health – three good words

September 27, 2025

On Labor

SuperSuds & Consequences

Imagine you’re in Bikini Bottom.

Mr. Krabs is skint, which is a lie, but he desperately “needs” more money because this is Mr. Krabs, The Money Addict. He cries and wails and begs Spongebob to work overtime. Spongebob being Spongebob happily agrees (he’s ready), and so the mess begins.

The sun and moon switch places three times. On the fourth day, Spongebob looks like hell. He has a five o’clock shadow, bags under his eyes, and he is begging Mr. Krabs to go home. Mr. Krabs tells him, “Come on, me boy, one more day will do you no harm!” Spongebob tries to lift his spatula, whimpers, and keels over. The ambulance races to the Krusty Krab and wee-woos Spongebob to ER.

In ER, Spongebob is blubbering pink bubbles in his sleep. The attending doctor declares Spongebob has a bad case of SuperSuds because of severe burnout. Mr. Krabs insists Spongebob has to get back to work, “He’s my best man at the helm!” The doctor snaps, “You monster!” and pushes Mr. Krabs out of the hospital, Mr. Krabs demanding, “When will I have him back? I need him back, doctor! I need him back!” The doctor yells, “Not for six weeks! Now get out!” and slams the hospital door in Mr. Krabs’ face.

*One Week Later*

Squidward is the Krusty Krab’s fry cook now. The kitchen is an unholy mess, he has already burned it down twice. Right in the middle of a new order, Squidward blows up the kitchen a third time, except the blast radius puts the Krusty Krab out of commission: whatever quantum physics Squidward triggered with his “cooking” warped the space-time continuum and opened a hole in the universe. Mr. Krabs sighs, “Not again,” and rushes to hire the contractors who know how to deal with this particular Situation.

While Mr. Krabs is busy rebuilding the Krusty Krab, Squidward’s high school rival Squilliam happens by the Krusty Krab construction site. Squilliam immediately understands what a closed Krusty Krab means for business. He rushes back home to create “a brand new burger” and hard launches a burger start-up with HotPattie™, the Pattie “with the Secret Sauce.”

HotPattie™ promptly becomes Bikini Bottom’s go-to burger patty and quickly dominates the Bikini Bottom burger scene, with franchises up and down Main Street. Enraged by HotPattie™’s success, Plankton rants to Karen about the unfairness of it all. Karen tells him to stop complaining and go infiltrate Squilliam’s company to find out what his Secret Sauce is. Plankton agrees and sets to work. He quickly insinuates himself into Squilliam’s good graces when he happens on Squilliam on his first day in HotPattie™’s headquarters.

Squilliam asks Plankton, “What do you want?” sounding a little sinister, and Plankton lies, “I want to be the best HotPattie^™ manager there is!” Squilliam is sceptical, “You’re really small. Are you sure that’s what you want?” Plankton insists, “Yes.” “Really?” “Yes!” “Really, really?” “Yes!” “That’s what you really, really, really want?” Squillium frowns, definitely disbelieving now. “Come on. Be honest. What do you really want?” Thoroughly annoyed now, Plankton screams, “WORLD DOMINATION!” fire and brimstone everywhere. Pleased, Squilliam chuckles, “See. I knew you wanted something cool. You’re hired.”

And so, Plankton joins Squilliam’s team at HotPattie™, where he finds out that there is actually no Secret Sauce, the HotPattie^™ is just a normal patty, “But the promise of a Secret is the Sauce,” as Squilliam grins evilly. Understanding it’s all marketing, Plankton goes into overdrive and fires every single person he meets when walking through HotPattie^™ HQ’s corridors until HotPattie^™ employees start fleeing when they see him. Plankton cancels designated parking spaces for middle management, has all snack machines in the office areas removed, bodily kicks out anyone who even mentions they have children, and replaces the whole processing floor with octopus robots Karen spits out in record time, which spikes revenue into the gajillions.

While extremely happy with HotPattie™’s bottom line, Squilliam quickly gets bored with commerce. He wants to spend more time on his super-yacht Daisy. He puts Plankton in charge of the entirety of HotPattie™ that is now a huge corporation, and retreats to his super-villa with his super-yacht and all the party people who follow him everywhere. Squilliam leaves Plankton with a smug, “I expect excellent Q4 reports, Sheldon. Remember the shareholders! I’m the shareholders, haha.”

