contrast to the chaos of the surgery that had just taken place. The nurse finished her work and dimmed the lights, leaving the room in a soft glow that cast shadows across the floor. Karen pulled up a chair and sat down, her hand finding Plankton's again. "You're ok," she murmured, willing him to hear her voice, to feel her presence. "You're going to be ok." Karen's entire world was contained in reassuring her that he was still there. The nurse approached with a wad of gauze. "We need to put this in his mouth to help with bleeding," she explained gently. Karen nodded. The nurse placed the gauze with the same care she had shown throughout the entire ordeal, pressing it gently against the raw, tender spots where Plankton's teeth had once been. The nurse finished her cleanup and checked Plankton's vitals one last time. "He'll come around soon," she assured. "The anesthesia takes a bit to wear off." His breathing was still deep and steady, the gentle rumble of his snores filling the room. She found comfort in the mundane sounds of his slumber. His chest rose and fell in a rhythm that seemed to match the beeping of the heart monitor. The anesthesia had done its job well, leaving him in a deep, dreamless sleep. His face was serene. His antennae lay limp on the chair's headrest, and his mouth was open slightly, revealing the gauze the nurse had placed to stem the bleeding. The drool that had pooled at the corners of his mouth began to seep out onto the chair. The nurse noticed and nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "It's normal," she said. Plankton's snores grew louder, the drool now a small river that trickled down. Karen reached out with a trembling hand, her thumb catching the droplets before they could stain the fabric. The drool was a stark reminder of the reality of the situation. Her screen focused on the slow, steady flow of dribble, forming and breaking away, each one a little more substantial than the last. The nurse had said it was normal, but to Karen, it was a sign of his vulnerability, a tangible proof of the surgery's aftermath. As the drool grew into a small puddle on the chair, Karen's resolve to be strong for him grew stronger. She grabbed a tissue from the box on the side table and gently wiped. The nurse looked at her with understanding. "It's alright," she said softly. "He'll wake un his own time." Karen nodded, her screen never leaving Plankton's face. She felt a strange mix of love and pity. Here he was, reduced to a drooling mess in a chair, and yet she had never felt more connected to him. It was a strange intimacy, this moment of vulnerability, a silent pact between them that she would always be there to wipe away his fears, both literal and figurative. The nurse moved around the room, her movements efficient and silent. She checked the machines one last time before turning to Karen. "Why don't you sit down?" she suggested, patting the chair beside Plankton's. "It'll be a bit before he wakes up. Might as well get comfortable." Karen nodded, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. She pulled up a chair and held his hand tightly, her thumb brushing back and forth across his knuckles. "Plankton," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "You did it, sweetie." She leaned closer. "The teeth are out. You're okay." She waited, watching the rise and fall of his chest, listening to the steady beep of the heart monitor, and willing him to open his eye. "Remember what I said about ice cream?" she asked, her voice a little louder this time. "You can have as much as you want when we get home." She tried to keep her tone light, despite the gravity of the situation. The thought of his favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream was supposed to make him smile, but his face remained slack. But she knew he was strong, and he would bounce back. He always did. "I just want you to know how much I love you. How much I need you. We've been through so much together, and I can't imagine my life without you. You're going to wake up soon, and it'll all be over. And then we can go home, and I'll take care of you, just like you always take care of me. Remember when we said 'in sickness and in health'?" she whispered. "Well, this is definitely a 'sickness' moment, but I'm right here. And I'll be here through all the healthy moments too." The nurse quietly left them a moment of privacy. Karen leaned in closer. "You're going to feel a bit funny when you wake up," she said with a