- I'm ready. I'm ready.
Ready to steal the Krabby Patty secret formula.
Prepare to initiate plan number... hmm...
number—what's the number?
Oh well, who cares?
- Good question.
- Say wha?
- I said, good luck.
- That formula will be mine.
Out of my way, pinheads.
Move it. Move it. Move it.
Hey there, Schnozzola.
I'm about to show you the advantage of not having a nose.
Say hello to... Mr. Stinky!
What is that? A kitty cat?
Oh, it's so cute. It's adorable.
- That's right, everyone, gather in real close.
Time to trigger the stench.
Yoink.
Ahh! I'll never breathe again.
- Ahhhhhhh!
- Ahh!
- Huh?
No. No, no, no, no.
No, not the patties!
I'll save you.
- What's all the racket out here?
Ahhh!
- Get it off! Get it off of me!
- Mr. Krabs, are you all right?
What happened? - I don't know.
Me eyes were burning.
All I saw was a little eyeball and a pair of antenna
and... Plankton!
He's still in there, alone, with me secret formula.
He could be doing anything with it.
He could be reading it.
Gimme yer hand, boy-o.
I need to borrow this.
Okay, I'm going in.
- Good luck, Mr. Krabs.
- Hmm.
Hmm, mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm.
Mm?
Why, you little—
- I hope you like percussion, Eugene.
Because these drumsticks really go bongo.
Ahh.
What? The old safe-in-a-safe routine?
- Here's another routine:
you're the meat in me knuckle sandwich.
- I'm not hungry.
- Bleh.
SpongeBob!
- Yes, sir. I see the problem.
- Yeeeooow!
Yay! Hooray! Whoo-hoo!
Ahh!
- Oooh, that was too close, m'lad.
Three more safes and he would have had me secret formula.
Looks like I'm gonna have to beef up security around here.
I'm gonna need you to do me a big favor, laddie.
Take this home with you and hide it
while I reevaluate my security situation.
- Whoa-oh, oh, oh, oh.
But, Mr. Krabs, how do you know it will be safe
from Plankton at my house?
- Pe-shaw, he'll think it's still here.
His tiny brain is incapable of the kind of abstract thinking
that is required for reflection
or thoughtful reasoning and deduction.
He cannot ruminate.
He cannot divine the hypothesis.
He's a tired clown.
He'll never know it's in your house.
- Oh, you're right, Professor Krab-Face.
I'm much too simpleminded to look there.
- Hey, there.
- Ahh!
- Pleasant night, eh, SpongeBob?
- Oh, uh... yes.
It's a very... nighty... night for a walkie.
- Ain't that the truth.
Hey, nothing gets past you.
One could say you have the "formula" for honesty.
- Uh, yeah, one could say that, I guess.
Anyway, I gotta go wash my formula—hair!
Hair! I gotta go wash my hair!
Uh... good night, Plankton.
- Yeah, gotta keep that hair clean... and in a safe place.
- Uh, okay, bye.
- Now, remember, Gary.
I'm entrusting you with the secret formula.
- Meow. - Stay sharp, Gary.
Don't let anyone inside.
- Meow. - Bye, Gary.
- Why, hey, there, little fella.
Is SpongeBob—I mean— your master at home?
Uh, perhaps I could just come inside for a minute
and demonstrate our fine snail
shell polish, slime deodorant, chew toys,
My leg!
Your friends won't tell you this,
but you can really use the slime deodorant, smelly.
- Hello, s...
Hello, sir.
I'm selling Sweetie Patrol cookies.
We have a lovely assortment of fungi and algae flavors.
How many delicious boxes can I put you down for?
If you order ten boxes, I'll qualify for my
Bottom Dweller Badge.
If you order 100 boxes, I'll get my Bling Bling Badge.
You know, you should hide these from your roommate.
She'll eat all of them.
If you show me your best hiding place, I'd be happy to help.
- Meow, meow!
Ehhh, note to self:
nitroglycerine is not a substitute
for vanilla extract.
Meow?
I forgot how much I hate pineapple.
- Ehh.
Hey, this snail litter tastes better than pineapple.
