When Squidward heard these words, he saluted Mr. Krabs and said 'What should I have to give you! But let me go quickly that I take nothing from you! And thus they parted from one another, Mr. Krabs and Squidward, laughing as two boys laugh. But when Squidward was alone, he spoke thus to his heart: 'Could it be possible! Mr. Krabs has not heard in the Krusty Krab that Spongebob is dead!'

Spongebob is dead. Spongebob remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has fried to death under our spatulas: who will wipe this ketchup off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred fry-cook games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become sea creatures simply to appear worthy of it?

I have no fucking clue what made me follow you originally but this shitpost overhaul reminds me of the good ol' days on /b/