The movie Sponge Out of Water, starts with Plankton's slaughter.
As the sponge man holds back, Plankton's vicious Tartar attack.
Patrick hurled a jar of mayo, that splattered like bombs in Sarajevo.
But as the mustard and ketchup flew, I think I had a breakthrough.
I wish I worked at the Krusty Krab, slinging Food in trenches drab.
Told what to do and what to believe, in protracted struggle for the aggrieved.
A community of fast food conscripts, bonded together in condiment conflicts.
Probably better than modern life, with its little moments full of strife.
Guarding the formula day and night, instead of slaving away under desk light.
A finite existence with purpose and drive, rather than wasting my time till forty five.
Yeah the Krusty Krab’s where it's at, upward mobility for the technocrat.
Also the potential for endless fast food, alongside that whole local business blood feud.
Or maybe I’ve misunderstood.
Maybe being inside is a problem, Maybe the tree has yet to blossom.
I hope it turns out well, and there's no need to send Plankton straight to hell.
But a boy can dream to pass the time, especially when he can't consistently rhyme
Or keep the syllable count in his lines, Gotta always stretch it past eights and nines. 