Now, where is that secret formula?
Where is it? Where is it?
Gotta be here somewhere.
Nothin' in there. Ooh, look at that.
Mm-hmm.
Hello.
Where the barnacles is it?
Gah!
Where is it? Where is it?
I know you're in here.
You're not fooling anybody.
I went to college.
Nope. Nope. Nope.
Hmm.
- Whew.
- Meow?
Ohh-ohh.
- Ehh? Mm-hmm. Uh-huh.
Wah! Wah!
Ahh!
Augh! Oof! Ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh! Ugh! Ahh-ahh-ahh!
- Ahh!
Ooh!
Ahh! Augh!
Eh, eh, eh... augh!
Ehh, ehh, ehh, augh!
- Ooh.
All right, snail, let's go.
Just you and me.
- Put 'em up. Put 'em up.
Ooh! Oh! Ooh! Oh! Ahh!
- Meow!
- Huh?
Of course.
What a fool I've been.
- SpongeBob's hidden the secret formula inside Gary's shell.
Sheesh, this place is disgusting.
I bet it reeks.
Good thing I don't have a nose.
Ay-yi-yi.
Ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh, ahh!
Ahh!
- Gary, I'm home.
What happened here?
Oh, my first Krabby Patty.
I had it bronzed.
Oh, and I was gonna give that to my grandchildren.
Ahh, my Mermaid Man collectable underpants.
Oh, I could have worn them 1,000 more times.
My glass of water.
I was gonna drink that.
Oh, the Krabby Patty formula.
Oh, it's safe, and right where I left it.
- Gary, did you do this?
What's the matter, Gary?
Something wrong with your shell? - Meow.
- Something's not right, Gary.
I better get you to the vet.
- Meow.
Whoa-oh, ehh-ehh.
Ha, I lost him.
And now I'm lost.
Ahhhhhhhh!
Ehh... my head.
Ooh, I must be in the center of the shell.
What's that? This is it.
Just like I thought.
It was hidden here all the time.
The secret Krabby Patty formula.
It's beautiful.
The heavenly light.
I always knew I'd see it once I'd gotten the formula.
Let me bask in it's glory.
- Well, that's odd. Who's that?
- Hey, it's Plankton.
- What's he got there?
- Looks like one of my old grocery lists.
- I don't know how he got in there,
but the gasses inside this shell
are making the little guy hallucinate.
He would have smelled the gasses if he had a nose,
like most good-hearted people
- Ha-ha. I got it!
I finally got the formula!
It's mine! It's mine! It's mine! It's mine!
Open the sparkling apple juice, Karen!
Daddy's bringing the bacon home!
Whoo-hoo-hoo-hoo! Wow!
- You'll never get me secret Krabby Patty formula, Plankton.
Adios.
- Ahhhh!
- Hmm?
Plankton, you look like the cheese
that fell off the cracker.
I bet you tried to get that formula again.
- I don't get it.
A crab's brain is smaller than the point of a pencil,
but he keeps outsmarting me.
- To give up that formula,
Mr. Krabs would have to be as dumb as Patrick.
- Hmm, yes, yes, he would,
as dumb as Patrick.
- One swab from the inside of his cheek should do it.
Ahhh!
Nagging Neptune!
Back, you twisted tongue.
You will not lick me.
Ahh!
- Sweet gaseous molasses.
Yahhhh!
Ehh-ehh-ehh!
Ehh-ehh-ehh-ehh!
- Augh, P.U.
What's that awful stench?
You're not boiling your underpants again, are you?
- I told you to turn off that laugh track.
And if you must know, I made sauce,
but when I add Patrick's DNA to it,
it will become salsa imbecilicus.
- Duuuhhhh.
- Idiot sauce!
I'll serve it to Krabs, and it'll make him so dumb
he'll just give me the secret formula.
Huh? Huh?
- I think I prefer the boiling underpants.
Let me do it. You always make a mess.
- Leave me be, woman.
- Don't tell me...
Augh.
Oh, no. Ehh! Ehh! Ehh!
Augh.
Huh.
- [laughing
I've got the best taste in town... duh...
