- Oh, why can't I get to sleep?
Let's try it again.
Warm milk.
White noise machine.
Dim lights.
Oh, yeah! Fizz Bomb Cola!
- Fire in the hole!
Hey!
Will you two psychopaths keep it down?
- Oh, hi, Squidward. How ya doing?
- Horrible! I haven't slept for three days.
- Hey, that's great!
- It is not great.
I've got an audition
with the Bikini Bottom Philharmonic Orchestra
tomorrow morning, and I'm a nervous wreck.
- Why don't you try taking a walk?
Works for me. - You know, normally,
I jump up and scream when you appear like that.
But I'm so tired, I'm just gonna take
your stupid advice.
- No, Patrick, no!
- We've got to keep it quiet.
- Tell my parents I love them.
- Ahh!
Hit the dirt!
That was sheer beauty.
- Taking a walk... walk...
walk.
Home.
- SpongeBob? What's happening?
- I don't know.
- Ahh!
- Aw, poor guy was just sleepy.
Looks like we're gonna be here a while.
See you in the morning, Patrick.
- Oh, yeah. I should probably...
- Aww.
Aww.
This isn't my rug! Where—where am I?
Who am I?
How am I? - Patrick, Patrick, calm down.
You're at my house. Oh, and that is your rug.
- Oh, yeah.
Ruggie, Ruggie, Ruggie.
- Squidward, time to wake up.
Wake up, little Squidward.
Patrick, Squidward won't wake up.
- Ruggie, Ruggie, Ruggie, Ruggie!
Wake up, little Squidward,
wake up!
- Maybe we should get him up.
Wake up, wake up,
wake up, wake up!
Wake up!
- Patrick, this is bad.
Squidward won't make his audition
with the Philharmonic Orchestra. What can we do?
- Oh, we'll have to create another Squidward in a lab.
- Patrick, you are a genius!
- Eureka!
- No, Patrick. It didn't work.
- Ooh, we've tried everything under the ocean,
and we failed.
If only we could just crawl up inside Squidward
and play him like a puppet.
- That's it! We could crawl up
inside Squidward and play him like a puppet!
- Oh, whose dumb idea was that?
- Yours.
- Well, it sounds good to me.
- Okay, Patrick, you go in first
and control his arms and legs.
Then I'll go in and control the brain.
- Okay.
Eww.
It tickles.
- How's that feel, buddy?
- Not bad. Okay, get on my shoulders.
Okay, Patrick, I'm gonna see if I can make Squidward talk.
My name is Squidward,
and I think SpongeBob is a lamebrain.
Wow, you sound more like him than—
than Squidward.
- All right, Patrick, we've got a date
at the Bikini Bottom Philharmonic.
Let's get going.
Whoa, whoops.
Watch out. Take it easy.
- Hey!
- Left foot, right foot.
Whoa! Excuse me.
Sorry. - Yeah?
- Pardon me.
- Hey, Twinkle Toes,
you're in a no dancing zone.
Now beat it.
Patrick, I just realized I don't know
where the concert hall is.
Uh, let's ask someone.
- Whoa!
- Excuse me, ma'am.
I'm looking for the concert hall.
Whoa!
- Young man, you don't need a concert hall.
You need a hospital.
- Great Neptune, you're hideous!
I manage a freak show, and you're exactly
the kind of act I need.
- Mommy, look.
It's Frankenstein!
- Oh, Patrick! That bus is going
to the concert hall!
Patrick, do you have any change?
- One second.
- Hey, I wasn't born yesterday. That'll be three fares.
Hmm, what some people won't do to cheat the system.
- And don't come back!
- Oh, man. That conductor's brutal.
- Whoa!
- Oh, oof!
I was just, oh, um,
the thing is not on the thing. Oh, uh...
- Who is that imbecile? - Squidward Tentacles.
Apparently he's a clarinet player.
- All right, whenever you're ready.
The clarinet,
where's his clarinet? - Oh, I got it.
- Ew, why'd you put it there?
- I guess I never actually
thought of the moment where we'd have to play it.
- Let's see, the ability to play clarinet
has got to be in his brain somewhere.
It's just a matter of squeezing it out.
All right, thank you, next!
Huh?
- He's magnificent.
- What—what's going on here? Where am I?
I'm at the audition.
I'm playing, but I'm not in control.
I—I feel like I've been taken over by something.
- What's going on?
- I don't know what's happening.
I'm losing control!
- Must... gain...
control!
- That's an unusual playing style, but still.
He sounds magnificent.
- Patrick, I don't think I can
command his brain much longer.
- Me neither, SpongeBob.
- What was that— SpongeBob? Patrick?
You're inside me? Oh, how did this happen?
Get out of my mind!
Get out of my body. Just—just—just get out!
Ta-da.
- Oh, I am going to lambaste you two.
- You're a wizard. A magical, musical wizard.
- I—huh? Oh.
- Yes, yes!
Oh, bring us to ecstasy, maestro.
- I envy you common people.
For you are about to have the glorious honor
of hearing me play Gustav Mollusk's
Symphony Number Five in C sharp minor.
For I am in complete control.
Hmm? Huh?
- I cannot believe I let you talk me into this.
- Oh, come now, Mr. Squidward.
Catering is a great way for you
to make a little extra money.
And me to make a lot!
- Any ideas?
How's that?
- Perfect, now get out there
and feed the rest of those kids.
- They all seem so...
full of germs!
- Why, of course they're full of germs.
They're kids.
