str8 outa muthaphukin compton

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motherfucker

"SpongeBob's fine, but I thought you deserved something for your troubles. He's already been paid for," Squilliam's stomach flipped in disgust as the elderly crab looked him over with renewed interest, small tongue flicking over his lips before he went back to reading, "But he doesn't speak English. Don't worry, he knows what he's getting into." Mr. Krabs hadn't read this part bitterly, though Squidward had written it as such. "I can't believe he bought me a prostitute," Mr. Krabs caught his breath, reaching out to stroke Squilliam's face in reverence. The majority of people would believe just about anything if it served their own interests. Squidward stood in the background, in the shadows, SpongeBob gagged and bound beside him. Bile didn't rise to his throat, nor did his face grow red in anger, though he did tense as the scene played. As he knew he would. He'd purposefully set this up to remind himself. There had been other methods he could have undertaken to remove Eugene Krabs from the planet, most leaving sex completely out of the equation. But if Squidward forgot, he was doomed to revert back to sanity, to the reality born of fools and saints, martyrs and morons. He was his own saint, his own martyr, and he was so much more intelligent than the mass production of simpletons he was forced to deal with day in and day out. He was in touch with his own brand of sanity. He was insane. He knew this world better than the creators, whoever they may be, if they may be. He remembered his past, and allowed it to repeat in ways that matched what should have been, what would be.

SpongeBob groaned, eyes widening at the imminent fall of his boss, his hero, his father figure. That had been a nice touch as well, for Squidward to show him this, to display how easy it was for Krabs to manipulate and use the weak, the speechless. The crab had thrown the note aside in a crumpled ball, claws making quick work at hitching up the skirt, kicking legs which were already spread that much farther apart. Squilliam squirmed, eyes large in fear, anxiety, but submissive emptiness. The same emptiness Squidward had begun to fill SpongeBob with. Filling with emptiness. Strange wording, but as accurate as anything else in this unsanitary world. It wasn't true emptiness, after all, but emptiness to the world's doctrines, cutting away expectations and viewpoints. Because then the real world shone through. Then they could see as Squidward saw. He loved them. This was the only way they could see that, experience love and joy and sorrow as they were truly meant to be experienced. He wouldn't do this if he hated them. But then, Squidward didn't hate anyone. Hate was a wasted worldly endeavor. There was reality, and then there was nothingness. Squilliam and SpongeBob, they were destined for reality.

Patrick, he had been nothing. And KrabsâEU¦soon, he too, nothing. No, not soon, but already. Squidward barely had to imagine the feeling of his claws against his body, shuffling from memory to the present as his boss ran the back of his hand along Squilliam's inner thigh, pinching greedily at him. Squidward knew this, knew how it felt to try to flip your hair in front of your face as a coping mechanism, as an attempt to disappear, knowing you had no means now to defend yourself as an ex-navy officer panted bitter nothings against your neck. Squidward knew. And he also knew when he'd stop this, but now wasn't the time. He turned his head to see SpongeBob try to shut his eyes, though Squidward reached down, forced his eyelids to flip back open, to watch as business casual pants slithered to the ground. No underwear, of course. Probably too expensive, Squidward mused, a bitter smile crossing his lips. Krabs hadn't worn underwear back then, either, not when he'd called Squidward into the office to discuss a possible promotion. Squilliam coughed as Mr. Krabs ground against him, face pushing into his shoulder, a line of blood slipping along the back of his shirt in an erratic pattern. Occasionally his eyes would search out Squidward's, not pleading, not desperate, but almost understanding, completely accepting. That was how Squidward saw it. His vision was the only vision which mattered. SpongeBob's body spasmed in his disgust. The crab had finally thrust into Squilliam, wig tilting off-kilter at this, red eyes shutting at the finality of it. The red male grunted, voice soft and indecipherable as his hips bucked back and forth.