- I never thought that folks around here
were particularly bright, but this morning,
everyone seems as dumb as traffic cones.
- What happened to your head, SpongeBob?
- Uh... me make Krabby Patties.
- Uh, that's mud.
- Hey, Patrick, have you noticed that everyone's acting
a lot like you today?
I don't understand the question.
- What in Sam Hill?
Ow... ow.
Ow! Ow!
- Hey, don't do that.
Ow!
- Lining up for the Chum Bucket?
Now I know everyone's got a hole in their screen door.
This place is ground zero for zeroes.
Zero as being everyone's collective IQ.
- Ahh!
Ow!
- And that's how the idiot sauce spread throughout Bikini Bottom.
I guess you weren't affected because you were protected
by your treedome.
- And you weren't affected because you're a computer.
Looks like it's up to us to find a cure for the town's idiocy.
You not Plankton.
Me Plankton.
- We need to snap him out of this.
What's the opposite of dim?
- Bright?
- It's not working.
Maybe we can feed him something for brain food.
You're smart. What do you eat?
- Nuts.
- Oh, it doesn't seem to be working.
You know him; how do you get him to change?
- I usually just yell at him.
Get smart, dummy!
- Wise up! - Be clever, idiot!
- Know things!
It's no use.
Being smart takes work.
That gives me an idea.
Come one, come all to Bikini Bottom University,
a free education for all.
There's no more excuse for being a dope.
Step right up, all you morons.
Classes are now beginning.
Aww, this isn't working. - Try jiggling the keys.
- G'mornin' students.
Ehh...
- A whole school full of Patricks?
Looks like we've got our work cut out for us.
- And don't forget your last homework assignment.
- Looks like we were able to educate
the whole town in one semester.
- Yep, day after tomorrow is graduation.
And everybody learned so well.
- Everybody but one.
Yeah. - School is dumb?
You misspelled every word.
- Shut up, dweeb.
- Cookbooks, eh?
You holding out on me, Krabs?
- I don't know what you're talking about, Plankton.
Leave me alone.
- I know you're cooking up something special
in Home Ec, Eugene.
I want that formula!
- Um, Plankton, can I come out now?
- Did you finish my homework for me, nerd?
- Yeah.
You know, you really ought to do your own homework.
It's the only way you'll learn.
- I'll never learn!
Uh... ahh!
Augh!
Not again! Augh!
- This is a proud day for everyone in Bikini Bottom.
And as a treat, Squidward will play
"Pomp and Circumstance" on the clarinet.
- Mm. Mmm.
- Hurry up, Mr. Krabs; they're handing out the diplomas.
- Just a minute.
I think I've perfected the Krabby Patty formula.
Yes. That's it!
- Great. Well, see you out there.
- Something smells good.
P-P-P-P-Plankton?
What are you doing here?
- It's the last day of school, baby.
No need to be formal.
Call me Sheldon.
Great Neptune!
That's perfection!
Whoa, with this recipe, I could own
the most popular fast-food restaurant in Bikini Bottom.
- No, please. Not that.
Anything but that.
- Hand over that secret formula, Krabs.
Hooray!
- Congratulations, SpongeBob.
You're smart now.
It's funny that Mr. Krabs never showed up to get his diploma.
- Yeah, the only two people who didn't show up
are Mr. Krabs and Plankton.
Let me have that diploma.
- Hey, no running in the halls.
- Eee-eee-eee-eee.
- Here you go, Plankton.
- Mr. Krabs, your diploma.
- Thanks to this here diploma, I'm suddenly smart enough
to never give you me secret formula.
- What?
If I knew education worked like that,
I would have bought a diploma years ago.
- Of course it doesn't work like that, you microscopic meathead.
I took accelerated classes and graduated months ago.
This diploma is just a formality.
- But—but you were just about to give me the formula.
You were scared of me.
- Excellent, Mr. Krabs.
Here's your final grade for acting class: A-plus.
I really felt the fear.
- Wait. What?
Acting class?
No!
- You've finally been schooled, dropout.
- Oof.
Ahh!
- Come on, evil genius.
Time to start your post-college years.