PLUSH ONE v
(By NeuroFabulous)
They sit there in silence, their
hands clasped. Karen can
feel the steady rhythm of his
breath, his hand twitching slightly
with each exhale. She squeezes
his hand, a silent promise of
support.
"I'm here," she whispers again,
her voice a balm to the raw
edges of his fear. Plankton's
body relaxes into hers, his gaze
fixed on their intertwined fingers.
Karen's mind races, trying
to understand the complex web
of sensory input that now dictates
his reality. Every touch, every
sound, every sight could be
either a comfort or a cacophony.
"I'm gonna go clean up the
metal container." Karen
says, giving him a kiss on the
forehead before going.
After she left, Plankton thought
about his rivalry with Krabs. He
didn't want Krabs to be suspicious
if he suddenly stops trying to steal
his formula. He doesn't want Krabs
to find out or figure out about his
autism. So he wrote down "I went
across the street" on a note if
Karen came back. Then, he went
to the Krusty Krab restaurant.
The bright lights and the noise
of the kitchen now overwhelms him.
He found a corner and sat down,
his eye squeezed shut. His heart
raced as he tried to think about
the mission. It's a place he's been
in countless times, but he's autistic
now. Yet he knew and remembered
the environment, despite the new
sensory experience.
Plankton took a deep breath
and forced his eye open, his gaze
darts around, trying to find the safety
vault he knew so well.
He saw the familiar soda machine,
the greasy counters, and the gleaming
spatulas, but everything felt wrong.
The smell of cooking oil was too intense,
the clatter of pans too loud. His mind
raced, trying to process the cacophony
of sensory input. He needs to focus on
getting the recipe out of that safe!
Slowly, Plankton stood, his legs wobbly
from the effort to filter out the chaos.
He knew he had to keep moving, to
complete his task. Now to figure out
the combination.
He approached the safe, his hands
trembling with the effort to block
out the noise. The buttons on the safe
were cold under his fingertips, and he
felt the familiar thrill of a challenge.
His mind raced, trying to remember
his past schemes and the patterns
that had always come so naturally to him.
But it was like trying to recall a dream.
The numbers and sequences danced
just out of reach, taunting him with
their elusiveness. His eye darted around,
catching sight of the menu board, the
colorful condiments, and the glint of
the cash register. It was all too much.
He stepped back, his breaths coming
quick and shallow. He needed to find
his center, to focus on the task at hand.
He closed his eye and thought of Karen,
the feel of her hand in his, the sound
of her voice. It grounded him, calmed
the storm in his head. With renewed
determination, he opened his eye.
The safe was a monolith, a silent
witness to his tumultuous thoughts.
He studied the buttons, the cold
metal under his fingertips. He knew
the pattern had to be simple, something
Krabs would think secure.
Plankton's mind raced, trying to
decipher the sequence that had
once come to him so easily. He
closed his eye, trying to
concentrate, but the sounds and
smells of the kitchen crashed over
him like a wave. The cacophony
was unbearable, a stark contrast
to the quiet orderliness of his
laboratory.
He took a deep breath, focusing
on the cool metal of the safe.
He had to get the Krabby Patty
formula. For Karen, for himself.
This was a purpose, his
obsession. But now, everything felt
different. The familiar had
become strange, the simple
complex.
With trembling hands, Plankton
started to press buttons on the safe,
his mind racing with the patterns
of his past attempts. But
his brain didn't respond in the
usual way. The numbers jumbled,
the sequences slipped away.
He felt the weight of his failure
pressing down on him, the kitchen
sounds amplifying his anxiety. What
numbers would Krabs put in?
He took a deep breath and tried
to visualize their conversations, the
tiny details that might hold the key.
But every memory was now
filtered through the lens of his new
autistic brain. It was like trying
to solve a puzzle with half
the pieces missing. His hand hovered
over the dial, his eye blinking rapidly.
"Krabs," he murmured to himself.
"What would Krabs say?"
The name echoed in his head, a
beacon in the fog. Plankton knew
his rival's patterns, his obsessions.
He thought of Krabs' parsimony,
his love for his secret formula.
It had to be something significant
to him, something that made sense
in his own peculiar way. Plankton's
thumb tapped the side of the safe,
his mind racing through memories.
And then it clicked. Krabs had
always talked about his mother's
birthday, a sacred number, a key
to his heart. Plankton tried the
combination, his heart pounding.
The dial spun smoothly, the clicks
sounding like a symphony in his
heightened hearing. 14-6-82. The safe
whirred to life, the door popping open.
Plankton's eye widened in amazement,
his heart racing. He'd done it.
He reached in and grabbed the
precious envelope. The Krabby Patty
formula, in Krabs' own scrawl.
It was within his grasp. Now to
get out of here! But how? What's
made him always get caught before?
The chaos of the kitchen faded
away, and he saw the pattern. It was
his lack of disguise, his hasty
exits. This time would be different.
He needed to blend in, to become
part of the background. He needed to
calm down, to think through his
actions logically. He couldn't let
his excitement overwhelm him.
Plankton had to get out without
drawing attention to himself.
He thought back to the times he'd
seen Krabs interact with his
employees, the casual way he'd
moved through the kitchen...
Plankton then spotted the air
vent! Sure enough, he and the
recipe both fit through.
He emerged into the alley,
his heart racing. The cold
air was a slap in the face,
but it also brought with it
a sense of clarity. He knew
his sensory overload would
make a hasty retreat impossible.
But he's out of the Krusty Krab!
He ran back to his own place
across the street.
Plankton stumbled into his lab,
his eye taking in the familiar
sights with new intensity. The
colors were too bright, the smells
too potent, the sounds of his
own inventions too loud. But here,
he knew he was safe.
He laid the envelope on his workbench,
his hand shaking with excitement.
This was his life's work, the
elixir to his problems. But
now, with the Krabby Patty formula
in his grasp, he wasn't sure
what to do next. His mind
raced with the sensory input
from the kitchen, making it
difficult to think clearly.
The lab's chaos seemed to
calm him, though. The familiar
sounds of beeping machines
and the faint scent of chemicals
soothed his overwhelmed senses.
He took a deep breath, his hand
steadying.
The envelope sat there, a
symbol of his old life. His obsession
with the Krabby Patty formula had
been the driving force behind
their rivalry for so long. Now,
his autism didn't erase his past,
it just colored it differently.
The desire to be successful,
to have what Krabs had, remained.
But the way he approached
the world had changed. He knew
the taste, the smell, the very essence
of a Krabby Patty. It was a
part of him now, a memory that
could never fade. He stared at
the envelope, his heart racing.
Plankton took a deep breath, his
eye focusing on the paper. His
hands trembled as he opened it, the
formula's secrets were written in a
made up code by Krabs. But
Plankton's autism made it decipherable
to him!
The letters and numbers danced
on the page, but instead of the jumbled
mess he'd expected, they formed
patterns, beautiful patterns that his
brain craved. He saw the structure,
the order, the way each ingredient
intertwined with the next. It was like
a symphony of flavors, and he was the
conductor. His heart raced as he
read through the document, his mind
whirling with the possibilities.
He threw away the handwritten
note from before as he brought
the formula into the bedroom with
him.
Plankton sat on the bed, his mind
racing. The code was complex,
but he could see the patterns. It was
like the universe had laid bare
its secrets to him.