KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 15
(Autistic author)
ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ: ʰᵒˢᵖⁱᵗᵃˡ
Sandy and Sponge
Bob leave the room
while Karen stays
for the surgery.
The doctor's tentacles
move with practiced
ease. The room
hummed with a gentle
consistency of medical
equipment, designed to
avoid jarring sounds.
The doctor's eyes
were focused, his voice
a steady rhythm of
instructions for the
nurse. She put the IV in,
a swift and precise
motion, and Plankton's
snores remained undisturbed.
The surgery begins,
each movement
calculated to
minimize pain. The doctor's
tentacles dance around
the broken limb, his
touch as light as
a feather.
The smell of antiseptic
hangs in the air,
but it's faint, not
overwhelming. Plankton's
body lies still, his
snores the only sound
besides the low
whisper of instruments
coating the bone.
The nurse's eyes
flick to the clock
on the wall, the
seconds ticking by
like a metronome to
the rhythm of the
doctor's work.
The room is a
symphony of soft
sounds: the steady
beep of the heart
monitor, the low
mumble of the doctor's
instructions. Plankton's
tiny body lies
motionless, his
snores the only
evidence of life. They
put his leg in a cast
and unhook the IV.
Sponge Bob and Sandy
wait outside, their
minds racing with
worries and hope.
Their conversation is
whispers, not wanting
to disturb the
peaceful hum of
the Quiet Bubble
Clinic. The nurse
beckons them back in.
"The surgery was a
success," she says,
her voice a gentle
gust of relief.
Plankton lies in the
bed, his leg now
encased in a cast. His
snores are quieter,
his body less tense.
Sponge Bob and
Sandy hover by his
side, their eyes
locked on his peaceful
face. "But we need
to be prepared for
his waking," the nurse
continues, her voice
a soft warning. "He
might wake up feeling
disoriented or overwhelmed.
Also, it takes time for the
anesthesia to fully wear
off, so he might be groggy
and silly, sleepy or even
a bit forgetful."
They nod, their
expressions a mix
of gratitude and
anticipation.
The doctor enters
the room, his tentacles
wiped clean of
any sign of surgery.
"He'll need to stay
here for a bit, to
recover," he says, his
voice a gentle rumble.
"But you can stay
with him. After he's
fully awake, you can
take him home! Just
be careful, of course."
Sponge Bob's eyes
light up, his grip
on Plankton's hand
tightening. "We'll
make sure he's okay,"
he says, his voice
a promise.
Sandy nods, her
face a mask of
determined calm.
"Thank you," Karen says,
her voice a gentle
hum of appreciation.
The doctor nods,
his tentacles
flicking a dismissive
wave. "It's what we're
here for," he says, his
voice a warm rumble. "Now,
let's get him settled."
They work together,
Sponge Bob and Sandy
supporting Plankton
as they move his bed to
a recovery room,
his body still asleep
as Karen holds his hand.
The room is painted
with soft, soothing
colors, and the bed
is surrounded
by pillows and blankets
that seem to swallow
his small frame.
The lights are dimmed, a stark
contrast to the stark
whites and harsh
florescents of a
normal hospital.
Sponge Bob sits
on the chair beside
his bed, his
eyes never leaving
Plankton's sleeping
face. The gentle
whirl of a fan in
the corner provides
white noise, a
comforting constant
hum that fills the
silence.
Sandy sits on
the other side,
her hand resting
lightly on the
foot of the bed.
Her eyes are glued
to a book titled
"Understanding
Neurodivergence in
Friends," her
expression focused.
Karen meanwhile
was holding his
other hand.
Plankton's antennae
twitches as the gentle
hum of the recovery
room starts to pierce
his slumber. His single
eye opens to a sliver,
taking in the soft,
blurry world around
him. He blinks, trying to
focus, and sees Karen
first.
"Hey, buddy," she says,
her voice a warm
buzz of comfort. "You're
okay." Plankton's
eye widens, his
brain foggy from the
anesthesia.
"Wheh..." he starts,
his voice a static
whisper.
Sponge Bob's hand
squeezes his gently.
"You're at the Quiet
Bubble Clinic," he
says, his voice
a soft wave of
reassurance. "You had
your leg fixed."
Plankton's antennae
wave slowly, his
eye blinking as
realization sets in.
"Mr. Krabs," he whispers,
his voice a static
memory of pain.
Sponge Bob's
thumb pauses in its
comforting rhythm.
"Don't worry about
him now," he says,
his voice a gentle
lapping of waves. "You're
safe here."
Plankton's antennae
twitch with confusion,
his mind a foggy
storm of memories.
He tries to sit up,
but the nurse's firm
hand gently pushes
him back down.
"Easy," she whispers,
her voice a soft
breeze. "You need to
rest."
Sponge Bob's face
is a picture of relief
as Plankton's eye
focusses on him. "Remember,
buddy?" he asks,
his voice a gentle
reminder. "You're safe."