Squidward could remember the way it had felt to have him fucking him, to feel the desk digging into his back, reality blurring with the world's perspective, none of it mattering with each thrust, each violation of his psyche and body. It was a cheap assault, rape. Squidward didn't particularly enjoy being cheapened, to say the least. And despite prior behavior to the contrary, he didn't particularly like seeing Squilliam cheapened. Or rather, he didn't like seeing anyone else cheapen Squilliam. Not when Squidward took such pleasure in the process. Just another sign of his infatuation, the way he reveled in defiling and disgracing him. And maintaining his reality, lest he ever forget just how life truly was meant to be viewed. Squidward reached down, pulling the tape off from around SpongeBob's mouth. He didn't expect the silence to follow as long as it did, a full three seconds passing before the boy started wailing. "Mr. Krabs! Please stop!" SpongeBob couldn't move, even as Squidward finished untying him.

His boss turned his head around slowly, not stopping his thrusting, looking at the sponge first in surprise, then annoyance. "Quiet, lad, they charge by the minute." Then, laughing, "Though since Squidward was kind enough to payâEU"" "Oh, he's not a hooker, Mr. Krabs," Squidward spoke lazily, leaning against the back wall. "What do ye mean by that?" And still he didn't pull out, fucking Squilliam as though it were both natural and boring, a necessary chore. Or an addicting chore. SpongeBob couldn't understand it. Before tonight, he'd been a virgin. And now, with his basic understanding of anatomy, of how the process worked, he couldn't understand the obsession, the necessity. But then, he never would, would he? Not after Squidward had cut off hisâEU¦ He couldn't even think the word, the space between his legs throbbing in fresh pain. It was amazing, how little he actually felt, though. SpongeBob wondered briefly if this was normal, or if there was something wrong with his nerve syntaxes, with his mental perception. Already, the room looked dimmer than it had when he'd first come in. "He's not getting paid to do this. In fact," Squidward smiled, "He didn't give any consent whatsoever. Which means you'reâEU¦" The words trailed off, each second adding to the panic on Mr. Krabs's face, before he shook his head. "Yer lying." "No. You're a rapist." He winced, drawing out of Squilliam slowly, face scrunched in pain. "I'm not," He muttered. "And a cheap one at that." "Now listen here, lad, IâEU"" "âEU"like to rape defenseless blondes. Or is it the species that turns you on? Which aspect was it, exactly, which drew you to usâEU"to me, back then?" Squidward advanced on his boss, smile falling somewhere between grimace and snarl. "I've wondered that for awhile. It can't just be because I was young and naïve. Because as far as I know, you've never touched SpongeBob in such a way." His eyes lingered over SpongeBob apathetically. "Has he?"

"N-no," SpongeBob stuttered, face glowing pink at the accusations. Not Mr. Krabs. Mr. Krabs was an honest, hard working man. He would never think of doing anything like that. "Never!" "I didn't think so," Squidward turned back to Mr. Krabs. "So what was it?" "Squidward, it's not good to think about the past." Krabs didn't scream as the cashier unsheathed the knife, holding it up to his throat. "It's not good to tell me what to think about, you insignificant closeted faggot." He drew the blade against Krabs' cheek lazily, Eugene wincing as a line of blood trailed down his face. "Squidward, I never meant toâEU¦you have to understand, IâEU"" "You're asking ME to be understanding? After what you did to me?" It was the first time Squidward had allowed any hurt to saturate his voice. SpongeBob couldn't decide if it was genuine or faked. The very fact that he would question it at all signaled a drastic tilt in his perspective. "The only thing I'm struggling to understand right now is how I'm going to kill you," Squidward pulled the knife back, eyes not leaving the now trembling crab for an instant, even as he wiped the blade clean on his shirt. "Squidward, IâEU"" "Shut up," The knife dove into Mr. Krabs's right eye, the scream following almost instantly. Squidward pulled the knife back, eye clinging to the blade and haltingly sliding out with it, a twist of metal to assure it wouldn't fall back into place. Surprisingly, there wasn't much blood, most of the fluids leaking clear or tainted white, though as the long eyeball popped outâEU"and it truly did make a popping noise, a wet groan as it exited the socketâEU"blood finally found its way to the wound, spilling darker against the natural red of Mr. Krabs's face.