soft laugh. "Your mouth will be sore, and your face will be puffy. But I'll be there. And maybe I'll let you win at Scrabble for once." She chuckles. "Just don't let it go to your head." Plankton's eyelid fluttered, and a low moan escaped his throat. She squeezed his hand. "That's it, baby," she encouraged. "You're waking up." His eye opened slowly dilated and unfocused. He blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the harsh lights of the recovery room. He turned his head to the side, and she knew he was searching for her. "Hi," she said, her voice a warm whisper. "It's me, Karen. You're ok." His gaze found hers, and she saw the flicker of recognition. "Where am I?" he slurred, his voice thick and groggy. "You're in the recovery room, sweetheart," Karen said, her voice steady and soothing. "You just had your wisdom teeth out." Plankton's eye widened slightly, and he nodded, trying to sit up. Karen gently pushed him back down. "Easy," she said. "You need to rest." "But I'm so tired," he mumbled, his voice weak. "I know," Karen said, stroking his forehead with her cool hand. "But you're doing great. Just stay still for a little while longer. They got all four teeth out without any complications." He nodded, his eye still closed. "Good," he mumbled.
NOTHING BUT THE WISDOM TRUTH ii "You're in the recovery room, sweetheart," Karen said, her voice steady and soothing. "You just had wisdom teeth out." Plankton's eye widened slightly, and he nodded, trying to sit up. Karen gently pushed him back down. "Easy," she said. "You need to rest." "But I'm so tired," he mumbled, his voice weak. "I know," Karen said, stroking his forehead with her hand. "But you're doing great. Just stay still for a little while longer. They got all four teeth out without any complications." He nodded, his eye still closed. "Good," he mumbled. "I don't... I don't member any ting." His words were slurred. The anesthesia was definitely still working its magic on him. "It's ok," she said, her voice soothing. "You don't need to.." Plankton's head lolled to the side, and his eyelid grew heavy again. "Karen?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. "I'm right here," she assured him, her voice steady and calm. She watched as he tried to lift his hand to wipe at his mouth, but it flopped back down onto the chair's armrest, his fingers brushing against hers. Plankton's eye grew heavy again, and his head lolled to the side. The anesthesia was working its way out of his system, but it was taking its time. She chuckled as she watched him struggle to keep his eye open. "I'm... I'm," Plankton mumbled, his words coming out slurred and sloppy. His eye rolled back in his head, and he let out a snore. "You're a mess," she laughs, her voice filled with love. "But you're my mess." She watched as his chest rose and fell with each snore. It was clear that the anesthesia was still holding him in its grasp, and she knew it would be a while before he was fully awake. Karen couldn't help but laugh at his antics. Plankton's snores grew louder. Karen reached out and gently wiped the line of drool from his mouth with a tissue. He stirred, his eye blinking open again. "You're drooling," she whispered, smiling at him. "What's happening?" he asked, his words slurred. "You're coming out of the anesthesia," Karen said, her voice a lifeline in the haze. "Everything went fine." Plankton's eye searched hers, his thoughts racing. "Mmmy...nesia?" he mumbled. Karen's smile grew, understanding his attempt to ask about his sleep during surgery. "You mean the anesthesia?" Karen couldn't help but chuckle at his endeavor. "You're just a little out of it," she said, her voice gentle. "The anesthesia is wearing off." "Thish...thish ish...shomefinny," Plankton tried to say. "What?" Karen asked, her curiosity piqued by his attempt at speech. "Nothin'." Plankton's words were slurred into a single syllable. He looked utterly lost in the haze. Karen leaned closer. "You sure?" Plankton nodded, his smile lopsided. "Jush...jush glad." Karen couldn't help but laugh at his adorable incoherence. "You're so loopy," she said, her voice filled with affection. She squeezed his hand gently. "I love you." "Ish love...love you too, Karen," he slurred. "I know," she said, her voice a mix of amusement and affection. "Tish...tish hard," Plankton mumbled, his cheeks dimpling with his own private joke. The nurse entered the room, checking his vitals with a knowing smile. "It's normal for patients to be