Plankton's antennae
quiver with the echoes
of pain, but the
soothing presence
of his friends
begins to anchor him.
He nods slightly, his
voice a static rustle. "Sandy?" he asks,
his gaze shifting
to her.
Sandy looks up
from her book,
her eyes soft. "I'm
here," she says, her
voice a gentle
hum. She sets the
book aside and
takes his hand.
Plankton's antennae
twitch with confusion,
his eye darting around
the room. The
softness of the
pillows and the gentle
hum of the fan are
alien to him. "Where...?"
he whispers, his voice
a static question.
The nurse's smile is
a beacon of calm.
"You're at the Quiet
Bubble Clinic," she says,
her voice a comforting
trill. "You're safe."
Plankton's mind is a
swirl of fuzzy images
and half-remembered
fears. He tries to
piece together what
happened, his antennae
flailing for answers.
The nurse's voice is
a gentle guide, leading
him through the
mist. "You had surgery,"
she murmurs, her eyes
kind. "Your leg is
fixed now. Just rest."
Plankton's eye blinks
slowly, trying to
comprehend the words.
The pain is gone,
replaced by a
dull throb and the
weight of the cast.
He nods, his body
still feeling
the aftermath of
the anesthesia's embrace.
The room is a
soft blur, the edges
of his vision
dancing with
colors. He tries
to lift his head, but
it feels too heavy.
Sponge Bob's grip is
steady, keeping him
grounded as the
world slowly sharpens.
Plankton's thoughts
are like bubbles
popping in the sea,
each one briefly
forming before
disappearing into the
depths. The nurse's
voice is a distant
lullaby, guiding
his consciousness
back to the surface.
He blinks again,
his vision slowly
coming into focus.
The nurse's face
swims into view,
her smile a lifeline
in the murky water
of his confusion.
"You're okay," she
whispers, her voice
a gentle ripple.
"Just rest."
The room sways
like an underwater
garden, the
soothing sounds of the
recovery room a soft
symphony that Plankton
can't quite place.
His mind is a kaleidoscope
of half-formed thoughts.
Sponge Bob's hand
is a steady
beacon, the gentle
squeeze a comforting
reminder that he's
not alone. Plankton's
eye widens as he
takes in the sight
of his friend, his
face a canvas
of concern.
"You're okay," Sponge
Bob whispers, his
voice a gentle
wave washing over
the static in Plankton's
mind.
Suddenly, Sponge
Bob's phone beeps,
a video call request
from an unexpected
name: Mr. Krabs. Sandy's
eyes widen and
she looks at Sponge
Bob, who nods
slowly, his heart
pounding in his
chest. He accepts
the call, the screen
filling with the
familiar craggy face
of their grumpy neighbor.
Mr. Krabs looks
sheepish, his eyes
darting around the
screen. "Plankton,"
he starts, his voice
a gruff whisper. "I
heard what happened
with the autism and
broken leg.."
Sponge Bob's
grip on Plankton's
hand tightens, his
face a mask of
caution. Plankton's
antennas quiver with
apprehension.
"What Krabs
want?" Plankton
mumbles, his voice
a static hiss. His
single eye narrows.
Mr. Krabs clears
his throat, his
face a portrait of
discomfort. "Look,
Plankton, I... I
wanted to say... I'm
sorry." His eyes dart
to the side,
avoiding the camera.
Plankton's antennae
stand on end, his
eye unblinking. "What
for?" he asks, his voice
a wary whisper.
Mr. Krabs' face
scrunches up, his
claws fidgeting with
his apron strings. "For, uh,
you know, the frying
pan... and the... uh,
everything."
Plankton's antennae
twitch with surprise,
his voice a static
hush. "Why?"
Mr. Krabs looks
away, his eyes
anywhere but on the
screen. "I know I've
been... rough on you
lately," he says, his
voice a gruff rumble.
"And I didn't know
about the... the
autism thing. It's
just, the Krabby Patty
formula is all I've
got, and I can't...
I don't know how to
make it up to ye but
I just called to let ye know."
Plankton's antennae
quiver with shock, his
eye wide. "Mr. Krabs,"
he whispers, his voice
a static hum. "Is this...
real?"
Mr. Krabs nods, his
face a map of regret.
"Yeah, it's me," he says,
his voice a gruff
mumble. "I know I've
not been the best...
neighbor, or... frenemy."
Sponge Bob's eyes
are wide, his grip
on Plankton's hand
unwavering. Sandy's
jaw is slack with
disbelief.
"Mr. Krabs," Karen's
voice is a cautious whisper.
"That's... really nice of
you to say."
Mr. Krabs nods,
his eyes returning
to the screen. "It's
just, I've seen what
you've gone through,
and I... I shouldn't
have hurt you." His
claws fiddle with his
apron, a rare show
of vulnerability. "And I
forgive ye."