AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY vi
(Autistic author)
"Why don't we stay in, Plankton?"
Sponge Bob suggested, noticing
his friend's lingering anxiety.
"We can still have fun."
Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly as he considered the
proposal. The thought of going
outside was overwhelming.
"Okay," he agreed, his voice
soft. "Inside."
Sponge Bob nodded, his smile
reassuring. "How about a board
game?" he offered.
Plankton's antennae twitched in
consideration. "Game," he echoed,
his voice tentative.
Sponge Bob's smile grew. "Yeah!
Which one do you want to play?"
Plankton's antennae perked up at the
mention of something familiar. "Game,"
he murmured, his voice a little
more steady. "Choose."
Sponge Bob beamed at him, happy
to see his friend willing to
participate. He picked a simple
game of checkers from the shelf,
knowing it would be less
overwhelming than the loud, bright
electronic games that Plankton had
once enjoyed.
Plankton's antennae quivered with
excitement as Sponge Bob set
up the board, his eyes fixated on
the red and black pieces. "Checkers,"
he murmured, his voice filled with
anticipation.
Sponge Bob nodded, placing the
checkers in their starting
positions. "You go first," he said,
his voice calm and steady.
Plankton's antennae quivered as
his eyes focused on the board.
He picked up a black piece, his hand
shaking slightly. "Checkers," he
whispered to himself, echoing Sponge
Bob's words. He placed it with
precision on the board.
Sponge Bob watched him.
"Good job, Plankton," he said,
his voice soothing. "You're doing
great."
Plankton's antennae twitched with
each word, echoing the comfort.
"Great," he murmured, his gaze
never leaving the checkers. He
moved a piece, his mind working
quickly to calculate his next
move. The repetitive nature of
the game was calming, a familiar
rhythm that helped him find a
moment of peace in the chaos.
"Checkers," he said again, his
voice a little more stable. The
game was a dance of strategy,
and it was a dance Plankton had
always loved. But now, it was
more than that—it was a lifeline.
The game continued, the
quiet clicks of the pieces
moving across the board
providing a soothing rhythm
to the otherwise
silent room. Plankton's antennae
stayed mostly still, only
twitching when he felt the
need to move a piece. His eye
flitted from the board to
Sponge Bob and back again, seeking
reassurance that he was doing
this right.
Sponge Bob watched him, his
face a mask of concentration,
his spongy body still. "Your turn,
Plankton," he said, his voice
calm and steady.
Plankton nodded, his antennae
quivering slightly as he reached
for a piece. He moved it with
careful deliberation, his gaze
never leaving the board.
"Good move," Sponge Bob said,
his voice a gentle encouragement.
Plankton's antennae twitched in
response, his eyes lighting up
for a moment. "Good move," he
repeated, his voice echoing
Sponge Bob's tone. The words
comforted him, a familiar
refrain in a world that had
become unpredictable.
Sponge Bob nodded, his eyes
never leaving Plankton's. "Your
turn," he prompted gently.
Plankton's antennae quivered as
his hand hovered over the board.
"Good move," he murmured, echoing
Sponge Bob's words from moments
before. His eyes focused
intently on the board, his mind
racing to find the perfect
place for the checker.
The echo of their shared phrase
was like a soft lullaby in the
quiet room, a gentle reminder of
their longstanding friendship.
Sponge Bob noticed the comfort
it brought to Plankton, the way
his body relaxed slightly with
each repetition. "Good move,"
Sponge Bob said again, his voice
soft and encouraging.
Plankton's antennae twitched,
his eye focusing on the board.
He moved a piece, whispering
"good move" under his breath.
Sponge Bob watched him, his
expression a mix of wonder and
concern. Plankton had always been
so sharp, so quick-witted, and now,
his brain was navigating a new
kind of maze.
But in this moment, as the
game progressed, it was clear
that Plankton's strategic mind
was still sharp. His moves
were calculated, precise. He
was winning, and Sponge Bob
could see the pride in his
tiny friend's eye.
Sponge Bob felt a swell of
happiness as Plankton's antennae
quivered with excitement. "King me,"
he murmured, placing his checker
on the board's edge.