Why do you think I'm wearing this full-body latex covering?
- Okay, I'm going in.
Krabby Patty? Krabby Patty?
- Ooh, ooh, oh,
ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh.
- You're contaminating the food.
Just pick one.
I've been infected!
- Hey, kids, I'm a—
- No, no, no!
- Hey, I'm not paying you
to play hide-and-seek.
These children want to be entertained.
Get down here.
- I want a balloon animal.
- Uh, um.
- What is it? - A rock.
- Whoa!
- Okay, birthday boy.
Take a swing at that piñata, son.
- Oof.
Don't hit nice old Mr. Krabs.
It's the piñata you want, son.
- Me money!
Do I look like a piñata to you, boy?
- Yes, get him!
Higher! Go higher!
Uh, don't forget to take your shoes off before bouncing.
- Ow!
We have to get out of here.
These children are menaces.
- They tore off my head.
Maybe we should make a break for it, Mr. Krabs.
- I want my birthday cake.
- Cake, cake!
- Come on, men, let's cheese it!
- Oh, my, are you the high-class caterers
I hired for an extraordinarily large sum of money?
- Yes! - No!
- Yes.
- No!
- Yes.
- I do not have time for this tomfoolery.
I have a mansion full of very high-class guests
waiting for very high-class catering.
Are you they or are you nay?
- Indubitably, madam. We are your high-class caterers.
- But where are your tuxedos?
- Tuxedos? Oh, just give us a moment
to suit up, me good lady.
- Now, where are we going to get tuxedos from?
- You. - Hey, what are you—
Ew.
- Ready to serve you, Miss Money Bags—
er, I—I mean, ma'am.
- Very nice. Here is your payment.
- Mr. Krabs, you can't take that check.
We're not high-class caterers.
- We are anything we need to be
for me to make this money.
Unless you wanna go back to the kids' party.
No!
- That's what I thought.
Then start setting up inside.
- This place is so shiny.
- Yeah, and so are the people.
- Oh, there's no way these people are gonna think
our junk food is high class.
- Hmm, you might be right.
SpongeBob, go find something to fancy-up the food.
- Fancy. Got it, Mr. Krabs.
- Good, now I'll just get the lay of the land around here.
- I want my birthday cake!
- Great Neptune's ghost!
- I want my cake! I want my cake!
- Hey, kid, easy, easy. Just calm down, will ya?
I got your cake. - You did?
- Yeah, yeah.
Your birthday cake
is right through here.
- Where? I don't see any—
Won't be seeing him again any time soon.
- I. Want. My.
Birthday. Cake!
- I want my birthday cake!
- What do you think of this, Mr. Krabs?
I call it "Krabby Pâté."
Classy, huh?
Serve it while it's hot, Patrick.
- SpongeBob, were those jewels on the patties?
- Yeah. You said "Fancy-up the food,"
so I found some shiny stuff for garnish.
Got a whole box. - What the—
SpongeBob, you can't
just go around taking people's precious jewels!
- Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Krabs.
I was just doing what you told me.
Don't worry about it. Just tell me
where you got them gems from.
- Oh, upstairs.
I went left, then right, then double and triple right,
then down, up, and right 18 more times.
Then do four somersaults, a barrel roll,
jump backwards twice, spin till you get sick...
And you're there.
- Okay. - Fancy foods!
Get your fancy foods here!
Delicious.
- I love delicious stuff. My turn!
Yummy.
- I'll take a slice of that.
- Mine!
- Ouch!
- Who wants food?
I'm a mindless drone with food.
Working for the man. Huh?
- Ooh.
- Here you go, princess.
- Whoa!
- Let's do this thing.
Hey, where you going?
Oh, down here.
I never heard of a marching quintet.
Uh, wait for me.
Wait, wait, wait, wait for me. Wait, wait—
Hey, hey!
- All right, what did he say?
18 rights, then four lefts, or five?
Ooh.
- I want my birthday cake!
Oh, you—get off.
Enough of this.
- If you don't get me my birthday cake, I'll set off...
- All these fireworks.
- Give me those.
Young boy like yourself
shouldn't be playing with fireworks.
They're too dangerous.
- Gosh, no one ever cared enough about me to explain that.
It's like you're my real father.
May I hug you?
- Ooh.
- Mr. Krabs?
Oh, uh, quick, in here.
- Why, father? Why?
- Mr. Krabs?
- Um, yes, ma'am?
- Mr. Krabs, we seem to be having some problems
with the food service.
- Mine, mine!
- Uh, I'll be right down to have a look.
Just need to find something here.
All right, where was I?
Four somersaults and a barrel roll, I think.
- Patrick, no.
The food is for the guests.
- What the—?
- So then, I was all like—
Oof. Well, I never.
- Food fight!
- Oh, my.
- Whoa.
This must be the place.
Hello? Ooh.
Ooh-ee.
That is one big— water bed?
- Birthday cake! - Dogfish.
- Hi, Daddy! - Don't call me that.
And stop jumping on that water bed.
You'll pop it.
- Okay, Daddy.
- Get over here.
Why, you little— - Hah, Daddy!
- Whoa, whoa, whoa!
- Uh-oh. - Whoa, whoa, whoa!
- Stop it, everyone!
You're ruining my par—
Oh, no, you did not.
- Barrel roll, four somersaults.
Look out, flood's a-coming!
- Nice doing business with you.
- Come back here!
- Huh?
Whoa!
Oh, no.
Ooh.
My cake!
- My check!
- My party!