a bit out of it after surgery," she said, scribbling notes on her clipboard. "I'm shorry," he said, words still a jumble. Karen couldn't help but lean in closer, her own smile growing wider. "It's ok," she assured him, her voice gentle. The nurse nodded in agreement, her own smile playing at the corners of her lips. "It's quite common," she said, her voice professional but kind. "Ish...Ish...it...over?" he managed to ask, his tongue thick in his mouth. "Yes, sweetheart," Karen said, her voice still filled with love and amusement. "You're all done. They got all your wisdom teeth out." "Thish...thish allll over now-ow." "Almost," Karen said, her voice a gentle melody. "We just need to wait for the anesthesia to wear off a bit more, and then we can go home." Plankton nodded, his eye already drifting shut again. His mouth moved as he attempted to speak, but only slurred sounds came out. Karen leaned in closer, her smile never wavering. "You know, you're pretty chatty for someone who's had their wisdom teeth out." "Ish...Ish always had...shomeshin' to shay," Plankton managed, his speech a series of lisped and elongated sounds. Plankton's eye began to drift closed again, his breathing growing deep and even. The nurse finished her checks and gave Karen instructions for his aftercare. "Make sure he takes it easy," she said. "I will," Karen promised, her screen never leaving Plankton's face. The quiet was filled with the sound of Plankton's snores, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm beneath the blanket. His mouth was still slightly open, and she could see the drool forming at the corner of his lips. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out to see a text from Mr. Krabs, Plankton's rival at the Krabby Patty. "How's he doing?" it read. "Loopy," she replied with a smiley face. She had told Mr. Krabs about the surgery the day before, and despite their rivalry, he had offered to come visit when they get back home. The nurse poked her head back in, checking the clock on the wall. "Alright, he's ready to go," she said, her smile warm. Karen nodded, standing up and gently shaking Plankton's shoulder. "Come on," she whispered. "Let's get you home." Plankton's eye blinked open slowly, and he looked around the room with confusion. "Home?" he mumbled, his voice still thick. "Yes, we're going home," Karen said, her voice the balm to his disorientation. She helped him to his feet, supporting his weight as he swayed slightly. The drive back home was a blur of sleep. Plankton's head lolled against the car window, the vibration of the engine lulling him to a doze. "You okay?" Karen asked, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. "Yeah," Plankton mumbled, his voice a sleepy rumble. "Just...tiwed." The drive home was quiet, with only the occasional snore piercing the silence. Karen drove carefully, her eyes flicking between the road and the mirror to check on Plankton. She knew he would be out for the count for a while, and his face was still swollen. As they pulled into their driveway, Plankton stirred. "We're home," Karen said, her voice gentle. He nodded, his eye still half-closed. "Home," he murmured. Karen helped him out of the car, his legs wobbly as he tried to find his balance. She wrapped his arm around her waist, supporting him as they made their way, and he leaned into her, his body heavy with fatigue. The house was quiet as they entered, the only sound the occasional tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway. Karen guided him to the couch, carefully helping him sit down. "Rest here," she said, her voice a gentle command. Plankton nodded, eye closing again. She disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water and a pillow. "Here," she said, placing the pillow behind his head. He took the glass with a nod, his hand shaking slightly. He took a sip. "Thish...thish ish...good," he managed to say. She knew he was in pain, and the anesthesia was only adding to his confusion. "I'll be right back," she said, her voice a soft whisper. Karen grabbed the pet amoeba puppy, Spot. She carried him back to the living room, where Plankton was slowly coming around. "Look who's here," she said, holding Spot out to him. Spot's blob-like body stretched out in excitement, his little legs waving in the air. Plankton's eye widened at the sight, and a smile spread across his swollen face. "Spot," he murmured, his voice still thick with anesthesia. Karen set Spot on his lap, and the amoeba