In all this, Mr. Krabs is yelling at the foreman who just explained how and why the hole in the universe was causing problems with the Krusty Krab construction site. While this is going on, Spongebob is in his bed in his pineapple suffering from SuperSuds. The hospital bills were getting astronomical, so the nice doctor who yelled at Mr. Krabs had to send Spongebob home, piling a stack of Anti-Suds medication on his bed when the hospital director wasn’t looking. Patrick, who dropped by for moral support, has been watching TV in Spongebob’s living room without a care in the world, while Gary makes sure Spongebob takes his meds. Between taking care of Spongebob and doing all the housework, Gary barely gets to eat and sleep. He starts to meow more and more indignantly. Patrick, unsurprisingly, doesn’t register any of this.

Over at HotPattie™ HQ, Plankton is now CEO of The HotPattie™ Corporation. Ecstatic at holding the reins of power, Plankton promptly hikes prices, trashes customer service, and floods the market with CheapPatti™, a burger patty that is made entirely out of bad corals and garbage behind HotPattie™’s HQ.

The change for the worse is immediately noticeable, yet inescapable. Since The HotPattie™ Corporation basically owns every burger joint in Bikini Bottom now, everyone is incensed. Several dissatisfied citizens happen on the Krusty Krab construction site, and upon observing the on-site chaos (due to the hole in space-time), the citizens reminisce on how delicious the Krusty Krab Krabby Patty used to be. This leads to more and more people joining the observers. Cries for the Krusty Krab’s delicious Krabby Patty grow louder and louder, Bikini Bottom citizens begin to riot, raising banners and placards with HotPattie™ IS A HOAX! and HotPattie™ is a BAD PATTIE! among other slogans.

Plankton sees this civil unrest and is at first unmoved, but then the crowds grow to a mob, then a supermob engulfing HotPattie™ HQ with pitchforks and torches, rattling the building, and Plankton is enraged again. He vows he will “show those bozos” and upgrades Karen to a HotPattie™ superrobot, with which he plans to literally stomp out any opposition to The HotPattie™ Corporation.

Except Karen’s upgrade incinerates the whole oceanic power grid. This puts King Neptune on Plankton’s case, since the King had been taking a royal bubble bath when all the electricity and hot water zonked out.

Irate, the King blasts Plankton with a gigantic lighting bolt. Since Plankton was synced via brain gadget to Karen-turned-HotPattie™-superrobot, both Plankton and Karen end up incinerated into two heaps of sentient ash that need to be carried into board meetings. The Q4 prognosis is dire, but Squilliam is still on his super-yacht partying with his party people. He couldn’t care less about The HotPattie™ Corporation when he phones into the board meeting via Zroom and rolls his eyes, “Oh, then sell the damn thing!” “But, sir, it’s only worth peanuts now!” one of the directors wails. “Who cares, I have enough money now. Right, party people?” Squilliam’s party crowd cheers wildly. Squilliam grins, “See?” and cuts out of the Zroom-meeting, leaving HotPattie™’s befuddled Board of Directors and two sentient heaps of ash to themselves.

Meanwhile, Spongebob is now cured of SuperSuds by Gary’s loving care, but Patrick being Patrick takes all the credit. Spongebob spends some time jellyfish fishing with Patrick as a thank you for taking care of him (Gary sticks to Spongebob’s head to make sure nothing bad happens). While jellyfish fishing, they cross paths with a placard-carrying Sandy Cheeks who is happy to see Spongebob is well again. Realising what this means, Sandy Cheeks calls to the supermob that Spongebob is well again, and they cary him and Patrick to the Krusty Krab, Gary meowing indignantly.

The mob moves past Squidward, who is at home with his black beret, humming to himself and busy trying his hand at bricolage. Over at the Krusty Krab construction site, Mr. Krabs is finally happy everything is going well. He takes a last turn while inspecting the premises and promptly gets sucked into the hole in space-time because Mr. Krabs is Mr. Krabs who’s been “bleeding money” every day since The Blast and hasn’t stopped crying about it. In his impatience to get back to money-making, Mr. Krabs tampers with the safety measures the contractors built around the space-time-hole to keep it contained, since the “infernal contraption” costs eleventy thousand sand dollars. Cursing like a sailor, Mr. Krabs tries to get rid of the containment device, ignoring all the bells, whistles, and air raid sirens, until the containment measures are de-contained. To Mr. Krabs’ vast surprise, he promptly gets swhloop-ping!-ed into another dimension.