Sponge Bob did so, his heart
swelling with pride for his
friend. "You're really good at this,"
he said, his voice gentle.
Plankton's antennae curled with
satisfaction. "Thanks," he
murmured, his voice a little
more stable now.
Sponge Bob watched as Plankton
placed the kinged piece back on
the board, his eyes never leaving
the game. The tension in the
room had dissipated, replaced by
the rhythmic exchange of
checkers and echoing affirmations.
"Good move," Plankton murmured
again, his voice a testament to
his focus. His antennae quivered
slightly as he anticipated Sponge
Bob's next play.
Sponge Bob studied the board,
his yellow brow furrowed. He knew
that Plankton had always been
smart, but this was something
else—a silent, intense
concentration that seemed to
have taken over his friend's
tiny form. With a soft click, he
moved his piece, watching as
Plankton's antennae followed the
move, his eye calculating.
Plankton's response was swift and
confident, his antennae barely
twitching. "Good move," Sponge Bob
said, echoing Plankton's words.
He felt a sense of awe as Plankton
countered with a move that
won the game.
Sponge Bob's cheer was sudden,
his spongy hands slapping
together with joy. "You did
it, Plankton!" he exclaimed.
Plankton's antennae shot up, his
body stiffening at the unexpected
noise. His eye grew wide, the
world around him seeming to
shrink for a moment as he was
jolted out of his focused
trance.
Sponge Bob's cheer had
unintentionally startled him,
his sudden movement a stark
contrast to the calm rhythm of
the game.
"Sorry, Plankton," Sponge Bob
apologized, quickly
lowering his voice,
his expression
softening. "I forgot."
Plankton took a deep
breath, his antennae slowly
lowering.
Sponge Bob watched him
closely, his own excitement
dimming in the face of his
friend's distress. "It's ok," he
whispered. "You won, Plankton."
Plankton's antennae gradually
stilled, his breathing slowing
down. He nodded, his voice
small. "Won," he murmured, his
eye refocusing on the board.
Sponge Bob's smile faltered,
his heart heavy at the sight
of Plankton's distress. He
knew his cheer had been too
much, too soon. "Sorry," he
whispered, his hand hovering
above the board, unsure if he
should clean up the pieces or not.
Plankton's antennae quivered,
his gaze lingering on the
game. "Enough checkers."
Sponge Bob nodded, his
expression understanding. "Okay,
Plankton," he said, his voice
gentle. "Let's do something else."
Plankton's antennae twitched
slightly as he considered his
options. "Movie?" he suggested, his
voice tentative.
Sponge Bob's eyes lit up. "Yea!
What do you want to watch?"
Plankton's antennae twitched. "Simple
story," he murmured, his voice
still shaky. "No loud noises."
Sponge Bob nodded eagerly,
quickly searching through the
DVDs for a film that would be
comfortable for his friend. "How
about 'The Great Snail Race'?"
he suggested, holding up the
case.
Plankton's antennae twitched
with consideration. The film
was a classic, a story of
endurance and friendship, and
his brain processed the quiet
nature of the plot. "Yes," he
murmured. "Snail Race."
Sponge Bob's smile grew as he
inserted the DVD into the
player. The familiar tunes of
the opening credits filled the
room, and Plankton's antennae
swayed gently to the rhythm, his
body visibly relaxing into the
soft cushions of the couch.
Karen watched from the
sidelines, her eyes misty with
relief. Sponge Bob had always
known how to reach Plankton in
a way she couldn't. His simple,
understanding nature seemed to
break through the barriers that
autism had constructed around
his friend.
Sponge Bob pressed play, the
screen flickering to life.
The soft light from the TV cast a
glow, Plankton's eye
fixed on the snails that began to
race across the screen.
Sponge Bob sat next to Plankton.
He knew he had to
tread carefully, to be a source
of comfort without overwhelming
his friend. As the snails
moved slowly across the screen,
Plankton's antennae stilled, the
story's gentle pace a balm to
his overstimulated mind.
The movie's quiet humor
elicited a small chuckle from
Plankton, a sound that was
music to Karen. She watched
from the kitchen doorway.
Sponge Bob had always been
there for Plankton, and
was grateful for his unwavering
support.