immediately began to cover him in wet, loving kisses. Plankton chuckled, his hand rising to pet the creature's gelatinous head. "Hey, bubby," he slurred, his speech still compromised. The simple act of touch brought a spark of life to Plankton's eye. "You're good boyth," he said, his voice a mix of affection and pain. Spot's response was a happy wiggle. Karen couldn't help but smile at the sight, Plankton's love for their little amoeba was unwavering. She took a seat beside him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. "Just rest," she said, her voice a soft command. Plankton nodded, his eyes closing again. Spot continued to shower him with affection, his slimy kisses landing on Plankton. Karen watched them for a moment, her heart swelling with warmth. Then she stood up, knowing there was still more to do to ensure Plankton's recovery went smoothly. In the kitchen, she put together a soft meal for him, something that wouldn't irritate his sensitive mouth. She chopped up some fruit into a small bowl and warmed up a cup of soup. The smells of chicken broth and sweet berries filled the air, a comforting aroma that she hoped would ease his pain. When she returned to the living room, Plankton was asleep, Spot curled up with him. She set the food down on the table, the spoon clinking gently against the porcelain bowl. She took a moment to appreciate the peaceful scene before her, the two of them nestled together, the TV playing a low murmur of background noise. Karen decided to let him sleep for a bit longer. Gently, she lifted Spot off Plankton's lap and placed him on the floor. The amoeba pup quickly scuttled back by the couch, but still on the floor. Karen then turned off the TV, not wanting the noise to disturb Plankton's rest. Just as she was about to leave the room to let him sleep, the doorbell rang. It was Mr. Krabs, his beady eyes looking concerned. She opened the door, whispering, "Shh, he's asleep." Mr. Krabs nodded, his usual gruffness replaced with a rare display of compassion. He held a bag of ice. "Thought he might need these," he said, handing them to her. Karen took the bag gratefully. "Thank you," she whispered. "He's in the living room."
NOTHING BUT THE WISDOM TRUTH iii Just as Karen's about to leave the room to let him sleep, the doorbell rang. It was Mr. Krabs, eyes looking concerned. She opened the door, whispering, "Shh, he's asleep." Mr. Krabs nodded, his usual gruffness replaced with a rare display of compassion. He held a bag of ice. "Thought he might need these," he said. Karen took the bag gratefully. "Thank you," she whispered. "He's in the living room." Mr. Krabs nodded again and followed her into the room. He took in the sight of Plankton, sprawled out on the couch with his mouth slightly open, snoring softly. "Tough day, eh?" he murmured. "You have no idea," Karen replied, her voice tinged with exhaustion. She took the gauze out of Plankton's swollen cheeks. He stirred but didn't wake. Mr. Krabs took a seat in the chair opposite the couch, fidgeting nervously. "How's he been?" he asked. "In and out," Karen replied, watching as Plankton shifted slightly. Mr. Krabs leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. "And what'd they say?" Karen sighed, the weight of the day settling on her shoulders. "It went well, the doctor said. They had to remove all four of his wisdom teeth. It wasn't easy, but he was pretty out of it. They had to give him extra sedative." Mr. Krabs' eyebrows shot up. "Plankton, out of it?" Karen nodded, a small smile playing on her lips despite the situation. "Just sleeping, drooling a bit.." Mr. Krabs chuckled quietly. "I think this really knocked him out." Karen nodded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, he's been pretty out of it since he went under," she whispered. "But it's ok, it's just til the anesthesia wears off." Mr. Krabs leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Plankton's sleeping form. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but...he looks peaceful." Karen chuckled softly. "He's not one to sit still, so it's definitely a rare sight." She took the bag of ice from Mr. Krabs and placed it gently on Plankton's swollen cheek. He didn't even flinch, lost in a world of drug-induced slumber. