Keeper of the Spatula

Chapter 12: Deal of Our Lives

Later that night, the masked warriors brought SpongeBob, Patrick, Squidward, and Plankton to a village that was lit by torches and full of large wooden huts that were occupied by many other villagers.

“Is this the haunted house where we’re supposed to get our candy?” Patrick asked as he glanced around.

“There has to be a manager around here we can speak to that’ll be willing to let us leave this dump.” Squidward commented.

“Okay, just a minor setback,” Plankton whispered to himself. “Once we escape from these clowns, I can get the spatula and be home free.”

Just then, the warriors escorting them stopped in front of the largest hut in the village and proceeded to kneel down.

The four watched as the head warrior stood before them and announced, “Please give all your attention to our wise and humble chief. He will be the one to decide your fates!”

The doors to the hut open up and a pale-green old-aged fish with a long white beard, two lazy eyes; wearing a brown loin cloth, beaded necklace, and tiki crown on his head. He was also really skinny for someone who is said to enjoy food a lot.

He held out his crooked staff and shouted in an old southern voice, “What strangers do you bring before my palace?”

“Travelers, my chief.” The head warrior answered. “We proceeded to filch any valuable treasure we can bring to you.”

SpongeBob quietly giggled as he whispered to Patrick, “‘Filch’…that’s a funny word.”

As the two quietly snicker, the head warrior continued, catching their attention, “BUT, one of them refused to give up the most valuable possession we have come across.”

“Refuses?!” the Chief questioned in shock, and then moved his pupils forward so they could focus on Squidward, “What in sweet éclair’s name causes you to disobey my royalty and not hand over the valuable that I so rightly desire?”

Squidward was crept out by this and quickly shook his head. “No, no, no, no, no! I’m not the one with any valuables on me!”

“My chief,” the head warrior whispered. “The cephalopod is not the one we speak of. It is the yellow one.”

“Yellow?!” the Chief hollered in question again. “What yellow one is here? I don’t see no yellow one-” but then his crooked eyes somehow managed to locate SpongeBob. “W-Well, so you’re the yellow one who dares to defy me.”

“Well…” SpongeBob nervously said as he wrung out his hands. “‘Defy’ is a strong word. I’d say more like…”

“So what makes you defy your chief?!” the Chief demanded out loud.

“This, my chief.” The head warrior answered as he poked SpongeBob with a spear and caused the spatula to drop out of his pocket, “A golden cooking utensil.”

The Chief stared at the spatula, jaw-dropped, as the gold shined over his face. “I sure do definitely want somethin’ like that. It’ll go nicely next to my throne.”

Once he reached down for it, SpongeBob suddenly sprung down on top of it with his body shielding it from be taken. “NO!” he shouted to the Chief.

The warriors gasped along with Squidward, Plankton, and Patrick. “We’re dead.” Squidward muttered out loud.

“You dare defy my-”

“Yes!” SpongeBob interrupted the Chief as he grasped the spatula. “I do dare. Sorry, but I cannot let you take this spatula. It is precious to me and I already have solid plans for it.”

“Do you see, my chief?” The head warrior whispered. “He refuses to give it up. He openly disobeys you and attacks anyone who tries to take it.”

“Hmm…” the Chief pondered as he stared at SpongeBob’s bold glare. “You, young man, you intrigue me.”

“Oh, well…thanks.” SpongeBob replied with a confused stare. “What do you mean?”

The Chief walked over to him and placed an arm over his shoulder. “That golden trinket you have. It is a thing called a ‘spatula’, ain’t that correct?”

“Yeah.”

“And you use it to cook things, right?”

“That’s right.” SpongeBob proudly answered. “Where I come from, I’m the best fry cook there is.” he held up the spatula and grinned, “We both are.”

The Chief laughed and slapped him on the back. “I like your style, boy! I tell you what, I happen to be a fan of gorgin’ on the finest dishes there are, bein’ a chief and all that. And since you is a chef, I want you to prepare me the most delicious meal you can come up with.”

“Are you inbred?” Plankton dully asked the Chief, though his question went unanswered.

