In a frenzy of welding sparks and mad science, Plankton constructed a massive laboratory apparatus designed to extract SpongeBob's fry-cook knowledge and transplant it into a robotic body. He strapped SpongeBob into a chair, wires trailing from his porous head.
The air in Bikini Bottom felt heavy, but nowhere was it heavier than inside the Krusty Krab. For the first time in history, the grill was cold. Mr. Krabs sat in his office, his eyes fixed on a singular piece of paper: a contract. He had lost his star fry cook in a high-stakes game of cards to his arch-rival, Plankton. [S3E3] Welcome To The ChumBucket
Hours passed. Plankton’s patience evaporated. He realized that SpongeBob’s productivity was tied directly to his happiness, and SpongeBob was currently the most miserable sponge in the ocean. In a frenzy of welding sparks and mad
"Welcome to your new home, SpongeBob!" Plankton cackled. "Don't bother unpacking. Your only job is to stand at that grill and make me a Krabby Patty. The recipe, if you please." For the first time in history, the grill was cold
SpongeBob’s eyes lit up. The color returned to his cheeks. He leapt behind the counter, grabbed his spatula, and performed a triple-flip that landed a perfect patty onto a bun. The sizzle was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. "Order up, Mr. Krabs!" SpongeBob cheered.