"Me eye! Ye cut out me eye!" His claws flailed for a moment, before Squidward shook the eye off, letting the deflated cylindrically-shaped skin dangle from the veins of Krabs's socket as he used the blade of the knife to slice up the crab's wrists, crunching deep into his exoskeleton to tear him open, assuring fatality. A simple death, really. But not dead yet. Squidward pushed Mr. Krabs down to his knees, enjoying the arthritic grinding of his joints almost as much as slicing his wrists, the cephalopod freeing his dick, rubbing until hardened before driving the wailing man down upon the head of his cock. Squidward's dick slid into the exposed socket, rubbing against the veins until they twisted and cracked, until the eye completely disengaged and fell to the ground, not bouncing or rolling but flattening, leaking. Krabs screams grew quieter, his breathing barely felt against Squidward's legs as he thrust in and out of his face, effectively blinding him to both reality and the world. And SpongeBob could do nothing but watch. Could he have run away? Possibly. Definitely, actually. This was the first time he'd been left alone, unguarded, unbound. He really could leave. So why didn't he? Tears sprang to his eyes, though he wasn't sure if these were for Mr. Krabs or for himself. He stood, fingers twitching as though he were going to bring his hands to his eyes, to cover them, to shield himself from this, but he didn't. He didn't even blink, no form of covering to the reality Squidward worked so diligently to present to him.

THE END

w0OT

yesyesyse

Today our very own Fro turns 22. Chances are you've probably seen him around on the forums or maybe you've seen some of his contributions. He's always very friendly and helpful - a long time friend of mine. So go ahead and wish him a good one.

Overdosing or "ODing" as it is colloquially referred to as is another popular approach to end. Many have found it "peaceful" and painless. Though you can overdose on pretty much any drug, some are more lethal than others. Mixing alcohol in the picture won't be pretty either. Of course illegal drugs would have more serious effects, but I'm not going to discuss those.

Over the counter amphetamines could possibly kill you, but it is not likely. Others in the like will also cause various symptoms, not always death however. Many manage to just OD on sleeping pills and end up regretting it because it not only didn't kill them but it caused them even more pain. Some just cause painful vomiting.

This is not a smart approach to suicide. Though they did say Pentobarbital had a 100% fatality rate. It is difficult for an everyday person to acquire. Thus, this is not a very suitable way.

Effectiveness: 4

Note that this is for fun and not to be taken seriously.

[back to "Suicide Index"]

Another classic method of suicide. This one has a long reputation in capital punishment as well. It is a little more tricky than just blasting yourself in the face. One must find a sturdy rope and intricately tie the knot. It is important to understand that many amateurs attempt this and fail miserably, leaving them with nothing more than a cervical fracture (broken neck). Many have debated its use.

Personally I wouldn't recommend this. A multitude of things can go wrong. The rope could snap, you could end up being suspended for hours before death. Sure many have successfully pulled it off, but it varies from person to person, knot to knot. I'm not knowledgeable on knots so don't ask me.

Effectiveness: 6

Note that this is for fun and not to be taken seriously.

[back to the "Suicide Index"]

This one is perhaps the most obvious if any are available to you. There are a variety of firearms to choose from, ranging from your average Colt to maybe that sawn-off you have stashed away for a rainy day. Whatever you choose to go with, it is important to pull the trigger at the correct point. A shotgun blast to head will definitely end it while a bullet to the stomach may leave you slowly bleeding on the ground. We'll assume you want the first so pull it in a vital area, again, preferably the head.

You may want turn the lights off when you do - in the dark. The bullet will penetrate your skull and you will be gone from this earthly world. Of course this method is very messy. Just keep that in mind if you live with people. Overall this is a classic way to kill yourself.

Effectiveness: 9

Note that this is for fun and not to be taken seriously.

[back to "Suicide Index"]

This is the "Suicide Index". Expect updates every now and then. Note that this is for fun and not to be taken seriously and I do not promote or encourage the willful taking of anyone's life.

Each method will be reviewed and its effectiveness will be discussed. The earlier methods will be the conventional ones, but they will become more archaic as the series progresses.

AGAIN, DO NOT ATTEMPT ANY OF THE FOLLOWING.

--Method----Effectiveness----

1 - Firearms [E:9]
2 - Hanging [E:6]
3 - Overdosing [E:4]