“Gee, that sounds like a real pleasure, but…” SpongeBob got a cautious look and explained, “I really have to get back on the road with my friends. Maybe some other time will be…”

“Maybe I ain’t makin’ this clear.” The Chief said in an angry voice as he poked SpongeBob with his staff. “I want you to cook me somethin’ yummy and if I don’t get what I want, you ain’t leavin’!”

He waved his staff and the warriors surrounded Squidward, Patrick, and Plankton with their spears. “Guys!” SpongeBob cried out.

“Now here’s the deal.” The Chief told SpongeBob as he blocked his path with his staff. “If you cook me up somethin’ that I find enjoyable, I’ll let you and your little friends go free. But…if I hate what you cook or you try ‘n run away, it’s bye-bye to them all…permanently.”

SpongeBob gasped in shock along with Squidward, Patrick, and Plankton. The Chief then added to him, “Not to mention, my servants will be usin’ you to clean my bathroom.”

But the head warrior whispered, “You don’t have a bathroom, Sir.”

“Why, I know that!” the Chief replied with a mad chuckle as the sponge had an uneasy look on his face.

Then the Chief yelled out, “Take those three to the prison chamber! And bring this yellow boy into my kitchen!”

The warriors obeyed their chief and led Patrick, Squidward, and Plankton off in one direction while two of the warriors picked up SpongeBob by his arms and carried him into the Chief’s palace hut.


The Chief’s hut was very large for a building made of wood. SpongeBob was brought pass the Chief’s throne room and into another room. He recognized it as a type of kitchen and complete with a table with meat, bread, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and other fruits and vegetables. But due to a lack of modern technology, it only had a fireplace for cooking, a bucket of water, and handmade utensils.

The warriors dropped SpongeBob to his feet and one of them began explaining, “You are free to use any ingredients you will need to prepare the Chief’s dish.”

“But don’t think of trying anything funny.” The second one warned. “We will be standing guard outside the door.”

The warriors left the kitchen and slammed the door behind them. SpongeBob stared at this and put on a weak smile. “Okay…” he gave a small wave to the door. “Thanks, guys.”

Then, SpongeBob turned around to all his kitchen supplies. “I guess all of this will do.” He said to himself with a positive tone. “I’m sure I can whip up the best dinner a chief has ever had.” Then he pulled out the spatula and held it close. “And we’ll do it together, won’t we, Hoagie?”

As he held the spatula close, SpongeBob’s grin suddenly disappeared and was replaced with a shocked look. “And if I don’t make something he likes, Patrick, Squidward, and Plankton will be in big trouble; and I’ll be stuck cleaning imaginary bathrooms.”

He suddenly glared and spoke in a furious voice, “But why should I bother to help them? They never wanted me. They don’t even appreciate all the delicious krabby patties I make.”

Then his voice suddenly switched back into his usual voice with a confused expression, “Why am I thinking that? They are my best friends and they’re counting on me to help them.”

Then his voice switched back to its angered voice, “But then again, Patrick is always such a slob when he eats my patties; never treating them with the proper care they deserve.”

He once again got a smile and added in a cheery voice, “But he does love them and thinks they’re delicious.”

“And then, there’s Squidward,” SpongeBob continued in his rage-filled voice, “He just thinks krabby patties are a waste of time. Why didn’t I see it before? I could’ve…”

“…smothered him with joy?”

“NO! And I can’t forget Plankton. He’s always been trying to take all the krabby patties I work too hard on! He’s probably on this journey right now to take all my precious krabby patties for himself.”

SpongeBob then furiously pounded his fist on the counter and accidently dropped the spatula on the ground. He gasped and quickly bent down to pick it up.

“Hoagie!” he cried out in his usual voice. “Are you alright?” he cradled the spatula in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Hoagie. I didn’t mean to.”

He stood up and thought to himself. “Gee…I was saying all that bad stuff again, wasn’t I? I wonder why this keeps happening.” But then he straightened himself up and got a determined look, “Barnacles! There’s no time to wonder. We gotta get to work and save our friends.” He looked down at the spatula. “Come on, Hoagie. It’s time to start cooking.”


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