After facing several eldritch horrors and a very friendly, deeply misunderstood mega-octopus, Gargantua, Mr. Krabs ends up in a Nether Realm with the Flying Dutchman, who needs a partner in badminton (his latest hobby). The Flying Dutchman’s ghouls are useless, but Mr. Krabs is game, and they play a rousing match with Gargantua as referee.

Mid-match, Gargantua reveals they’re actually midships in an impossible bottle on a French Pirates’ mantelpiece. Shocked, Mr. Krabs rushes to the 4th wall to check if it’s true. He runs so fast, he knocks himself out, and pops back into Bikini Bottom. Turns out, in the time he was gone, the contractors wrapped up construction, and the mob carried Spongebob back to the Krusty Krab where SpongeBob began frying burger patties again.

With Spongebob back, Squidward is once again grumpy at the till. There’s an endless line of customers waiting to order, but everyone’s happy to have their Krusty Krab back again. Meanwhile, Squilliam is still partying on his super-yacht with his party people as well as two sentient heaps of ash sipping cocktails on the upper deck: Karen (ash heap 1) tells Plankton (ash heap 2) happily, “See, I told you it was worth it,” while Plankton is still groaning from the pain of King Neptune’s lightning bolt incineration.

The End.

June 27, 2025June 27, 2025

Are there things you try to practice daily to live a more sustainable lifestyle?

RDD: Regular Digital Detox

At least one (1) full day a week without any type of social media. Reduced app use during the week and No AI.

Also:

Eating good food. Reading interesting fiction. Taking time to rest. Singing in the shower. Talking to friends over snacks and wine. Enjoying the small things. Prioritising mental health. Taking your time. Listening to what the body needs and following through. Living well, as best as you can.

#friday #mentalhealth

April 2, 2025April 2, 2025

unbound

How have you adapted to the changes brought on by the Covid-19 pandemic?

Slow down. Breathe. Enjoy the sunshine. Go swim. See the sights. Connect with that person.

Do that thing you always wanted to do.

If you can’t, what’s holding you back? Figure that out.

Then go and find out which underpaid single mother already did what you always wanted to do, and follow her lead.

Daily Affirmations, if wanted:

• Your life is a garden: Water what nourishes, remove what poisons, and be mindful of the weeds, they pop up regularly.

• Grow at your own pace. There’s only one you.

• Rest well: It takes time to recuperate, and you need it, body and soul.

• Take that time off you’ve been meaning to take, and do something positive you genuinely enjoy.

• Give people their flowers when they’re around to receive them.

• Be a good friend. That sometimes means saying, “Thus far and no further,” and meaning it.

• Boundaries: Yours and others. Respect them.

• Read at least one book of fiction every year. You don’t have to tell anybody about it. Just enjoy the experience.

• Find that music album Younger You loved and listen to it all the way through.

#humpday

August 20, 2017August 20, 2017

toxic

Corridor, Windows, Dark & Light

I remember this anger
the slow-simmering boil
clenched tight just above the gut
that sleepless certainty of knowing
you have been wronged
on every scale.

‘Stupid is as stupid does’
But I’m no Forrest
I can see the trees for what they are
the beginning of a long Heart of Darkness
where everything is warped
and wrong and upside down
because even the mood is toxic

and suddenly I can trace the battle scars
fading into the foreground
like that tattoo you forgot about
or those combat boots out back
grown dusty in the shed
the ones that helped you cross
that violent overgrown desert.

And now it’s time
time to take down the gas-mask
and strap on the worn leather
find your trusted binoculars
the ones without the fancy bits
but excellent night vision
now it is time to get out the maps
the combat notes, the exit strategies
and scout almost-forgotten terrain

because you know this is no joke.
this is as real as it gets
this is the old and known
enemy.

August 20, 2014May 17, 2020

family

The wide hall was bright, thuds from the punch bags loud in the busy silence. Coach Lewis was giving stern commands to the new kids while twenty men and five women worked the bags and benches, some with their heads hidden in head gear, hands sunk in boxing mitts. Two men were on the mattresses, barefoot in track shorts and shirts, sparring. One held the shields, the second had his hands tied up in mitts, quick with the punches, doubles and triples, the first encouraging earnestly, holding against the punches, instructing him to punch higher, lower, use his left more, keep his weight steady, keep his balance right.

The door opened, there was a short commotion, heads turning, a few low whistles, some murmuring. Coach Lewis shouted, ‘Shut up, all of yer!’ and walked over. Exchanges were made. Coach Lewis nodded earnestly and walked over to the mattresses.

