Mr. Squarepants: A Short Story

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He was kneeling in the dirt on both skinny, yellow knees, tending, accordingly devoted, to his kelp garden.
Deep was the soil under his fingernails, the only evidence of his hours of labour, besides the kelp soon to sprout from the ocean floor around his pineapple. Rising to his feet, he lifted his straw hat to wipe sweat from the porous brow beneath it. SpongeBob Squarepants stretched his arms high above his head, consequently stiff from crouching for so long at his 32 years.
Perhaps his stiffness and the time spent in the sun was to blame for what happened next to poor Mr. Squarepants, however, he would never truly know.
As, when he turned to head back into his pineapple, anticipating a hot shower and time spent with his pet snail, Gary,

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