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, the only sound being Plankton's rhythmic snores. Eventually, Plankton's eye opens. "K-Krabs?" he slurred, his voice groggy. Mr. Krabs jolted upright, his claws clutching the chair's armrests. "Yes, yes, it's me," he said, his voice a mix of surprise and awkwardness. Plankton's eye searched the room, his gaze landing on the bag of ice on his cheek. He reached up to touch it, his hand wobbly. "What...happened?" "You had your wisdom teeth out, honey," Karen said, her voice soothing. "Remember?" Plankton's expression grew comically confused. "Wish-dish...teef?" Mr. Krabs coughed, clearing his throat. "Ah, yes, your wisdom teeth," he said. "Yes, those pesky things," he said. "But don't worry, they're gone now." Plankton's eye widened slightly, and he tried to sit up, only to wince in pain. "Oh, wight," he murmured, his hand moving to his mouth. Karen quickly leaned over and pushed him back down gently. "Easy, you need to rest," she said. Plankton's eye searched the room again before focusing on Mr. Krabs. "K-Krabs?" he slurred, a hint of a smile forming. "Youw here?" Mr. Krabs nodded, his expression a mix of amusement and concern. "Yes, I am. Thought I'd check on my favorite...uh, rival." Karen couldn't help but chuckle at the awkwardness, but Plankton's face lit up. "You're my best fwiend," he slurred, his arm reaching out to pat Mr. Krabs' hand. Mr. Krabs looked down at the small, tentacle-like hand on his arm, and for a brief moment, his usual stern expression softened. "Plankton, I...I'm just here to check on you," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. Plankton's smile grew wider, his one eye shining with what could only be described as affection. "Mr. Kwabs, you're the best," he slurred, his voice thick with the remnants of the anesthesia. Mr. Krabs looked at Karen, his beady eyes wide with surprise. "Is he...is he okay?" he whispered. Karen nodded, her own smile growing. "It's just the anesthesia. He'll be back to his usual self in no time." Plankton's hand remained on Mr. Krabs' arm, his grip tightening slightly. Mr. Krabs' shell flushed, unused to such affection from his nemesis. "Th-thank you, Plankton," he stuttered. "Just get some rest now." Just something endearing about Plankton's vulnerability in this state. She knew Mr. Krabs felt it too, his gruff exterior melting away like the ice on Plankton's cheek. "Mr. Kwabs," Plankton mumbled again. Mr. Krabs cleared his throat, his pinchers fidgeting with the chair's armrest. "Yes, Plankton?" "Can you...tell me a stowwy?" Plankton's voice was barely audible, his one eye pleading. Mr. Krabs' eyebrows shot up. "A story?" he repeated, surprised. "It'd help him relax," Karen shrugs. "Just something simple." Mr. Krabs took a deep breath, his mind racing for a suitable tale. "Once upon a time," he began, his voice softer than usual, "there was a tiny plankton named... Sheldon." Plankton's eye fluttered open, a smile spreading across his swollen face. "Thath's me!" he exclaimed, his voice still slurred. Mr. Krabs chuckled, his usual stern expression replaced with a warm smile. "Indeed it is," he said, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He took a deep breath and continued, "Sheldon Plankton lived in a big, blue sea. And he had the most amazing plan." Plankton's eye remained open, focusing on Mr. Krabs as best he could. "Whath's the plan?" he mumbled. Mr. Krabs paused, surprised by Plankton's interest. "Well, Plankton had the most ingenious plan to become the best chef in the sea," he said, his voice taking on a storytelling lilt. Plankton's eye fluttered, his gaze fixed on Mr. Krabs. "Chef?" he repeated, his voice a hopeful murmur. Mr. Krabs nodded, his smile growing. "Yes, a chef," he said. "And every day, Sheldon would try new recipes, searching for the perfect Krabby Patty secret." Plankton's grip on Mr. Krabs' tightened. "Mr. Kwabs," he slurred again, his voice thick with emotion. "You're...you're the besht...the beth...chef." Mr. Krabs blinked, his eyes misting over. It was the closest thing to a compliment he had ever received from Plankton, and it was enough to make his heart swell. "Why, thank you, Plankton," he said, his voice cracking slightly. Karen watched the scene unfold with a warm smile. It was clear that despite their rivalry, Plankton looked up to Mr. Krabs in some way. It anesthetic loopiness was a side of him she had never seen before. "You...you're wike a fath-ther to me," he mumbled, his grip on Mr. Krabs' arm tightening. Mr. Krabs was taken aback, his claws patting Plankton's awkwardly. "Plankton," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You're like...a...a...uh, a...uh, a...challenge," he fin