‘Tellis! Tellis! Oi! Tellis!’

The two men finally jumped apart. The one with the sparring shields walked over to the ropes.

‘What?’
‘Someone’s here for yer.’
‘What?’
‘Girl. She’s here for yer. Says it’s urgent.’

Coach Lewis pointed over to the door. There was a girl, no, a woman standing there in heels, coat and umbrella, looking nervous. That looked like Marla. What the fuck was she doing here? Nobody knew he was here, even Sunny had a hard time finding the place. It had to be urgent if she figured it out. And she did look nervous.

Caden climbed down and removed the shields, ignoring the, ‘Oi Tellis, what’s her name?’ and ‘Fuckin’ hell, Tellis, where’ve you been hidin’ that all this time?’ Caden walked over. The closer he came, the more nervous Marla looked. It had to be really bad then.

‘What happened?’
‘What? Oh – Hi. Yes. Sorry. Ahm. I hope I’m not disturbing – ?’
‘What happened?’

She pressed her lips together first, and Caden noticed she was wearing lipstick. She usually didn’t wear lipstick.

‘There was a call. From a hospital. Sunny couldn’t leave, the pub’s packed but –’
‘But what?’
‘They said a Vicky Lawrence is in the –’

Fuck.

‘Where?’
‘What?’
‘Where? Where is she?’
‘I have it here,’ she said, eyes wide, opening her handbag quickly.

It took her ages until she finally found the piece of paper and handed it to him. Caden checked. St George’s. Fuck.

‘Do you know her?’
‘You here with the car?’
‘Um. Yeah. Sunny gave me –’
‘Are you busy now?’
‘What?’
‘Do you need to be anywhere?’
‘I – well – no, I just came home –’
‘I’ll drop you off. That ok?’
‘Of course. Of course that’s ok.’

Caden just nodded and ran to the lockers. Fuck. Again. Why the fuck didn’t she finally stop with the fucking fags? But that was like asking an alcoholic to stop with the drink. It took ages until stopping even registered.

Forty-five minutes later, Caden was in St George’s, walking down the A&E, they never liked it when you ran. The nurse recognised him though and pointed matter-of-factly, ‘Three two seven, love. Should be stable now.’ Caden nodded and walked over. He knocked and waited, nothing happened. He opened the door and walked in. The air wasn’t as stale as he expected. He walked in quietly. She was asleep. There was a drip. No tubes though, which was a relief.

The curtains were still open, late sunlight spilling in, red and grey. Caden stood at the window first and looked out. There was just the street, black with the last rain that splashed all over the windshield, wipers clacking. He’d dropped off Marla right away, she must’ve known it was serious with the way she jumped out of the car, running in those heels to the house. How did women always manage to run in heels? Probably all the practice. He turned and drove on, it was thirty minutes with the rain. It was the nearest hospital to Vicky’s place.

She moved here once he was back, said they had to stick together. He didn’t know how bad it was then, he was just glad to have her around. She was still like she used to be back then, foul-mouthed and good for a laugh, saying fuck in every other sentence. He remembered that first ‘Fuck’ at the Corrigans, the silence, the stares. He hadn’t known it was wrong, everyone was always saying it where he used to be, nobody batted an eye. Then, at dinner, it was there, loud and clear like a pistol shot, and all four stared at him as if he was some kind of monster.

Caden heard a cough and turned. She shifted a little in the bed. She looked so weak, so grey. Her face was no longer full, the wrinkles were no longer laugh lines. He looked back out, it was raining again, the red brick of the buildings opposite a dark kind of bright, the windows white squares of light, or dark, shuttered. Someone told him that was where the outpatients went, or something like that. He’d never been in a hospital after that first time at the Corrigans. Joan dragged him to a full check-up once a year for the first five he was there, eyes, ears, brain, everything, like he might have some unknown bug after all. He didn’t mind the first time, or the second. The other three really weren’t necessary, but there was no talking to Joan once she set her mind .

‘Fuck, kid, is that you?’

Caden turned back to the bed. Her eyes were open now, tired, watery. She was still in there somewhere, he could still see her, but it was getting harder and harder these days. The worse she got, the more he felt some part of him was slipping away.

‘Hi, Vicky.’

She smiled a tired smiled and tried to sit up. Caden went over and helped her, feeling her thin arms, her whole body shaking when she coughed. It sounded much worse than last time.

