Chapter Text
Silence enveloped Bikini Bottom as the first rays of dawn cast their glow on the underwater city. Within the confines of his Easter Island home, Squidward began to stir from his sleep, his eyelids fluttering as he came to. Feeling well-rested, a small smile spread across his face, which quickly disappeared as he heard SpongeBob’s foghorn alarm blaring in the distance. How he loathed that noise, which he could never seem to get used to, even after all these years. He let out a deep sigh as he began to mentally prepare for another soul-sucking day at the Krusty Krab.
“Why do I even bother anymore?” he muttered, rolling himself out of bed.
Recently, Squidward had become uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was getting older. Too old, and with little to show for it. His beauty and vitality were fading, while time was passing without mercy. His own mortality was always at the forefront of his mind. He knew that he would likely pass from this life to the next without any recognition for his talents. Some days, this blow to his ego was too much to bear.
After dragging himself out of bed, the cephalopod slowly crept up to his mirror, ready to begin his usual routine. He leaned over the sink, splashing cold water over his face. He lingered there briefly, eyes shut tightly as he reveled in the icy coolness. He wanted to savor this fleeting moment of stillness. Rarely in life was he permitted even small moments like this, where he was allowed to feel at ease. But as fate would have it, this momentary peace was cut short as he lifted his head to meet his own gaze in the mirror.
“Dear Neptune,” he whispered in disgust.
Scanning his own features in the reflection, Squidward couldn’t help but notice every defect. Those unsightly forehead lines, tired eyes beginning to gather wrinkles at the edges, dry skin, soft midsection, and squishy tentacles. He quickly made a mental checklist of every imperfection.
The longer Squidward stared, the more it seemed like he was looking into a funhouse mirror. Tentacles expanded and contracted, facial features twisted into a repulsive caricature. His pulse quickened as his perception grew more and more distorted.
With eyes still fixed on the mirror, he took a deep breath. “Okay, Squiddy, calm down.”
“You’ve let yourself go, but you can fix this. You’re going to start a strict diet, starting today. No excuses,” he continued, trying to suppress the urge to spiral.
It was generally acknowledged in underwater society that octopuses were not considered to be the most beautiful of sea creatures. Their large noses and crimson eyes were slightly off-putting to the average fish folk. But nonetheless, Squidward always thought himself to be just a cut above the rest. He prided himself on his “bluish glow” and slender physique. It was the one thing he had, the one thing he hadn’t failed at miserably. If he failed at this, what would be left?
As Squidward continued getting ready for work, his mind began racing. Images of his fellow Bikini Bottomites whispering and laughing, pointing their fins mockingly at him became vivid. In an attempt to draw his mind from the miserable thought, he glanced out of his window. SpongeBob could be seen skipping merrily to work, no doubt humming some childish tune. Not an unusual sight for a weekday morning, but especially annoying on a day like today.
There is no way that you are going to let yourself become even more of a laughing stock to this town full of barnacle heads.