‘So they did call you.’
‘Of course they did.’
‘I thought you’d be too busy getting famous to come,’ she smiled again, showing her stained teeth.

They used to be white once, he remembered that. That was years ago.

‘Never too famous for you,’ he said and she smiled, ‘Oh, fuck off,’ pleased.
‘So how are things?’ she asked, coughing.
‘Good.’
‘Still haven’t fucked you over yet from what I see,’ she grinned. ‘That posh slut still trying to get your money?’

Caden sighed. Of course.

‘Vicky, Ella’s been history for years.’
‘I’m not talkin’about Ella fuckin’ Smythe, sweetheart. Whatshername, Steff? She still after you like the rabid bitch she is? What? She’s fuckin’ nuts – ’
‘She’s getting married.’
‘Again?’

Caden nodded, Vicky started laughing that hoarse laugh that was just like home.

‘Poor fucker. Who’s it this time?’
‘Steve Richter.’
‘Ain’t that your mate?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Couldn’t get you so she dug her claws into your best mate? Classy.’

There was no point in starting that so he said, ‘How are you?’

‘Fucked, that’s what I am. What? It’s true. I’m a fuckin’ trainwreck. Look at me. All you need now are some fuckin’ cameras and you got a million-dollar show for yourself, so I’d say you start cashin’ in right now. ’

He couldn’t help it, he did smile. Vicky chuckled, pleased, but another cough stopped that.

‘Fuck.’
‘You all right?’
‘No? I’m not fuckin’ all right.’

These days, she could switch from fun to raving in seconds. Caden just waited. She coughed some more then sighed,

‘They want me to stop with the fags. Yeah, yeah, I know, but how’s that supposed to fuckin’ work? I live on the fuckin’ things, the only fun I have left – what?’
‘You really should stop.’
‘For what?’ she snapped bitterly. ‘It’s all I got left. You famous and Dickie off with that fuckin’ Riley slut –’ but she stopped herself, coughed a little and sighed. ‘Sorry, kid. I get carried away these days.’
‘Are you all alone up there again?’
‘I’m ok.’

Caden knew she was lying. Every time she started picking lint off something she was lying, and she was picking something invisible off the sheets. He’d asked her countless times to move in with them, showed her the loft and everything, but all she said was ‘This is way too fuckin’ fancy for me, kid, I’d just stain up the walls.’ Which was true, but at least that way he’d have been able to keep an eye on her. She refused though, but she was close, so he dropped by once a week. If he could. Sometimes he really did forget. She just slipped his mind, like she’d never been. He didn’t mean to, it just happened.

This was probably how people felt when they forgot to call up their Mum. It’s not like you hated her. It was… it was walking up those stairs into that apartment, seeing the dirty dishes piled up in the sink, the empty beer cans and vodka bottles on the table, the stubs spilling out of the ashtray, the TV on some shopping channel again and having one of her neighbours sitting on the sofa with his gut out, shouting, ‘You got any more beer left, luv?’ It was that. And hearing her cough like that. And having to blackmail her to the GP.

Last time she couldn’t pay the rent. She loaned it all to some fuckwit down the hall who never paid it back of course. So she called him up. Promised she’d do anything for this favour. So Caden went over, heard the predictable, idiotic story, and said he’d pay if she went to the GP and got a decent check-up. First she snapped he was ‘a fuckin’ tightarse’, and when he refused to budge, she shouted he was the ‘same sadistic shit’ like all the others. Then she coughed something bad, she hardly got any air. For five seconds he thought she’d suffocate right in front of him, but she finally could breathe again. Once that was over, she collapsed on a chair and cried, ‘I’m such a mess. Why d’you even put up with me?’ He waited until she was done crying and said, ‘Ready?’ She wiped her eyes and nodded and he drove her to the GP, he already got her an appointment, there was no point in asking her to do it herself.

It was that. And having to see her face that was nothing like the one on the pictures he had on the kitchen wall. She used to be so full of life. She used to be this… brightness. Ease. Laughter. By the time he got his acceptance letter, he genuinely looked forward to seeing her again. She was a real breath of fresh air, foul-mouthed, smoking like haystack, downing shots with him at The King’s Head on the high street, laughing loud.

He didn’t want to see her like this, remember her like this, thin and grey, just this side of bitter, coughing so hard he half expected her to literally spit out her lungs. He couldn’t stay away though, he had to come. She was all the family he had left.